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agustdiv1ne · 8 months

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telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful.

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being.

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get.

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe.

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could.

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now.

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane.

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different.

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.”

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends.

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to.

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies.

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you.

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight.

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior.

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again.

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool.

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too.

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck.

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him.

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears.

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway.

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it.

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become.

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek?

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.”

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly.

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. ��fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks.

reality crashes down on his head.

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe.

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings.

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure.

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive.

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him.

at least, he likes to think that you do.

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold.

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning.

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace.

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel.

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him.

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster.

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself.

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win.

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious.

just a little innocent curiosity.

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch.

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv.

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on.

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again.

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually.

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate.

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize.

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep.

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now?

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused.

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck.

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward.

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—”

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?”

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?”

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action.

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him.

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad.

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck.

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.”

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead.

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away.

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough.

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it.

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?”

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever.

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want.

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.”

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore.

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you.

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick.

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you.

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner.

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off.

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty.

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips.

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i…that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does.

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt x you #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #💌 — gyu #agust.nsfw

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killerlookz · 19 days

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Growing Pains | Spencer Reid

pairing: s2!spencer reid x gn! reader

description: after spending what felt like an eternity pining over Spencer Reid, the two of you finally began moving towards becoming something... until his run-in with Tobias Hankel seemed to put a stop to every aspect of Spencer's life, even his relationship with you.

details: Spencer's post-revelations related trauma, angst! and fluff (hurt with comfort), sporadic flashbacks

word count: 2,321

i hate that i can't love you, but I'm just in the way / but you say i won't be here forever, and you'll take as long as it takes

Your cold hands ached as they struggled to make a fist, raising that balled-up hand to the dark, wooded door.

Every day for the last week and a half you'd come to this very door, that of your friend, Spencer Reid. And every day for the last week and a half you would knock on the door and hope with anxious breaths for an answer. Only to receive no response.

Part of you would worry he was dead if it wasn't for the fact that at the very least he had managed to at least call out of work each and every day. It was so typical of Spencer ,it almost made you smile. Even after all of the trauma he had just gone through, he still made sure to call out of work. No one expected to see him back at the BAU for a while. Not after Tobias Hankel.

Despite all too much of it having been live-streamed directly to you and the rest of the BAU, you knew very little of what had actually happened to Spencer in the time he had been taken by Tobias Hankel, nobody did. And the truth is, you barely knew of what was live-streamed. Maybe it made you "weak" in comparison to the rest of the team, but you just couldn't bear to look at Spencer in that state. The anxiety of not knowing whether or not Spencer was going to live was already too much to handle- even now, knowing he was safe, you still had trouble sleeping, the scenario of having not made it in time playing through your mind over and over again.

Knock, knock, knock

You held your breath in anticipation as your hands hit the door, you bit your lip in a painful desperation. Please, Spencer. You beg, your voice cracking as you whisper to yourself.

No response.

It wasn't like Spencer to not talk to you, especially not for days on end. The two of you had been friends since the academy. You were instantly drawn to him, maybe it was his impressive memory, or how passionate he was about his work, maybe it was his awkward boyish charm, or his sweet smile, or how his eyes lit up when he won a game of chess or cards, and the way he scrunched his nose whenever he laughed, maybe it was the way his sweaters never fit just right, and his socks never matched, or-

It was more than sufficient to say that you had fallen head over heels for Spencer, more than you had for anyone else in your life, you were in love. He was kind, and inviting, and you could never understand why everyone else seemed to make fun of him. And finally after what felt like an eternity of pining, and planning for the perfect moment- a french film marathon at Spencer's apartment and a few too many glasses of cheap wine was what let your feelings slip. You could still feel the way your stomach dropped as the words left your tongue,

"You know I love you, Spence"

"Yeah- like- as a friend." He stuttered, obviously caught off guard

You could have saved yourself then, played it cool, and said yes, but before you could stop yourself your head was shaking no.

Spencer's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish smile, "Really?" He looks down at his lap, his fingers rapidly tapping against his knee, "I- wow- I-" He shakes his head and looks back at you, "I love you too."

With a few blinks you find yourself back in reality. You could only live in memories for so long. You sighed, as tears welled up in your eyes. Part of you wondered if you were being selfish, crying about how you missed him when he was going through so much worse.

You wiped your stinging eyes, fuck it. You needed to know how he was doing. You reach into the pocket of your coat, feeling around before gripping the cool metal of your key ring. You pull it out of your pocket before gripping the keys that hung from it tightly in your hands. The dull metal pressed into the skin of your hands, and your cold, stiff fingers gripped harder to the point where it hurt. You closed your eyes, wincing as you tightened your fist around the metal even harder, trying to convince yourself to go through with your plan. At some point of you and Spencer "going steady" you had exchanged keys to each other's apartments.

You released the key ring from your grip, a red indent left in the palm of your aching hand. You sift through the various keys and with a loud jingling sound, the other keys fell to the bottom of the ring as you gripped the key to Spencer's apartment between your thumb and index finger. You sigh once more, telling yourself the worst that could happen is if he really doesn't want to see you he will tell you to leave and you will listen.

You push the key into the lock and twist it until you can turn the door handle. The door opens with a creak, and you step into the dark apartment, careful to close the door softly behind you. You can barely see two feet in front of you, all the lights are off and the blinds are drawn. Your hand slides up a wall as you fumble around for a light switch, flicking on the soft, warm wall light next to the door. You blink a few times, getting used to the light before your gaze darts over to the kitchen table. The apartment was almost unrecognizable. It was cluttered to a degree that you had never seen from Spencer before. He was usually so well organized. But now, papers, takeout containers, and half-drunken cups of coffee were scattered around the dark wooden surface.

It broke your heart to see Spencer's living spaces in such disarray, if this is what his apartment looked like, you couldn't even bear to think about what you might find if you were to peek inside his mind. Even with the lights now on, the dark green walls of the apartment never felt this dark to you.

You tread softly toward his bedroom, careful not to make too much noise against the creaky wood of his apartment floor. Part of you was aware of how creepy this seemed- and you worried maybe you'd scare Spencer by entering his room. Still- maybe it was selfish, but you missed him too much to allow another day go by without seeing him. Allowing Spencer to just stay holed up in his apartment for days on end was not going to do anything for anyone.

You press your hand against Spencer's bedroom door, it's opened just a crack and you're able to push the door open with a small creak. The room isn't as dark as the rest of his apartment, a few small beams of light from the setting sun peek into the small room from blinds that haven't been fully closed, drenching it with a warm orange color.

Spener's clothes are scattered throughout the room, and his brown leather bag had been thrown on the ground near the door, papers and books spilling out of it. You could almost guarantee it had been in that spot from the moment he got home from that dreaded case.

Your eyes flick up to the bed in the middle of the room where Spencer lay, his face down, stuffed into the pillows. His comforter had been kicked to the side, and the fitted sheet had come off one of the corners of the mattress.

You wondered just how much Spencer had actually left his bed since he had gotten home, the takeout containers and coffee cups in the dining room signified to you at least he did at some point leave his bedroom. Still, the sorry state of everything made you want to cry. How could anyone do this to him?

You slip off your shoes, and inch across the soft carpet closer to the bed, careful not to step on any of the clothes that were strewn about the floor.

"Spencer," You say, just above a whisper, attempting to let him know of your presence. He barely even stirs in response to the noise, turning onto his side deep in sleep.

As you got closer to the bed you could see him more clearly. His hair was a mess, long curly strands stuck to his cheeks with sweat, his eyes shut tight and his mouth almost turned down into a frown. Even in sleep, he looked so upset, so tortured. It made you sick to your stomach to even think about what he could have been dreaming about.

"Spencer?" You say again, weaker this time- your voice trembling with nerves.

No response.

You sigh, pulling off your jacket and allowing it to collect on the floor with the rest of the scattered clothes. You sit down on the edge of the bed and think carefully about your next move. You don't want to frighten him, but it may be impossible not to not after you basically broke in.

You reach a delicate hand outward and move a couple pieces of Spencer's hair from his cheek. His head moves slightly in response, but you continue to smooth your hand down the rest of the length of his hair. You can tell it's tangled, even without combing your fingers through it. You let your hand fall further, down his neck, resting on his bare back. He's warm to the touch as you rub soft circles on the exposed skin.

"Spencer?" You say again, louder this time leaning your body towards him.

His eyes flick open and he's jolted awake, swatting your arm away as a gasp leaves his mouth.

"H-hey," You grab his arm to prevent him from swinging any further, "It's just me Spence."

He stares at you wide-eyed, pupils dilated with a mix of confusion and fear. His throat rises with a thick swallow and his lip trembles. You begin speaking frantically,

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fright-"

"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, his voice is weak but there's a pointedness to his question.

"I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay- I haven't heard from you in a while and I was so worried about you I just-" Your brain was going a mile a minute before all of a sudden... your train of thought disappears as you look into Spencer's obviously pained eyes. His eyes blink rapidly as he attempts to hold back tears. The sheets have fallen off of him and his bare chest is shiny with sweat as it rises and falls rapidly. You let go of his arm, letting it drop down beside him. "I'm sorry," You whisper, too saddened at the state of him to continue.

Spencer stares at you for another moment before looking down, a single tear dripping down his pale cheek. Even now, like this he was still beautiful to you. And despite everything you couldn't help but for your heart to fill with love. But as your heart felt with love, the rest of your body overflowed with anxiety as you contemplated what to even do or say next. You stutter,

"D-do you want me to leave-"

"No." Spencer cuts you off. "Stay." He looks back up at you, "Please." His eyes are wet with tears that threaten to escape down his face.

"Of course," You nod, "of course," softer this time.

"Can we lay down?" Spencer asks, twisting his face. You nod fervently, swinging your legs onto the bed. You pat the pillow next to you, beckoning Spencer to lie back down. He does so, slowly, and you follow, your faces inches from each other, heads on the same pillow.

You inch yourself closer to Spencer, heat radiating off of his trembling body. You place a hand upon his cheek, stroking your thumb slowly back and forth.

"Am I ever going to be okay?" Spencer sniffles. The question feels like a knife had been stabbed right through your heart.

"Of course you will, Spence, " You assure, soft yet firm.

"It doesn't feel like it," He shakes his head, forcing your hand to fall from its spot on his cheek.

"These things take time, lots and lots of time."

"Yeah but-" He starts, getting choked up again, "What if you don't want to wait for me?"

"Wait for you?" You ask, confused as to what he meant.

"If I'm like this for too long." He answers, "You won't want to be around anymore."

"Oh Spencer," you shake your head, "No, no" You put your hand back onto his cheek.

"I feel like such a burden- that's why I haven't called," His voice breaks as he starts crying, really crying this time, "I mean- I'm an FBI agent, I should be able to get through this. Everyone else on the team would be back to work in an instant. And I can't even get out of bed."

"Spencer." You cut off his ramblings, "You are not a burden- you could have died, Spencer, no one is expecting you to be alright."

"I feel like I should be." He pauses, "I just don't want everyone to sit around worrying about me, I don't want you to sit around worrying about me. It's not fair."

"I worry because I care." You relay a small smile, "Because I love you."

"And that's what I'm afraid of, one day you'll realize you've spent so much effort worrying about me that you won't want to love me anymore."

"Never." You wipe the tears from Spencer's eyes, trying to give him gentle reassurance. "I'd wait forever for you to be okay."

a/n: woah long time no post? I haven't posted a fic on here in almost two years! sorry I'm a little rusty, I've been deeeep in a creative rut. I'm accepting requests now however, Ive missed you guys!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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lavishlyleo · 6 months

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Astrology Observations 5

One thing I've noticed with Gemini Moons is that while they do love to talk to people and share their thoughts, if they aren't interested in the conversation's topic or if you stay on one topic for too long, they tend to zone out. If they aren't very invested in the convo at hand it will be VERY noticeable (e.g. blank stares, they suddenly go very quiet, dry repetitive responses, checking their phone frequently).

The same can be said for individuals with a lot of Air in their charts in general, especially Gemini and Libra. It can be hard to keep these individuals attention for prolonged periods of time. They like to cut to the interesting part so keep what you have to say very brief and to the point.

Not something Leo Moons are known for, but that I've noticed is that they can be really good at analyzing peoples behavior. Like, they'll see how someone acts and can make connections to their own behavior to understand some elses emotions and feelings. It's how many Leo Moons relate to people, bonus points if their Moon is in a water house!

In your Natal chart, if your ruling planet 's transit is in opposition or square with your natal ruling planet's sign, it can indicate a period of bad luck and hardship. It may feel like the world is against you at the moment, especially if said aspect is in a less than 5° orb. Not a great transit aspect to have.

For example, My ruling planet is Jupiter (Sag Rising) and it's in Scorpio at 9°. IRONICALLY ENOUGH, in my Solar Return chart for this year, Jupiter is in Taurus at 9°. So I'm expecting a lot to happen this year. Later on this year I'll make an update on this aspect.

If you have Scorpio or Pisces in your SR top 3 this year, don't take this lightly!! Like I said in my last post with manifestations, this will be a year that your manifestation power is at an all time high! You may literally speak things into existence, for better or for worse.

On the topic of Scorpio/Pisces SR top three, my advice for this (and I'm speaking from experience) is try to think about things you want to happen, not things you don't want or like. For example, if you think about how much you don't like a certain person, later on down the line you may find yourself suddenly coming back in contact with that person a lot more, when either you wanted to or not.

People with Cancer personal placements, I'd advise you to frequently check the Moon's transit and positions! Whenever it's the full or new moon, keep tabs on what happens those days and how you feel. Let me know in the comments anything interesting that's happened to yall during those times!

I've said this once and I'll say it again, Scorpio Mars are some of the most PERSISTENT people I've ever seen. When it comes to their desires, NOTHING stands in their way. However this can be detrimental if it's bad habits like drinking, smoking, stealing, ect. One way or another they will get what they want, even if it costs them everything. These people can truly be the victim of their own desires. Honorary mention- Taurus and Leo Mars.

Listen, if you ever need someone to promote your music, call an Aquarius Venus/Dominant person. I swear to god these people listen to the most obscure, outta pocket things I've ever heard.

Taurus 6th/5th housers tend to be those people at work that live by the slow and steady motto. They don't like to rush and do a sloppy job on whatever their working on.

On the other hand, Aries 6th/5th housers may be very fast workers, and it usually works well for them, works well under pressure. not the most thorough people but for the most part they get the job done.

People with a lot of Gemini and Leo placements in their chart tend to give off Aries energy.

Capricorn and Scorpio relationships are literally ride or die. I know a couple with many of these placements and they are so possessive of each other. Even after heated arguments and many hardships, they always come back together and work out their issues, it's really sweet!

When in an awkward situation, Libra Risings tend to try and break the tension first. Sometimes they can make the situation more awkward doing this but they're always the ones to bring the vibes back to the way they were, so I appreciate it. Gemini Risings may also do this but can be slightly more unhinged in their methods. I love both regardless for it😭💕.

The reason puberty for all of us hits hard is because it's around this time that Saturn is usually in the sign opposite from our Saturn sign. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it, itcchanges a lot of what we focus on and introduces us to new struggles. Although with Saturn retrograde, the age of which these changes can affect us can range from 13 all the way up to 25. Saturn is trying to toughen us up before we become adults.

What your Rising Sign's season is may be the season/months you prefer. For example, I'm a Sagittarius Rising and I tend to like late fall/early winter.

Your Moon sign can show how you process not just your emotions, but how you handle other peoples emotions, and how you relate to them. For example, a Leo Moon may relate to others by thinking of themselves in someone elses shoes, and how they would handle situations. While a Gemini Moon may relate other peoples emotions with stories from others that they've heard, and use what they've observed from other people to help others.

Venus PC Moon can also show this, I'd look at both sign's relationship to see the full picture of how one truly processes theirs and others emotions.

Moon/Pluto Aspects in someone's chart can show a relationship where however the mother treats the native, is how the native will end up treating her as they get older. For example, if the mother was negligent to the native in their younger years, then as they get older they will have a detached and impersonal attitude towards her. Basically the natives mirror how they were nurtured in youth.

"She say do you love me, I tell her only partly. I only love my bed and my mama I'm sorry." -Drake, a Cancer Moon.

People who say Gemini/Libra placements are indecisive have CLEARLY never met someone with many personal fire placements, especially if it's their top 3. Fire sign energy is naturally high and can be all over the place sometimes, this can include their thoughts and decision making as well, mostly concerning the direction of their passions and work. They may have a million ideas of what they're about to do but have trouble slowing down and planning it all out into managable chunks at a time. Will fight for what they want but may have trouble picking their battles wisely.

HEY HEY, new post! I actually had this one in the drafts for awhile! I just got around to posting it now! I haven't been on at all lately because I'm having trouble finding what else to post about. Sooo I'm thinking of doing a little zodiac game soon since I want to practice my art more :] .

More Nitro Nexus art!! I'm not sure when I'll be officially starting my Anthro's Anthem series with him but if I'm being honest I probably won't be releasing the first official chapter until like 2025-2026. I have a lot planned for it but I don't know when I'll get around to it. Only time will tell!

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ariel26c · 1 month

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My Advice to those who are struggling with Shifting.

If you feel stuck or like a failure this post is for you.

You have the power to decide that you are a master shifter or that you suck at it. Keeping track of how long it's been since you last shifted or when you started your journey is not something that you should be focusing on or give importance to. The reason I say this is because a lot you are allowing time to discourage you when it doesn't actually matter. Time is a concept that WE created not the universe. Does it really matter at the end of the day how long it's been?? NO. why? It is because you are going to shift to your DR no matter what. Seriously think about it. Why else would you have discovered shifting?

Simple. It's because it is meant to happen to you. Don't stress over time when we are more powerful than time. Shifting is something we have been doing since we first started existing on this planet. We shift ALL THE TIME on autopilot just like manifestation. (Manifesting is basically related to shifting or possibly the same thing) Time though is something we created and have been programmed to believe in. I understand it may be discouraging to know you haven't shifted for a couple years but don't let that get to you.

I also experienced this. When I first shifted, I didn't shift again until a couple years but guess what? I didn't allow that to get to me. I knew no matter what I was going to shift. I discovered shifting because it was a part of my destiny. I don't stress anymore because I don't allow something like time to have power over me and discourage me. It's important to have that certainty and be in that state of knowing that you can and will shift.

Choose to live in the end.

Choose to be a master shifter.

Choose that time doesn't matter.

Choose that you have already shifted plenty of times to your DR. (Even if you haven't)

I hope you are having a good day/night :)

#desired reality #affirmations #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #law of the universe #reality shifting #reality shifting community #shiftblr #shifters #shifting community #shifting #reality shift

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astolary · 1 month

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APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS .

( Synopsis ) ✿ freesia – going on a strawberry picking outing

( Author's Note ) @xianyoon has created a lovely event called when the spring light hits the field! Please check out her event >< Ying thank you so much again for letting me write with these prompts :D Up next, Neuvillette hehehe

( Pairings ) Diluc x GN! Spouse Reader

( Content Warnings ) Reader likes strawberries, reader is Diluc's spouse, set towards at least 7-10 years into the future?

( Word Count ) 1.0k+ words

DILUC DESPISES THE MONTH OF APRIL. It does not bring back fond memories. If anything, it reminded him of the times when he was sheltered, naïveté, weak, foolish. How he failed to stand on his own two feet to protect his father; how he pushed everyone away from him; how he ruined everything around him like a corrupt flame choking nature into black ashes.

It was hard for him to create relationships with others after that incident. And if something was hard for him outside of work-related matters, indulgence in desires was something he did not deserve. That is too selfish and self-centred for a man of his calibre.

Diluc had everything; the Dawn Winery, mora, a stable business, a loving father, and a reliable brother. His future was all planned out for him. And everything collapsed because of a birthday wish.

Of course, fate had plans for him. Or was it chance? After all, April showers bring May flowers.

“Good morning, Master Diluc!”

“Master Diluc, good day.”

“Greetings, Master Diluc.”

“Good morning everyone.” Diluc greeted his staff.

Quick footsteps padded the floor. “Master Diluc, here’s your coat.” Moco diligently stood behind him, coat neatly hanging on her arm. “Are you going to pick the strawberries today with (Name)?”

“That’s right.” Diluc nodded. “Do you happen to know of my spouse’s whereabouts?”

Spouse. If you asked him a decade ago if he were ever to find a partner, he would have promptly dismissed the idea and made a mental note to close the tavern early to resume his evening duties.

“(Name) has already started harvesting the strawberries,” Moco informed him.

“I see, they must be in a rush.” Diluc mused. “Thank you, Moco.”

Tsk, cheater. Diluc brooded in the back of his mind.

Hastily, he walked down the cobblestone stairs, quickly spotting a head popping out in the strawberry farm

The post-winter breeze tousled his face like a bygone dream, greeting the animals from slumber; welcoming the birds from the 7 nations; and the plants full in flourish. Spring has come once again.

Which also meant…

“It’s time to harvest the strawberries.” Diluc voiced out loud. He watched your head snap up from the strawberries quickly, freezing like a deer in headlights. “I thought we said we would compete fairly this year.”

Preposterously, you mockingly stood up and pointed an accusing finger towards him. “I would have competed fairly if someone didn’t eat my basket of strawberries last year!”

Clutching your strawberry basket tightly to your chest, you feigned offence. You marched towards him, holding your chin up high in defiance. “This year, I will win, and I will get to be the one to spoil you for a whole month!” You kicked his basket with your hip

“Really now?” He smirked. Diluc pinched your nose, watching you scrunch your face cutely.

“Of course! In fact, I’ll harvest more strawberries than you ever had.” You announced, “I’m winning this year’s strawberry-picking competition!”

As if ignoring the fact that he has always helped in the seasonal fruit harvests since childhood— just like every other year, you deliberately testified your demise. “I’m sure you will.” Diluc replied.

“Just you wait,” You laughed. “Because I have a plan,”

It wasn’t a pretend cackle, your laugh was a joyous laugh, a tinkling melody that burst straight from your heart and enveloped the entire area. A laugh that showed that you were enjoying your time with Diluc over a competition on who could harvest the most strawberries. (Because you both knew it was out of character for Diluc to have fun over a competition.)

(Years ago, when you both carefully strengthened your relationship through time—Diluc did not spare time, but for you he was more willing to take care of himself. And trust—trusting himself was so much more harder than trusting you. Because how can you trust someone wholeheartedly when you can barely trust yourself?

“It’s alright if you don’t trust yourself,” You spoke to him under the orange tavern lights. “Most of the time, we barely trust ourselves to make decisions. But that’s why I’m here.” You smiled, the most beautiful smile he’s seen you show him. “I knew what I was getting into by being with you, and when you don’t trust yourself, I’ll trust you.”)

He’s so, so grateful for being you being in his life.

In a daze, Diluc stood still, holding his basket idly in his hand— soaking in your happiness. Your laugh made him so happy…

You were comfortable living in the manor, with him. You were comfortable laughing, with him. You pushed him to be the best he can be, not because he loves you, but because it’s something he must do to become a better person. To be more worthy to receive your love.

You’re so amazing…

A gust of wind passed by him. Diluc snapped out of his daze.

“But of course, you can’t win the strawberry picking competition if you don’t have your basket!” You yelled. Your legs burned as you ran as fast as possible away from him. (Maybe you’ll reconsider working out with him.)

Diluc chuckled. “Oh you sneaky…”

And Diluc ran after you— of course, while deliberating keeping his pace slow. Because, you know, you should really reconsider working out with him.

Diluc does not despise the month of April.

—

“Elzer.”

He looked up from the documents in his hand.

“Adeline?”

“Look.”

Adeline’s gaze was fixed on the window, fondness swirling in her eyes and an affectionate smile touching her lips.

Curiously, Elzer rose from his chair and took quick strides towards Adeline.

“Master Diluc is chasing (Name) around the vineyard.”

Chasing (Name) around the vineyard…?

He shifted his gaze towards the window. Ah.

“If Master Diluc is fond of grapes, then (Name) is certainly fond of strawberries.” Adeline sighed wistfully.

“Doesn’t it bring back such fond memories?”

Elzer rested his hip against the window ledge. “It does.”

“Just like when Master Crepus and My Lady were younger.” Elzer sighed nostalgicly.

“Just like when Master Crepus and My Lady were younger.” Adeline agreed.

Ah, Master Crepsus would be so proud of the man you became, Master Diluc.

astolary 2024 — do not edit, repost, or translate. © genshin impact official art © @/h-aewo dividers © @xianyoon : when the spring light hits the field event

#when the spring light hits the field #（ ❁ଓ.° ） astro! genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #ok im kinda scared this is my first post in how long HSJSKSLSLDJWKWH

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black-lake · 1 year

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astro observations 8

though most of us think we've learned everything about our own chart, yea we’ve seen it countless times, yet we're always learning new things because we go through experiences that activate and awaken certain parts we either forgot about or overlooked. I shared many of my personal experiences in this post of things I realized later or thought were insignificant.

——

🎻 People with capricorn placements tend to be remembered fondly after their death. The type of artists that listening to their music takes you to a different era and makes you feel nostalgic to a time period you never existed in. They also can easily bring old trends, styles or music genres back to life. Signs that are also remembered after death are aquarius and pisces. I always notice it with those last three signs or degrees of these signs.

🎻 It is said that the moon matures at 24°, so I got a degree observation with that. If you have it at 24° or close to it, 23° or 22°, you may feel like you've experienced the full spectrum of emotions and matured so much in your early 20s. In your childhood and teenage years, you may remember dealing with emotions immaturely, possibly acting out with the negative traits of the moon sign. At 24, you feel more aware and in control of your emotions, like you ended a cycle. Your emotional intelligence becomes evident. The emotional world of these natives is almost entirely internal. They do best when they can deal with their emotions in solitude. They're seen as detached no matter how open they get. They keep people guessing what they're feeling and they tend to have a wise aura.

🎻 With moon at degrees from 25° to 29°, natives may feel like they need to share their emotions with either someone close or the world in general, or even through a hobby they have. They may want to be vocal and expressive about how they feel. They tend to be relatable and make others feel heard through just expressing themselves and being open. They may also experience some heartbreaks, making them stronger, braver and and more willing to share how they feel.

🎻 Moon at degrees from 0° to 21° tend to resonate very much with the sign of their moon degree. They might even be mistaken as having their moon in the the sign of that degree. They're seen as energetic and youthful. They often go through trials and errors in testing their emotional depth. They may have been adventurous growing up, experimenting with things and testing where they feel safest and most secure. They may cling into things, and can be codependent on others. They learn how to develop a sense of detachment as they reach their 20s.

^ if you have your moon at 0° to 21°, which I'm least familiar with cuz I don't meet many ppl with these degrees, please do tell me how it resonates with you and your experience with your moon.

🎻 I noticed that most iconic artists have significant uranus or neptune aspects in their chart, conjunction and oppositions with personal planets in particular. I associate these two planets with artistic abilities and talents. Both give visionary minds and expand the imagination. They are outer and generational planets, so whatever art these ppl create is impactful and undeniably timeless.

🎻 Your first love or just the person you first felt really intimately connected to may have placements or degrees of the sign of your 8th house. I have an 8th house in capricorn and my first love had a cap sun and stellium and an aqua stellium.

🎻 In my experience the 8th house is more important in relationships than the 7th. To me the 7th is about connections in general. Even though I have sag in the 7th and pluto right there, I obvs anticipated a significant relationship with a sag or something but it never happened lol. I end up having a casual and lighthearted connection with them, the traits they embody compliments my rising and it's an easy going connection that stays in the friend zone. Not with cap men, even if I want to be friends with them, there's tension that either drifts us apart fearing the friendship or it instantly develops to an intense relationship. It's because my 8th house is in capricorn, and my pluto and mars are both at 10°. So check the degrees too.

🎻 For the longest time I resonated with being way more plutonian than saturnian, because I don't have any capricorn placements or significant saturn aspects, but so many obvious plutonian aspects. But once saturn hit the highest point in my chart, conjuncting my mc, I realized how much this planet affected my life all along and I was oblivious. For instance, I have so many capricorn degrees and sun in the 10th. I was overlooking that I have capricorn in the 8th and 9th, which means saturn rules both houses, and it rules the 10th too since it's in aquarius plus at 22°. I also have a stellium in the 11th with saturn right at the cusp there, so it even influences the the house that is most active in my chart. Can't wait for saturn 11th transit 💀

🎻 Speaking of that, if you have sun in the 10th house, you probably try hard not to look or sound arrogant because people tend to think you're confident even if you're not. Whenever you speak people listen and others may hate on you for thinking you're better than them and you don't even know them lol. It's so hard to make friends with this but I don't hate it, because it gives me the strategic ways to be persuasive and get my way with authority figures. May apply to leo in the 10th or people with cap/leo mix (I bet y'all were called arrogant at least once lol).

🎻 As someone that is very influenced by pluto (square sun, trine venus, semi-sextile mars, conjunct chiron, opposite ascendant, quintile mc), I painfully understand how plutonians feel like their struggles are never rewarded, at least not the reward they anticipated. Yknow with saturn you go through hardship you learn this and that and you get tangible fucking results that you can fucking see. With pluto what is it again? your inner strength and eventual realization of "ta-daaa you went through it, you thought you couldn’t.. that's the reward". Plutonians out there waiting to be truly happy, truly loved, truly effing rich 💀 and get a damn break.

🎻 Another aspect I overlooked was mars opposite saturn, just because I have it at 10°, but I experienced every single thing related to this aspect. I feel like I learned so much about it the hard way and I wanted to do a post sharing what I learned with people that got mars-saturn harsh aspects. If you have it, your flow of energy may be a little off, not knowing when to STOP doing a task and when to start again. Being stubborn with your work wanting it to be done instantly and perfectly like your body is some type of machine taking orders, but saturn will put obstacles in your way until you learn patience and contentment. Can be harder to deal with if mars is in a fixed or cardinal sign.

🎻 With mars-saturn harsh aspects, you may feel the urge to act on your martian qualities but if you disregard what saturn is there for, you'll find yourself back at square one. It's about listening to your body and not ignoring your physical and mental exhaustions. Taking short breaks and organizing your time instead of giving up all together in rage. You're not running out of time if you do so, in fact pushing through too hard is what's a waste of time. It's not a wise use of energy because your work won't be as efficient and your perfectionist ass will redo it. If there's an absence of a healthy work-life balance, these natives can internalize a tremendous amount of anger that can be detrimental to their health.

🎻 I always laugh at capricorns saying that capricorn is a cursed sign because it's so true but also absolutely untrue at the same time. 💀 These natives need to understand certain life patterns, qualities and duties that once figured out unlocks so much success and tangible results that are long lasting. Cap placements especially sun and stelliums give me the sense that they inherited some of their ancestors qualities, if you believe in that, but they go through some hardships with the patterns that come with these qualities. They have a choice to cut the patterns that don't serve them, whether in behaviors or ways of thinking and utilise what they already have with persistence and strategy.

🎻 Well it's march already, who's excited for a little pluto break? It's finally leaving capricorn and entering aquarius on the 23rd and I can't wait tbh. It's like a more intense uranus in aquarius transit, yes we will see a new sense of freedom, some drastic changes, and some said authentic people popping up, new sources of income, new values that aren't necessarily money related, systems that aren't as controlling, maybe new communities or apps on the internet that are annoyingly trendy. But with pluto we will see the shadow side of all of that, so buckle up and get ready lol. It's a gradual change tho I don't expect much to happen this year, but we can always be shocked. Also side thought, if your kids are gonna have pluto in aquarius they may be even brattier and harder to control than pluto sag gen.

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 months

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Symptoms of a System Error: The Manifestation of Myungha's Depression in Love for Love's Sake

Ok I will almost certainly have more thoughts about this when I go back to rewatch Love for Love’s Sake in the next couple weeks, but I’ve been thinking about the finale for the last couple of hours and I want to get some stuff out of my head. Before I get too far in to this, I want to say that I think most of the ambiguity in the show is brilliantly executed in a way that allows people to take whatever meaning they want to from it without contradicting each other, without stepping on toes, and without having to twist or bend the narrative beyond all recognition to make it make sense.

So I want to talk about the use of depression in this show, because the way Myungha exists in the world is recognizable enough to me that these moments of choice, and the system errors were extremely legible. That doesn’t mean my take is the correct one (and I honestly don’t think there is one right answer here anyway) but it’s what I got out of it, so with the needless ramble complete, let’s get to it.

Prologue

gif by @dramascene

I connected rather quickly to Myungha as a character from right near the beginning of episode 1 because of how passionate he was about the character of Yeowoon and how much he hoped for a happy ending for that character. As someone who processes a lot of my feelings, and who understands myself better through media consumption, I was quick to appreciate the fact that Myungha recognizes the parts of himself that speak to Yeowoon and to know that because Yeowoon is fictional, he has a chance not to suffer with merely a stroke of a pen. The Author could have chosen from the beginning to give Yeowoon a happy ending, and did not because he believes that there are people for whom bad things will never stop happening. But from the perspective of a fictional story, the Author should consider who he is writing the story for. Myungha connects to Yeowoon, and it sends one hell of a tragic message for how Myungha’s life will end up if even in fiction the people who suffer have no hope of happiness.

Myungha tells the Author that someone like Cha Yeowoon, someone like him [Myungha] with awful lives can still be happy. Looking back on that statement with the knowledge that Myungha kills himself, sends a very clear message, at least for me, of the hope that he was clinging to and finally lost his grip on. The Author asks if Myungha can change the outcome, and thus begins our story.

Debuffs

Now, I don’t know that I will have much more to say here than what @jemmo said in their very brilliant post, beyond the fact I agree with their interpretation of the debuffs. But I am thinking about the debuffs as it relates to mental health and to Myungha’s independence. One of Myungha’s first missions is to befriend Cha Yeowoon, and we see the difficulties associated with doing so when it comes to the Fondness Level meter and the debuffs that happen as a result. I love what Jess said about the dichotomy there: the debuffs mean that every time Myungha gets close to Yeowoon, something bad happens, Myungha uses that as a reason to stay away from Yeowoon to protect him when in fact, being around Myungha and increasing his fondness for him is the only way to really keep Yeowoon safe.

gif by @dramascene

And here again there is something recognizable to me in this dichotomy. Myungha likes Yeowoon, Myungha wants to be friends with Yeowoon, every time something bad might happen to Yeowoon, Myungha is there to intervene. But Myungha is convinced that the potentially negative events that might occur during a debuff are because of him, and so he avoids Yeowoon as much as he possibly can. To me this makes the debuffs a stand in for depression symptoms. Myungha has convinced himself that he is the cause of the bad moments in Yeowoon’s day. Myungha has convinced himself that Yeowoon would be better off if they weren’t friends, because he only makes things worse. And that is not something he can easily shake off, it’s not something he can logic his way out of, that’s the game, that’s just how it is. And so he withdraws until Yeowoon comes to him.

And honestly thinking about it, nothing bad really happens during those debuffs. The light doesn’t shatter, the boys back off on the bus, Yeowoon doesn’t punch Sangwon. Maybe the reason why nothing at all happens is because Myungha intervenes. Maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there, the light would have broken, maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there Yeowoon would have punched Sangwon. But that is not a lens that Myungha is capable of viewing himself through, that is never an option that crosses Myungha’s mind because he is too focused on feeling like the cause of Yeowoon’s problems.

System Errors

I know there is a lot of confusion or at least uncertainty around the system errors. Why are they happening? Where are they coming from? For me, I think the answer is Myungha himself. The first time we get a system error, it’s in Episode 6, what I think is the day after Yeowoon and Myungha have their first kiss and very soon after Yeowoon and Myungha kiss on the rooftop at school. The first error isn’t subtle, but it’s not explicitly stated. Myungha walks in to a room to take a phone call and walks in to the middle of band practice, falling through the world as he tries to remove himself from the situation until he (literally) runs in to Yeowoon. Myungha goes home that night and gets his first moments in the black abyss, and the first explicit mention via pop-up of a system error. I have not gone through (yet) to track every instance of what happens before a system error pop-up occurs from that point on, but I will say moment that was most legible for me in terms of indicating that these system errors were stemming from Myungha himself were when he gets the notification both times that Yeowoon looks directly at him and tells Myungha “I love you.”

gif by @dragonsareawesome123

That moment was a guy punch for me because I was not able to see it any other way except that Myungha is so incapable of believing that people could actually love him that someone telling him directly and sincerely that they love him cannot exist in his world. He literally cannot compute it, and thus an error occurs. Again from the perspective of depression, or trauma, or what have you, this is familiar to me. It is perhaps the most reflective part of Myungha to my own psyche. Neither of us know how to be loved.

Myungha is called out on this repeatedly, he is nice to everyone, he does so much for everyone and refuses to ask for help himself. I’m the same way, I will bend over backwards as much as I can to help the people that I care about, but it is a rare occasion where I can ask for help myself. I’m not sure if this is the case for Myungha, but for me at least a lot of that stems from needing to make myself useful to people in some way so they keep me around. And so I end up feeling like a commodity to the people that I care about and help, and merely tolerated by anyone else that I do not help but that interacts with me any way. Myungha is called out consistently by multiple people, real or NPC about this similar habit. Myungha does not want to be a burden, Myungha only cares about other people’s happiness, Myungha is not happy himself and has maybe never been happy and so he pours everything he can in to lightening the load for others.

He loves Yeowoon, but to be loved by Yeowoon is different. To experience any moments of joy cannot possibly be real. Maybe I am projecting too much on to the character, but it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha’s worldview would break down upon having someone state wholeheartedly that they want to be a support system for him.

Cruel Choices

gif by @dramascene

With the enmeshment of depression and video game mechanics in mind, I want to talk about the scene at the end of Episode 6. I love this scene so much for a number of reasons:

It turns the game on a head for me as we slip further and further in to a nightmare scenario

It raises the stakes and attempts to get Myungha to make a hard choice

It forces Myungha to think about what is important to him

It’s ultimate purpose and who is posting the mission is ambiguous/uncertain

I’m going to focus on number four. I think it is a perfectly valid read to see this and all video game mechanics as designed by The Author in an effort to help Myungha change Yeowoon’s story in which case this mission feels particularly vindictive and cruel. @lurkingshan posed the question in a conversation we were having about Love for Love’s Sake, where she wondered why the game could not hold two sources of love for Myungha at once. I love that question because it made me realize how differently this show can be read and how important who you choose to read as the entity in control of this game is for what this scene specifically means and I love so many interpretations of it, I love the interpretation that is was simply cruel, I love the interpretation that in retrospect this was the Author being angry at Myungha for dying, I love the reflection from @jemmo that said this felt like a choice between staying rooted in the past (sparing grandma) or choosing a future (sparing Yeowoon)

For me, I think I am leaning heavily in to the pop ups are under Myungha’s subconscious control, his mind, the missions he thinks are important, the problems he thinks he is causing are what is driving the base game. Because of this my base instinct is to lean in to the depression/anxiety/trauma tent where things have been going a little too well for him lately and he has convinced himself that he is due for something bad to happen. I am happy to once again acknowledge that this probably projection, but I know that my own mental illness(es) does not let my peace linger for long. Myungha is spending so much time with Yeowoon, Yeowoon who grounds him when his world is literally falling apart. Yeowoon who cannot contain his smile whenever he is around Myungha, Yeowoon who is downright desperate to bestow love and support upon Myungha, Yeowoon who has accompanied Myungha to the hospital late at night to be there for his boyfriend in a stressful time, and Myungha can’t have that. He loves his grandmother, he loves Yeowoon, they both love him and so obviously means that something bad is going to happen to them.

gif by @25shadesoffebruary

[As an aside I am thinking about what the Author said in the final episode about wanting Myungha to be able to see himself from the outside, and how I took that to mean Yeowoon is supposed to be a reflection of Myungha and a journey to self love, and how Yeowoon told Myungha that something bad always happens to the people around him in relation to this hospital scene]

Secondarily, I do think being confronted with this choice at all allows Myungha to have a moment of reflection, and is clarifying for him to know that both Yeowoon and his grandmother are important people in his life that he doesn’t want to lose. That’s fucking huge, in my opinion at least. And for all this mission was cruel, it was the first time Myungha refused to complete the mission. He was asked to save one, he decided to save both, and the game could have been cruel and taken his grandmother and Yeowoon away for refusing to choose, but it didn’t. They both got to live, and sure Myungha’s mission to make Yeowoon happy was shortened significantly, but I do think fifteen days was enough time to be successful in his mission if the depression and the grief had not gotten to Myungha instead.

Grief

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Something about grief that my therapist told me once was grieving people love helping others. And I think that is the case of Myungha here just based on the way he throws himself in to helping as many people as he can, especially Yeowoon. He knows Yeowoon is grieving, he knows Yeowoon is struggling, and he can distract himself from his own shit by helping Yeowoon instead. But once Myungha is confronted with the possibility that either one of the people that he loves could die, the penality for failing in his mission to make Yeowoon happy looms over his head like a knife. Just like Myungha considered himself the problem with the debuff, he knows how high of a likelihood it is that Yeowoon would regress, would isolate, would sink into a massive low.

And it would be Myung’s fault (in his mind).

Especially because Yeowoon keeps saying that even thinking about going on dates with Myungha is making him happy but Myungha’s mission isn’t complete. Myungha has started to get low, he is not as engaged in his relationship with Yeowoon, he’s convinced himself he is going to fail, and is thus setting himself up for failure because he decides 15 days is not enough time to find happiness, but it is enough time to break somebody’s heart in preparation for a devastating loss. And maybe, maybe Myungha would have snapped out of it with enough time to spare initially, but any hope of that being the case was shattered the second Yeowoon admitted that he wasn’t happy because Myungha wasn’t relying on him.

Myungha is so used to be self-reliant there is no way for him to break out of that habit in just two weeks. Myungha knew his death would hurt Yeowoon, but the final nail in the coffin for him was learning that his life was hurting Yeowoon too. And he almost got there, he almost did it, he admitted that he didn’t know how to, but he withdrew at the last second. He has spent all this time, all this energy, all this focus in to changing Yeowoon, he does not have the space to do that for himself.

The Choice

gif by @supanuts

The last moment I will really speak to as it relates to my interpretation of this game being controlled by Myungha as a manifestation of his depression is the author’s pen. Considering the fact The Author asked Myungha if he wanted to try again, I do not think if the Author was controlling this game world that he would have had Myungha disappear from it. Because according to the Gaga subs, the change that Myungha writes is that he wants Yeowoon to be happy, and immediately upon finishing that request, Myungha starts to fade.

If we hold these game mechanics as manifestations of Myungha’s depression, which I do, it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha would fall back in to the pattern of believing that Yeowoon would be happier if Myungha wasn’t there. Yeowoon has a modeling deal now, he has some modicum of fame, he has friends now, he has supports in place that he did not have before, so what need does Yeowoon have of him, when his inability to let people love him is what is now causing Yeowoon to feel sad.

And I think that massive server error at the end where the world is burning and the universe is melting in to the game is a result of Myungha realizing too little, too late that this isn’t what he wanted. But it can’t be undone. The line he says when he is sinking in to the water about how at the last minute before he died, he regretted it. The game, the drowning here are one in the same to me.

And for me there was just something so beautiful and hopeful from Myungha telling The Author that he wants to try again. We started the show with Myungha telling The Author miserable people can be happy, and we end the show with Myungha and Yeowoon finally getting the happy ending they never thought they would have.

gif by @junghaesin

God I loved this show.

#love for love's sake #lfls #love for love's sake meta #love for love's sake analysis #one thing about this show is that it almost certainly will lend itself well to a rewatch!#and I *love* rewatching shows #wka long post

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

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𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit © @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking.

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time.

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you.

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her.

“Can you leave this on his desk?”

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them.

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything.

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place.

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so.

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there.

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then.

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him, you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper.

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him.

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around.

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking.

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared.

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public.

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance.

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump.

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

──

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich.

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone.

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note.

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table.

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him.

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.”

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there.

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies.

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis.

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down.

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real.

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it).

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying.

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should.

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel.

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear.

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose.

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular.

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness.

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards.

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party.

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme.

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author.

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door.

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection.

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were.

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party.

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.”

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you.

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that.

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello.

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.”

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked.

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?”

He finally blinked, licking his lips again.

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public.

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?”

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack.

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?”

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken.

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger.

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle.

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you.

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long.

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it.

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you.

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath.

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions.

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

— You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did.

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated.

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses.

“. . . You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.

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midniiights-garden · 4 months

Note

I love your hcs for modern au! mizu, could you possibly write some headcanons relating to her getting into a relationship?

(A/N: YIPPIEEEEE AN ASK!! Omg I think this would be interesting and there's a bunch of other HCs on this but imma put my own spin on it ^^)

Possible TWs!!: Mentions of sex, internalized homophobia, sexisim, racisim, grooming (??)

~~~

Ok so first of all yeah, I wanna flesh out her past relationship with Mikio in this AU. I think it would be important in shaping Mizu's view of her future S/O.

So, as I said in my last post she probably met Mikio when she was in University, he would probably be a teacher or something. Lowkey, considering the age gap, in this AU he would have probably either been some kind of forced relationship like in the canon or he groomed her in some way.

Either way, it made moder!Mizu really wary of kindness, now viewing everyone who is nice to her as a threat.

I'm also basing her trauma responses based on my own so I hope this isn't too OOC, I'm just tryna work off of what I know lol

So when you came into her life (probably introduced by Ringo because he's a cutie patootie ray of sunshine), she was more than skeptical.

It'd be rocky. You'd try to talk and she would only give short, curt answers. Much like canon Mizu.

It'd probably take a consistent half a year of talking to her for her to finally crack. Either that or you'd do something really nice for her like caring for her whilst she was sick or prepared something for her birthday or something of the likes. Either way, you'd have to really make an effort to befriend and win her over, it's more of a her problem then a you problem.

But once her initial coldness has melted away you find a pretty sincere, caring woman. She's only strict with you if she cares. If she doesn't I believe she's the kind of person who would probably just go "eh, whatever" if you did something stupid. But if she cares she'll be like "DO NOT DO THAT".

She'll realise she's in love probably while she's sick lol

Like, she'll see you helping her at her worst, holding her hair back whilst she throws up or something and be like "...oh my god".

Mizu wouldn't confess too soon after realising, she'd take her time to really think about it. Was she ready for a potential heartbreak? Was this worth it? You might find that she'll pull away a little as she thinks. It isn't intentional, but it will probably happen.

You'd probably have to confess first.

She'd secretly be elated but she wouldn't show it too much at first. Actually, she'd be hesitant to show positive emotions at all in the beginning. But as your relationship progresses she realises you aren't like Mikio. You aren't there because of some made up image of her. You're there because you love her. Not an idea of her, but herself, flaws and all.

She's gonna marry you lol.

(A/N: THAAAAT'S IT!!! Also im so sorry for taking so long with this. my gf left me and its my bday today so ive been like moping and playing sdv lmfaoooo. HAPPY NEW YEARS POOKIES <3)

#mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #i love women #wlw #i love fictional characters #mizu #mizu x reader #mizu come home the kids miss you #x reader #mizu x you #x gn y/n #gn reader #x fem!reader

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

Text

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 || quinn hughes ♔

album & song: fearless (taylor's version) ; you belong with me (taylor's version)

summary: y/n always thought she was the one for quinn, and he slowly starts to realize it too

pairings: quinn hughes x neighbor!friend!reader, temporary quinn hughes x fem!oc

warnings: small mentions to throwing up, sad quinn, asshole girlfriend, quinn thinking he's not good enough, mentions of an injury (reader's)

notes: it's been a while since i posted not related to flowers and it's been a while since i posted an actual fic fic in general so here it is. i think my cole fic might be out next but no promises and yeah. hope you guys enjoy it and be sure to leave your requests in the inbox or just message me in general. story notes -> i totally forgot that in the music video they are actually neighbors, so i guess that's a bonus. they met in 2021, so they have been friends for 3-4 years. quinn started dating chloe in 2022 (probably near the end of the year, so it’s been a year-ish) look for the music video easter eggs because i took a lot of inspiration from it since it's literally one of my favorites! also she does stuff for the social team because it's important for the plot (well for one part). the time doesn't really matter in this story but if you're confused just let me know. if there is a time it is supposed to happen, i'm pretty sure i mentioned it. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

publish date: 01/21/24

fearless masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

‘you're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset she's going off about something that you said 'cause she doesn't get your humor like I do’

She had just sat down in the living room when she heard voices, more like a voice, outside her door. It really wasn’t her business to know who it was but they were standing outside of her door, so she took it as her duty to know what was going on outside her apartment.

She walked to the door, abandoning her dinner and computer on the couch. She placed her head right up against the door, her ear straining to hear anything being said. It didn’t take long for her to recognize the voice of her friend, Quinn. He sounded lighthearted when he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Y/n assumed it had been at least a minute or two since Quinn had spoken last, her ear starting to hurt from being pressed against the door for that long. When the man outside her apartment finally spoke again, his tone was much different than before, “I was just making a joke, Chloe.”

There was more silence before she could hear him again, “No you always blow things so out of proportion. It was just a fucking joke you don’t need to get so upset about it. I was listening to you talk and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Once again silence, and y/n could only assume that Quinn was being yelled at from the other end of the line. She rolled her eyes, she never really liked Chloe, though she only met her once maybe twice. She was always mad about something, and usually, it was because of something stupid. She usually made underlying digs about y/n and her job, stating that she only took it because of the guys and how she wanted to meet someone.

She heard Quinn speak a few more times, mostly mumbling profanities and more thoughts that he wouldn’t even dare to say to her face. It was silent for quite some time after that, not even movement from the man outside as he just stood in front of his door staring at his phone dejectedly.

Y/n stood up and straightened herself out before opening the door slightly and peeking her head out. Quinn looked in her direction as he heard the door click open and gave her a small smile.

“You okay?”

Quinn only smiled before responding, “Tired of drama.”

She frowned, “Sorry.”

He just shrugged, fiddling with his keys in his pocket. Y/n turned away, looking back at the pot of Mac N Cheese that sat on her stove, ready to offer Quinn to come inside, but when she stuck her head back out into the hallway she noticed that Quinn had already made his way inside his apartment.

She sighed before stepping fully back into her entranceway, shutting the door behind her. All she could think about were the three words that she had been wishing to say since she met Quinn.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘i'm in my room, it's a typical tuesday night ‘i'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like ‘and she'll never know your story like I do’

It was a game day for the Cancuks meaning that not only was Quinn at Rogers Arena but y/n as well. She was wearing her fleeced-line leggings with a long-sleeve t-shirt, her Canucks cardigan thrown over it. She hadn’t had a chance to wash her hair so she just threw a beanie on top and decided it was good enough.

She had been in her office since the boys had left for the locker room, editing and sending pictures to the social team. She had her earbuds in, not wanting to disturb anyone if they were still at the arena working as well. She was listening to the playlist Quinn had made for her when she found out he played for the Canucks.

When y/n moved in next door to Quinn, he had already been playing with the team for two whole seasons. Quinn had been walking out of the apartment building when he noticed the girl struggling to carry up all of her boxes from the UHaul to her new apartment. He offered to help her, especially since it was a rare day where he didn’t have a game nor did he have practice.

He ended up offering her to have dinner at his place when he realized they were next door neighbors. That night she ended up explaining to him how she got her BA in art and design and got a minor in sports management. He was surprised when she told him she was starting a new job for his team.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

“Yeah, I got my ba in art and design and then I decided to get a minor in sports management just because I was hoping that would boost my chances of getting a job for a sports team, which ended up happening.”

Quinn raised his eyebrows as he cut up his food, “Oh really? Who are you working for now?”

She sallowed the piece of food in her mouth before wiping her mouth with her napkin, “I’m working for the Vancouver Cancuks. I was pretty surprised when they said they wanted me, I mean they are an NHL Team.”

Quinn choked on the water he had been drinking when she said the Canucks, “You’re wokring for the Canucks?”

She looked at him oddly as he coughed up the water, his eyes watering. She didn’t understand why he was acting like this, “Yeah? Is there a problem that I’m not aware of?”

“Um, I play for the Canucks.”

Her eyes widened, “No fucking way.”

“Yeah, Quinn Hughes, number 43.”

“Oh, that’s a weird coincedience, I guess. I mean how often does stuff like this happen?”

Quinn chuckled, “Not very.”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Later that night Quinn had taken her phone and made a playlist for her of the songs that always made him feel better before a game or just in the morning when he was on his way to practice. Ever since then, she had listened to that playlist when she needed a pick-me-up, wanting something familiar to her.

She understood why Quinn liked this music before a game, it was upbeat and productive music for her. She was able to go into work mode when the song played, cleaning her office, editing photos and adding graphics to them when the social team asked for some extra help.

When she was done she sighed when she saw it was 11. She knew she shouldn’t be driving this late at night but she had no other choice. She walked out into the hallway and walked outside the arena. It was cold in Vancouver, snow was falling on the ground. She wrapped herself tightly in her winter jacket as she made her way to her car but paused when she saw Quinn heading to his own.

He turned when he heard footsteps coming from behind him and waved when he saw who it was, “Hey, y/n/n!”

“Hi Quinny. Didn’t expect you to be staying here this late.”

The boy shrugged, “Had a lot to talk about tonight, I guess.”

She nodded, “Yeah. Sorry about the loss.”

Quinn just sighed and nodded, “Thanks. Do you want a ride home? I know you hate driving home in the snow, especially when it’s this late- wait what were you doing here this late?”

She blushed but it went unnoticed due to the fact that her cheeks were already turning a slight shade of pink from the cold, “I was editing photos and doing some stuff for the social team. They like it when I help, which is weird because I didn’t even really go to school for that. Also why do you know that I don’t like driving home in the snow?”

Now it was Quinn’s turn to blush, “I just remembered I guess.”

The two got in his car, Quinn reassuring her that they could go back in the morning to get her car. The first ten minutes of the ride back their aparments was silent, the quiet sports channel of the radio playing in the background. When they brought up the Canucks lost from that night, she could tell Quinn got tense since his knuckles turned white as they gripped the steering wheel.

“You okay?”

Quinn relaxed a little at her voice but his body was still tense a little, “Yeah, just… I feel horrible right now.”

“Did Chloe ever text you? You know, to say something about the loss?”

That was a worse question. Quinn was annoyed at the question and also upset. She hadn’t texted him, in fact the two hadn’t talked in five days with Chloe being across the country doing a string of photo shoots. He shook his head, “Nah, she’s probably sleeping, it’s like what? Three in the morning there?”

She just nodded her head and moved her head to look out of the window again. She watched as they past buildings, still mesmerized by the snow and how it fell on the ground and on the buildings. She looked back over at the boy to now see a sad look on his face, “I know how you feel, Quinn. And just know, it’s not your fault.”

“But it is though, right? I’m the captain, I’m supposed to make them better, I’m supposed to lead them to victory.”

“You can’t make them play better, Quinny. That’s what practice is for. You’re there to motivate them, inspire them, help them. You can’t make them do anything. Trust me, I know.”

Quinn looked at her in confusion, “You do?”

“Yeah, I was the captain of the girls hockey team in college.”

“You played hockey?” Quinn asked, a grin making its way onto his face.

She shrugged, “Yeah. I was okay, I guess.”

“Okay? If you were the captain you had to be more than okay.”

She nodded, “I was captain for only half of a season and then I got injured. Really set me back, especially during senior year. I was supposed to be out for almost the rest of the season. I could’ve played if we made the playoffs but we didn’t. And that was the extent of my hockey career.”

Quinn could see how sad she looked talking about this so he was quick to change the subject. The two were now talking about random nonsense, saying whatever was coming to mind until they reached the doors of their apartments.

“I should not have stayed at work that long. Tomorrow’s going to be a pain in the ass.”

“You’re telling me, I hate back-to-backs. We play well for the first one and then suck ass for the second because of how tired we are.”

“Well, you sucked ass today so maybe you’ll play well tomorrow.”

Quinn laughed at this, shooting her a smile, “Or maybe we’ll suck ass even more.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans i can't help thinking this is how it ought to be laughing on a park bench thinking to myself hey, isn't this easy?’

It was one of the rare off days that the two of them had and Chloe, as usual, wasn’t around. The two were quick to set up plans with one another and go walking around. When y/n walked out of her partment she saw Quinn standing otuside of his, getting ready to text her, “Hey.”

The boy looked up from his phone and smiled, “Hey.”

Y/n gave Quinn a once over, noticing his pair of worn-out jeans, “You need some new jeans there, Quinner?”

He laughs, “Probably, but I never have time to go shopping.”

She grins, “Well luckily we are going out so we can go get somethings. Come on!” She grabs his arm and pulls him to the elevator, the two sneaking glances at one another as they wait for it.

Quinn offered to drive them around, but she immediately said no, wanting to be able to walk around. The boy was amused by her immediate response and nodded, “Okay okay. We can walk, you weirdo.”

“Hey! Thank you for noticing.” She smiles and the two walk around downton Vancouver for awhile, stopping at a clothing store to get new jeans for him.

About an hour later all Quinn could hear was the complaints coming from the girl, “I’m tired. My feet hurt. And ‘m cold.”

“I told you we could’ve taken the car.” He threw an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to lean some of her weight onto him.

“But I wanted to walk- Quinn look!”

He looked over to wear y/n was now pointing and noticed the small ice cream shop on the corner, “Ice cream? It’s like 30 degrees out.”

She gave him a look, daring him to argue with her, “So?”

He held his arms up in surrender, lifting his arm from her shoulders leaving her feeling colder than before. His arm felt a little colder too, actually his whole right side of his body felt colder as she moved away from him. They both looked at each other with awkward smiles on their faces before he ushered her to move forward, “Well come on then.”

She grinned and followed after him, a new found pep in her step. When they got their ice cream, they made their way over to the park and sat down on one of the benches. Quinn was not fond of this idea, his whole body was cold and with him eating ice cream now, he sure as hell wasn’t getting any warmer.

They were talking about the upcoming banquet for the team, “I don’t understand these banquets. I don’t wanna go.”

Quinn whined like a little kid making y/n erupt in laughter. It was easy between them, they didn’t have to force conversation whenever they were together, they worked together so they saw each other almost all of the time, they understood each other’s life styles, each other’s humor. Quinn could always talk to her about hockey which was nice especially when it was a hard game.

That’s all y/n could think about as they sat on the bench, how easy it was. She didn’t want to be selfish but truly, why was Quinn with her? She had never once heard her ask him how his game went, he always told her that she was busy at a premier or doing whatever she was doing while she was away. She always yelled at him over the phone, she acted possessive, truly she felt bad for Quinn. He deserved better.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘and you've got a smile that can light up this whole town i haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down’

Quinn’s smile was y/n’s favorite thing in the world. It made her smile, it made others smile, it was contagious. Every time she would be taking pictures on the ice and she would see Quinn with a smile plastered on his face she took a picture, and usually saw others around him smiling as well.

Truth be told, it was rare with Quinn smiled, at least a full one. The most she got out of him lately was a small smirk or a tiny side grin when she would make a joke or any time they ran into each other really. She didn’t know if it was him just being him and not wanting to smile or if it was Chloe.

They had a fight a couple weeks ago, probably the worst one yet. She had been granted a small leave from the photo shoot so she came back to see Quinn, which shocked him. He had come home late from the game, they had won by a landslide and Quinn had gotten his first win as captain. They went out for drinks, even inviting y/n and some of the wags to go with. She accepted and made friends with some of the girls, some even joking that she would be one soon.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Y/n might have had a little too much to drink, causing Quinn to have to drive her home, as usual. Quinn laughed as she stumbled down the hallway, talking about how she got so many pictures of him from tonight’s game, “I’m sure you did.”

She giggled, “I did! Believe me! They are all on my computer, I should make you my background.”

The boy blushed and shook his head, “Okay. I think you’ve had way too much to drink. Come on, where’s your keys?”

She could only mumble now, becoming increasingly tired as the thought of her bed on the other side of the door plagued her mind, “Pocket.”

Quinn reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the keys, keeping her upright with his arm wrapped around her waist. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside but before they even got a step into the apartment, Quinn’s door opened, “Quinn!”

Quinn looked suprised as he looked at his girlfriend standing in the entry way of his home, “Chloe? What are you doing here?”

“They gave me a break so I thought I would come and surprise you but I see you’re a little busy.”

A heavy glare settled on her face and Quinn looked apologetic, “Let me just get her inside then we will talk.”

Chloe only rolled her eyes and scoffed, walking back into his apartment. Quinn moved y/n to her bed, taking off her shoes and her jacket, “You need anything before I go?”

She shook her head. Quinn smiled at her before patting her calf and walking out of her apartment and into his own. It was only five minutes later that she could hear the screaming from the neighboring home. Y/n groaned at the noise before getting the urge to puke.

She ran into the bathroom and emptied her stomach into the toliet, groaning from the action. She leaned her head against the wall and listened to the sound of the two bickering back and forth. Ten minutes later and she still sat there when there was a slam followed by footsteps outside in the hallway.

She frowned when she heard something being thrown across the room and sighed to herself, wishing she could help him.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

And ever since then, Quinn’s smiles had been slim to nonexistent even when they won a game, or he scored a goal. When they hung out and watched a comdey movie he didn’t smile, just a small upturn of his mouth and that was it.

Now it was the beginning of November and everyone was buzzing from the incredible start the Cancuks had gotten off to. They were currently 8-2-1 going into the game against the Oilers and they were hoping to extend their win streak to four.

Y/n was walking around in her usual attire in the arena, gathering pictures for later. She had gotten plenty from warm-ups and during the periods, taking a small break during intermissions before heading down to get some in the tunnel.

Everyone erupted in cheers when the game was over, they had won 6-2. Y/n quickly put her skates on to head out for the stars of the game, trying not to get in anyone’s way as she did her job and they did theirs. She smiled when they announced Quinn as first star of the game, watching as he threw a stick over the boards, capturing the moment he turned around with a grin on his face.

All she could think about was that she was definitely going to use this in a video soon, even if Quinn did kill her for it.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night i'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry’

It had been a hard game for Quinn. Not only was it hard for Quinn with it being the Hughesbowl, but it was a hard loss for him and the team. They had done so well of getting back in the game, scoring three in 3rd, but alas it wasn’t enough.

Quinn was taking it harder than anyone else, claiming how he should’ve done more for the team in order to win. He hadn’t done much the game, blaming it on him for not doing enough for them. Before going out with his family he told them he had to do something, going to y/n’s office and knocking on the door.

He didn’t get an answer, mostly because y/n had already left since she was extremely exhausted from the amount of running back and forth she had to do during the game. Quinn left disappointed, meeting back up with his family for dinner.

He came back home and stopped in front of her door, “Y/n/n.”

Luckily, she had been right at the door, doing a little bit of cleaning around her apartment. She heard the whisper of her name, it was barely audible. She opened up the door and smiled when she saw him, “Hey Quinn. What’s up?”

He didn’t say anything, just motioning with his hand if it was okay that he came inside. She stepped aside and the boy walked in, falling down on the couch. She approached him hesitantly, “Quinn? Are you okay?”

He looked up at her with tears in his eyes, “I’m not good enough am I?”

All the emotions came rushing to Quinn. Being constantly compared to his brothers, being constantly asked about them. Chloe was just using him for his money which he finally recognized a couple days ago. He kept being told that he was overrated and that he shouldn’t be captain.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed and she walked over to him wrapping him in a hug, “What? Of course, you’re good enough Quinn. Who said that?”

Quinn shook his head, burrying it into her shoulder, “I can’t escape it, y/n. Every where I go everyone is always comparing me to Jack and I’m so sick of it. It’s like I can’t do anything right. I let the team down, I should’ve done better tonight. Now everyone thinks I’m the worst Hughes and someone said Luke shouldn’t even be looking up to me. And they keep telling me I’m a failure.

Y/n’s heart broke at his confession but it shattered when he said the next words, “And no one loves me anymore, y/n/n. Chloe’s just using me, she never wanted me. God I’m so stupid, I should’ve seen it coming.”

She rubbed his back and just let him let out all of his feelings. When it was silent for two minutes she pulled away from him and made her look into her eyes, “Listen to me, Quintin.”

He slightly smiled at the name, “You are no failure, Quinn. Believe me. You have been doing amazing this season, both personally and leading the team. You have led this team to 16 victories this season. And you led them to overtime twice and only lost one of them.”

“Yeah but I still lost them 8 games.”

“You couldn’t have done anything more than what you did, Quinn. You know what your guys’ record was last year through 25 games? 10-12-3. You won 6 more games this year. You have more goals at this point in the season then you did in the entire year last year, Quinn. Who cares that people, who are nobodies to you, are comparing you to Jack? You two have different experiences, you play two differnet positions, you play for two different teams. You do so much for Luke, I promise you. That kid will look up to you no matter what.”

Quinn’s eyes glistened with tears at her words, and the best thing was was that he believed her and that was all that she could ask for. He nodded his head when she was done and slowly unwrapped himself from her, missing the embrace immediately.

She didn’t want him to be sad, or at least leave while sad, so she said the only thing that came to mind, “If it makes you feel any better. I think you’re the best looking Hughes.”

Quinn laughed loudly, wiping the tears from his eyes that were threatening to fall, “Thanks y/n/n.”

“Any time, you want some ice cream?” He only nodded and she got up to get it.

The two spent the next hour and a half eating ice cream on her couch watching a movie, before falling asleep on each other.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘and I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams think I know where you belong think I know it's with me’

It was a late night for both Quinn and y/n. The two were hanging out in her apartment after Quinn’s practice. They hadn’t had a game that night so they were on her couch watching whatever hockey game was on at that moment.

Y/n was sitting on her laptop editing some photos from the previous game, switching in between tabs quickly. Quinn was in the kitchen making dinner for the two of them after he offered. She could hear the sizzling from the pan and claled out, “What the hell are you making over there?”

Quinn looked down to see the noodles and furrowed his eyebrows, “Noodles!”

“I thought you were cooking up a mean meal, but noodles? I let you into my house and allow you to make me dinner and you make me noodles?”

She walked into the kitchen with her laptop and sat down at the counter. Quinn looked over at her offended, “Hey you said you didn’t care.”

She giggled, “I know. So Chef Quinn, what kind of noodles are you making?”

“Fettuccine.”

“Oh so you’re making me fancy noodles. I’ll forgive you.”

“Why thank you m’lady. Whatcha doing over there?”

Quinn walked around the counter to look at her laptop, “Are you looking at pictures of my teammates?”

“If we’re being honest here, they are my main models.”

“And I thought I was your favorite.” He placed a hand to his chest before going back to check on the fettuccine.

“You are, I finished yours already. See there’s a folder that’s called ‘Captain Quintin’.” She spun her computer around and showed him, “Awe you love me.”

She shrugged, a blush rising to her cheeks, “Maybe…”

“You want to listen to some music?”

She nodded and pulled up Spotify on her computer, “What’s you’re favorite song?”

“And why do you want to know?”

She looked up at him with a deadpan face, “Are you shitting me?”

He smiled, “No.” He took the laptop and typed in his favorite song and added it to the queue, and then a few more after that.

“What’s your favorite?”

“And why do you want to know?”

“So I can add it!”

“It’s You Belong with Me.”

Quinn quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, making sure that song played first. When it came on, y/n immedaitely started singing it and Quinn looked over at her with a smile. He could get used to this.

When dinner was done, she took her computer back to the living room and sat it down before walking back into the kitchen to sit down at the counter once more, making sure they could both see the TV.

Halfway through eating, Quinn looked over at her, “What’s your dream?”

She finished the piece of fettuccine she was eating and looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Like what’s your main dream for life.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. I really like my job so probably keeping that job is part of it. I want to have two or four kids. And I want them close in age or at least two of them are. Like the oldest would be close in age and the youngest would be close in age.”

“Why two or four? Why not three?”

“Because I had two older brothers and they were both like 8 years older than me and I always felt left out. I don’t want my kids to feel like that. I mean not that you are like that with Jack and Luke but at least you guys are close in age right? You guys like the same thing, hell you do the same thing for a living.”

Quinn nods, understanding what she was saying, “Yeah, I see that.”

“What about you? What is your dream Quinn Hughes?”

He looked flustered, “I want to keep playing hockey, of course. I want kids but I don’t know how many. And I want a good partner. I want someone that understands that I have to travel a lot for work and how much pressure it is. I need someone who understands hockey and likes it. Chloe understands it, which is nice.”

She nods and smiles but saddened by the fact he still was with Chloe. She wasn’t good for him and she thought he was slowly starting to understand that. They continued to eat in silence, negative thoughts chewing away at both Quinn and y/n’s minds.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? been here all along so, why can't you see? you belong with me’

Y/n stepped into the hallway, taking out the trash that had been overflowing in her garbage can for the past two days. She took a couple steps and saw Quinn stepping out of his apartment, “Hey.”

She noticed his tux he was wearing, he was fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves when she spoke, “Hi.”

The two stood in an awkward silence before Quinn asked, “Are you going tonight?”

It wasn’t that she forgot the banquet was tonight, it was more of the fact that she didn’t wnat to spend an entire night looking at Chloe wrapped around Quinn. She shook her head, “Nah, I’ve got some work to do.”

He nodded, confused a little since she had said ealrier in the week that she planned on going. He shrugged it off as just a simple plan change and frowned when he looked her in the eyes, “Wish you were.”

She smield and nodded, “I’m sorry to leave you to the wolves, Quinner.”

“You should be, it’s heartbreaking to know that my favorite person isn’t going to be there. How will I survive this evening?”

“You won’t, trust me.” She patted him on the back before going to walk to the garbage chute, “Here, I’ll just take it downstairs, I’m going that way anyways.”

She went to protest but Quinn was already taking it out of her hands and walking away, “Thank you.”

He waved her off, shooting her a smile, “Anytime.”

She walked back into her apartment and walked into her room, staring at the dress that hung on the back of her closet. She didn’t want to go, but after the comment that Quinn made she had a change of heart. She didn’t take long putting her makeup on, curling her hair as fast as possible. She threw on her dress and raced out the door, driving to the venue as quick as she could.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘standing by and waiting at your backdoor all this time how could you not know, baby? you belong with me have you ever thought just maybe you belong with me?’

Walking into the venue, y/n was nervous. She knew little to no people there mostly because her friends had already said they weren’t going or were going to be later than she was. She only knew a few guys on the team, including Quinn, and their wives or girlfriends.

She waved at some of the guys she walked past, lots of people making a clearing for her because of how she looked. Some of the guys that were single looked at her with a wide gaze, trying to decide if she was single or not.

The piece of paper she had burned a hole through her pocket as she walked. It took Quinn five minutes to notice that she was there, having turned around and locked eyes with her. His eyebrows raised in amusement, a grin maing its way onto his face.

He waved bye to the group he was talking to and started to make his way over to the girl. He only got a few steps before Chloe took him by the arm, “Hey Quinn. I’m surprised you didn’t see me yet. You look so hot tonight.”

Quinn just smiled awkwardly before pulling away and continuing his previous path to the girl. Chloe looked at the two in shock and scoffed, walking away from the growing crowd. When he stood right in front of her he smiled, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

She nodded, “Yeah I had a change of heart.”

The boy couldn’t really make out any words, starstruck by how beautiful she looked. The only thing he could do was reach into his pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. He straightened it out and showed it to her and she grinned, tears making their way into her eyes as she pulled out her own.

Everyone gasped in awe as they read the signs, both of them saying ‘I Love You’. He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek, “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I remember everything about you, y/n/n."

✧༺✎༻∞

‘you belong with me’

It had been a long night, the game had lasted longer than everyone had expected. The two now always drove to and from work together when they could. Quinn would stay after the game until she was ready to go and vice versa.

Right now, they were laying in Quinn’s bed in his apartment, Quinn watching as she edited pictures from tonights game. He had an arm wrapped around her as she laid her head on his chest, her knees brought up so she could lay her computer on them.

He smiled when she kept getting pictures of him and he went to say something, “How many pictures of me do you have?”

She smiled, “You’re my boyfried now, you are going to have a lot of pictures of you taken. Plus, I don’t think the fans would mine, I’m doing god’s work Quinn.”

“What are you trying to say there? Do you think I’m cute?”

A blush rushed to her cheeks, “No, like I said. I’m just doing the fans a favor.”

Quinn shut her laptop, placing it on the nightstand, “I think you’re doing yourself a favor.”

She hid her face in his chest, “Maybe.”

He laughed and wrapped both of his arms around her, tightenign his hold, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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