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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ exes and oh's

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. when your ex-best friend breaks up with your other ex-best friend, you’re stuck between keeping this door (that you never wanted closed) shut tight, and making amends. naturally, choosing to let your heart open to the person who ripped it apart isn’t the easiest of decisions, but then again, life has a funny way of making you choose.

tags. smut (18+), UNEDITED (i wrote this mostly when i was half asleep, there will be missing words), angst, oral (f receiving), petnames, past toxic relationships/ friendships, referenced cheating, alcohol consumption (+ mentions of vomiting + poor decisions abt alcohol in general), rebuilding relationships, trust issues, joshua is extremely protective it's honestly a little annoying, a disgusting amount of internal monologue i am So sorry, theres a lot in this one so if i missed anything lmk

fic playlist.

w/c. 15.8k+

a/n. 1K SPECIAL SORRY IT'S A LITTLE LATE...anyways i really tried to make sure this wasn't super corny but i prob got carried away i can't even tell anymore. update. this is cringe as hell

Your day today is slow, like every other. You aren’t sure why you expect anything different—well maybe you do know. It’s the optimist in you, a small voice in your head says, as you drop down your bookbag next to Joshua’s chair, the two of you slipping into your seats. Optimism my ass, you shoot back at yourself.

“Can you cover my shift?” Joshua asks, turning to you on his chair. You two have just finished your econ lecture and are sitting in the library to catch up on notes.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you give him a wary look. “Joshua,” you whine, pulling out your notebook and pen down.

“C’mon you said you needed some extra cash, and I need the night off anyways. I’ll get you back with something,” he promises as you narrow your eyes.

“Now what do you have that makes you need the night off?”

“Well there’s this party—” he pauses when you huff.

“And what’s to say I wouldn’t like to go to this party?” you retort, slightly annoyed that he expects you to cover his shift over something like this.

Joshua signs, running a hand through his hair. “Well I can say that I don’t think you would be especially keen on going,” he tells you honestly, and then when you catch the look in his eyes you falter.

You think about probing further, but second guess yourself—you probably shouldn’t. It isn’t good for your heart. You are trying to work on putting yourself, your heart, first, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. “Why do you say that?” you ask, and Joshua gives you that look.

He knows where this is going, and he’s slightly disappointed in you for going against your personal goal of not bringing it up. Then again, he doesn’t control you, and while he can try to guide you down the path of reparations and healing, he can’t force you anywhere.

“Cheol’s birthday is tomorrow,” he tells you like you don’t know. Like you don’t still have it marked down in bright blue sharpie on your calendar. It’s only been six months since you’ve last talked to him, and you don’t feel the need to buy a whole new calendar for the sake of getting rid of his and Yejin’s name.

That, and you don’t think taking his name off would help you forget anyways. Ten years, you think to yourself, ten years shouldn’t be disposed of as easily as a calendar, although it seems Yejin and Cheol had no problem doing just that.

Joshua catches you zoning out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No it’s okay,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair. “It’s not like I didn’t know, I don’t know why I asked.” Joshua looks at you sadly.

“The party…it’s going to be a big one, since Soonyoung is throwing it. You can come if you really want, you probably won’t run into Seungcheol anyways,” Joshua offers.

You scrunch up your face, shaking your head. “And Yejin? Either way, I don’t want to even think about how it would look if I showed up to a party for his birthday.”

Joshua gives you a wear look. “You don’t know?”

“Huh? Know what?”

“Cheol and Yejin broke up a while ago.”

“Oh.” You blink once, then twice, staring down at your shoes before inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

You shrug, responding, “Whatever. Don’t apologize. I don’t have any business with either of them anyways.”

“Okay but—”

“Seriously Josh,” you mutter, turning to him so he can see the pleading look on your face. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah? I’ll cover your shift.” Joshua gives you a tentative look, opening his mouth before you stop him. “Seriously,” you repeat, “It’s fine.”

And the truth is, you are fine. Sure it hurts when you think about them too much, and even if they are broken up, it doesn’t really make you feel much better, but you are okay. Your days are often dull, yes, but you aren’t unhappy. You’re content, and being in your final year of university, you figure that being content is all you need.

Excitement and love are not quite at the forefront of your mind, and while it does cause a nasty knot to build up in your throat when you think about Cheol and Yejin and all the fun times you have spent with them, you quietly tell yourself that things just played out the way they were supposed to.

You tell yourself that if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t meant to work out. That your life had plans, and that those plans didn’t include them.

As you walk home, you scoff to yourself, thinking about how Cheol and Yejin were willing to give up ten years of friendship with you—with each other—for something that didn’t even last half a year.

Of course it’s painful, but at the end of the day, you’re okay with that.

“You’re pathetic,” Yejin spits out, and you feel yourself growing dizzy. Her animosity that’s more apparent than ever is all you can think about it, and it has your jaw going slack. “How could you—” her face contorts into something so full of hate that you brace yourself for her next words, “How could you do this to me?”

You still, blinking as you let the words sink in. You want to argue, to fight back, to defend yourself, but the words fall flat on your tongue. You want to scream, I didn’t do anything to you, want to tell her that your feelings aren’t there to hurt her, but you can’t. “Yejin—”

“It doesn’t even matter now,” she cuts you off, sucking in a sharp breath, her face that was momentarily scrunched up into anger is now relaxing, looking back at the door where music booms from the party.

“Are you just going to leave?” you manage to ask, steading your breaths as best as you can. Yejin looks at you and from the way she’s slightly taller than you, you nearly cower back in anticipation for her next words.

Yejin always did tend to have a bit of a mean streak, but only towards those she felt had wronged her—never to you. Always had a snarky comment to throw, but never in your direction. Always ready to be on the offense if she felt she needed to, and for the first time in your ten years of friendship, you know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.

Yejin never answers your question. “Cheol likes me,” she tells you as if it isn’t obvious. As if you haven’t mulled over that fact for the past month, the tell-tale lips of Joshua spilling you Seungcheol’s secrets many nights before. “He doesn’t like you.” Yejin pauses. “Because you’re boring.”

Your world stills. Everything was spinning in a hazy maze a moment ago but now it all has paused and her words are hitting you in slow motion. “What?” you try to ask but your voice comes out hardly above a whisper.

Yejin scoffs, and you know in this moment that that is the meanest thing she could have done. “You’re boring,” she repeats, “and that’s why—” she takes a deep breath, “—even if he didn’t like me, he wouldn’t like you, so I’m telling you now to give up.”

You gulp, and the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop. “I was never going to make a move on him,” you retort, finally finding the words stuck in your throat, and while you gain confidence for a moment, it withers away when you catch the amused look on Yejin’s face. “I can’t believe you would think I’d go for him if you liked him.”

“That’s your problem!” Yejin exclaims exasperatedly. “You were going to do nothing even if none of us found out,” she spits out, and you feel your knees growing wobbly again as Yejin continues. “You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”

She turns on her heel, and you call out to her one last time. “Are you—”

“Get Joshua to drive you home,” is the last thing she ever says to you.

Taking Joshua’s shift is boring. Not that you expect anything different—getting you excited for work is not one of your optimism’s capabilities. Evenings at the coffee shop are busier than one would expect, but after considering the fact that it’s the only one open past seven p.m. on campus, the crowd begins to make sense.

You spend your time making drinks for the many students who are—much like yourself—simply trying to get through the night, but you would be lying if you say you don’t notice that the turn out is a little…smaller. After all, it is a Friday evening and Soonyoung’s parties are infamous on campus for being…well for being thrown by Soonyoung.

He’ll invite anyone and everyone, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your instagram feed will be filled with nothing but pictures from Cheol’s party tonight. Not that you care. You don’t want to go, you have no reason to.

Still, you wonder: would Yejin show up? If they did break up, like Joshua told you, what were the circumstances? Are they still friends? What happened? Why did they—

No.You shouldn’t do this to yourself, you can’t. Yejin isn’t your friend anymore, and neither is Cheol. What happened between them shouldn’t be your business—it isn’t. Leave it alone, you tell yourself, tapping your foot on the ground.

Yet, every time you look over the empty seats that fill the cafe, you’re reminded of just why not many people are here tonight. Seungcheol. Chewing on your bottom lip, you go against your better judgment and pull out your phone, immediately tapping on instagram.

Your stories are filled with a plethora of videos and pictures from the house that Cheol shares with Jeonghan and some other friends. It’s dark both inside and out, the only thing illuminating the house being led lights and pool lights in the backyard.Fondly, you remember last summer and Cheol’s birthday, which was spent at his house with you. Yejin, and some other friends in his pool from morning ‘til night. Fun times, you think, and you quietly wonder if Cheol will remember those memories today, or if he will leave them in his dust.

Tapping through the stories, you purse your lips together, inhale sharply, and begin to make yourself a drink. It’s too late in the evening for you to be thinking about this.

Seungcheol’s head is pounding. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears and then there’s the music that has its vibrations going straight to his heart as he stumbles over his own words.

Lights everywhere flashing different colors and he isn’t sure when one cup turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into fuck-knows-how-many until Jeonghan is grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pushing him into an empty room, calling Joshua over.

Again, Seungcheol’s head is pounding. And he fucking loves it.

Joshua and Jeonghan, on the other hand, are frustrated. Cheol is trying to push through them, clawing for the door as his legs hit each other in a mangled mess until he’s falling onto them as they hold him back.

“You guys can’t fucking do this,” he whines, throwing his head back as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“When you said you were going to go crazy tonight,” Joshua mutters, “I didn’t realize you meant literally. Are fucking insane?” he hisses.

Cheol gives him an angry look, seeming to sober up for a moment as he straightens his back. “It’s my birthday, giving me a fucking break.”

“If you keep acting like this it’s going to be your death day soon too,” Jeonghan warns, earning him a glare.

“Seriously, do you want alcohol poisoning or something?” Joshua agrees. “Don’t drink anything else for the night, I’m serious.”

“And if I do?” Seungcheol challenges.

“We’ll tell Soonyoung to call it all off. You know he’ll do it if we ask,” Jeonghan states simply.

Cheol scoffs, but doesn’t reply, exercising his last bit of common sense to understand what Jeonghan and Joshua say, they mean. He needs to tread lightly.

Not that he cares much. He hasn’t got much to lose—Cheol only suggested this party because he knew that if it was anything short of big, he’d be reminded of the missing holes in his life right now.

His plan was unsuccessful, clearly, because even with cups after cups of spike punch, he’s still mulling over the fact there’s over a hundred people in this house and not a single one of them is you. Cheol had asked Joshua to bring it up with you—asked him to lead you in the right direction. The right direction being him.

He wasn’t really sure what his expectations were when he suggested it, but now it’s clear that Cheol really was expecting you to show up. He didn’t prepare for any other outcome, especially not one like this, where he’s wasted before the clock even strikes twelve. He’s on the verge of passing out when Joshua leaves the room, only Jeonghan and Cheol in each other’s presence as the former makes sure his elder doesn’t collapse.

Seungcheol’s head is pounding and he thinks it feels fucking great.

Fuck, he really needs to throw up.

You’re back at the cafe two days later, once again spending your evening serving students. It’s a bit of a lighter day, so only you and Jeongyeon are working, catching up and making light conversation through the day.

“Tired?” you ask her, when you catch her leaning against the counter with a wince.

She nods, turning up to look at you. “Chemistry is killing me. I want to cry just thinking about my next exam,” whe groans, throwing her head back. “I think humans have evolved too much. There’s no reason we should have explore this much about like, fucking atoms. Why can’t we just be happy creatures—ignorance is bliss, after all.”

You laugh out loud, not bothering to look at the door when you hear the bell of its opening ringing. “Take a break, yeah? I’ll manage for the next half an hour, if you just wanna sit and chill for a bit,” you offer, Jeongyeon letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you serious?” she exclaims before hugging you tightly. “I fucking love you,” she says, pulling away and hopping down the back counter and to the back room while you smile widely before turning around to face the new customer at the counter.

Your smile drops faster than you can blink.

Seungcheol’s smile, at one time, was among one of your favorite sights on the whole damn planet. Now, you can’t help but turn away, too scared to look him in the eye. Scared that if you look long enough, you’ll find something you aren’t ready to see.

Don’t falter, you tell yourself. You haven’t been healing for months for it to amount to nothing. “What can I get you?” you ask casually, looking down at the cashier tablet, pretending to look through the catalog.

You didn’t look at him long enough to see if his smile vanished just as quickly as yours, to see if he expected you, to know what he was thinking at all honestly. You aren’t ready for that, and it’s pathetic, you think to yourself.

“Uh,” is the first thing you hear Cheol say to you after six months. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting him to follow with, but it is most definitely not, “Don’t you know my usual?”

It takes all your self control to not snap your eyes up and say, of course I know your usual, I never forgot, how could I forget, it’s always an iced latte with—“No, sorry, I don’t,” you say flatly, still not looking at him.

Cheol is slightly surprised by your choice of words, partly because when Joshua told him that your door was shut and not going to budge open, he didn’t really believe him. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t be able to hit it straight off the bat when he tried to reconcile, but he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Not that he planned this—he knew you worked here, just not when. Cheol was just struck with luck when he walked in, ready to order a coffee when his eyes landed on your familiar figure this evening, and as an opportunist, he just couldn’t turn down the chance to try and talk to you.

Of course now, he isn’t sure if this course of action was the right one—you were never cold, not to him, not to Yejin, not to anyone really. It’s weird, he thinks.

“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup, please,” he replies with a small nod of acceptance. Joshua was right. Your door was locked.

“Your drink will come out over there,” you say, pointing over to the left counter. “Cash or card?”

He thinks it’s worth a shot to try again. “When was the last time I used anything but card?” Cheol accepts defeat when you don’t crack a smile, not even one bit.

“So you’re using card?” you ask plainly, turning the tablet over so he can swipe down. Cheol chuckles nervously as he pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t say anything after that, and for that, you are grateful.

Once he’s done paying, you turn on your heel quickly and make his drink. You don’t look up, don’t turn back—you don’t know if you’re ready to see him watching you, if he is at all. You aren’t sure what you’d like more: having him watching you, or having him not.

Gulping down a hard lump in your throat as you wait to pull the shot of espresso, you think deeply. It’s just how Jeongyeon said it, you figure: ignorance is bliss.

Jeongyeon thinks parties aren’t your thing. “They just don’t suit you,” she explains when you’re working one afternoon.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean not my thing?”

She shrugs, carrying in some boxes of cups. “It’s not a bad thing—I’m not calling you boring or anything—I’m just saying. You’re a very work-at-a-coffee-shop kind of girl, and not a let’s-go-party kind of girl, you know?”

The word bounces around in your mind. Boring.

“I can be both,” you huff. “You’re only saying this because I actually do work at a coffee shop.”

“Whatever,” Jeongyeon shrugs. “Come with me tonight then?”

You scrunch up your face. “Tonight? I work tonight,” you tell her with a frown.

“Get Hyunwoo to cover your shift then, I’m sure he’ll do it,” she suggests. You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your other co-worker.

“Okay, but if he says no it isn’t my fault.”

“Ya-da, ya-da, ya-da,” Jeongyeon mutters, waving her hand at you with a sly grin. “So I’ll see you tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“If Hyunwoo is willing to give up his Saturday evening, I guess so.”

“Ugh, he better agree. Tell him if he does it, I’ll set him up on a date with Nayeon.”

You roll your eyes with a small giggle. “You need to stop using her to get what you want—she’s going to stop being your friend if you keep setting her up on dates so people can do you favors.”

“If that ends up happening…” Jeongyeon’s voice trails off as she glances at you. “…well that’s what you’re here for!”

It’s how you end up putting on some cute pants and black crop top that you’ve been saving for a night just like. Jeongyeon and you are ubering the way to whoever’s house this party is at, and you’re pretty sure neither of you have a good idea of how you’re supposed to get home, but that’s a problem for another time.

When you arrive, the house is already packed, but the two of you don’t have too much trouble slipping through the open door and into the crowd of people that fill each room. You haven’t been to a party in a while, and the loud music along with the rush you naturally feel when you're around so many people starts to return to you.

You see many faces—mostly ones you recognize, but the names fall flat on your tongue. Like you said, it’s been a while since you’ve come to a party.

When you make your way to the kitchen, you’re greeted by a kind, familiar voice. Smiling at Joshua as he calls out your name, you give him a sideways hug before you make your way to the counter with all the drinks. “Fancy seeing you here,” he teases, and you push him lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Jeongyeon invited me last minute…I had to get Hyunwoo to take my shift,” you explain.

“Ah, that makes sense,” and there’s a funny look on his face when he says it.

“What’s with that face?”

“Nothing! It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You know Hyunwoo likes you, right?” Joshua says casually, pouring you a cup of punch. Usually, you don’t trust what other people hand to you, but Joshua is a safe exception.

“What?” you ask, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. “You’re lying. Did he tell you that?”

“Not directly…but it’s obvious. Seriously, who gives up their Saturday evening unless they’re making major bank or they have a crush.”

“Whatever. He’s a sophomore,” you murmur, taking a sip of the drink. It’s so sweet it almost masks the taste of alcohol. “Plus, he’s not my type. And I’m not interested in dating. I have too much going on,” you list.

“Please,” Joshua scoffs. “Your thesis and being a barista is not too much.”

“Shut up! I’m here, at a party, aren’t I?”

“Will you come to the next one?”

“That depends.”

“On?” he asks hopefully.

“Hm,” you hum, tapping a finger on your chin. “When, where, who, why, how.”

“Ugh, you’re seriously annoying about this. Just show up when I call you next, okay?”

“No promises. This night better be good if you want me to live up to that.”

“Well I’m not throwing this party so I can’t control that.”

You grin. “Too bad.” You’re having fun, you realize, even if it’s with the comfort of Joshua. You’re glad Jeongyeon brought you here. Joshua glances around for a moment and then back at you, opening his mouth to speak. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell him before he can say anything, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just—” he stops himself. You know where this is going, and Joshua knows he doesn’t really need to say it. Cheol is here.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, patting his shoulder firmly, and in this moment you aren’t lying. Not to yourself, not to Joshua. It is okay. You are okay.

He watches you for a moment and then nods, ruffling your hair for a moment before waving goodbye to head off in some other room. You spend the next few minutes tossing your now empty cup to the side, heading off to some other room to find Jeongyeon. She’s dancing with some friends and the moment her eyes lay on you, she notices the deep flush to your face.

Calling you over, you dance with Jeongyeon, music blaring in your ear as you’re pressed up against her and other girls you’re sure you knew the names of at some point in your life. It’s exhilarating for a moment, but then suddenly, after around fifteen minutes, it isn’t.

“I’m going to head out for a breather,” you tell Jeongyeon loudly over the music, and she doesn’t seem to hear your words but with the way you’re pointing at the back door, she figures out what you’re saying. Nodding with a thumbs up, she smiles before turning back to dance along with her friends as you slip out of the huddle of people.

You notice a familiar face from the corner of your vision, but you feel too hot and the air is too stuffy for you to bear another second longer, escaping to the backyard.

It’s quiet outside. The night air is cool, and you now realize why no one is out in the pool like they usually are. Looking down at your feet, you contemplate your next actions for a moment before rolling up the hem of your pants until your knees and sitting by the edge of the pool, dipping in your legs.

You hiss at the cool feeling for a moment, but quickly adjust—you’ve been feeling too hot all evening and this is exactly what you need to take a moment to calm down. Alcohol has never quite been your best friend, the liquid always sending a flush of heat through your whole body.

The water soothes you, and you feel at peace for a moment. Then there’s the sound of the door sliding open and a familiar patter of footsteps thuds against the concrete.

“Isn’t the water cold?” Jeonghan says casually, standing next to you.

You shrug. “I needed to cool down.”

“Hm, fair,” he murmurs, sitting down himself and crossing his legs on the concrete edge of the pool. “It’s been a minute.”

“Has it?” you reply quietly. Yeah. It’s only been six months. You don’t let Jeonghan know that you’ve been counting.

“You don’t stop by to drop off the old pastries anymore,” he says. “Mingyu tries to make croissants now, but it’s the one thing he isn’t great at baking.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol speaking but you’re blunt when you respond, “That sucks.” Jeonghan laughs quietly, nodding. He isn’t used to you being like this —when Cheol said you were different, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t really this.

“How’s school? You working on your thesis and shit?”

You shrug. “I guess. Busy times.”

“You’re being awfully cold,” Jeonghan says with a tick of his tongue. “D’you not have any drinks—you’re always more fun when you’re drunk.”

“Thanks,” you mutter with furrowed eyebrows. Yejin used to tell you that.

“Sorry, that was rude,” Jeonghan says quickly when he notices how you still. “I didn’t mean it like that—I mean, I guess everyone is more fun when they’re drunk.” You chuckle a little at that and he lets out a sigh of relief at the fact that he’s able to get you to loosen up, even just a little. There’s an awkward silence that settles over the two of you as he watches you as you kick your feet in the water. Jeonghan thinks he might take his chances.“He misses you.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you really hope Jeonghan doesn’t notice. You hate how you know who he’s talking about right away, not needing to say the name. “Jeonghan,” you say, and you know that your wobbly voice gives it all away, “Do you really think that’s fair?”

He says your name, and you turn away.

“Do you think that’s fair to me?” Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “He misses me? What about me? What about how I feel? Has Cheol thought about that? Has he?”

“I’m not trying to say it’s fair, I’m just telling you how he’s feeling—”

“Okay? There isn’t much for me to do about it,” you reply quickly. “Cheol and Yejin—” you let out a humorless laugh, “—it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. I was able to deal with it. I’m sure Cheol can too.”

“He’s really upset with himself for it,” Jeonghan tries to reason. “Even when he was with Yejin. They’d have arguments about it.”

“Okay? It’s not like I asked him to do that. It’s not like he was my friend to tell me about it.”

“Well if you would just listen—”

“No, you listen,” you say firmly, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Did you know what Yejin said to me the last time we spoke?” Jeonghan shakes his head. “She told me I was boring,” you spit out, and you realize that it’s the first time you’ve ever actually recounted that night to anyone but yourself. “And that she wasn’t even mad that I liked Cheol, but that she hated how I let her have him.” You pause to wipe away some tears. “And she was right. I didn’t put myself first. I could have told Cheol first, could’ve worked things out before she found out, could’ve done something for him, but I didn’t, and I’m not going to make that same mistake again so right now I am going to put myself first.”

Jeonghan is frowning now at the intake of all this information. It’s his first time hearing your side of the story, and he can’t help but get confused with the different timeline’s he’s got going on inside of his head. “Is this really putting yourself first?” he finally asks, and you glare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying. He was your best friend for a whole decade. Maybe having him back in your life will do more good than you think.”

You scoff. “You mean do Cheol more good to his life. Don’t look at me like that—what do you know about me that makes you so sure of this?”

“Cheol knows you, you know him, and as far as I know, you could use a friend or two.”

“Thanks for calling me friendless,” you say dryly. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m fine. I am over it, and I don’t mind having two less friends. And either way, Cheol couldn’t have been that good of a friend if he was willing to just let go of me like that after all those years.” Jeonghan stays silent. “I don’t need more drama in my life anyways,” you conclude, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up.

“You’re not going to give him a second chance?”

You don’t answer as you walk away.

Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, for once in his life. Okay that is an exaggeration, but it’s the first time in a few months that he isn’t stumbling over himself at a party. It’s the first time in a long while that he hasn’t even had a sip of alcohol at this outing, and honestly, he’s quite proud of himself.

He knows why that is, and he isn’t afraid to admit it. When Joshua walks past him and gives him a funny look, Cheol knows what’s up. “No drinks?” Joshua asks, quirking up a brow.

“Joshua,” he murmurs, and he’s surprised his friend can even hear him over the music. “Jeonghan is talking to her.”

Joshua purses his lips. “Yeah, I know.”

Choi Seungcheol is quiet at a party, for the first time in…well pretty much ever. He isn’t under the influence, but it feels like everything is racing through his mind at a hundred miles per hour. Leaning against the wall, Joshua softens his gaze.

“Loosen up,” he says, and then thinks again. “And please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not drunk,” Cheol scoffs, standing up straight as he glances out the back door, watching you kick the pool water. He remembers his birthday party over a year ago—the pool, you, Yejin, fun. Cheol walks away, not sure where he’s heading and Joshua, using his better judgment, doesn’t follow.

Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, but he might as well be out of his damn mind.

Tonight is not your night.

Your head is pounding. You fucking hate it. You don’t like getting drunk, at least not like this. Not in the way that you’re seeing two of everything. Not in the way that your body feels like it’s on fire, sweat soaking your sheen black shirt. Not in the way that you’re thinking about everything you shouldn’t.

After your conversation with Jeonghan, you realize you don’t have an answer. Pandora’s box is too tempting, and all your better judgment tells you to leave this door closed. To bury it up, throw it into the ocean, burn it—anything to keep it away from you, but the alcohol that courses through your veins brings the memories flooding back.

Now, you aren’t sure if your head hurts from thinking about Cheol, or from the alcohol, or both.

It’s too much.

You lean against one of the steps as you sit on the stairs, clutching a bottle of water close to your chest. Jeongyeon is…she’s fuck knows where. You lost track of her hours ago—after you came back in from the backyard, you got lost in conversations with people you haven’t caught up with in ages, and one thing led to the next and now you’re on nth drink.

You feel dizzy and the cup in your hand without the water bottle slips past your fingers and before you can act quick enough, the cup is tumbling down the two steps in front of you and spilling all over the floor. Granted, it isn’t the only mess made in this house tonight, and by the looks of it, it won’t be the last, but you still feel bad, quickly scrambling up to pick up your cup and find some tissues.

As you lean forward and stumble over the steps a little, you realize your center of gravity is off and you’re about to fall forward, quickly holding out your hands to brace your fall. As you land on the ground with a thud, your mind spins—everything spins, you feel too warm, and then you feel your drink stain your pants in the spot you fell onto and—fuck, this really is too much for you.

Maybe you should’ve just accepted what Jeongyeon said. Maybe—fuck, who are you kidding—parties definitely don’t suit you. You’d be a fool to deny that now, especially when you’re aching to just leave already, even though you never made any plans of getting home.

That problem that you saved to deal with “at a later time” is becoming a problem you need to deal with now and you race through your options, all while seated on the floor, forgetting about how you need to clean up this mess.

It’s when your head starts to hurt and you scrunch up your face in hopes to soothe your headache when you hear his voice. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and then it’s pulling you up and onto your wobbly legs. “Let’s get you out of here,” Cheol mumbles, and without weighing the consequences of your actions, you nod along.

You don’t care anymore. You need to leave, and if Cheol is the path to getting out, you won’t mind.

When his arms lead you out the front door and into the night, you feel cold. Extremely cold. Maybe it’s because your body is so warm, maybe it’s because the wet alcohol on your pants is sending shivers up your spine—maybe it’s that you’re starting to slowly realize who you’re with.

Standing on the grass, you aren’t sure what to do now. What should you do? What does Cheol want you to do—you stop yourself. It shouldn’t matter what he wants you to do, you remind yourself, so why do you find your gaze lazily making its way over to his face?

Fuck ignorance and its bliss. Right now, you want to know what Cheol is thinking. He’s looking down at you, and suddenly you feel small. His face isn’t demeaning, it’s not angry, he’s not upset, but you just feel so pathetic.

And god, do you hate that word. It echoes in your head. Your dirtied pants, flushed and puffy cheeks, disheveled hair, all as you struggle to stand up—pathetic. You turn away from him, not being able to watch him watch you any longer.

“Let me drive you home,” he says finally over the thick air.

“You’re drunk,” you protest mindlessly—you don’t have a clue if that’s true at all, but knowing Cheol, it probably is.

“I haven’t had anything all night.” Nevermind, you tell yourself, maybe you don’t know him at all. Can six months really change a person that much?

Cheol is thinking the same thing about you. Your eyes are glossy and you look so out of it and he can’t even remember the last time he saw you like this—the only memories he has are when you first got drunk with him and Yejin in high school. The memory shoots an arrow at his heart, but he brushes off the feeling, focusing on you right now.

“Trust me,” he says. You blink a few times, staring at the ground, then at the sky, and then at Cheol. “Trust me,” he repeats, and now you remember just how well you know him. Cheol isn’t asking right now, no, he’s begging. You think as deeply as your wasted mind will let you.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

Cheol hurt you. Yejin hurt you.

Is this about Yejin? No.

Do you trust Cheol? No.

What is this about? I don’t know.

Do you trust Cheol? I don’t know.

Can you trust Cheol? …

He places a hand on your shoulder and the touch is firm.

Can you trust Cheol? Of course you can.

His eyes are soft as you look up at him.

Do you trust Cheol? Absolutely.

Optimism would say that you left the door unlocked. Joshua would disagree and say that you weren’t going to be inside even if the door was wide open. Jeonghan, surprisingly, doesn’t agree with Joshua—your words were harsh, but the water streaming down your cheeks told him that there was more going on in your head than you let on.

Seungcheol tends to only listen to what he wants to hear, at least that’s what all his friends have noticed. They saw it with Yejin—ignoring all the red flags, late nights of arguing until Cheol would murmur, “it’s fine, let’s just go to sleep.” Reality wasn’t the easiest for him to face, and now it’s more apparent than ever.

“He’s too optimistic about her,” Joshua sighs, throwing himself onto his friend’s couch the morning after. He slept over at his friends’ place, and they follow carefully behind him now.

“He still has hope?” Mingyu asks incredulously, sitting on an armchair.

“Too much of it,” Joshua replies, sitting up straight so that there’s room for Jeonghan on the couch.

“She’s still nice to me,” Mingyu says thoughtfully. “Maybe she doesn’t hate him.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” Jeonghan says. “She’s still close friends with Joshua, so I don’t think she’s going to let that whole situation get in the way of her own friendships.”

Joshua nods in agreement, adding, “That, and I never said she hated Cheol.”

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “She doesn’t?”

“I don’t think she ever did,” Joshua says honestly, leaning back into the cushions as he stretches his arms.

“Really? I would’ve,” Mingyu admits and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“We know that you would,” he teases, causing the taller boy to pout but keep his mouth shut. “Anyways, I think Cheol is going to keep trying.”

“I know he will,” Joshua mutters, running a hand over his face. “He’s going to go in circles after her.”

“She’s not gonna give in?” Mingyu asks, and Joshua shakes his head, but Jeonghan puts his hand up in protest.

“I think she might eventually come ‘round to a stop,” he says, and Joshua shoots him a look of surprise. “I dunno, I know you and her are close, but I just have a feeling. We’ll have to see.”

“Don’t let Cheol hear that. He’ll take it as a sign to never stop,” Joshua warns.

Seungcheol doesn’t hear this conversation now or ever, but he never had plans of stopping in the first place. He was always more optimistic than you—than anyone you knew, really—and anyone who knows him should know better than to underestimate the extent of his determination.

Jeonghan and Joshua are making that mistake right now, and even though Cheol will never know what they said, he is determined to prove them wrong, for the sake of his own sanity.

Jeongyeon picks up the phone after the first ring. “I am so sorry,” she babbles into the line. “I—fuck—we should’ve figured out a ride—I mean I should’ve figured out a ride since I basically forced you to come and I knew I would be drinking and—god, I am so sorry.”

Your head rings at the way her voice blares through the phone, and you sit up and against your headboard. You woke up only moments ago, greeted by a million texts from Jeongyeon, not bothering to soothe your hangover headache before calling her back—she must have been worried, you told yourself.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, reaching over to grab some water from your bedside table. “I got a safe ride home.”

“Yeah, Joshua told me…but still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you to find a ride on your own.” “Don’t apologize Jeongyeon, I left you without a ride too so stop apologizing or else you’ll start to make me feel bad.”

You can hear her huff on the other end, and you smile. “Okay fine, but seriously. I’ll cover one of your shifts or something soon because I feel bad for even taking you. You looked miserable.”

“That was only because Jeonghan came up to me,” you tell her honestly.

“Jeonghan? Like Seungcheol’s friend?” she says, and you can tell from her voice that she’s hesitating to even say his name.

“Yes,” you sigh softly. Jeongyeon wants to know more, you can feel it, but you aren’t in the mood to bring it up, at least not with her. “It’s whatever. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

She pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend your quick switch of topics. “Uh, sure. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pulling back your phone as you click to hang up. Letting your head fall back onto your pillow, you inhale deeply. You remember the night before too vividly—even if you were drunk, there was too much happening for you to forget.

You know you can’t forget, so you decide to do just what you’ve been doing for the past half year: ignore. It’s what you’re best at, after all. Yet as your day goes on, your mind begins to trail off. You think, and you think, and you think until you aren’t sure what was real and what was not from last night.

You start to realize that you aren’t as good at ignoring as you like to think.

“You think too much,” Hyunwoo jokes, watching you stare at the shot of espresso in front of you. You’d made it for yourself as an attempt to feel more energized after your lecture, but you find yourself zoning out as the small cup sits on the counter, waiting for you to gulp it down.

“Uh, sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head a little. “This shift is light and we haven’t had any customers in a few minutes so I just…”

“It’s fine,” Hyunwoo replies with a smile, and you purse your lips. Ever since Joshua told you that Hyunwoo likes you, you’ve been warning yourself to tread lightly. Not that he isn’t a good guy—Hyunwoo is great—he’s just not your type.

What is your type? The thought is swept out of your mind before you even come up with an answer, swooping up the shot of espresso and holding it up to your lips.

It’s been three days since the party, and you haven’t talked to Joshua in a minute, so your mind is slightly frazzled. Hyunwoo is nice, but you miss the comfort of your close friend, and maybe you’re just a little curious to see if he has anything to say about Cheol driving you home that night.

You’re sure he does—you can already predict his words: “you told yourself you wouldn’t talk to him.” Joshua might be harsh with his words, but you feel with the way you’ve been losing your damn mind recently, you need someone like him to bring you back to reality.

Maybe that’s what went wrong with you, with Cheol, with Yejin—with the three of you. You and Cheol were too lost in fantasies, Yejin always holding you two down. She was right—Cheol wouldn’t like you. Two people who didn’t know a reality other than their imaginations couldn’t work out.

Cheol needed someone to ground himself, you needed someone to ground yourself, and at the end of the day, Yejin chose to help him. You still think about what you would have done if you were in her situation, and after months, you can’t come up with an answer.

You remember the events leading up to her decision like it’s as clear as day, and no matter how many times you replay that moment, you don’t know what to think, except that you’re angry, you’re sad—they left you.

“I heard you and Joshua,” Yejin tells you quietly, and you feel your heart stop. “You like Seungcheol?” and the way she uses his full name makes you feel almost ashamed for confirming it with a nod.

“I—” you pause, “—I didn’t know you liked him.”

“I love him,” she corrects you.

“Oh,” is all you manage out.

“You’re pathetic.”

That was the start of it. Yejin sent Chaeyoung over the next day to pick up her stuff from your apartment. You didn’t hear another word from Cheol. The last thing you remember him saying to you was from that night is still a jumble in your head.

You hate crying, and everyone knows it. So when you sprint out of the room minutes after Yejin, eyes red and puffy, Cheol knows something is wrong. Before he can walk up to you, there’s a hand on his shoulder and Yejin has her head pushed up next to his ear.

You don’t know what she tells him, but his gaze falters. The last thing you hear him say is your name quietly as you rush away.

That night, Joshua drives you home while you think about how you’re going to tell your mother that Cheol and Yejin won’t be coming to your house for spring break.

That was six months ago. Of course, six months pales in comparison to the decade you spent as friends. The years from middle school, to high school, to college—you three side by side. Things changed so quickly, too quickly.

Sometimes you think about what she might’ve told him—what she could’ve said that made him turn away at every gathering you were both at after that. That made him erase the years you shared before all this. That made you all strangers.

You figure things like this will never make sense to you. You don’t understand now, and you probably never will—you are content with that.

At least, up until three days ago you were. Some small voice in your head is reminding you of the confusion, the hurt, the heartbreak you felt when it all happened. Now, you’re more desperate than ever to know what exactly happened, it’s just a matter of if you’re willing to go down this rabbit hole of reconnection.

It’s like the universe hears you and laughs. The ringing of the door fills the little cafe and you’re pushing yourself off the counter, nodding and Hyunwoo. “I got it,” you tell him, dropping your cup in the sink and walking over to the register.

Of course it’s Cheol standing in front of you. You can’t tell if he found out your schedule from Joshua (but no, Joshua wouldn’t do that to you) or if it’s just something like fate. Fate.

You sigh, preparing yourself for yet another onslaught of thoughts. “What can I get you?”

There’s something mischievous glinting in his eyes. “Don’t you remember my usual?” Cheol attempts, and you’re surprised by his forwardness. Don’t be shocked, you think. Cheol never backs down, never stops trying.

Do you give in? Just this once? He did help you out that night—you aren’t sure if you’d be able to get home in one piece if it weren’t for him. Then again, it could’ve just been one of Cheol’s kind favors, something that isn’t reserved for only you, but just any drunk girl in general. You don’t want to mistake his qualities of a gentleman with him holding out a figurative olive branch.

Trust me, his words are like a broken record in your mind.

You’re thinking too much. Fuck, if he didn’t hold out the olive branch that night, you’re going to try to now.

“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup,” you say quietly, tapping it into the tablet. You’re scared to look up because you know he's grinning. You shouldn’t want to be the reason behind his smiles, but you do.

“Thanks,” he chirps, holding out his card so you can turn around the tablet for him.

“Your order will come out on your left,” you tell him, not looking up. You expect things to stop now, for things to quietly go back to normal.

“Hey, when do you get off?”

You do a double take to make sure you heard him correctly. “Sorry?” You finally look up at him and god, you start to remember why you loved his smile so much.

“I asked when you get off from your shift? Six?”

“I—uh, yeah,” you reply without thinking. “How’d you know?”

“That’s when Joshua gets off on Fridays. Just a guess,” he shrugs. You purse your lips and don’t respond, not sure where to take things from here; yeah you held out the branch but you didn’t expect him to grab it just this quickly. “Can I stay until then?”

You should say no. You really should say no. But then you’re thrown back to three days ago and the words are sounding an awful lot like trust me, trust me, and then you realize you just can’t deny him.

“Okay,” you say softly. You can tell from the look of relief on Cheol’s face that he wasn’t expecting this, and you aren’t sure what to take from that. As you turn to make his drink, you glance at the clock. Thirty seven minutes before your shift ends, and you can’t figure out if you’re going to try and make the time before them fly or go slow.

Handing Cheol his drink, you don’t say anything, your movements swift as you try and unbox your own feelings. Of course, you aren’t given the liberty to do that, not when Hyunwoo is standing in front of you.

“Is that Seungcheol?”

“Take a wild guess,” you mutter, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. Maybe if you think hard enough you’ll realize it’s just a dream where your actions have no real consequences.

“I thought you two didn’t talk.”

“Did Joshua tell you that?”

“Kind of…maybe…I sorta figured it out on my own,” Hyunwoo admits. “Sorry, that sounds weird.” You sigh softly, feeling bad for how flustered Hyunwoo is.

“It’s okay…let’s just get back to work,” you suggest, turning away to clean up some of the counters with your extra time.

You don’t notice it, but Cheol watches the conversation between you and Hyunwoo unfold, and while he can’t hear what you two are saying, he has a feeling he won’t like it. He has to remind himself to not have high expectations, to not get his hopes up, just like Jeonghan and Joshua warn, but he just can’t help it.

But when you agree to see him after your shift (he knows you didn’t technically agree to that, but he knows you and is sure that you caught onto his underlying message), he just has to stay hopeful. So as he patiently waits for the clock to strike six, he thinks about what to say.

To be honest, this all happened on a whim. Again, he didn’t really know that you were working today, he just happened to get lucky. Cheol himself isn’t sure what exactly he wants to say to you, he just knows it is a lot.

He thinks about you a lot. The good, the bad, all the in between—Seungcheol misses you. And he knows that it isn’t fair, that he shouldn’t do this, that he doesn’t have the right—Joshua has made that clear to him on numerous occasions.

“She’s fine without you.”

“But—”

“You don’t have a say about being in her life.”

“And you do?” Cheol shoots out.

Joshua steps back. “I don’t either, but I know how she’s doing better than you. I know how she felt after everything happened.”

Cheol pauses. That, Joshua did. Cheol didn’t know anything, did he? “This isn’t about you, it’s about me and it’s about her.”

“There is no you and her,” Joshua says bluntly. Cheol doesn’t say anything, but he knows in his mind that he needs to change that.

Cheol lets the idea run through his mind, that he's making a royal mistake right now, and all this is going to amount to nothing. He doesn’t mull over it for longer than ten seconds. He is going to do this, and if he doesn’t, he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

You get off your shift while Hyunwoo continues his. “You’re going to talk to him?” he asks with knitted eyebrows, pointing at Cheol.

“Uh, yeah,” you say sheepishly in the back, untying your apron. “Don’t tell Joshua, he’ll kick my ass,” you add, only only half joking. Joshua definitely won’t let you hear the end of this, but that is another problem for another time. Hanging up your apron, you grab your backpack from the shelf and slip to the back door. “See you later!” you chirp, throwing Hyunwoo one last wave before you enter the seating area from the back to make your way to Cheol who’s sitting at an elevated stool by the window.

Your once confident strides are much smaller now, you find yourself holding back each one more and more. Do you really want this? Trust me. You’ll just have to find out. “Hey,” you say quietly, and this time you don’t let your gaze fall, tapping on Cheol’s shoulder. He turns around quickly, straw in his mouth as he drinks the half finished drink with a smile.

“Hey, you’re early,” he states casually, glancing at the time. It’s 5:57.

“I guess,” you reply, voice as still as you can manage.

“You’ve probably been here for a while,” Cheol murmurs to himself, getting up from his seat. “You want to go on a walk? The weather is nice right now.”

You want to roll your eyes and tease him, saying “it’s August, of course the weather is nice,” but you stop yourself—you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that level of comfort yet. “Sure,” you agree instead, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you follow him out the door and onto the main street.

“How was work? Stopped working at the bakery, huh?” he says, and you just don’t get it. How is he being so casual? How is he acting like this is the first time you two have had a real conversation in months? How is he—you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he calls out your name. God, you really missed how it sounded when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t even think before responding. “What do you think is wrong?” Cheol is standing a few feet in front of you and the look on his face is confusing…you can’t read it. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s confused, or if it’s because you just aren’t used to this, or what. Whatever it is, you don’t like it.

“I’m sorry,” Cheol says softly, stepping forward. You still don’t move. “I—uh shit, sorry—this,” he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “this is weird, you’re right I just, I don’t know—”

“Is there something you want to say?” Your eyes bore into his, and Cheol knows he can’t keep any secrets from you.

“I’m sorry.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks hopefully.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask with a shrug. “Sorry for what?”

“A lot of things. Everything,” Cheol admits, and your eyes widen slightly at his honesty. You pretend to glance down at your watch.

“Well you’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him truthfully, “and don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’ll come again!” he says quickly, holding his hands up as you’re about to walk towards your car. “When do you work? Tell me. I’ll come after every shift.”

“I work almost everyday.”

“I’ll come everyday,” he says with no hesitation. Your heart tightens. You a month ago would have said fuck no, but then trust me, trust me is echoing in your head again and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding.

“Mondays and Tuesday I get off at 6, Wednesdays at 9, Thursdays at…”

You used to believe Seungcheol always lived up to his promises. When you were younger, you couldn’t think of a single time when he didn’t go by his word. You trusted him, always, so when he broke the promise of “we’ll stick together”—arguably the only one that actually mattered—you were shattered. You still are, or at least your trust is.

Right now, Cheol promises he’ll come see you after every shift. You don’t think you should trust him, but you do anyway, watching the clock to make sure he’s always here on time. You tell yourself you do it because you don’t like to be kept waiting, but you know deep down that you’re just trying to find an excuse.

You’re trying to justify your distrust, even though you already have a perfectly good reason for being tentative around Cheol. Somehow, whenever you’re with him, you forget about it all.

It’s awkward most of the time. Well, more like you’re awkward and Cheol just pretends you aren’t, acting all normal and like you aren’t stumbling over your words and blanking out mid sentence.

You’re not nervous, you just don’t know what to say, the words getting lost in your head as you wonder whether or not there’s a line and where it is and if you should cross it.

Today is the fifth day Cheol comes to see you after your shift. He comes in at 6:54 which is a bit earlier than usual, and it’s the first time that Joshua is seeing the scene unfold. As Cheol walks in, your friend throws you a careful glance before waving over at his friend and connecting fists as he hops over to take his order.

“Iced latte with—”

“I’m not here for a drink,” Cheol says quickly, putting his hand up before he can watch Joshus key in his usual order.

“Huh…did I miss something?” Joshua asks, checking his watch for any missed messages. You chew your lip and Cheol glances at you, realizing that you haven’t told Joshua that you and him are speaking again.

“Uh, no,” Cheol murmurs. He points at you and when he sees that you don’t protest, he proceeds. “We’re, uh, I’m just waiting for her shift to end and—” he stops talking when Joshua whips his head around to stare at you with a look of bewilderment.

You nod shyly, untying your apron as you make your way to the back room. Joshua follows quickly behind you, closing the door behind him while you hang up the garment. “What does he mean by that?”

“I dunno, Josh,” you say, because honestly you aren’t sure how to explain it either.

“Remember what you said?” he tells you—you know where this is headed, and you really don’t want him to bring it up. “You said you’d never forgive them.”

You did say that. “In a moment of anger,” you argue, grabbing your bag. You know he’s just being protective of you, but right now it’s getting on your nerves.

“And? You’re just going to forgive him because he drove you home when you were drunk?”

“I haven’t forgiven him!” you pause. “At least not yet.”

“You’re seriously going to forgive him after all that you said about moving on?”

“I have moved on, Joshua,” you tell him. It’s true. “There’s nothing wrong with letting him back in my life now, especially if he wants to.”

“And what if he fucks up again?”

You roll your eyes as you walk to the back door. “How’s that supposed to happen? Thought you said he and Yejin broke up?”

“They did, but that isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?” you ask exasperatedly. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. You’re acting like I don’t know the consequences of my actions. You’re acting as if I wasn’t the one who had to go through all that, so please just let me make this decision.”

Joshua steps back and sighs, and by the way he doesn’t say anything as you open the door, you assume he has accepted defeat.

Cheol meets you on the other side of the door, wearing his usual smile. You can only pray that he didn’t hear your conversation with Joshua. “Hey,” he greets and you nod in response. Well if he heard anything, he pretends he doesn’t. The truth is, Cheol hears every word, he’s just very good at putting a smile on his face.

You two walk out of the store silently and side by side. “How was work?” Cheol asks.

“Good. It’s most fun with Joshua,” you reply, walking on the sidewalk like you two usually do. You follow a trail down the street and through some parks for kids, always making a round trip back to your cafe where your car is parked.

The days have been getting shorter, and it’s evident by the way the sky is painted a deep orange right now. “Didn’t sound like he’s too happy today,” Cheol comments, and you halt your steps for just a moment, realizing he did hear you two.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumble. You two haven’t talked about that since you started speaking again. All the things Cheol said he wanted to apologize for were left suspended in the air, waiting for one of you to pluck it out and face reality. Neither of you were ever really good at that. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I’m sorry you had to say that,” Cheol responds almost instantly, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face you.

Your eyebrows furrow when you respond, “What?”

“I mean, shit, I worded that badly,” he groans, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry that…you know—you said you’d never forgive me and I’m sorry. And I know you probably shouldn’t forgive me but I’m sorry.”

You certainly weren’t expecting that, but then again, you need to remind yourself to never be surprised when it comes to Cheol. You bite back the words, “it’s okay,” because you aren’t ready to say that, so instead you just nod. “Okay.” Your eyes glaze around your surroundings and they fall on a bench. Pointing at it, you say, “Let’s sit, yeah?”

You two sit side by side on the bench, and you think that this is the closest either of you have been in a long time, your thighs almost brushing against each other’s. The sky darkens above you, and you usually would take this as your cue to go back to your car, but tonight, you stay.

There’s a question that’s prodding at the back of your mind, and you chide yourself for even thinking about it. Don’t ask him, don’t do it, and you almost listen. Almost. You figure that the fact that you’re even here with Cheol right now is a sign that things are changing more than they already have, that you’re changing in ways that you didn’t know you could, and Cheol is changing, and he’s changing for you.

Cheol senses it too, that you’re thinking deeply, and he waits. When you’re finally lifting your head and looking up at the sky, he turns to you as you open your mouth. “How did you guys break up?” You can’t bring yourself to say “you and Yejin.” It’s too painful of a reminder that there was once a Cheol and Yejin, and that it came at the expense of you and Cheol and Yejin.

He takes a deep breath and hesitates, but you don’t retract your question. You feel after everything, you deserve to know, no matter how aching the memory is. “She cheated on me.”

“Oh.”

Cheol’s voice is flat for the first time since you’ve started speaking again. “Yeah,” he mutters. You purse your lips together, unsure of what to do, what to say. There was a time that you felt you knew all the right words, all the right things to do, but now you’re lost. Maybe it’s because Cheol has changed, but then—no, it’s not him, it’s you. You’ve changed. You thought you didn’t care, and that was true.

You didn’t care about what happened to Cheol or Yejin or them because they had left you and there was nothing after that. You didn’t care because caring wouldn’t help you get either of them back, and you didn’t care because caring only made long nights of you crying in your bed even longer.

But did you ever stop caring about Cheol? About Yejin? There’s a fine line, you realize, between caring about your relationship with someone and caring about them, and it hits you that not once did you not care about Cheol.

What would you have done if this had happened six months ago? What would you have said? You were never the best at words, but when it came to Cheol and Yejin, you always found some way to make them feel better. Looking over at Cheol, his head hangs low as he chews on his lip.

You reach over your hand and place it on his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry,” you tell him.

Cheol chuckles hollowly, causing you to frown deeply. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

“We have time for that later,” you reply honestly, not breaking the contact even when he shifts a little, finally looking up at you.

“Later?” he asks hopefully. You smile and nod. This is a promise, you both know. Joshua is going to kill you for this later.

“He got fired?” you snort. “Didn’t he say he could get away with anything?”

“Yeah,” Cheol chuckles. “And to be fair, he did get away with a lot. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t get fired months ago. He would give me and Soonyoung discounts all the time, it was crazy.”

“I remember that…” you say quietly.

“Yeah, anyways, he got fired and now he’s complaining about not having extra cash. Minghao’s telling him to just find another job but Hannie is convinced that he’ll be able to convince his boss to hire him back…”

“Knowing Jeonghan, he might just be able to pull that off.”

“Who knows,” Cheol murmurs with a shrug. “It’s late. Do you want to go?”

“Want me gone already?” you tease. Things are more comfortable now. It isn’t the same as before—how could it—but it’s getting there. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be “back to the old days,” but you sure are trying to get as close as you can.

“You know that isn’t true,” he shoots back. You trust him, and if that’s a mistake, you hardly care. Maybe this is where you start to crumble. “I’m just trying to make sure that it’s not too late when you get home.”

He’s being caring, although it isn’t unexpected. Cheol was always caring. “You’re right,” you murmur, not wanting to admit that you might have wanted to sit here and talk to him a bit longer. You stand up, grabbing your back and he follows after you as you walk up the street in the direction of the shop. You return back to the conversation of Jeonghan and his antics both in and out of the workplace, and before you know it, you’re back at the parking lot.

You’ve grown to look forward to these meetings—how could you not—and it does kill a little bit of self control inside of you every time you realize that fact.

“You gonna go now?” he asks softly, and as you stop walking, you let the tension grow thick. This part is always awkward. You don’t know if it’s fitting to say “bye” or “goodbye” or “see you later” or hug him or wave or—you usually settle for a smile but there’s a growing ache in your heart which tells you that maybe you want more.

Cheol seems to think the same, and it all happens so quickly, too quickly, and suddenly you’re going dizzy and your world is spinning.

Choi Seungcheol’s lips are soft.

And they don’t press against yours for more than a second before you place your hands on his chest and push him back. You almost indulge. Almost.

“Why would you do that?” you whisper, not meeting his gaze. Cheol runs a hand through his hair, steeping back with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—shit, shit, shit—I’m sorry, I’m so sor—”

You ball your fists and your face contorts into some ugly sort of grimace. “Stop saying that!” you cry out, and Cheol stills. “Stop fucking saying you’re sorry! I-I-I hate it!”

“What?” and the hurt is more than evident in his voice.

“I know you’re sorry, okay? I get it,” you tell him exasperatedly. “And you keep saying it—you’re sorry for everything, you’re sorry for all of it. It’s all you say, but maybe if you just stopped and thought for a second you’d realize that no matter how much you keep saying it, I have not once said it’s okay.”

He gapes at you for a moment but recovers quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I—” he pauses, “I don’t know how else to tell you. It’s been a few weeks and—”

“You didn’t speak to me for six months,” you spit out, and you wonder if this is what it’s all going to come down to. The past month of you figuring out your emotions, working out what you want, what’s good for you, what’s not—you’re afraid that right now it will all amount to nothing.

Maybe you two were in your heads too long. Maybe this was your harsh pull back down to the ground.

“Six months, Seungcheol,” you repeat, and he winces when you use his full name.

“I know, I’m s—”

“You’re sorry, I know,” you say quieter this time, slumping against the wall. His lips were so warm, so soft, you still feel their ghost on your lips. You calm down for a second at the thought, but then your anger bubbles up when you remind yourself that Yejin got to taste him too. Got to have him, love him, cherish him for those six months. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, but that isn’t what this is about anyways. Right now, all it does is fuel your heat.

“I just—I don’t know how to really say it,” Cheol admits.

“Well you should figure that out,” you tell him harshly. “I can’t stand here forever, waiting for you to find the right words.”

“You’re right, I know.”

“Do you?” you ask, exhausted. It’s all catching up to you know—you’re tired, so tired.

“I do.”

Do you trust Cheol?

“I don’t believe you,” your voice quivers when you say it, and Cheol feels his heart break at the sound. “I can’t.”

“I know—that’s my fault, I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m trying.” You know he is, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. Inhaling deeply, you choose your words carefully.

“We need to talk about everything,” you tell him slowly.

“Okay,” Cheol agrees quickly. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“Where do you think we should start? I think that’s where we should start.”

Cheol sucks in a breath and pinches his eyebrows together. You can tell that he, just like you, is making sure he doesn’t say anything he’ll regret. “Well, the beginning, I guess,” he sighs, and you open your mouth in protest but he holds his hand out to stop you. “Okay just listen.” “Fine.”

“I found out Yejin liked me in January,” he tells you.

“That was a month before…” your voice trails off and he nods.

“Before we got together and…” And we stopped talking to you. He doesn’t say, doesn’t need to. “Yeah. Chaeyoung told me. Yejin didn’t know I knew until…”

“Until you started liking her,” you mutter under your breath. You furrow your eyebrows and look up at him. “You know I know this, right? Joshua told me when you told him.”

Cheol seems surprised by that. “What, really?” you aren’t sure why he never expected that—you and Joshua are pretty much like siblings, after all.

“Yeah. I think I knew before Yejin,” you admit. Your voice is small, and the way the entire event of six months ago is playing out in your head is a not so nice reminder of why you’re in this situation in the first place.

“Oh.” Silence. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You frown. “What was I supposed to say? ‘No Cheol! Don’t like Yejin! Like me!’” you say in a mocking tone. “Why would I do that to her? Why would I do that to you?” you were calm a moment ago, but you feel yourself growing upset again.

“I thought you—” Cheol thinks for a moment, wondering if he should say it, “—I thought you liked me.”

“I did,” you seethe out. “But did you think I was going to beg you to change your mind? To change your feelings?” Cheol is quiet now, and you take it as your cue to continue. “I…I cared about you and Yejin so much—” that’s a lie (you still do)—“and you should know that if you guys were happy I would be okay with that.”

“What about your feelings? Why didn’t you do anything about that?” Cheol shoots back, and it’s starting to sound an awful lot like your last conversation with Yejin.

“You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”

You feel tears stream down your cheeks at the memory and you need to remind yourself that it isn’t worth crying over—but then again, it is. “I would’ve dealt with my feelings just as I have been for the past six months—by myself and totally fine.”

Cheol doesn’t have a response to that, because if there’s one thing he won’t even attempt to refute, it’s this. Because after everything, you have been okay. You have been healing. It killed him every time Joshua would tell him you’re doing fine, because he wasn’t doing fine and he was having a really, really hard time accepting that.

He knows it’s unfair, Cheol knows he’s being anything but fair, but he just doesn’t know how to help it.

It’s the worst that you’re crying now—crying ‘cause of him. Because Cheol knows that you were okay and it was him that decided to butt back in your life to try and make amends, and you being you, decided to let him back in and fuck—he knows he’s being selfish by doing all this and he know he doesn’t deserve this yet you are still here, trying to hear him out.

“I fucked up, I don’t deserve a second chance.”

You choke back a sob, “Damn right you don’t,” and Cheol knows that you’re right.

“I’m still going to try.”

You brush some tears away from your face. “I know.”

You go home that night without another word, and Cheol only stops you to make sure you’ve stopped crying before you start the car and drive off. It’s the next day, and you can’t help but glance back and forth between the door and clock as your shift nears its end.

“You waiting for him?” Hyunwoo asks you from the side, and you feel a little bit bad at the way his voice sounds a bit sad.

“Uh—” Are you waiting for Cheol? “—I guess, yeah.” There’s no reason for you to deny it. You’ve replayed last night’s conversation more times than you can count, and you still aren’t sure how to feel. You need to see him.

As the time nears six, an uneasy feeling pools at your stomach, and you wonder what you’ll do if he doesn’t show up. End it for good? Add it to the list of reasons why you should never talk to him again? Block h—

The bell above the door ringing saves you from that rabbit hole. It’s 5:59 and Cheol waits in front of the door and for once, he isn’t donning a smile. Looking at Hyunwoo, you throw out a small wave before slipping to the back room. Hyunwoo doesn’t follow you, he stopped doing that after the first two times Seungcheol started coming, although you aren’t sure why. It’s a passing thought though, definitely not at the forefront of your mind as you hang your apron routinely and exit through the back door.

Cheol waits for you by the door and you don’t say anything as you both leave through the front. The atmosphere is thick and you aren’t sure who is going to say what and when. It’s only when you’ve walked around two minutes down your regular path that Cheol stops in front of that bench. Flickering his eyes towards yours for a moment of confirmation, he sits down and motions you to follow. You sit side by side and once again, you two are almost touching, but aren’t quite there just yet.

“So,” you finally say. “Where were we?”

“That night,” Cheol replies quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You glance over at him and can’t help but realize how…small he looks. You want to reach out and hold him for a moment, but you shouldn’t.

“What about that night?” you murmur. There’s too much about that night for you to even fathom what he’s thinking about.

“What did Yejin say to you? In the room?” he asks.

“Does that matter?” You seriously don't want to recount it, but then Cheol is nodding and you just have to give in. “She was mad…same reason as you,” you mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t like how I was accepting of it all,” you sigh, leaning back. “I think she just got sick of me,” you finally confess. “Didn’t like me anymore, and then she thought I was pathetic or something and used that as an excuse to just—I dunno, drop me.” You pause, turning to look at him again. “What did she tell you?”

You know you probably shouldn’t ask. It’ll be painful, you know, but you’re confident you can handle it.

“She said it couldn’t work…the three of us. That it was either me ‘n’ her or nothing, because nothing could go back to normal after this.”

You look down. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You believed her?”

“Well, at the time,” Cheol murmurs, “Yeah I did.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Trust me, trust me. “I liked that she liked me. I liked her and I thought I was going to lose you either way and—”

“I said okay.”

“Is it okay?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “I beat myself up a lot for all that, you know? Wondered what she could’ve said that made you not wanna fight to be my friend.” You scoff to yourself. “I guess we both suck at that.”

“Huh?”

“You know: fighting for what we want,” you clarify.

“That can change,” Cheol says, clearing his throat. “I’m fighting right now.”

That conversation is the first of many. One month later and Cheol is still fighting. It’s your birthday, and you aren’t surprised that he remembers, but you are surprised when he gets you a gift. A new apron. “Your old one is getting…well, old.”

You’re both sitting at the bench once again, and for the first time, your thighs brush against each other’s fully. It’s warm, it’s welcoming, it’s soft. Maybe you and Cheol haven’t finished crossing the bridge yet, but you’ve definitely finished building it. There’s time for the rest later. You want to focus on you and him now.

“I wonder why,” you say sarcastically, taking it out of the bag. “It’s cute—hey, is this my name?” you ask excitedly, holding up the little spot on the top with some letter embroidered in.

“Uh, yeah, it’s custom and all…I got Minghao to help me with the design.” You smile genuinely, turning to him.

“Thank you, I love it.”

“Thank god. Jeonghan said it was a stupid gift but I thought it was thoughtful…”

“Jeonghan once got you a rubber duck for your birthday, so I would take everything he says about gift-giving with a big fat grain of salt.”

“Hey, I still have that duck,” he tells you, and you both laugh together. “It’s in the bathroom, I only take it down for special occasions.”

“Special occasions being…?”

Cheol taps his chin. “Hmm…birthdays, the last day of school, Christmas…I’d like to think my luck is pretty great whenever I use it.”

“Is that so…” you hum. “When was the last time you used it?”

“Like two days ago.”

“Nothing special happened two days ago.” That’s a lie, and he sees right through it.

Cheol smiles smugly. “I know. It was just right before I came to see you.” Your cheeks burn as you turn away.

Two days ago being the last time you and him talked about all of it. From beginning to end, just like you had so many times before except for the first time, you were finally able to utter the words, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

“Right…maybe luck really was on your side then,” you tease.

“Whatever,” Cheol says with a pout, watching you glance at your phone. “Do you need to go? I thought you didn’t have anything planned?”

“I don’t,” you say with a huff. “I just saw that my birthday gift from my parents got delivered. It’s fine, I’ll pick it up when I get home later.” You ponder whether this is the right moment to bring it up. “You can… come along if you want.”

It’s almost as if his ears perk up. “To your place?”

“Um, yeah,” you try to come off as casual. “Only if you want,” you add quickly, and he picks up on the double meaning right away.

Which is how you end up here.

“Haven’t been here in so long,” Cheol murmurs, looking over your apartment. It’s the exact same, save for some pictures with Yejin and him that have since been taken down. He would have been upset about it a month ago, but now he is content. It only makes it a goal for him to take more pictures with you now so you’ll have some to put up.

“Mhm,” you nod, putting your bag down on your kitchen counter.

“Hey…” he says softly as you flick on one light. It’s dim, but there’s just enough light for you to see the worried look on his face.

“Everything alright?”

He chews on his lips and he looks pretty. “I need to know where your head is at right now,” he admits. There’s a lot of different meanings to what he’s just asked, but with the way he’s looking at you, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to say. “I don’t want to misread anything like the last time I—the last time.” The last time he kissed you.

You look down at the counter. You brought him here for a reason, but are you ready?

Trust me, trust me.

Of course you are. With Cheol, you’ll always be ready.

So when he’s pushing you up against the wall, hands grappling at your waist, feeling his warm, wet lips against you, you don’t waste a single second thinking about anyone else. You don’t think about what Joshua will say, you don’t think about how Jeongyeon will react, you don’t think about the look on Yejin’s face if she were to ever find out about this because right now, it’s Cheol that’s in front of you, and it’s Cheol that will always be in front of you.

One leg around his torso, your mouth smashes against his in a tangled mess of tongue and lip and it’s desperate and has you aching for more. And then he’s leading you to your bedroom and you are reminded of the fact that Cheol knows this place so well that he doesn’t even need to ask for directions.

Throwing you onto the bed your mind goes blank—it’s as if all the happiness in the world rushes to you at once, leaving you all light-headed and disoriented when Cheol clambers on top of you, his thigh wedged between your legs.

With his fingers pressed deeply into your hips as he runs his tongue along your jawline,rocking your clothed cunt against Cheol’s bare thigh, his gym shorts hiked up so that you can press your core as close to him as possible. Your breath is slightly labored as his lips press open mouthed kisses all the way down, and you feel yourself become increasingly needy at the way you can see the imprint of his cock against his shorts.

“Shit—you’re so—wait,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away from your burning skin to bore his eyes down at you. “Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling his knee back so there’s some space between you and him. Cheol doesn’t expect for your eyes to widen, hand shooting out and grabbing his thigh to make sure it doesn’t move another inch.

“Yes,” you gasp out, pulling his leg so hard that he stumbles forward a bit when you do, the hard muscle pressing back against your core. Cheol lets the initial shock of you being needy for him settle in, and suddenly he’s grinning and having one hand back at your waist, the other at your neck so he can tilt your head up and have better access to skin over your collarbone.

His fingers are rough and calloused as they slip beneath your shirt, pushing it up just far enough that your bra is exposed. Hovering above you, you watch through hazy vision as Cheol’s eyes dilate at the sight, swooping his head down to free one of your tits from the cup and catching a nipple in his mouth.

Your body jerks against his as he swipes a tongue over the hardened peak, and suddenly you feel that there’s too much fabric between you and his thigh. “Ch-cheol,” you mutter, tapping at his head that is currently burning beneath your shirt while he sneaks kisses all up and down your stomach, between your tits, and over your cleavage.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, pulling his head out and looking up at you, the pet name shooting shivers up our spine.

“Pants—ah—” you whine when he presses his thigh harder into you. “Pants!” you cry, trying your best to unbutton them with shaky fingers. Cheol picks up right away, helping you unzip them before hooking two fingers on the waistband and yanking the fabric down and over your feet, freeing yourself and your pussy of its unbearable restraints.

“Fuck, this is—you’re so hot,” he murmurs, looking down at your bare legs and tracing his fingers from your ankles to your knees, and then finally through your inner thighs where he bends down and starts to place rough kisses.

Usually, if he was in his right mind, Cheol would have wanted to take his sweet time with you, unraveling, unwinding all of you. But he’s figured that both of you have waited long enough and that you both deserve to be needy, to be desperate, to let this moment pass as quickly as it started because there will be plenty of time for a round two and three later on.

All you need right now is to feel each other, which is how he ends up pushing your panties to the side and digging his tongue into your dripping folds without warning. “Cheol!” you moan loudly, your hand gripping his hair tightly while he simultaneously wraps one arm over your hips, pulling you closer.

Seungcheol is going crazy, he thinks, because the taste of your pussy is better than any alcohol he’s ever drunk. You’re sweet and your cunt is literally fluttering its pretty fuck folds all for him as he slides one finger through them to collect your growing wetness. He feels himself growing high on the feeling and taste alone, his own hips pressing into the mattress in hopes of relieving some of the tension in his own pants.

There’s a slobbering mess that runs down his lips and chin as he fervently makes out with your pussy, and you briefly wonder how a man can be so good at making you feel this good before the thought is swept from your mind by one of Cheol’s thick fingers prodding at your entrance.

Holy hell, you’re so tight for him—gummy walls clamping down on his single digit the second he started to move it in and out’ta you, his mind racing as he thinks about how you might feel around his cock. And Cheol isn’t the only one thinking about it either, because when he’s slipping in another finger, you’re already crying out for more.

“I gotta work you up to it baby,” he tells you sympathetically, using one free hand to shove down his pants leaving him in only a shirt and boxers.

“Don’t wanna wait…” you protest with a pout, eyes shamelessly looking down at his figure hunched over you so you can catch sight of the imprint of his cock against his boxers.

Cheol chuckles, even though he’s on the brink of giving in himself. “Take your shirt off for me, yeah? It’ll save us some time.” That’s all you need to hear before you’re sitting up and yanking the stupidly tight shirt over your head and throwing it to the side as Cheol’s fingers continue their onslaught deep inside your cunt.

It’s less of an in and out motion now, and more of a curling motion that’s exploring you, finding out what makes you hum, what makes you moan, and what makes you go—“Oh fuck, Cheol!” He grins at the sound, leaning down to press a kiss on your clit as he pulls his slick fingers away.

“You wanted more?” he murmurs, slipping his own shirt over his head to reveal the familiar set of abs and toned chest. You let out a dazed smile at the sight, letting your body fall back onto the mattress.

“‘course I do,” you reply without hesitation, watching eagerly as his hand holds the waistband of his boxers and pushes the cloth down, revealing his cock all thick and hard as it springs out and hits his abdomen.

It’s long and it’s thick, and it’s nothing less than what you expected from Cheol, in fact, it’s a lot more than that. But you don’t even have time to think about how pretty his cock looks, pink tip all flushed as a thick vein runs down the side of its length, because it’s pushing against your entrance as he watches your face carefully.

When your eyebrows knit into a convulsion of pleasure and you squeak out his full name, he knows he can't hold back, slamming into your drooling cunt in one go.

And his cock is so big it’s pushing you open, but the pain is so good, so enthralling, that you don’t even mind being split in half if it’s like this—if it’s because every time he pulls his hips back, you know he’ll slam it deeper and deeper every single time, hitting spots deep inside of your cunt that you didn’t even know existed.

All while your limbs are flailing around him, thrashing as you bite into his shoulder, muffling your cries of, “Cheol, Cheol, Cheol!”

Your name falls from his lips too, mixed in with the mindless words of, beautiful, pretty, princess as he compliments you for takin’ him so well and squeezin’ him so good he doesn't know how he hasn’t bust already.

“God, fuck,” he moans when you look up at him through heavy lashes, tethering his boto m lip between his teeth to try and slow his impending orgasm. “Fuck,” he chokes out, “shit—I love you—”

And there is your breaking point. Like the world has come to a stop and there is only you and Cheol and this moment and—god, you really are too far gone now—and him and you is all that matters.

You cum like you never have before, his cock battering your cunt ‘til you’re shaking and crying and yelling out his name as you feel nothing but him, think nothing but him, know nothing but him.

This is the moment you’ve both been waiting for, and as soon as Cheol has noticed your slower breaths he’s pulling out and letting you wrap one hand around his fat cock to help jerk himself off. He’s so close—so fucking close—and then you’re whispering those fated words—those three words—he feels everything in him just snap, hot cum shooting all over your swollen, abused cunt, and Cheol feels his heart swell.

Love.

There’s a lot more you need to work on, you both know that, but it’s okay.

Trust me, trust me.

I love you.

a/n. literally wrote the last part half asleep and i hate the ending but... okay wow … i had a tough time writing this because i really wanted it to be taken slow and i’m not really sure how well it went … also this story might have been a bit a lot of a reflection of a friendship that went wrong in my own life LOL so this might be me playing out how i wish things ended up :/so anyways please sharing ur thoughts and like and reblog!

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n3ptoonz · 5 months

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mind writing for the Earthrealm men getting caught masturbating by the reader??👀

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to getting caught 🥩 👊🏾 by reader

warnings: suggestive; a lil steamy, i play too much (was sick and ovulating while writing this help me god), GERAS SPOTTED???

reverse roles here

Johnny Cage

Left the door open on purpose. WIDE OPEN. There he lied on his silk linens, blasting Marvin Gaye and going to town without taking his eyes off the door. Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he added a sexy ninja mime (i will never stop referencing past games) to act out him getting caught

When you "catch" him all you can do is facepalm, but it's outta love. Expect to have him let loose 50 cheesy pick up lines, dick in hand and all. Like he would still jerk it like he wasn't stuttering over his words once you took over

If you join the cheesy line fun, he may or may not cum on the spot. He loves when you're playful back. And tease him a lot. But like. Way more than he teases you. He can and will fall in love all over again (he will also bust quickly to this too. MULTIPLE times)

Raiden

This cutie pie. Snookums bbg. Blushing like a fool because you managed to overhear him utter your name multiple times in a hushed voice dripping with lust

I fully see him falling out of his bed and scrambling to pull his covers down with him just to cover his lower half. He gets even more nervous when he sees you not even attempting to leave, but instead having an inviting look on your face

Cue the comically loud gulp sound effect. His pretty brown eyes never left your figure, sitting on the hardwood floor with a painful erection between his thighs under a rather comfortable blanket. You'd have to ask if he wants help from your own lips, otherwise no sound would be in the room other than steady breathing and his heart thumping loud as hell (he says yes at the speed of light)

Smoke

Deer in headlights. One minute ago he was furiously zerkin it like there was no tomorrow, slutty sounds escaping his lips with no shame. Now he's like...oh...! You heard that..? Ahahah..

Would apologize so many times he ends up doing it in Czech. Please tell him it's okay😭In fact you'd only shut him up by telling him it was hot

Activates self indulgence beam I think...he'd be into it if you told him to finish what he started. Like sitting in a chair and watching him and he's not allowed to close his eyes- IM GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF (fic idea huehue)(if you write it before me, tag me.) But also albeit he stumbles over his words, he'd find some sort of way to ask for your help

Geras

WHAT!!! GERAS I KNOW WTF WHAT yeah he may be an immortal being but the man has his own needs. And is it even a question like...you're wondering how THAT fits in his hand like jesus christ you're going to kill someone sir (i got next)

It's nothing extravagant. He wasn't summoned by Liu Kang for a while, so he figured why not? He doesn't get much time to himself so let's crank one real quick 👀

Think of any scene from mk11 where he got "hurt" and was grunting, that's the sounds he was making and you could hear it through his door. But you thought he was hurt, so you came through the door just to be greeted by a SNAKE in his grip

Surprisingly calm...almost too calm...did he predict this? Who knows, all we know is you interrupted him and would definitely like your help. Does not shy away from this request too but that's how we like it 😈

Liu Kang

A similar incident with Geras. You overheard him while you wandered through his mansion trying to find and surprise him. So when you finally found his bedroom door and barged in, thinking he needed help, there he was dick in hand and completely unexpecting

He would try to remain calm but it would be clear as day that he was nervous. He'd quickly cover up with a pillow and give a small smile, asking if you needed anything like he wasn't shirtless and heart pumping at mach speeds

In his mind was like a static sound as he tried to focus on not getting hard again looking at you, feeling a little guilty as he couldn't help his instincts. I guess the God contract never said escaping from mortal desires! You offer to join the fun and he's like HUH...well, if you insist! (again he looks calm but is very, very excited, i promise)

Kung Lao

He had been schmeat beating after his long days of training so this isn't a new occurrence for him. But obviously, you've never walked in on him before. He was always able to get it done before he saw or met with you

Normally you rendezvous to Madam Bo's but you're like hm, why not bring him something to eat since you know he had a long day! Once you entered it didn't take you long to hear him calling your name from his room, so naturally you thought he knew you were here. But...it started to become like a chant. His voice breathy and deep (save me shaolin monk save me-) So when you check it out you find him with his head thrown back, hair messy and coated in sweat

The favoritism is leaking through the screen LMFAOOO He heard the door creak and yelped, asking why you were there so early out of breath you held the to-go bag in your hands with pure shock, immediately getting the idea to tease the shit out of him. He does it to you all the time, why not return the favor?! And he's like well?? Are you gonna help??? UH YA I WAS GETTING TO THAT😹😹

Scorpion

Kuai Liang rarely ever has the time to even talk to you, let alone talk to himself! So one of the few times he didn't think you were showing up to the temple but he had time to himself that he didn't think would last very long, he just needed to relieve his own stress real quick

Damn, he forgot he invited you to the temple since it was a slow day. You were appointed to his room by one of the recruits and sang his name, opening the door to the sound of squelching and panting

Your little song came to a stop at the same time of his gasp; eyes locked on yours. He wanted to smile, and drop everything to greet you like the situation wasn't what it was, but before he could even begin to hide himself you calmly close the door and watch his demeanor quickly switch to smug...it's gonna be a long day for the both of you😮‍💨

Sub-Zero

I'm using the same scenario from my first bi-han fic bc i said so, bite me!

He was avoiding you because he couldn't control himself around you any longer. The more he thought about you and how you pissed him off to great lengths before has him wanting to do terrible...terrible things (shoutout loki)(i've never seen loki) but he must suffice with pleasuring himself to the thought of you, the way your voice rang in his head, and how hot you looked patching up his injuries

When you caught him oh he was so sexually frustrated he couldn't think straight, panically pulling you into his room dick swinging and all. The scowl on his face didn't match the pink blush that was starting to form at how you looked at him. Why you were at his door is the least of his concerns, if you don't help him take care of this right now he might lose his mind 🥹

Kenshi Takahashi

He wasn't supposed to be last but I accidentally clicked on a tumblr notification and lost my notes on him so. LETS TRY THIS SHIT AGAIN.

When you caught him he was so so embarrassed. Don't let the calm and hot and sexy demeanor fool you, when it came to you it's like he's a clone; unrecognizable. He was stuttering and trying to justify whatever you just saw but then also asks why you showed up unannounced

You explain he said to come around this time a few days ago to spend some time together, and now he was mentally kicking himself bc how could he forget something so simple?! But hey, the fact that you weren't even budging, and even approaching him with a smile on your face told him all he needed to know. And who is he to say no to some help from a fine individual like you???

a/n: cranked this request out for y'all (fic might be posted today) this is a gift from me to you guys 😄 happy christmas and merry holidays to any and all cultures that do or don't celebrate during this time fr ❤️

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virgincels · 7 months

Text

WASTE ME 2

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. past rape/non-con referenced, unhealthy relationship, rape aftermath mentioned, blood mention, trauma, age gap, lots of victim blaming, creampie, pussy spanking

notes. hi :3 same warning as before this is just reader forming a trauma bond with their rapist but a onesided unrequited trauma bond 😭 leon is ooc so sorry ab that! probably vendetta leon but think ab any leon idk completely unedited bc i got lazy so ignore anything wrong I beg you. pov switches lots and leons character changes like 68 times

one / three

You must be sick in the head. Got more than a few screws loose. ‘Cause he just raped you. When you asked for his number, he assumed the worst, you’re gonna take it to the cops for sure. So he thinks of pulling out all the stops. Do you know who I am? I saved the president's kid back in ‘05, D.S.O agent, sweetheart, you’ve got nothing on me. Shitty move. Super villain type shit that is. He’s meant to be quite the opposite. Meant to be keeping civilians safe or whatever. You just looked good, alright? Bent over like a dog, like you were asking for it. Jesus. That sounds fucked. Jail worthy statement. This job has messed with his head.

Then you whip out your phone, give him a shaky smile, look at him like he’s a god or something. His gut churns. You’re not much of a looker; eyes sunken into your skull from a clear lack of sleep, hangnails for days, skin patchy. But he feels bad. The least he can do is take you out to dinner. Pay for your hospital bills in case he tore anything important. Doubt it. Leon’s not got that much going on down there. God, you look young. Real young. Can’t be more than twenty-five. Closer to twenty if he’s completely honest with himself.

“I like your jacket,” you say, scuffing your shoes on the ground. He pretends not to notice the droplet of blood on your otherwise white sneakers.

“Thanks,” Leon tries to stop himself from grimacing as he gives you a once over, “I like your…” There’s nothing. He doesn’t like a single bit of you. I like your ass, that’s why I stuck my dick in you by the way, pussy was pretty good too, had me acting like a total sleaze. He couldn’t say that. Or he could. He’s sure you’d take it well. Might even wag your tail a little. Get on your knees and suck his dick. What a fucked up kid. Glad he had enough sense to pull out.

You wait with bated breath, blinking at him with these big, sad eyes. The rope of silence burns.

“I like your eyes.” It’s a patent lie, but you don’t pick up on it. Instead you get shy and look down at the ground.

Leon passes your phone back, you pluck it out of his palm, careful not to touch him. Practised movements almost. He doesn’t question it. You ask for his name, he answers but doesn’t ask for yours in return.

“I’m sorry,” Leon tells you, it’s not enough, and it never will be. But he’d like to be absolved of this guilt. He already has enough. It sits heavy on his chest most days. Now he has to go and do this. A few drinks in and he starts thinking with his dick.

“No, it’s okay,” you brush him off, smile at him with all your teeth. The bottom set is crooked. “It was my first time, so thank you. I’ve been meaning to lose it.” Who even talks about sex like that? As if it’s paperwork you haven’t gotten around to.

Yeah. You’re gone. Thanking the man who raped you. Did he knock you around too much? Good work, Leon. Just ruined another life.

“I don’t think…” Leon trails off, shakes his head. “Call me.”

“Will you pick up?” You ask quietly, there’s nerves behind it, you must be used to fake numbers.

He wasn’t going to pick up. But he will now. “Yeah, I always pick up.” Good ol’ reliable Leon. Being falsely cordial even with his rape victim.

“Cool,” you smile once more, it reaches your eyes, makes them crinkle. “Well, I’ll see you soon?” Your tone lilts in question.

“Soon.” Leon nods affirmatively. You limp away and he swallows down the bile burning his throat.

To say you like Leon would be an understatement. You’d smash every mirror that doesn’t hold his reflection. Thinking about him is all you do these days. When you’re laying in bed, when you’re laying on the sofa, when you’ve got your hands down your pants. You don’t do much else anyway. So it’s exciting to have someone new to think about, someone to break up the mundanities of your stagnant life. He’s busy a lot. He might be lying, but you choose to believe him. You’re the only one lonely enough to bear his absence.

It takes all of your confidence to call him, the line rings thrice then goes to voicemail. He calls back late one night. You’re up watching some B-movie that’s classed as soft porn. “Hello, hi?” You suck with phone calls. Fucked up so many jobs ‘cause you failed to answer unknown numbers.

Silence, then the audio crackles when he sighs deeply. “Hey.”

“Leon, hi,” you wonder if he can hear the smile in your voice. “What’s up?”

“I missed your call.”

He’s missed a lot of calls, you don’t remind him. “That’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“Yeah,” Leon says absentmindedly, “what did you want?”

You haven’t thought that far ahead. You just wanted to hear his voice. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Listen,” he starts, you assume the worst. He’s going to get a restraining order against you. “Can we get dinner one night? Get this over with.” It’s only just started and he wants to get rid of you so soon. Better than nothing.

“Yes,” you agree too quickly, “yeah, I’m free whenever.” Whenever means whenever. There’s not a single day you’re booked and busy. Never is.

He says Friday at six. You wait for it all week long. Pace around your room, mull over an acceptable outfit. There’s no such thing as formal wear in your wardrobe, haven’t even done the laundry in weeks. It’s piling up, gathering dust in multiple corners of the house. You shave your legs for the first time in months, get razor burn, clean your brows up to the best of your abilities.

Leon still makes a face when he sees you in the light. Your mug takes some getting used to. He’s dressed in what you saw him when he held you. That same leather jacket, the stiffness makes his shoulders appear bigger than they are.

When you smile, he smiles back crookedly. Shows his teeth to compensate for the fakeness of it. He’s real handsome. The type of handsome that makes you feel sick. That you feel you shouldn’t be in the presence of. Making you so anxious it’s giving you the shits. If you saw him in public, you’d duck behind someone taller, stick to the shadows, just in case he caught your eye and felt nauseous.

“Sorry I’m late,” you try to keep up with his pace as he strides along, the urge to cling onto his arm is there. He’d likely push you off, spit on you, call you gross. Not that you’d mind. Would be quite embarrassing though. So you hold back.

“It’s alright, I only got here a minute ago.” His disgust ebbs away. You think. ‘Cause he manages to glance over at you without keeling over.

“Was it good?” You take his wrist in your hand, dig your blunt nails into his skin.

“What?”

“When you… when it happened, when we had, like, sex, was it good?”

“Jesus, that wasn’t, that wasn’t sex,” Leon tips his head back, brows drawn together. His head is killing him.

You’re at a loss for words. Opening your mouth to speak and coming up with nothing. You’re hurt maybe. When you do talk, it’s pure fluff. Really shows your age. “It wasn’t? So what was it?” When he shrugs, you keep going, “I wanted to know if it was good ‘cause I knew this girl, like, in school, her name was Emma,” you pause to wave at a baby snuggled up in its stroller, “her mom was a hooker, and she said it was, like, genetically loose. Like her y’know, down there.”

“What?” He repeats, equally baffled as he was by you calling rape sex.

“Yeah, and my mom wasn’t a hooker or anything, but I was just wondering’ if it felt good? Like for you or was it loose?” You gaze up at him the way a beaten dog looks at its owner. Like you trust him with all of you. With your beating heart, with all the gristle and the tough parts, with your paper-doll body, like he wouldn’t tear you in half.

What’s he supposed to say now? It felt real good. Best pussy he’s had in years, the guilt just feels a lot worse. He sobered up after the initial rush. Started feeling bad too late. When he’d bloodied you up already. Left you walking funny, knees bent inwards in a crude attempt to hide the raw pain.

“Felt great,” Leon’s a people pleaser.

“Would you do it with me again, Leon?” You ask him shyly, worrying your bottom lip til it bleeds.

“Yeah.” Pussy is pussy. Even if it’s coming from someone ugly. Oh, he’s just being mean now. You’re cute. Well, cute in the way pugs are. People like to take care of things that are ugly, they feel bad for them, and decide to adopt pugs despite all their problems. He’s a sucker for pretty eyes though. And he’s started to like yours. There’s a deer-like quality to them. Maybe it’s that wide-eyed look of sheer terror you give him anytime he shrugs you off. Kind of addictive.

“Wait, really?” God, you’re shaking, shaking out of pure excitement as you loop your arm with his. “I’d like to see your face, but I really don’t mind. We could do it like that again, from behind.”

“Let’s not talk ‘bout that right now, okay, sweetheart?” Leon says it as tenderly as he can manage.

“Yeah, right, sorry, god.” You follow after him quietly.

Leon orders for you ‘cause you ask him too. You sit on your hands to warm them up, you pick at your skin, don’t really have many manners. Clear you don’t come out often. Not like he took you anywhere fancy.

You eat when Leon isn’t looking. When he’s focused on his own plate, when he’s busy chatting up the busty waitress. It’s strange. You’re strange. Like you don’t want anyone to see you doing anything normal. It’s like breathing is embarrassing for you. Then you open up your mouth and tell him some bullshit, and it’s all very confusing.

He doesn’t want to take you home. You’re not like anyone else, not a cutie he’s picked up from the bar, not someone he’s known for more than a while. But he raped you, so he owes you. Now you’ve got some trauma bond with him. Imprinted on Leon like a duckling. Couldn't you just take some government apology money and leave?

There’s not much to talk about, nothing he wants to find out, he has no interest in getting to know you. Leon asks if you have a job, you shake your head, tell him your parents love you enough to give you more than you need, but they don’t quite like you. That you go to college, but not often, that you don’t really have many goals, that you’re okay with dawdling through life. Nothing has ever worked out for you, and that’s why you’re glad you met him.

Leon has to stop himself from gagging. When he looks your way he’s repulsed. Not by you. Promise. He’s seen some shit. An ugly thing ain’t enough to scare him. Just remembers the blood caked on his cock, how he tucked it back into his pants and it dried up on the drive home.

He takes you to bed soon enough, saw your knee bouncing with excitement, and Leon’s never been particularly good at small talk. You smell nice at least. Tad too sweet for his liking, but that’s alright. Clearly, you’ve put a lot of effort into looking nice for him, and he can appreciate that.

The hair on the back of his neck prickles when your smaller hands find purchase on his waist. You’re shaking as he hovers over you, too close for comfort. Avoiding eye contact like anything. Shy little thing you are. Might as well make a meal of it this time, take in all of you. You ask him to keep the lights low, beg him at one point when he reaches over to turn the lamp on his nightstand on.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even see what I’m doing,” Leon mumbles, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on your shirt, “might slip it in the wrong hole if I’m not careful.” Gross. When did he start saying shit like that?

“Hah,” you laugh softly, airy and nervous, hands coming to rest on his firm chest instead, “I wouldn’t mind, Leon.”

“You would when your fuckin’ guts fall out,” he manages to pop them, a few buttons clatter to the wooden ground noisily, “colostomy bag ain’t no fun.”

“I didn’t think that far ahead.” You’re smiling at him for sure, when he dips his head down to give an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, he feels it. Runs his tongue over your teeth. “I still wouldn’t mind, Leon.”

What a freak. He smooths your hands down your sides, over your tapering waist until he feels your belt loops, jeans low on your hips. The zipper is already down, the button is stiff, but he manages to get them open, shuffling them down and tossing them on the floor.

When Leon goes to undo his belt, you grab his wrist. “Can you turn on the lamp actually? I changed my mind.” You say quietly, fingertips running over his knuckles. “I want to see you.” So he listens. Leon wants to see what you’re wearing underneath. If it’s anything special. It’s not. Plain black cotton. You must not have anything else he supposes. “It felt bigger than that last time.” You’re looking at his half-hard dick, sitting up on your elbows and scrutinising it real bad.

Ouch. Well, you’re the ugly bitch who hasn’t managed to get him to his full potential. Leon’s being mean now, needlessly mean, ‘cause you’re just a kid with a big mouth, and you don’t seem to know when to shut it. “Yeah, ‘cause I raped you,” he laughs dryly. Tastes bile again. Funny saying those words out loud it is. Makes you feel like a real asshole.

“But I liked it, Leon, so I don’t think it was.” By the way you flinch when he spreads you apart, Leon thinks it really was exactly that. Poor baby. Pussy all sore ‘cause he split you open.

“You liked it, hm?” Leon drops his forehead against yours, tries to gage your reaction to his words. “You like being raped?”

Eyelids fluttering shut. Breath hitching. All smiles and warm skin. Yeah, you loved it. You don’t have to tell him that, he can see it. “Yeah… I loved it, Leon.” His thumb slips past your petal lips, he doesn’t even have to ask you to suck. He pulls it out with a pop, brings it down to your cunt and presses the pad to your throbbing clit. “Mmm, ‘cause you wanted me so bad you didn’t even ask me…”

Just his thumb and your hips are lifting up off the bed, cunt drooling all over his sheets. He has to admit, he made a real mess of you that night, can see the way he broke you in. Left you all sloppy. Ruined your perfect pussy so no one else could ever use it. Leon only wants the mess ‘cause he made it himself.

“That’s right,” Leon nods his head, “‘cause you were stickin’ your ass in the air like a bitch. Can’t blame me can you, sweetheart?”

“No, ‘s all my fault,” your brows pinch together when he pulls back the hood of your clit, rubs figures eights into the twitching bud. You mewl, snapping your legs shut, he pries your thighs apart easily, splays a big hand over your tummy to keep you down.

“Weren’t me, was it?” He pinches your clit between his thumb and pointer finger, dips the middle into your drippy cunt to test the waters. “Did that all to yourself ‘cause you wanted some dick, ain’t that right, baby?”

You’re awful cute like this, tears making your eyes all glassy, teeth chattering with the nerves, nostrils flared. Dumb little pup. Wonder what you looked like back then, with your face in the concrete, did you cry this pretty?

“C’mon,” Leon urges, “tell me again, sweetheart.” It’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. Makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep.

“Oh god,” you whine, hips bucking up into his palm, clit mashing into the bump of his palm, “it was my fault.” There’s a shaky breath between each of your words, so worked up, heat coiling in your belly.

“Coulda got me in so much trouble,” Leon tuts, shakes his head and you lower your gaze. Squeeze your eyes shut to hide behind the lids. Don’t wanna be blamed for it. “Don’t even care, do you?” He’s quick to remove his fingers, readies his palm to give your cunt a firm spank instead, the pleasure making your entire body jolt. “Just thinkin’ with this stupid fuckin’ pussy.” He spanks you again, cunt makes a wet squelch with the impact. Shit. There’s practically a puddle beneath you, leaking slick down your thighs, all over his jeans. Soaking him to the bone. Like he’s been caught in a monsoon or some shit.

“I’m sorry,” you choke on a sob, let out an ugly sounding hiccup that makes him coo, tilts your chin upward to kiss the salty tears away. “Didn’t mean to do it, Leon.”

Leon clicks his tongue, spanks you once more for good luck. “I know you didn’t, sweetheart, you’re just a bit slow, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, he can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, that’s alright,” he croons to you so sweetly, like he might be in love with you. He’s not. But this is fun. Most fun he’s had in a long time. “Useless little thing, not good for much, are you?”

“Mhm,” you nod at him, so stupid, empty fuckin’ head.

“That’s alright, you’re good for one thing, sweetheart.” Leon squeezes your thighs, watches the skin dimple, “know what it is?”

“I’m good for you.” You give him a dopey smile, makin’ goo-goo eyes at him. God. Not in a million years.

“Not for me,” he pulls you towards him by your ankles, legs dangling off the bed until you wrap them around his waist, hold him close to you. Leon stands at the edge of the bed, his jeans fall loose around his ankles, he kicks his boxers off. Just to make his life easier. “Just for dick, yeah? You’re real good at taking dick.”

“Only yours, Leon,” you’re so taken by him it’s sickening.

“Nah,” he palms himself, thumb digging into the weepy head, “I think you’ll take any dick you can, sweetheart.” Your ears perk up at the schlick, schlick, schlick as he readies himself, droplets of pre running down his fist.

“I like you so much, Leon,” you’re begging him with your eyes, they flit from his cock to his eyes. Dick to his eyes. Blinking so much it’s making him a little dizzy. You’re all lashes and pouty lips, hands clasped together like you’re praying. “Oh!” You grab at his shoulders when he bullies his cock into you. Pupils blown out, doll lips parted in surprise. There’s not as much pain this time he bets. Cunts like a fucking slip ‘n slide, he’s sure it must feel good.

Leon bottoms out with a grunt. He draws his hips back, shallow thrusts that get you keening, babbling like a little baby ‘bout how much you adore him. Just ‘cause of some dick. God, you really know how to make him feel good. The fat head of his cock hits that spongy spot inside of you just right, ‘cause your back arches up in a way that looks painful. Exorcist type shit. Even hears your bones crack.

“That good, baby?” He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “c’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.” Leon gives a sharp thrust, pushes his way past your tightness, leaky tip nestled up against your cervix, fleshy and warm. Tiny little pussy you’ve got, no wonder it hurt so bad back then, just about managed to take all of Leon.

“I love you,” you whimper a fervid confession, baring your neck like an animal. He bites into your skin with the aim to break it. Hot and carnal. His heavy balls slap against the fat of your ass, he’s fucking you so good, so deep. Each thrust garners a whiny noise that he hushes with a kiss, gushes of slick running down his shaft and wetting his balls. Messy pup. Never fucked anyone that got so damn wet for him. Mostly ‘cause Leon has a knack for hitting on people who don’t reciprocate. His fingers on your clit is all it takes. Leon feels it, how your cunt forces him out when you cum, with each upwards thrust is a squirt of wetness.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it all out for me,” Leon rolls his hips into you, the sweat on his brow begins to trickle down his face. He tastes it on his brow.

You're spent. Can’t even lift a finger, going lax on him as he drives himself into your cunt, slams his hips into yours till they bruise. Groaning, his cock spurts all it can inside of you, skin stretching taut as his abs tighten, spilling his load in your cunt. Right where you’d like it. Pulling out didn’t even cross his mind. Pussy is awful good for such a dull face.

“Leon,” you’re giving him a dopey smile, so stupid, lovesick on dick alone, he hasn’t even done anything nice for you.

He hums for you to keep going, slips his cock out with a lewd pop and flops down beside you.

“I really like you,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, “like loads ‘n loads.”

“I know you do,” Leon states, “I don’t mind keepin’ you around or anything, darling,” like a pet, “just can’t have you fallin’ in love with me.” You look away from him with a scowl. Too late. He knows that.

“I like you, Leon,” you hug his arm, “I don’t… you can stick it in my ass if that’s what you really want, I really don’t mind. I don’t think it’d feel that bad.”

You think that’s gonna keep him around? Might’ve worked when he was twenty. “When I call you, you’ll pick up, won’t you?”

“Yeah, of course I will, Leon.”

“Then we can talk, but you can’t keep calling me, alright?” Work has always been a problem. But now he has you. Loser who’ll stick around to the end of time for him. It’s nice this way. The whole rape thing is behind the both of you too. You’re so set on liking it anyway, not gonna turn him in or anything.

“Okay, Leon,” you’re pouting, but you’re not spoiled so you agree. “What if I miss you?”

“Then you just gotta wait for me.”

“I’ll always wait for you, Leon,” you smile wide, “I don’t have anyone else to wait for.”

Not like he had anyone else either. Quite nice finding the one person in the world that might be lonelier than him. Sadly, it makes Leon feel better about himself, ‘cause at least he has contacts in his phone. He’d be dead if he ended up the way you did. Would’ve knocked back a few pills years ago.

“I really like you though, Leon, and you can rape me again if it makes you like me too,” you’re so incessant, he might just take you up on that offer.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #tw noncon

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justmystyles · 11 months

Text

Now You're In My Life - Part 4

catch up here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 4.4k

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: i definitely planned to cover all of Harryween weekend in this part, but my brain had other plans. this gets a little angsty at the end, you've been warned.

*i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tags (thank you forever, from the bottom of my icy cold heart to anyone who has asked to be tagged, or interacted/read this story at all. it means the absolute world to me.): @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @cute-as-ducks420 @gem1712 @golden-hoax @groovychaosavenue @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @n0vaj3an @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @youknowwhaaat

You trudge through the hallway of your hotel, eyes scanning the walls to find your room number. You had worked all day, and then immediately jumped on a train for the nearly four hour ride to New York so that you could spend the weekend with Harry. You were looking forward to tomorrow, but at this moment you couldn’t want anything more than a shower and some sleep.

You sigh once you reach your door, scanning the card against the lock and pushing it open. You pause in front of the closet, hanging the garment back that contains your costume for tomorrow. The second is tucked away safely in your suitcase, which you throw on the floor. Kicking your shoes off as you move further into the room, you instantly notice a large vase with flowers on the desk, an envelope with your name on it leaning against it.

You smile to yourself, already knowing it’s from Harry. Despite your exhaustion, you feel a sudden surge of energy come over you as you rush to the table. You drop your purse and room key on a nearby chair and pick up the envelope, removing the note that was also paired with an all access lanyard for tomorrow.

I figured you probably didn’t bring my last flowers with you, so I needed to get you some for your room. Be at the venue at noon tomorrow. Dress comfortably and don’t forget to bring your costume!

-H

You pull your phone out of your pocket, placing a FaceTime call to Harry.

“You’ve made it!” He greets you with that same smile he always greets you with. You can even hear it during your calls.

“Ugh… barely.” You sigh.

His brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you alright? Do you want me to come to your hotel?”

“No no no, you don’t have to. I’m okay, it’s just been a long day. All I need is a hot shower and a comfy bed and I’ll be ready for tomorrow.” Your heart swelled at his concern.

“Alright, but it’s really hard for me, knowing how close you actually are and not being able to come to you.”

“Pfft,” you scoff. “You’re going to be so sick of me after this weekend!”

“Never.” His tone is serious, but there is a sparkle in his eye that gives you butterflies. “Alright, I don’t want to hold you up. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner I get to see you.”

“Wait!” You stop him. “I actually called to thank you for the flowers.”

“Oh, right. Let me see them.” He commanded gently. You flip the camera angle, displaying the elaborate arrangement. “Nope, this one didn’t get it either. Not even half as beautiful as you.”

“Harry…” You groan as you swap the camera again.

“Gotcha,” he grinned, referencing the blush on your face.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him telling you you’re beautiful. You’re not sure if it’s because of who he is, or because you can’t see it in yourself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.”

“I can’t wait.”

You end the call and go to your suitcase to grab your pajamas and toiletries before moving into the bathroom for your shower, then going straight to bed and drifting off quickly to sleep.

The next day, you walk down 31st street, dressed in leggings and an oversized hoodie, looking for the backstage door Harry directed you to. You put on some minimal makeup and pulled your hair back into a high ponytail, knowing you would have to take some time to do proper hair and makeup for your costume later. You carry your garment bag in one hand, everything else in a backpack that sits on your shoulders.

You step up to the guarded door, pulling your pass out of your hoodie pocket to show security. He nods and lets you into the backstage area. You shoot off a quick ‘I’m here’ text to Harry, and take a look at the space around you while you wait.

When you hear footsteps behind you, you turn to see Harry, he’s wearing a hoodie, gym shorts, and a pair of colorful sneakers. His smile lifts to a full blown grin as he breaks into a sprint, wanting to get to you that much faster. Once he reaches you, he cradles your face in his hands, pulling you to meet his lips in a hungry, almost desperate kiss. He pulls back, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, bringing you as close to his body as possible, placing a kiss on the top of your head before resting his cheek against it.

“God, I missed you.”

You giggle at his dramatics, but internally you’re screaming. You knew he’d be happy to see you, but you never expected anything like this. “Harry, I talk to you all the time.”

“I know,” he mumbles against your hair. “But I haven’t gotten to hold you,” he gives you a quick squeeze before pulling away so you were looking into each other’s eyes. “Or kiss you.” He leans in, pressing his lips to yours again. This kiss was slower, more purposeful. “I really like kissing you.” He whispers against your lips before pressing a series of small pecks on your lips and over your cheeks.

“I like kissing you too,” you try to say through your laughter.

He finally extracts himself from you, running his hands down your arms to take your hands in his. “Let’s have a look at you,” he says as he pulls back, looking over you appraisingly. He arches a brow at the logo on your sweatshirt? “What’s with the false advertising?” He nods to the skull and crossbones, with the word ‘Rancid’ plastered across your chest.

Your eyes flit down to your shirt, you’re so consumed in Harry’s greeting that you forgot what you were wearing. “Oh, it’s a band! They’re one of my favorites.”

Harry gasps, stepping back and placing a hand over this chest dramatically. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” You give him a confused look. “You would wear another artist’s merch to my show?” He shakes his head, making a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue.

You make a mental note at his reaction. One of the things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve been talking to Harry is that he’s fun to tease, he sees your sarcasm and gives it right back to you, sometimes tenfold. This was something you were going to have fun with for a while.

“So you don’t think I look cute?” You pout, looking up at him with big doe eyes, batting your lashes rapidly.

“Oh no darling, you look incredible,” he tugs on one hand, guiding you into a spin. You happily comply. “But I don’t know how I feel about sharing you with other musicians.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can craft your comeback, he takes your garment bag from your hands, and nods toward your backpack, signaling for you to take it off. You do, and he hoists it over one shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you all settled. I’ve got sound check shortly and I want you there.” He places his free hand on the small of your back and leads you further into the backstage area.

He takes you straight to his dressing room, putting your bags away among his things. “You’ll get ready here with me tonight.”

“Why Mister Styles,” you gasp, clutching your imaginary pearls. “Getting dressed in the same room? How forward of you!”

Harry laughs as he stalks towards you with a menacing look on his face. “It’s been my plan all along.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him again, peppering your face and neck with kisses.

You maintain a stoic expression despite the attack. “If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, you could have just said so.”

Your words stop him in his tracks. He steps back, staring at you with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Of course not!” You scoff. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

Harry laughs and shakes off his surprise. “Cheeky as ever.” You hear him mutter under his breath.

After getting you settled, Harry brings you out to the floor to see the stage and meet the band, as well as a few other tour regulars and friends of his. As the two of you approached the group, hand in hand, you saw them all turn and look at you. It instantly made you nervous.

Would they like you?

Did they think you were some fangirl trying to get something from Harry?

Harry could sense your nerves and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You turned to look at him, and he gave you a reassuring nod. You took a deep breath as you reached them and Harry began the introductions.

Luckily, everyone was so kind, even excited to meet you. Apparently, Harry had been talking about you practically non stop since you met. Finding that out made your face turn bright red, causing Harry to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his side, kissing you on your crimson cheek.

You all shared in a brief chat, getting to know everyone, and learning names you promised them you’d forget almost instantly, but would try so hard to learn and would get eventually. If Harry kept you around long enough.

… but you didn’t say that last part out loud.

Eventually, they needed to start their soundcheck, Harry had you take a seat on the drum riser while he made his way to the microphone. He moved across the stage with ease, making sure everything was working as you watched on with rapt attention. Occasionally, he would come up to you, kneeling in front of you, serenading you. Harry had been pretty good at getting you flustered since the morning you met, but here? With him singing love songs within inches of your face? You wished the world would just end then and there, you didn’t know how things could get any better that moment.

After soundcheck, everyone made their way to craft services for a quick meal before getting ready for the show. They were all excited about their costumes, but wouldn’t tell you what they were. Harry made you promise that you would surprise each other with your costumes, so he swore the band to secrecy.

Noticing the time, and knowing that you had a lot of work to do to get yourself ready, you excused yourself to head back to Harry’s dressing room. He offered to join you, but you insisted he stay, you would just be doing boring hair and make up anyway.

After about 40 minutes, you had finally gotten your hair set in your curlers, and were nearly done with your makeup. As you apply your lashes as there was a soft knock at the door. You told them to enter, and Harry poked his head in, his hands covering his eyes.

“Is everyone descent in here?” He asked in a sing-song voice.

“Yes,” you giggled.

Harry moved his hand away and immediately pouted. “Oh damn. Better luck next time.”

You shake your head, throwing a makeup brush at him, which he caught with ease. Your eyes widened in surprise, and he bowed dramatically. You turned back to the mirror and applied your red lipstick.

“Hmm…” Harry looked you up and down, sticking his fingers through the hole in one of the rollers. “It’s certainly an interesting look.”

“I’m not done yet,” you swatted his hands away. “I’ve gotta get my costume on, and then I’m going to take these out.”

“I see, I see.” He backed away, meeting your eyes with a mischievous smirk. “Do you have to get dressed right now? Or do you have a minute to help me with something?”

“I can help you, what do you need?”

“I need you to make me pretty, Y/N.”

“You… what?” You ask, confused by the question. Harry was already the most gorgeous human you had ever laid your eyes on, he definitely didn’t need your help looking any better.

“Well, I’m not telling you what my costume is, we promised to be surprised…”

“You mean you forced me to be surprised,” you interrupt him sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes and brings his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I need to wear makeup with my costume. Will you do it for me? You’re clearly quite good.” He gestures to your full face of makeup.

“Oh,” you’re a little surprised by the request, but you know that even after only a couple of days, you would do anything for this man. “Yeah, I can do that for you.”

You switch spots, putting Harry in the chair by the mirror as you go through your makeup case to pull out a few items that you think will be useful. You ask him what he’s envisioning for his look, and he asks for some basics. A bright pink blush, a few coats of mascara, and a lipstick a few shades lighter than yours.

You lift your left hand to Harry’s cheek, holding his face steady so you can apply his mascara, you watch as his eyes shift, and his eyebrow arch. “Well well well, what do we have here?” He reaches up and takes your hand, admiring the words scribed across your wrist. “You have piercings and tattoos? Such a little rebel.” He joked.

“One piercing, one tattoo.” You correct him, your gaze dropping to your wrist as you eye the artwork fondly. “It’s my grandmother’s signature. I got it after she passed a couple of years ago.” You run your right index finger over it softly.

“You two were close?” Harry asked.

“Very,” you reply.

Harry sees you getting emotional, so he flips the conversation, telling you about the tattoos he has in tribute to his family and you return to applying his makeup. He is determined to learn everything about you, he wants you to have those vulnerable moments with him, but this isn’t the right time or place for that.

“What do you think?” You ask a few minutes later as you step away from Harry, allowing him the chance to see himself for the first time.

He steps up to the mirror, examining his face. “It’s perfect. Thank you, darling.” He reaches over to hug you, but the curlers act as a barrier preventing him from pulling you too close. “Okay, do you think it’s time to take these out now? They’re in my way.”

You chuckle and back away, grabbing your garment bag from the rack. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

You step in the bathroom, and take a few minutes to change into your costume and finish your hair. As you approach the door, you hear Harry talking to someone. “Are you ready for me?” You ask, making sure you have Harry’s full attention.

“Always,” he calls in response.

You open the door, and step out slowly, lifting the skirt of your gown slightly so that you don’t step on it. Harry and Jeff watch you move over the threshold, Jeff’s eyes immediately go to Harry to watch his reaction. His eyes travel from your loose curls and perfectly applied makeup, down to the white collar adorning a royal blue bodice with puffed sleeves, and bright yellow flowing skirt.

“Wow…” Harry breathed out.

“Is it okay?” You ask cautiously. “I’m Snow White.” You do a quick spin, your skirt flaring out around you.

Harry nodded silently as he stepped closer. The two of you were so focused on each other that you didn’t notice Jeff snapping pictures of your reveal before slipping out of the room to give you two some privacy. He would text them to Harry later.

Harry placed his hands on your hips, and looked you top to bottom once more. “You’re absolutely perfect, like some kind of… punk rock princess.”

His words jolt you, and you step out of his embrace. “What… what did you say?”

“I… I’m sorry,” he stuttered, taken aback by your reaction. “I meant it as a compliment, you just look so stunning, a perfect princess, but then that little piercing gives you just th–”

“No, no,” you stop him. You weren’t mad, you hated that you made him feel like he had said something wrong. “I just, see that’s the name of a song, I’ve always kind of secretly wished someone would think of me like that.”

Harry smirks as he watches the emotions swirl in your eyes. “Well then, I guess we just found my nickname for you. Didn’t we, princess?” He steps up to you again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, pausing just before your lips touch. “Am I going to mess up your lipstick if I kiss you right now? Because I would like to kiss my punk rock princess.”

Your breath hitches, but you quickly try to compose yourself. “Mine will be fine, but yours won’t.”

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his lips against yours. His hands sliding up to tangle in your hair. He kisses you until you’re both left breathless. When he pulls away, your eyes remain closed, your foreheads pressed together.

You stand in silence like that for a moment, your mind racing. You and Harry had kissed quite a bit today, but this one felt different. As if you were both trying to convey some unsaid sentiments. You feel a slight panic come over you when you realize the sentiments on your end.

You’re falling in love with Harry Styles.

Before you had a chance to fully process the thought, a knock on the door pulled you out of the moment.

“H, if you want to do pictures you’ve gotta get moving.”

Harry stepped back, giving you an apologetic smile. “I just need five minutes.” He called in response, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ll uh… I’ll go on ahead and let you get changed.” You stumble over your words, starting to move toward the door. You feel Harry’s hand on your wrist almost immediately, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t go,” he looks at you with pleading eyes. “Just give me a minute to run into the bathroom to change, we’ll go together. I want us to go together.”

You nod your head, struggling to speak. “Okay,” you finally manage to choke out. He gives you that grin again, lifting your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly.

Harry grabs his own garment bag and steps into the bathroom while you move to the mirror. You wanted to check your makeup. But more than that, you wanted to scold yourself.

“What the fuck are you even doing?” You whisper-yell at yourself. “You’ve known this guy for less than a week.”

This guy, you scoff at the thought. This isn’t some random app swipe, this was an international pop superstar. What could he even want with you? You had no idea what this was, you didn’t know what was going on in his head. Truthfully, you didn’t want to, you were afraid to ask, worrying that the truth would come out and that whatever this was would be over. You were here for the weekend, you would go back to your real life on Monday, and he’d fly off to another city, and probably find another girl to kiss.

“Just have fun, keep it casual. Don’t get attached.” You repeat these words to yourself quietly in the mirror, pushing down your feelings as you adjust your lipstick. Yours stayed put, but the shade you put on Harry was a cheaper brand and had smeared all over your lips.

“I’m ready!” Harry’s declaration gets your attention. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself to swallow your feelings.

You turn around, immediately bursting out in laughter as you take Harry in from head to toe. There is a blue gingham bow sitting high on his head, matching perfectly to the dress that came to his mid-thigh, red tights leading down to a pair of blue socks, and finally those iconic sparkling red shoes.

“Well,” you lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “We certainly aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

“You like?” He asks tentatively, searching for your approval.

You smile and nod your head in approval. “I like.”

“Good, it’s far too late to change it now.” He offers you his hand. “Shall we, princess?” You link your fingers through his and the both of you start to make your way out of the dressing room. “Oh, hold on one second.” He kisses your hand quickly before releasing it and running back into the room. He returns quickly, holding up a basket with a stuffed dog inside. “Okay, now I’m ready.” He takes your hand again and leads you down the hallway.

After you meet up with everyone, exchange compliments and take a few photos, Harry gives you one last kiss before joining the band for their pre-show rituals. Jeff leads you out to the barricaded area where you will be watching the show. You look around at the different costumes everyone has chosen, some are Harry themed, others are what you’ve deemed ‘cute girl costumes’, you quickly realize the hypocrisy in that statement as you catch a glance of your Disney Princess costume.

Before long, the show begins, and your attention is permanently redirected to the man on stage. The man you are falling in love with. You try to shake the thought away, but you can’t help it. As you watch him, you wonder if he’s feeling even half of what you are. You could swear he’s looking at you more intently during this show than he did in Boston, but you convince yourself that you’re just reading too much into it because that’s what you want to believe.

He’s just having fun, you’ll be a faded memory in a few weeks.

Just like with the last show, as Harry is leaving the stage, Jeff leads you back to Harry’s dressing room to wait for him. It’s not long before Harry joins you, greeting you with a wide smile.

“Huh,” he huffed as he walked in the room.

“What’s wrong?” You question, were you not supposed to meet him in the dressing room?

“No, nothing,” he mused. “It’s funny, when I got off stage, I clicked my heels three times and said ‘there’s no place like home’, and I ended up here with you.”

Be cool, it’s casual. He’s just flirty by nature. “Real smooth,” you reply sarcastically, trying to quell the butterflies that had been released at his words.

“I thought so,” he shrugged as he took a seat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leaning in close. “How’d I do, princess?”

“You know you did amazing, you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“No, I don’t need it. But it’s nice to hear.” He winked.

“You were amazing, Harry.” You coincide.

“See, that wasn’t hard now, was it?” He asks before leaning in and kissing you softly. When he pulls back, there’s a look of concern on his face. “Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?” You would never tell him, you don’t think it was even really intentional, but the wall that he had spent all week trying to break through was slowly building back up. It was your way of not getting any more attached than you already were.

“I don’t know, you just seem a little… distant? Did something happen?”

You shook your head back and forth rapidly. “No, I uh… I guess I’m just tired is all.”

He didn’t believe you, but he wasn’t going to push it. “Alright. Do you want to go get changed and I’ll take you back to your hotel?”

“Oh, Harry, you don’t have to do that.” You insist. “It’s only a couple of blocks.”

“I’m not letting you wander around New York by yourself at night.”

“I’ve done it before, I do it all the time.”

He couldn’t understand why you were being so stubborn, were you upset with him? “Well you don’t do it when you’re here as my guest.” His voice is a bit more commanding this time. “Go in the bathroom and change, I’ll change out here and then we’ll go.”

You silently cursed him, you were trying to temper down your feelings for him. Then he goes and talks to you like that? Now not only were you falling in love with him, but you were pretty turned on. You stood and went into the bathroom with a huff.

“And I’m carrying your bags for you too.” He shouts through the door.

The ride to your hotel was nearly silent, you watched the city pass through the window as Harry studied you, trying to figure out what was going on.

“You would tell me if something happened, wouldn’t you?” He asked, breaking the silence.

‘I fell in love with you, and you’re going to be gone in two days.’ You think to yourself.

“Of course.” You say to him.

“And if I did or said something to upset you, you would tell me that too, right?” He was pleading with you to open up.

It gave you a moment of pause, wondering if maybe this did mean something to him. “I’m just tired, Harry. I promise.”

He nodded silently as the car pulled up to the front of your hotel. The doorman stepped up quickly to open the door for you.

You turn to him, forcing a smile. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“I can walk you up,” he said, knowing you were going to say no.

“That’s okay, you need to get some rest. You have another show tomorrow.” You insist.

He nods, respecting your decision. “Do I at least get a kiss?” He tries to sound playful, but you can hear the disappointment in his tone.

You smile softly and nod before leaning in and pressing your lips to his. His hand instantly moves to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss. After a few blissful moments, he releases you.

“Sleep well, princess.” He whispers, still close enough for you to feel his breath brush against your lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You reply.

His lips curve up into a smirk. “I can’t wait.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles meet cute #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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lovemadethemdoit · 11 months

Text

Hangster FIC RECS (complete fics only!) 🤠💘🐓

There are some high-quality long fics in this fandom and I’m sharing my faves with you because I’m nice (and selfish and want these authors to write more fics, duh.). Promise me one thing though? If you read a fic off my list and love it? Leave a comment for the author. They’ll be PSYCHED and write more. Possibly.

Okay, let’s go. More than 30 hangster fics for you to read. 😍😍😍

Under the cut. Feel free to reblog this post far and wide to energize this fandom, too!

********* wanting (18641 words) by bottledyarn

Additional Tags: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Internalized Homophobia, Pining, Banter, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Kiss, Suicidal Thoughts, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Canon Timeline, Canon Compliant, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Emotionally Repressed, 5+1 Things, Sort Of, 6+2 things, Jake can't emote and I can't count, Character Study

Summary:

Six times Jake Seresin assumes Bradley Bradshaw is something he can want but can't have, and how he learns the truth.

Jake Seresin is very good at a few things. Flying, obviously. Pissing people off. Wanting things he can't have.

But he's never been very good at dealing with Bradley Bradshaw.

During the mission, Jake is just trying his best to be better.

***

hold me through the shakes (7477 words) by spiritsontheroof

Additional Tags: Hurt Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Mentally, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Canon, Pining Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Exes, Getting Back Together, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Nightmares, Canon-Typical Violence, it's like. lightly discussed, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Bradley spills hot coffee on his hand three days into their post-mission leave.

It’s not until he can’t get the bandage over the blister that he realizes his hands are shaking.

***

I Long For You (To Hold Me Ardently) (10265 words) by perishablealex

Additional Tags: POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Canon Compliant, Light Angst, Pining, Kinda?, Smut, Getting Together

Summary:

“We don't have to talk about it.” His eyes dart away from Bradley’s face, afraid that they will betray just how much he wants to talk about it, that they will reveal the vulnerability Jake feels in that moment, caught in a momentary suspension of time. The moment feels unreal with the golden light pouring over piano tiles long forgotten in his childhood, the man at his side that feels close enough to reach but not quite hold, the way that time stretches like molasses, sweet yet torturously slow and thick.

“I think we should, don’t you?”

Or: Rooster and Hangman sleep together after the mission without realizing that it may not have been meaningless for either of them.

***

No One Can Find The Rewind Button (71073 words) by FabuMazX

Additional Tags: Mpreg, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Accidental Pregnancy, Mentions of miscarriage, IceMav are the best granddads

Summary:

It was only one night. But that's all it takes, isn't it?

Bradley and Jake are on good terms since the mission. Friends even. But they're not together, not like that. So why the universe decided to force them together with an unexpected surprise is anybody's guess.

***

something to be sheltered (19075 words) by MayWilder

Additional Tags: Found Family, Post-Mission, Meet the Family, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson is a Softie, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Daddy Issues, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary, no beta we die like goose, Father-Son Relationship, Light Angst

Series: Part 2 of Feels Like Home

Summary:

“My wife has asked that you join us for dinner tomorrow night,” Beau says carefully.

“Your wife, sir?” Jake’s brow furrows. “Why would she like to meet me?”

“She thinks its important that my mentee sees a healthy work-life balance.”

“I’m your mentee?” Jake teases, smirking lightly. “And you talk about me enough that your wife wants to meet me?”

“You can continue to be a pain in my ass,” Beau sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Or, you can take the offer of a free dinner with a beautiful and intellectually stimulating woman.”

“Oh, I definitely want to see this side of Cyclone,” Jake grins. “Domesticated.”

“You’re bordering on impertinence.”

“Me? Never.”

“Let’s go back to when you respected me and my position.”

Jake appears to settle down, but only slightly. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “I’d be honored to attend dinner with your family, Admiral. Just tell me a date and time.”

*** or, Beau Simpson didn't mean to adopt a fully grown naval aviator, but, you know; shit happens.

***

flames look beautiful (if you forget what they can do) (8359 words) by Ravens_Words

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Protective Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Protective Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Protective Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Idiots in Love, Getting Back Together, Background Relationships, Hints at IceMav, Hints at BobNix

Summary:

Bradley Bradshaw returns to consciousness with a gasp, hand going to his side, where a searing pain makes itself known.

"-ster, hey," Jake snaps, holds his face in both hands and forces him to look his way, "breathe."

Bradley does as he's told, as painful as it is, and his vision clears somewhat. Jake's crouched beside him, concern etched on his face, and what happened comes back to him in flashes.

The mission going sideways at every possible turn, seeing Jake's plane get shot down in the sky, the less than smooth emergency landing in the woods that followed.

***

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away? (48614 words) by LoveMadeThemDoIt

Additional Tags: Jake Seresin Has Daddy Issues, Homophobia, Emotional Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jake POV, Bradley POV, Protective Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Protective Javy “Coyote” Machado, Protective Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Self-Denial, Jake “Hangman” Seresin Needs A Hug, Threats of Violence, Blackmail, Homophobic Slurs, Dissociation, Training Accidents, Jake is in the hospital at some point but he’ll be fine, Bradley makes sure Jake gets sleep, navy inaccuracies, Closeted Character, a dusting of IceMav, Beau „Cyclone“ Simpson is a softie, First Time, Anal Sex, Bottom Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Post-Canon, Gay Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bisexual Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Bad Parents, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Self-Worth Issues, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, the movie plot is maybe three paragraphs at the beginning but this is POST-CANON

Summary:

Jake has no illusions he’ll come back from this mission. He’s the best fighter pilot the Navy has got on staff and this is not his ego talking. He’ll fly the mission, and it’ll be a shit show, because none of them have even managed to fly the simulation in the way they need to.

In his weaker moments, Jake wonders if his father is how he’s gotten this gig.

***

baby, I'm howlin' for you (87473 words) by hangmanbradshaw

Additional Tags: Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Supernatural Elements, Full Shift Werewolves, think teen wolf meets twilight meets vampire diaries, Vampires, Witches, Werewolf Hunters, it's got all the things, they can shift but any romance stuff happens as humans fyi, Slow Burn, POV Alternating, Protective Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Possessive Behavior, also there's alphas and stuff but it's not abo, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Arranged Marriage, kind of, Also this takes place in like a medieval setting a la game of thrones, rut but not the sexy kind more the cuddly kind, Hand Jobs, Smut, Mating Bites, Accidental Voyeurism, Kinda, Top Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Bottom Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary:

His smirk widened. He may not have been happy about this, but he could appreciate that Bradley gave as good as he got. “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.”

Bradley stared at him, expression battling between annoyance and what appeared to be a slight amount of amusement and intrigue. Jake continued, “Say, how does a werewolf get the nickname Rooster anyhow?”

Bradley raised an eyebrow. “That’s none of your business.”

The Wolves & Foxes AU

***

When you're ready (45445 words) by The_Splendid_Wren

Additional Tags: I know you all saw it too, Idiots in Love, Hangman is actually not a dick, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rooster POV, Father-Son Relationship, Maverick is just trying to make Goose proud, Phoenix is a bro, Lots of staring into the scenery, Eventual Smut, Finally I have a reason to obsess over Top Gun again, References to Canon, Post-Canon, did i mention Hangman is a momma's boy?, not beta read we die like men, Slow Burn, Homophobic Language, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Therapy is good for everyone

Summary:

After the suicide-mission-that-wasn't the pilots of TOP GUN go their separate ways to enjoy a much earned week of leave. Rooster is set to spend his time with Maverick in an attempt to rekindle their familial relationship but it gets complicated when unresolved trauma from nearly dying keeps him from truly opening up. With a host of other issues like his unknown next assignment and his feelings for a rival paralyzing him, he truly has no idea how he ends up at the Seresin ranch house in Austin, Texas with the object of his desires right in front of him.

Or, Rooster is suffering PTSD and his friends and family try to help him. Whether that's getting therapy or confessing his very deeply buried feelings remains to be seen.

***

I will love you, dear, forever (17574 words) by FlowersOnMyMind

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Alpha Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Explicit Sexual Content, Jake loves Bradley so much, Dagger Squad, Found Family, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Pining, mentioned icemav - Freeform, brief bobnix, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining Jake

Summary:

"Do you have someone to take care of you?" Jake asks.

"Are you offering, Seresin?"

"Are you asking, Bradshaw?"

Jake and Bradley help each other through their ruts and heats.

Jake pines.

***

You Love Him, and No One Else (50269 words) by Sceld

Additional Tags: Pining, LIKE TOO MUCH, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, just a collection of tropes because I Am Cringe, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, oh yeah and lots of it, very gay, derogatorily, Family Issues, Idiots in Love, idiots in general honestly, i hate it too don't worry, First Dates, but unofficially, Bad Cooking, Meeting the Parents, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, not graphic though, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Baking, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

“I’ve got it,” Jake offers, holding his hand out, but Rooster only tuts disappointedly.

“What kind of host would I be if I made you carry your own bag?”

Jake blanks on a response, his mouth twisting into a smile without his permission. Rooster turns to where Jake can now see the Bronco. Its engine is still running, and it’s warm inside when Jake closes the door behind him, clicking on his seatbelt by feeling along while he stares intently at the glove compartment in front of him, waiting while Rooster puts his bag in the boot. He doesn’t feel as weird as he thought he would, as he probably should. Every conflicting feeling from the F-14 is returning in waves. He’s helpless to resist the pull of the tide. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

or;

Jake's apartment floods and his only other option is to stay with the last person in the world he wants to spend time with. Shenanigans ensue.

***

there's money for the taking (and the happiness we all deserve) (64769 words) by thegeckbros

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, it's 10ish years, Past Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Power Dynamics, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Casual Sex, author built a very elaborate world for like no reason, Tags May Change, Humor, or at least i like to hope, Explicit Sexual Content, Daddy Kink, like it’s a sugar DADDY au so it comes w the territory but still it’s there and it’s heavy

Summary:

“So, what, one of the richest dudes in New York wants to be your sugar daddy?”

“Kinda?” Jake sits back up, straightening up and turning his body towards Javy. “He doesn’t want like sex or anything. He just needs someone to pretend to date so his uncle and PR team get off his back about his reputation.”

a sugar daddy au in which jake is a struggling law student, bradley's a billionaire, and they weave a tangled web

***

Speak Softly, Love (67000 words) by Renai_chan

Additional Tags: Mafia AU, Iceman is a Mob Boss, Bradley is his heir, Icemav adore Jake, goose and carole are alive because i said so, Violence, Blood and Injury, tags to be updated as I go, Tattoos, Suit Kink, Lingerie, Rimming, Polyglot Bradley, Gun Violence, Revenge

Summary:

Jake leaves behind his crappy life in Texas and moves to California. There, he meets Bradley, a gorgeous man who works at a charity helping the homeless. They fall in love, and everything is sunshine and rainbows until he learns that Bradley is, in fact, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, heir to the empire of his godfather, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, who rules the underbelly of Los Angeles with ice-cold ruthlessness. Suddenly, Jake find himself embroiled in the dangers of the LA Mafia

***

Forever your begonia (17576 words) by MerielTLA

Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Enemies to Lovers, Secret Crush, Secret Admirer, Flowers, Language of Flowers, Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a Little Shit, Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin, no beta we die like goose, Jake needs some romance in his life, Rooster is bad at feelings, unrequired required love, Emotional Constipation, This came out of nowhere, don´t blame me, Ice is alive, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives

Summary:

“This is not for me.” Mickey grinned like a fucking maniac as he held out a small envelope for everyone to see, pointing at the signature in it.

Jake.

The blond felt his world tilt as he frowned at the offending four letters of his name. What. The. Fuck. He pulled the card away from the other´s hand as he looked at the fancy lettering in horrified amazement.

“Oh my GOD! Bagman has an admirer?!” Paybay yelled

Jake Hangman Seresin had never gotten flowers...until he did.

***

hanging on to ambiguity

(34033 words) by

haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Lifeguard Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Surfer Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, First Aid, Head Injury, Mutual Pining, Protective Javy "Coyote" Machado, Protective Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Miscommunication, they're bad at talking again, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, Breaking Up & Making Up, Implied/Referenced Sex, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Drunkenness, drunk Jake is a mess, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace is So Done, Hurt Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Daddy Issues, Parental Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Unhealthy Relationships, you might not like Bradley in this one (but you can still love him), Hospitalization, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, everyone gets therapy

Summary:

an accident on the beach, a lifeguard to the rescue, and the repercussions of an unexpected reunion

***

it seemed so natural, darling, that you and I are here (20181 words) by haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Pilot Bradley Bradshaw, Las Vegas Wedding, Accidental Marriage, Drunken Shenanigans, Memory Loss, the inherent awkwardness of having a crush on the guy you're married to, Javy "Coyote" Machado is a Good Friend, Bradley gets his own Javy to hang out with, Sexual Content, Jealous Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, POV Alternating

Summary:

“Did we really do this?” Bradley asked. It was the first thing he had said since Jake’s brainwave and Jake was not a fan of how upset he sounded. “Are we- did we get married?”

or: what happens in Vegas...

***

you were almost too much for me (9648 words) by haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard Bradley, Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Returning Home, Post-Break Up, Love Confessions, Jealous Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Wealthy Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Arguing, Reconciliation, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

Jake’s ex works for his father and that complicates things when he heads back home after The Mission ***

Men Like Us (41265 words) by DancingDisaster

Additional Tags: Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Back Together, All aboard the Bradshaw-Seresin Shitshow Extravaganza, Idiots in Love, Ice Lives By Popular Demand, A romantic dramedy about two Idiot Flyboys

Summary:

Seresin men love with reckless abandon. It’s put every man before him in the ground.

Jake refuses to be buried.

He flies like he has nothing left to lose (he doesn’t), a one man army (he is), leaving everyone else in the dust (so they don’t leave him). Admiral Kazansky claps him on the shoulder, says he expects great things from him, and Jake’s smile is feral as the rest of his flight school cohort looks on in disbelief.

Hangman, they all say, like Jake’s entire personality was a long con, and he ranks first in class.

Rooster doesn’t look at all.

(They've got history spanning the better part of a decade and they are absolutely, positively not over it.)

***

like shooting stars (12737 words) by bottledyarn

Additional Tags: Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Anxious Jake "Hangman" Seresin, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Texas, Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Getting Together, Soft Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Post-Canon, Just a little pretend relationship, as a treat, Only One Bed

Summary:

“Well," the gate agent said. "Only uniformed military members and their spouses can board priority, but—”

“That works out,” Bradshaw said, his voice tinny and distant in Jake's ringing ears. “Because this is my fiancé.”

If Jake hadn’t been able to choke down a piece of toast this morning, he thought he might be light-headed enough to just pass out right then and there.

Jake is trying to fly home for Thanksgiving and not have a panic attack on the airplane. Bradley is trying to skip town and spend the holiday in a mountain cabin to distract from another Thanksgiving alone. Between the two of them, they might both get where they need to go.

***

learning steps (20530 words) by vannral

Additional Tags: Friendship, Getting Together, Oblivious Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Idiots in Love, Pining, POV Outsider, Instructor!Bradley, Teaching, Protective Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Students, Reunions, Eventual Sex, Happy Ending

Summary:

”So, an instructor?”

A straight hit. Bradley shifts uncomfortably on the leather seat and clears his throat. ”… Yeah.”

In which Bradley becomes an instructor after the mission, Jake keeps showing up to his classes and his students are very curious about their dynamic.

***

unsportsmanlike conduct (16871 words) by ginnydear

Additional Tags: alternative universe, NFL, Enemies to Lovers, Bickering, Minor Injuries, Sexual Content, tweets as a plot device, everyone's alive because I say so

Summary:

He didn’t expect there to be highlight reels of him and Jake Seresin arguing and jawing at each other after their first game against each other. His Uncle Mav’s recorded it, saying it’s the beginning of his long, successful career - to have a rival.

Bradley thinks it’s a pain in the ass.

or - the hangster nfl au

***

one foot left, and then we're going down swinging (15944 words) by SaintClaire

Additional Tags: Dagger Squad, I put Hangman through the washing machine, but he's fine he comes back out, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, this is my sand pit, Found Family, life affirming kissing but everyone's pants stay on, for now, attempted abuse of barnyard poultry (not by Hangman), the horse lives, uhhh I don't think this is whump because I kiss it better, but if not let me know, damn good piloting skills, everyone has emotions

Summary:

“I’m still here.” he says, because it helps Bradley to be reminded sometimes. For all he’ll mouth off about Jake never shutting up, the sound of Jake’s voice can get him to drop the rigid set of his shoulders and relax, sit a little easier in the cockpit. “Still on your wing, Roo, just a little further away than normal.”

Jake gets shot down on a mission, tracker blown to smithereens and on his own in enemy territory. The thing about Hangman is that he might be a damn good pilot but that means he comes with the bloody-mindedness to see his shit through. He's got a family to get back to.

***

all my roads lead back to you (17094 words) by liadan14

Additional Tags: Secret Relationship, Secret Marriage, nonchronological storytelling, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Needs A Hug, Jake Seresin Needs A Hug, Communication via interior design, Accidental Marriage, the inherent romanticism of joint financial decisions, Alternate Universe: they weren't exes during the movie, they were just very bad at being a couple, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Size Kink, Jake pavlovs Bradley into having a size kink, just trust me on that last one, outsider pov, Relationship Reveal, Polyamory Negotiations, implied threesome, Implied past Icemav, Current Mav/Penny, Maverick about extremely unhealthy relationships: it was acceptable in the 80s, Penny and Bob are vying for the only braincell in the team championship

Summary:

“Where does this leave us?” Bradley asks eventually.

Jake snorts. “In what way?”

Bradley shrugs. “I don’t know. Emotionally, physically. Legally.”

Jake thinks he might be dizzy. He hasn’t drunk that much tonight, but he has been wondering about the answers to that question for a long time. Finally talking about it…it barely even feels real. “Let’s start with the last one,” he says. “That sounds like the easiest part.”

“Well,” Bradley says gamely. “Legally speaking, I think we’re, like, one piece of paper away from being married.”

***

never had a heart to mend (3735 words) by un_familiar

Additional Tags: Miscommunication, Cheating, (but not really i swear), Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, sorry this took a month to write thats embarrassing, Post-Canon, what do you call pining when youre already dating them, sorry about this (lying)

Summary:

Bradley won’t stop looking at him with concern, laying kisses on his bare back and asking softly, “Are you okay,” until Jake wants to scream You know what you’re fucking doing to me, but he can’t or he won’t and he’s never felt this helpless in his life. The best he can manage is a soft, “Just tired,” turning back into Bradley’s embrace and thinking God, just let me keep this.

***

of a feather (2501 words) by lilgreyarea

Additional Tags: Kid Fic, Halloween, Trick or Treating, Fluff, Post-Canon, Getting Together, (kinda), idk it’s just cute fluffy nonsense

Summary:

jake and his three-year-old daughter, sophie, run into bradley while trick-or-treating

***

The death of piece of mind (27595 words) by MerielTLA

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Rooster is bad at feelings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Amnesia, I blame the title song, Protective Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Injured Rooster, no beta we die like goose, Miscommunication, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, It was supposed to be heavier but it evolved on its own, Hangster, sereshaw, IceMav, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon

Summary:

Last time he had seen Jake, had been fourteen months ago. More than a year since Bradley had escaped, like a coward, and had completely lost contact with the man his body missed with a strength that terrified him. The man that had been there for him as he had woken up, disoriented and scared. The man that had taken care of him, as he fought against his ruined leg and a fucked-up mind.

The one he had abandoned, at the first chance he got.

The man that was his husband, the one he didn’t remember.

Or Bradley left after losing his memory and forgetting his relationship with Jake, but now he has begun to remember and it's time to get his hubby back. ***

How do you like your coffee? (23355 words) by WaffleToaster

Additional Tags: Memory Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Accidents, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Injury Recovery, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Summary:

Javy receives the first call after Jake makes an emergency landing on the tarmac and Bradley has to deal with the complications that arise.

“Do we get along now?”

“We do, yes. We’re.. good friends.”

“That’s good. Cause you seem like a nice guy, Rooster.” ***

lover be good to me (18920 words) by haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Baker Bradley, Long-Distance Relationship, Birthday Fluff, like literally so much of it, this one is super birthday centric, Strangers to Lovers, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, as per usual, Parental Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Soft Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Sex Toys, Relationship Reveal

Summary:

Jake picks a random coffee shop to go be pensive in when he receives a birthday card he doesn't want and things turn out better than he ever could have imagined

***

you hang me up, unfinished (with the better part of me no longer mine)

(13140 words) by un_familiar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Getting Together, Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Character Study, javy is the best friend ever, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Jealousy, eventually, complete and total abuse of italics, Pining, the absolute minimum research went into this, do not look too closely at it!, Jake Is A Menace All Of The Time, javy and natasha are sick of them!, Miscommunication, Eventual Fluff

Summary:

There are a million things standing between Jake Seresin and his soulmate–gender, Jake’s tendency to overthink and run his mouth, the fact that his soulmark is high up on his ribs, hidden, the bruises his dad leaves, but the biggest one is probably the simple fact that he has no idea how to love. ***

Got to Make It on My Own (14196 words) by Renai_chan

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Bradley, Omega Jake, Alpha Javy, Accidental Bonding, Drunk Sex, Ex-Somethings, One Night Stands, The Inherent Dubiousness of ABO, Platonic Sex, Javy is the BEST Bro, Marking, Biting, Bonding, Being an asshole as a coping mechanism, Jealous Bradley, Knotting, Idiot Men who Don't Communicate, Angst, Happy Ending

Summary:

Jake and Bradley spend one night together under the heavy, heavy influence of alcohol. It does not go well. But it goes worse for Jake than it does for Bradley because he wakes up with a bonding bite and his new alpha nowhere to be found.

When they're recalled for a special training detachment eight years later, Jake finds out that Bradley doesn't remember giving him the bite at all and Bradley finds out about it for the first time.

It still does not go well. ***

the long way home (5982 words) by nocturnelight

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Canon, Parental Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Parental Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Raise Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Healing, Therapy, And love communicated through scrambled eggs

Summary:

Jake and Bradley had come in late last night and settled into the guest room of Maverick and Iceman’s beach house. Jake had driven them both up at Pete and Tom’s insistence after Mav’s voice on the phone and Jake’s hand running up and down his back hadn’t been enough to get Bradley to stop shaking when he’d woken up screaming from a nightmare.

He's hoping being there will be good for Bradley, maybe finally get him to talk about how he's been feeling. Because Bradley's the one who's bottling everything up.

And Jake is perfectly fine. He swears.

ENJOY READING! LEAVE COMMENTS FOR THE WRITERS. WOHOO!!

#hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #top gun maverick #fic rec list #fic recs #hangster fic recs #fanfiction

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softpascalito · 3 months

Text

Beyond Saving - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is on office duty when he learns that someone close to you has passed, causing both of you to spiral.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader, Javier Peña & Reader WC: 1300 Tags/Warnings: can be read as romantic or platonic, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Suicide, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Crying, Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, Author urgently needs therapy, Trauma, she/her pronouns for reader Read on AO3

notes: please take the tags seriously. this is not a happy fic in any way. make sure your mental health is stable enough to read about the mentioned topics. more detailed warnings are on ao3 if someone needs them.

For my love.

Leave me, like you do (like you do). If you need me Wanna see me Better hurry 'Cause I'm leaving soon.

-‘listen before i go’ by billie eilish

It’s not one of those days that he thinks will be difficult. He doesn’t expect anything bad to happen. It’s not supposed to. But it does.

Javier never sees it coming.

He is seated at his wooden desk in the embassy, ready for a day loaded with frequent trips to the coffee machine and lots of paperwork. It’s his turn to file away reports. Reports that usually aren’t interesting to him, that aren’t relevant to his case. The numbers of the dead that are written down on the reports of the Colombian police stay numbers in his head. They don’t turn into the people they represent.

Until they do.

His coffee mug hits the floor a few moments after he reads the name. The brown liquid runs over the tiles, pooling in the crevices between them, as he reads the name again. And again.

Javi’s eyes fly to the cause of death.

Investigation pending. Suspected suicide.

He doesn’t even grab his jacket as he stands up abruptly, the shards of the mug that held his coffee moments ago crunching under his feet. For all he knows, they could be piercing his skin and he wouldn't notice. His body acts of its own accord.

It's Steve who approaches him and it's Steve who realizes in an instant that something must be very wrong.

“What is it?” The voice next to him is gentle but still stern enough to get through, “Javi?”

“I have to go.”

He is surprised at how solid his voice sounds compared to the feeling in his stomach, the one that makes him sway slightly on his feet, the impact of the world seemingly having stopped turning.

“Can you drive?”

At that, Javi clears his throat and nods, his brown eyes now flying up to meet the blue ones in front of him, “I'll be okay. I- I'll let you know.”

Steve's voice is low as he nods, “Okay.” As Javi turns to leave, the other man gently reaches for his hand, placing the car keys in them, “You'll need those.”

“Right,” is all he can choke out in return. He doesn't catch the way Steve watches him leave with a concerned look on his face or the sigh that leaves his lips as he reads the paper that is still on the desk next to him.

Javi functions on autopilot. He's not sure how he makes it to her apartment, how he remembers which pedal is for what, how he knows how to get his body to move out of the car and up the stairs.

The keys are already in his hand as he reaches the door but he doesn’t remember taking them out of his pocket.

The apartment is dark.

For a split second, he considers if she has left, if she has gone to see someone, the parents, maybe.

Then he hears a noise that sounds like a whimper, one that is so loaded with pain that it causes him to rush forward in an instant.

She is on the floor in the kitchen, back pressed tightly against the cupboard, knees drawn up to her chest, the entire form below Javi shaking with each small sob that reaches his ears.

Javi drops to his knees rough and uncoordinated, ignoring the pain that shoots through them and his back as he steadies himself and leans forward to cradle her in his arms, one hand sneaking beneath her knees as the other wraps around her back.

He immediately feels the reaction to his touch, as the sobs get worse and his heart breaks the way his coffee mug had earlier, with one quick motion, shattering into a million pieces that will be stepped on and discarded by someone who doesn't care for them.

“Estás bien. Estás bien, querida,” he mutters under his breath, repeating the phrase over and over, a phrase that he doesn't believe. There's no way she is even close to okay.

“I'll get you to the couch, okay?” Javi whispers as he gently scoops her up into his arms, taking the few steps over to the living room, focusing hard on his feet to make sure he won’t trip.

“Hold on to me,” he commands softly, making sure to take it slow as he lowers them both onto the leather sofa, his arms not once breaking their touch. He doesn't let up, trying to absorb the sobs and the trembling as much as he can. He wishes he could absorb the pain too.

“Estoy aquí. No te dejaré,” (I’m here. I won’t leave you,) Javi whispers, bringing one hand up to brush the hair away from her face, leaning back enough to look at her. He's met with messy hair and behind it with bloodshot eyes and a mixture of snot and tears, with pain and grief so evidently written on her face that he himself winces slightly.

Her voice shakes when she finally speaks, the first words she has spoken since the call. They feel wrong in her throat, like throwing up food that was already past its expiration date. They feel even worse when they reach the air of the room, floating between the two of them.

“How did you know?”

Javis eyes soften a little more at that. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that he only knew by chance, that it had been his shift to read the reports, that he wouldn't have had any way of knowing without it.

“Saw it at work,” he replies, honestly, keeping voice soft and his eyes carefully trained on her expression.

“So you know how…” She whispers and Javi nods quickly, not wanting her to say it out loud. Not wanting to hear it said out loud.

It makes it feel too real.

“Do you know how?” He asks back, using his left hand to reach for a blanket and gently placing it around her shoulders, making sure it doesn't slide off.

“I don't know- I don’t know details. Just that-” A shuddering breath leaves her throat, “that it wasn't an accident.”

There is a fear in her eyes, one that Javi has never seen in her before. One he has seen in very few people. And he has seen enough bad and evil to last him several lifetimes.

Even in the dim light, he can clearly recognize it for a terror that is beyond comprehension, one that he will never be able to put into words.

“It wasn't an accident, was it?” She whispers again, her voice breaking and Javis grip around her tightens a little as he shakes his head.

“No.”

He suddenly feels like he's going to cry, even though he's not sure why. It still feels like the world stopped turning and like he’s stumbling against gravity, against a movement he was so used to until a moment ago. Like a faucet that’s been dripping for ages and finally runs dry or a screen that shuts itself off, fading to black. Like the movement of something inside his chest, inside of her chest, not only a movement that he doesn’t think he can live without but one that he actually cannot live without.

“No, it wasn't an accident,” he repeats, his hand still caressing her skin.

“I'm so sorry, cariño.”

Her face is buried in his chest again as she cries, hot tears leaving her eyes and finding refuge in his shirt. A blue one, the one that she complimented this morning while kissing him goodbye. Waving to him as he headed out the door, a smile on her face. A carelessness that is not only gone now but that seems beyond reach, that seems to be waiting for its funeral the same way the body in a morgue is, a few streets over. Cold and alone and above all, beyond saving.

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nicoline1998enilocin · 2 months

Text

Dreaming Of You

PAIRING | Husband!Dad!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Mom!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.9K

SUMMARY | Life with your husband, Robert, and your three-month-old son, Joseph, has been nothing short of a dream, and you are grateful you get to live this life with him. When you find out you're having another baby after almost a year and a half later, you get a surprise of a lifetime, and the love between you and your husband only grows stronger because of it.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | RPF, established relationship, age gap, use of nicknames (Gorgeous, Bubba), referenced pregnancy, breastfeeding.

SMUT | Dirty talk, hair pulling, praising, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie.

A/N | @ccbsrmsf1 gifted me this idea after she had a fantastic dream, and it is an honor to turn it into a full story for you! This idea kept melting my heart while at the same time making it beat faster with every passing second, and I am incredibly proud of the result. I hope you love it as much as I did when writing it, and I thank you so much for sharing this! I love you 3000 💙

A/N 2.0 | This one-shot is proofread by @late-to-the-party-81, for which I'm very grateful! Thank you for all your support on my blog and your feedback because it took this story to a whole different level! 💙

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist

You have heard many stories about having a baby—many good, some not. However, despite all that, you've been living on a blue cloud since your little boy, Joseph, was born a just over three months ago. Ever since he came into your life, he has brightened every second, and seeing the expressions softening on your husband's face is priceless. Every time he steps through your front door, you can see him visibly relax at the sight of his precious son, which warms your heart.

Robert has been under quite a bit of stress lately due to his busier-than-normal work schedule, but he will always make time for you two, for which you'll always be grateful. Family has always been very important to Robert, and since your son was born, he's been trying to be home more and more, much to your delight.

Right now, you're sitting on the couch breastfeeding Joseph—or Joe, for short—while watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, one of your favorite movies to watch all year round. While Joe happily suckles away, you hear Robert's keys turn the lock on the front door, notifying you that your husband is home again.

"Daddy's home, Bubba. Are you excited to see him again?" you ask Joe. He smiles with your nipple still in his mouth, which makes your heart melt a little bit.

"Oh, look at the two of you! Are my two favorite people having fun on the couch together without me?!" Robert asks with faux surprise, and it makes you chuckle. You look at him with a love-filled look, and he gives one in return as he sits beside you.

Before you got pregnant, you two were already very close and very in love, but your love has only increased tenfold since the birth of your son. He leans in to give you a soft peck on your lips, and the small gesture makes you feel very loved.

"We are. He got hungry a little sooner than usual, so I figured I'd feed him now so he wouldn't have to wait too long. How was your day today?" you ask with a soft smile, but his soft expression gives way to one filled with worry.

"I have to go to New York for two weeks tomorrow. I tried to get out of it, but sadly, I cannot, for which I'm very sorry, Gorgeous," Robert sighs, his brows knitted together as he looks at you with a regret-filled expression.

"Hey, it's okay. Maybe we can join you in the second week. I have to finish my manuscript for my new book this week, but once I send it to my editor, I have all the time to visit you with him. I'm sure he wouldn't mind seeing his Daddy again either," you say as you reposition him slightly to be more comfortable.

"That would be amazing, Gorgeous, but only if you're sure. If you'd rather stay home-" is all he can say before you cut him off with another kiss. You can feel him melt a little into your gesture, his shoulders losing some of the tension he held onto this entire time.

"I'm sure, Robert. I want to be by your side, and I cannot stay away from you for too long; you should know that by now," you say with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. He lets himself be comfortable by your side while looking at his son. He looks exactly like you, from the facial features to the hair and skin color, although you both suspect he will end up with Robert’s eye color. It's abundantly clear he combines your shared love, and Robert couldn't be happier.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" you whisper, and Robert nods softly before letting his finger glide over Joe's cheek, feeling its softness against his skin. He already looked forward to coming home to you every day, but now that you have a baby, he definitely can’t stay away anymore.

"I love you both so much," Robert whispers in turn, and you give him a soft kiss on the top of his head. All three of you stay like that until Joe is done feeding; Robert takes him out of your arms to get burped and gives him a clean diaper. You decide to take a much-needed shower and take care of yourself for a bit.

"Thank you so much for taking over; I'll go take a shower and start dinner so you can have some much-needed baby time," you tell him, and Robert nods with a big smile. He wants to soak up every second he can now that his son is still small, especially since he's often gone due to his hectic schedule.

"I'd love nothing more, Gorgeous," he tells you, and you retreat to the shower for some personal time. Taking care of a baby and finishing your manuscript for your latest book is a challenge, and even though you love doing both with all your heart, you also know you wouldn't have been able to do it without his help.

When you walk down the stairs 30 minutes later, feeling refreshed and wearing a nice set of comfortable PJs—which consist of not much more than a pair of booty shorts and one of his shirts -Robert is sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up and Joe on his lap while playing peek-a-boo. Your heart skips a beat or two at the sight of your son's laughter.

As you listen to them bonding, you start on dinner, and it doesn't take long to finish cooking, seeing how you opted for a simple pasta dish today. As you do that, Joe is starting to get sleepy, so Robert decides to put him down for a nap.

"I'll be right back, Gorgeous. He just let out the biggest yawn I've ever seen him do, so I have a feeling he might benefit from a little nap. You were also feeding him early, so I think he's just being a sleepy little boy today," you look over at your husband and son, a warmth flooding through you at the sight and a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"He didn't sleep much during his afternoon nap, so I am not surprised he's this sleepy already," you say, and Robert nods in understanding. Even though Joe usually sleeps like a champ, he's having an off day today and will benefit from having another nap now.

"Sleep well, Bubba," you whisper to Joe before giving a soft peck on his cheek, to which he gives a sleepy smile in return. While Robert puts him down for his nap, you finish dinner, and both finish eating soon after. The conversation flows naturally and is light, but it's the perfect way to destress for a little while.

"What do you think of having a cuddle session on the couch? He'll be out like a light for the foreseeable future, and I have missed you way too much today," Robert says as you put the last plate away after the dishes, his chest plastered against your back.

"Depends on the kind of cuddle session you're thinking of," you say as you turn in his hold, giving him a raised brow as you look up at him. He's quite a bit taller than you are, so you have to crane your neck a little, making Robert chuckle.

"I think you know exactly what kind I'm talking about, Gorgeous," Robert says, his voice dropping slightly as he does. He leads the two of you to the couch before sitting down and pulling you with him, and you cannot suppress a little shriek that comes out.

As he gets comfortable on the couch, you move to straddle his lap, and your mouths quickly find each other in a heated, passionate kiss. His fingers are digging into your hips as he grinds you over his growing erection, and soft whimpers are swallowed in your kisses.

"Missed you so fucking much, Gorgeous, you make me so happy, and I want another baby with you," he tells you, and your eyes go wide at his confession. Did he say what you think he did? You take a short moment to let it sink in, and your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you do so.

"I would love nothing more, Robert; I want at least three babies with you!" you tell him, and the smile on his face is indescribable. Lust quickly seems to take over his body as he pulls you closer, your hips grinding over his clothed member again while more soft whimpers escape, leaving you needing more, needing him.

"Robert, please," you say, and he knows exactly what you want. You scoot back far enough to free his cock; the tip flushed red as a bead of pre-cum is gathered at the slit. The veins running along have your mouth watering as you desire to run your tongue over them, and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Your shorts are pulled to the side quickly, allowing you to sink onto his cock as you take it inch by inch. Your walls envelop him completely and deliciously, making both of you moan in unison.

"You're so sexy when you sit on my cock, Gorgeous," he whispers with a lopsided grin as his fingers softly squeeze your hips, and you look into his deep, dark brown eyes when you bottom out. Your lip is pulled between your teeth to suppress a groan, being mindful that you won't wake up your sleeping son.

Once you've adjusted to his cock inside you, you lift yourself before bottoming out again, setting a slow pace for the two of you to enjoy while your fingers tangle into his hair, messing it up as you catch his mouth with yours in a slow, passionate kiss.

Robert's fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your hips to ground himself, not wanting to shoot his load right away. Even though you two had a lazy session of morning sex that very same day, you two will never get enough of each other, and this moment is evidence of just that.

"G-Gorgeous, please," Robert stammers out as his gaze locks onto yours, your eyes half-lidded as the pleasure courses through your body, his plea settling into the butterflies going wild in your body.

"Please, let me fuck a baby into you. You know I love it when you ride me, but for the love of God, let me fuck a baby into you," he begs, and the words are slowly sinking in as the pleasure builds rapidly.

As soon as you give him the go-ahead, your back hits the soft fabric of the couch, and your thighs spread of their own accord to welcome him back. Before he lines up with your entrance, he teases your clit a little with the tip of his cock, making your back arch as he does.

"That's it, Gorgeous, doin' so well for me right now. 'M gonna give you all the babies you want when you're this good for me," he says as he nuzzles into your neck, the scent of your apple-scented shower gel still lingering on your skin.

He stays still for a moment after bottoming out, reveling in the pleasure of your warm, tight pussy wrapped around his cock before he starts moving slowly, taking his time before sliding back in as if he's savoring every stroke of his cock inside you. It's as if he's committing every inch of you to memory.

"So tight, so perfect, Gorgeous. I'm so lucky you want to give me all your babies. Allowing me to stuff you full with my cum until it drips out and you're pregnant," he groans as he keeps thrusting in and out of you slowly, taking his sweet time as he makes love to you.

"You're so beautiful, and I truly got lucky when I met you," he says as he looks into your eyes, and you can see his love grow with every passing second. Your arms are slung loosely around his neck, your fingers softly gripping the hair on the nape of his neck as he speeds up his thrusts every so often, the pleasure in both your bodies building quickly.

"R-Robert, 'm close," you moan softly, and he lets you know he's close too, based on the soft groans tumbling from his lips. Your legs wrap around his hips to pull him even closer - his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust has your eyes rolling back as the pleasure comes to a high.

"M almost there, Gorgeous, I'm close too," he pants out as he picks up the pace even more, his moans muffled by your shoulder as he cums. You both fall over the edge at the same time, and Robert takes his time to ride out both your orgasms before slipping out and pulling you on top of him on the couch.

When Robert takes a deep breath before saying something, you can hear little Joe over the baby monitor, and with a satisfied smile, you look at your husband.

"You go get cleaned up, and I'll go take care of him, okay?" you say, and he nods. You climb off of him, readjusting your shorts and shirt while he gets off the couch, carefully tucking himself away before going to get himself cleaned up, too.

"You're the best wife and mother we could have asked for, you know that? And I cannot wait to add another baby to our family to make your dreams come true," he says as he cups your cheeks and leans in to capture your lips with a sweet, soft kiss. Another flood of warmth and love swoops through your stomach.

"I love you, Robert, and I cannot wait either!" you tell him as you walk to the nursery, leaving Robert with a content smile. You're lucky to have met him, and building a life with him is the cherry on top of it all.

It has been almost a year since you and Robert decided to try and conceive again, and it took about six months before you got a positive test result. A few weeks later, you discover your baby is healthy and growing rapidly. But today is the day you will find out the gender of the little Nugget growing in your belly.

"Everything is looking good,” the sonographer says. “Are you excited to find out-" she cuts off suddenly and turns completely silent, except for the whirring of machines. A sense of dread fills you, and you squeeze Robert's hand. As you look at the baby monitor, your brows knit together, trying to understand what the sonographer sees. Your heart feels like it's sinking through the floor.

"Is everything okay with the baby?" Robert is the first to speak up, and you can feel a lump forming in your throat. For a moment, you're afraid your worst nightmare is becoming reality, but the sonographers next words confirm that nothing could be further from the truth.

"Well, yes. Everything is okay with the baby, but we read the ultrasound wrong the last time because you are pregnant with twins!" she says before profusely apologizing. All this time, you were growing two babies, and one of them is quite a lot smaller, so they have been hiding. You were growing a 'secret twin' of sorts.

"Can you tell their gender?" you ask, the relief evident in your voice. Your eyes are again trained on the monitor when she tells you the fantastic news, a flutter of excitement going through your chest and stomach as the words slowly sink in.

"You'll be having two wonderful, identical baby girls!" she says, and a huge relief washes over you. With these words, every ounce of worry washes away, and you look at Robert with tears. Not only will you have two more babies with him, but to have two girls at once is truly the cherry on top.

"I can't believe we'll be having twins! And two little girls; I think Joe will be happy to have two baby sisters to play with when they're older," you tell your husband, who has a huge smile. He's thrilled now, and you're happily sitting on a large, pink cloud.

Life couldn't be more perfect if you'd tried. With Robert getting another major movie role, your new book being published in a few weeks, and two babies on the way, you're going to have a busy life, but one you're looking forward to more and more every day.

"This is better than I could have ever dreamed of, Gorgeous," Robert tells you as you walk out of the doctor's office, your fingers interlaced with his as you do. Your free hand rubs your round belly, and a smile is stretched wide on your face.

"It's everything I ever dreamed of and more. Life finally feels perfect with an amazing husband like you, a beautiful son, and two more miracles on the way. Like I am exactly where I am supposed to be," you tell him as you're standing outside the doctor's office, the rays of sun shining down on both of you.

"I almost forgot how sappy you get when you're pregnant, but by God, do I love it. I'm lucky to have an amazing wife like you," he says with a broad smile before leaning in and capturing your lips with his. The rest of your life starts here, and you're looking forward to the day you'll be bringing your daughters home because that will be the day your lifelong dream has officially come true.

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thewritingofspencerrose · 5 months

Text

Risky Romance: A Series

Risky Romance

Max Verstappen x OC!Wolff x Daniel Ricciardo

liked by lewishamilton, susiewolff and 182,582 others

mercedesamgf1 the day we've all been waiting for is back! baby boss has returned to the paddock! (to support her father, no other reason ...)

gisellewolff well... maybe another reason

danielricciardo hi, i'm the other reason 🙋

gisellewolff but so glad to be in the paddock with my parents this weekend! rooting for you lewishamilton and georgerussel63!

georgerussel63 carmen and i were so glad to get to catch up about your studies and the prema advances!

lewishamilton always great to see you elle :)

"Papa? I'm going to go visit Redbull, okay?" I alert my father, not asking for permission although in the form of a question, but announcing my plan to visit Daniel.

"Just be sure to not bother the team too much. I do not need Christian coming for my head because you're distracting his driver."

"Danny is still reserve, Papa," I correct, cherishing him just as much but feeling the need to remind.

"I don't believe that's the driver he was referencing," Susie's voice chimes in, her lips meeting the top of my head before I stand from my seat in hospitality.

I don't dignify the comment with a response, as they both know I won't after the months of teasing.

"Lewis, would you mind walking Giselle to Redbull?"

"Dad that's-"

"Not a problem in the slightest," Lew interrupts, making my father smirk. In another life, Lewis Hamilton is his son, and I'm the milkman's daughter.

"Dad, there is no reason for one of your drivers to walk me to through the paddock," I try to reason, glancing around. "I'm sure James here could walk me, right James?" I question, pulling the random engineer under my arm, his lips forming a smirk.

"Of -"

"No, Lewis will do it," Papa interrupts, patting Lew on the back. "Enjoy Redbull, do not cause trouble," He instructs, waving before pulling James away, the poor boy looking scared to death.

"Why is he like this?" I ask the man left beside me, his arm coming around my shoulder and pulling me into his side, starting our trek.

"Because James made a comment about wanting to sleep with you last team meeting and wasn't as quiet as he thought," Lew answers, ruffling my hair as he always does. "George almost kicked his ass."

"George did?" I can't help but laugh, brows up to my hairline. "That doesn't sound like Georgie."

"Okay, so maybe it was me, but can you blame me?"

"What is my girl blaming you for?" Danny's voice interrupts our conversation, the walk to Redbull being far shorter than when I was younger.

I can't help but giggle, Daniel's arms pulling me into him as Lew raises his brows, considering if it's worth poor James' life telling Danny the joke. "I was going to sock a Mercedes engineer for wanting to sleep with your girl."

"Lewis Hamilton! Don't make me get Christian to banish you!"

"You're lucky I don't banish you, Wolff," Chrisitian's voice is the one to respond, his eyes showing the insincerity that his voice does not as he approaches with Max.

"And with that, I'm going to head back to Mercedes," Lew speaks up, not entirely a fan of the team principle in front of us. "I'll let your dad know that you're in safe hands."

"Thank you Lew, I'll be back for family dinner."

"Family dinner?" Max is the one to question as Christian wonders off, the Dutchman coming over and kissing my cheek, fist-bumping Danny as he stands by his side.

"Mercedes team dinner. We always have one on quali night. Danny comes with if he doesn't have plans. I'm sure you'd be welcome as well, especially if you're our date," I can't help but invite along.

"If I was your date?"

"Our date, yes. Just tag along with Danny and I, you wouldn't mind, right love?" I ask, a smile bright on my face and eyes pouty.

Danny shakes his head, a knowing smile on his handsome face as he looks between Max and I.

I remember when Daniel had first told me about his and Max's "moments of weakness" from before I came around, the nights they had spent together while in drunk stupors.

I also remember asking Danny why he was with me when he so clearly loved Max. It took us a month and a half before I would say yes to being his girlfriend purely because I didn't believe he was interested in me for the right reasons.

But as I've gotten to know Max, I can see the appeal.

Hence inviting him to be our date.

"Please Maxie?" I request, pouty eyes turned on him this time around and his exterior crumbling, a smirk coming to his lips.

Because this isn't that young, awkward man that Danny had met all I met way back when. He's a grown man, older than I am, and there's something in his eyes that suggests he knows why I'm suggesting what I am.

And he doesn't look against it.

"Anything for you, Elle."

#original character #the writing of spencer rose #best friends to lovers trope #formula 1 fanfiction #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen x oc #maxiel #maxiel x oc #max verstappen x oc x daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen

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thesupreme316 · 9 months

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This is most likely to be the weirdest things i’ve requested,

Picture,Being Hook’s twin or older sister. At the past Blood and Guts, Reader is at ringside with her brother during JB match. Then when Jack turns, she sides with Jack.

The following Wednesday, when Her and Jack are now teaming together, the promo goes on.

After Jack says

“I’m still young, I’m cashing fat checks and i’m still banging the hottest bitch in this place”

Clearing referencing to reader, then reader goes on saying something like how she should be the FTW champion since she’s older and has had more in-ring matches that follow FTW rules( I like to think that the FTW title can go to any gender), Then when hook goes to chase Jack, just after jack jumps over the barricade reader and Hook are standing toe-to-toe, allowing Jack to get away safely.

I’ll leave the rest to you, Much love

YOU'RE FINEE

Had it Coming (Hook x Sis!Reader, Jack Perry x Fem!Reader):

Word Count: 1.3K

Supreme Speaks: hiii, thank you to @hookerforhook for the request (i miss your requests so much). I really enjoyed writing this one. If yall want more, you know what to do. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: none i think, is primarily angsty

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @cassie0sstuff @sheinthatfandom

Okay imma reference this post real quick in a way

You have been dating Jack for six months…so before he got into a tag team with your younger brother, Hook

Jack developed feelings for you after you decided to help him in his feud with Christian Cage (my sugar daddy)

You and Hook have the typical sibling relationship…you love him even when you fight sometimes

You’ve been through a lot together, shared a lot of interests, and you considered him to be your best friend

But right now you’re starting to tolerate him

And recently you started to grow a dislike for him

It’s not his personality or anything

It’s just the fact that even though you have won more championships, been wrestling longer, and literally helped trained the lil booger

He just managed to push you into his shadow from the crowd and your father

It pissed you off

Especially because it’s coming at the expense of you and Jack’s career

Your and Jack’s achievements started to get overlooked and Hook either hasn’t realized or he’s pretending it doesn’t exist

It’s been pissing you off

It’s been pissing Jack off

The constant comparisons, the forgetting his name, the fact people just seemed to forget about Jack

It’s just tiring

And it all leads to Jack turning on Hook at Blood and Guts

As well as you turning on your younger brother as well

Honestly, he had it coming.

That’s what you’re telling yourself.

For three days, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

It felt great turning your back on your brother. But, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel like there was a way to avoid all of this. As well as feeling like you’re in the middle between your brother and boyfriend. But the more that you thought about it, the more Jack would argue it’s what he deserved for pushing you away, for overshadowing you, for not thanking you, for forgetting about you, and most importantly allowing the crowd to look over you.

You deserve better. You deserve more.

Especially after how he made you and your boyfriend feel.

This leads to today, Wednesday, you and Jack were talking to the crowd about your actions. Before you could even get a word out, they started to boo you, loudly. At first, you felt small, like an ant. But the more they booed, the angrier you got and the more you tuned them out. They didn’t understand you, they couldn’t understand you. They didn’t know how you felt, yet you were portrayed as the villain.

Jack’s booming voice brought you out of thought, “I’m still young. I’m still cashing fat checks, and I am still banging the hottest bitch in this entire place.” He said making the crowd applaud as you smiled with a blush appearing on your cheeks. He leaned over a kissed your head. “Now, did we turn on Hook or did everyone turn on us? After all, we’ve done, after everything that we have given to this place and being robbed out of championships, do you expect some entitled, second-generation little prick to dangle his unofficial championship in our faces? A championship that is just like you Hook, a fraud. Unlike your authentic, legitimate, charming, and hot sister.”

Jack gently gave you the mic as the mix of applause and boos poured in. You rolled your eyes at the crowd as you began to talk, “And come to think of it, I should be the FTW champion.” The crowd booed at your statement. “Think about it! I have more in-ring experience, I’ve actually had FTW championship-worthy matches, and I was at one point your role model, little brother. The only reason why I haven’t challenged you is because Dad is protecting your ass. Cause he knows, that in one match I would take your championship, break your bones, and break your heart.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I am the uncrowned FTW Champion. It’s only a matter of time until I get my hands on it and make you pay for all the pain I’ve endured cause I’m the victim here, not you! But soon you will be once I send you to the ICU.” You continued, making the crowd gasp and clap at your words.

You gave the mic back to Jack, “And just for the record, we can hear you all very clearly. You all telling us that we messed up, that Hook’s gonna kill us. Hook, let me tell you something right now, when I get my hands on you, I am going to beat-“

He was cut off by Hook’s theme, making you roll your eyes and Jack’s color drain from his face as your brother emerged from the black stage. You could see his angry face from a mile away, his eyes were filled with rage. As he ran to the ring, Jack slid out of the ring, jumping over the barricade.

Hook slid into the ring to come face-to-face with you, making the crowd stand up in suspense. His eyes kind of softened as he gazed into yours; you could see his eyes go from angry to hurt. He didn’t understand why everything had to escalate to this point. He moved to continue chasing Jack, but you moved in the same direction; shaking your head at him.

You gave your younger brother a dropkick that stunned him. He just laid in the ring. He wasn’t going to get up to fight you, you knew that, he would never fight you, not even when y’all were kids, he never fought you. Maybe it was the respect and love he held for you…or it was fear. Whatever it was, it allowed you to do your finishing move before going to the back.

He deserved it.

Grabbing your bags, you walked to the parking garage, looking for Jack. Then, a voice called out to you.

“That was some show you put on, Princess.” You looked in the direction of the voice, shocked at who it belonged to. You slightly groaned at the person as they exited their vehicle.

“Christian, what do you want?”

“A conversation.” He said with a smile, walking closer to you with Luchasuarus behind him. “Maybe, a little more if I can convince you of it. Where’s your lover boy?”

You know that you’re not supposed to be talking to your boyfriend’s former mentor, but his tone and the conversation thus far intrigued you. “He’s on his way.” You said with confidence.

“No, he’s not princess. He’s long gone, jumped into his truck, and drove off without any stops.” Christian said with a mocking sad face. “That’s no way to treat someone, especially one person that he claims to love.”

“He does love me-“

“Why isn’t he here then?” You were quiet in response, not sure of what to say. “Y/N, you deserve better in multiple ways. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I have a proposition for you, a very beneficial proposition for both of us. But I don’t wanna conduct business with a pretty lady in a dirty garage. Let me, I mean us, take you to your hotel or somewhere to eat, and we can talk.”

Your brain was in the middle as you knew that anything with Christian Cage was bad news. And you don’t wanna disrespect Jack.

But then again, your boyfriend wasn’t around to take you back to your hotel room, you guys really had no plans after turning on Hook besides trying to take his championship (but you didn’t know how really), and you were hungry. Also, there’s no doubt that your brother was hunting you down so the two of you could talk, so you needed to leave now. Technically, it was a winning situation for you.

There was no harm in talking, right?

“Fine Cage, but no funny business.” You said. Christian smiled before telling Luchasuarus to get your bags, which he put in the trunk. Christian opened the door for you and helped you into the truck.

And if there is harm, it’ll catch up to you tomorrow.

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steviewashere · 2 days

Text

Love at First Trim (Chapter 1/???)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Break-Up Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Set in the 2000s, Mild Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Older Eddie Munson, Older Steve Harrington, Original Child Character, Single Parent Eddie Munson, Hair Stylist Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Flirting (But it Sucks), Eddie Munson has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Dialogue Heavy, Tags May Change, Rating May Change

Read on Ao3

Single Parent Eddie Munson, my beloved.

Fair warning, I know nothing about hair care or cutting hair or dyeing hair. All of my research comes from Google. And also, I am aware that trimming Eddie's hair probably would've worked better if it was wet. It is not. Oops.

✂️—————✂️ “You wanna do what to your hair?!” Eddie shrieked.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the gall that his daughter had. She’s recently turned thirteen—the age of discovery. The age where she’s finding her footing, her style, her everything. And, Eddie gets it. He so totally gets it. Eddie was thirteen when he shaved his head the one and only time, when he began to make his battle vest, when he snuck off to a bus towards Indianapolis and saw Judas Priest in concert. So, yes, he gets what she’s doing.

“Dad,” his little girl (not so little) sighs. “I want to dye my hair. Like my friend Sarah. She’s got the most beautiful head of hair right now! Purple, Dad. Her hair is purple.”

“No—no, I got that,” he sighs himself. “But Ella, my little munchkin, my sweet angel baby; you don’t want to dye your hair with something, y’know, a little more neutral first? What if you absolutely hate having color?”

Ella shoots him a glare. So lethal, Eddie swears he feels the bullet enter his chest. “So you were cool about shaving the sides of my head. And the possibility of me getting my nose pierced as soon as I turn sixteen. But dying my hair red is where you draw the line?”

Okay, when she puts it like that, Eddie does sound a touch too protective. But his daughter’s head of hair is one of her crowning features. She’s got her dad’s curls, but her mom’s gorgeous sandy blonde hair. Maybe Eddie and Ella’s mom didn’t end on the best of terms—not that there was an ending to be seen, she had just up and left one day without a trace—but even he can admit that the sandy blonde is something other-worldly. Every single Munson has dark brunette hair, no abnormalities, no others. It’s difficult, even a bit frustrating, to what his little girl grow and change and differentiate herself. He’s excited for, absolutely, but he’s also such a papa bear by fault.

He rubs at his temples, tension building and building beyond belief. There’s no chance he’s winning this. “Okay, listen,” he mutters. Where she’d been incessantly tapping in the kitchen, several feet away from the carpeted living room where he’s stress slouched on the couch, she now falls deathly silent. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I will agree with you on this,” he states slowly, “on a few conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your hair will be dyed with something like Manic Panic—not box dye. And you will do it at an actual salon. You won’t let a friend do it. I’m not going to do it. And you certainly will not be doing it yourself, do you understand?” He looks up from his lap and into the little window over the kitchen counter. Where she looks back. The ‘tude apparent on her features. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Ella continues to stare when the silence stretches. And then she heaves an enormous sigh.

“Little lady, do not sigh at me,” he firmly scolds. And for a moment, he feels like Uncle Wayne. He suppresses the shudder at what that means for him. He’s not even forty yet, he shouldn’t be acting like his way too old uncle. “Do you or do you not understand me?”

Relenting, Ella grumbles, “Fine. We’ll go to a salon.” She rounds the corner into the living room. Eyes him for a beat before settling next to him on the middle cushion. Her left hand reaches up to his hair, tugging at the ends. His hair isn’t the best it’s been—though there isn’t much of a contest, not since he was fifteen—it’s a little wiry, with several inches of dead ends, and already greying at the temples. But it’s still got the length to his shoulders and the bangs that curl inwards right above his eyebrows. Some definition, even. It’s still objectively good, for somebody who doesn’t always care about their hair.

She tugs again. “Mm, you should dye yours too,” Ella murmurs.

He startles and whips his head to her. ‘Absolutely not,” he adamantly refuses.

“Oh, c’mon, Dad,” she whines. “It doesn’t have to be your whole head, but it’d be like a friendship bracelet or something. Just get a streak and match with me. Please?”

“Wha—Hold on. You, my thirteen year old and angst-riddled teenager, wants to match with her dear old dad? Who—keep in mind—is nearing forty years old? Who you called an old fart the other day because he was reminiscing over ‘80s cartoons and explaining how CDs seem like a waste of time?” He incredulously asks. Eyes widening further with each word. His hands reach out and squeeze her cheeks, lift up her arms, twist her head left and right. “Who’s sitting on my couch right now? This certainly can’t be my kiddo,” he murmurs.

She rolls her eyes, swatting him away. The attitude on this girl is unbelievable. He almost wants to go over to the landline and call up Wayne and apologize for how he acted as a teenager. But he just quirks an eyebrow, cross his arms over his chest, and waits. Ella shrugs. “I just…I just want to do it. And I know I can be a brat or a butthead or whatever, but I do actually care a lot about you,” she admits quietly. “And…”

Then, she goes silent. Contemplative and squirmy. As if she doesn’t want to say the next part aloud.

“And?” Eddie searches.

“And I hear you sometimes talking to Grandpa Wayne about how you…You don’t know how to ‘connect’ with me. You always sound so sad and then you sound even sadder when you bring up how Mom…Before she left, how she could get me in an instant. And I just. I don’t know; I don’t want you to think there’s this distance between us,” she murmurs. “This is me offering a bridge, I guess.”

He swallows back the golf ball sized lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly. Eddie didn’t think she heard him, considering it was always so late at night. When all the neighborhood kids in Hawkins were asleep. But he realizes teenagers are going to be teenagers, staying up past their bedtime, eavesdropping. At least she isn’t sneaking out through her bedroom window like he did.

Something in him breaks, though.

She’s thirteen and too adult for his liking.

“I’ll do it, kiddo,” he agrees gently. “There’s a salon around the corner. We’ll go there this weekend, promise. Now, go do your homework before you make your old man cry.”

“You’re not old,” she grumbles, standing. “You’re just stuck in the past,” she states, retreating to her room. And then the door clicks behind her and Eddie’s left to stuff his crumbled pieces back inside, in the jar of his heart.

——— Come Saturday, he’s got two appointments made for them. Back to back. At first, he was unsure of who should go first. Out of safety, he had wanted to, but then Ella was just a bit too eager. And he knew that making her wait would be pointless.

He’s nervous, though, even as he parks in front of the salon. With the little plastic bag from the Sally’s down the street. The little tubs of bright red Manic Panic, bleach, and toner knocking against each other. Not once in his entire life has he thought about dyeing his hair or messing with it beyond shaving, trimming, and washing it. Has never considered the idea that his daughter would be someone who’d be interested in changing up her hair, too. All this to say he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“We’re going to be late for our appointments if you wait out here any longer,” Ella, oh so helpfully, reminds from the passenger seat.

“Are you sure you want to go first? This is a big change, you know. And maybe you’ll see the dye in my hair and realize you actually don’t—“

The passenger door opens and slams behind after her. He’s left in the driver’s seat to gape momentarily. Staring at his daughter impatiently waiting on the sidewalk. She gestures to the glass doors of the salon. The Pandora’s box of doors—a portal to the world of Harrington’s Salon. (Which—where has he heard that name before?) Ella’s arms point firmer at the open sign and the doors again. “Let’s go!” She yells at him through the windshield. He has no other option but to just get out and follow her in.

Immediately, the smell of aftershave hits his nostrils. That and hairspray. The lights are sort of bright. And the chairs are each aligned to their own mirrors. What hits him hard, however, is the person that emerges from the back room. Their hair is the first thing Eddie notices. Puffed up, held in place, yet soft and bouncing with his steps. Then his face—creased with smile lines and fitted with hazel honey eyes, a straight triangular nose, and pink pouting lips. Moles on his body, a few random freckles to match. His clothes are neat, but not stereotypical douchebag neat. Pressed blue henley overtop a white undershirt of sorts, tucked into a pair of worn in light wash jeans, and some dirties older Nike Cortez’s.

But most of all:

It’s Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington from high school. From a time when they were barely acquaintances, just stranger that caught each other staring; with malice, Eddie was never sure. Except, he’s older. Grayer throughout that beautiful head of hair, where his highlights used to be. His smile lines obviously deeper.

The moment of realization hits Steve, too. Instead of looking upset to see Eddie, though, he looks immeasurably happier. He smiles wide and inviting. Steps further towards the front counter and ushers them over.

“So, you two are my twelve and twelve-thirty appointments? The…Munson’s, right?” Steve asks brightly.

Eddie splutters for an embarrassing moment. Finally, though, he takes a deep breath. Answers, “Yeah, uh—Yeah. It should be under Edward, though? Or…it might be Eddie. I actually don’t remember which name I gave, I—“ He stops himself when he catches a quick glimpse of Ella’s face. Her eyes wide and an eyebrow quirked. Hip popped and arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah, Eddie Munson. And she’s Ella. She should be the one scheduled first, though for a full head dye job? We brought our own supplies, as I was told over the phone. Except, I dunno if I’ve got the right bleach and toner? I’m actually not sure if…I don’t know what I’m doing, honestly—“

Steve chuckles. His eyes squint with the stretch of his ever glowing smile. “It’s alright, Eddie. As long as you have the dye you’d like to use, I’ve got bleach and tools. Now…the question is, have we ever used bleach before? Or am I working with virgin hair?”

Before Eddie can even get the chance to take a breath, Ella is responding for them. “This is my first time. Dad’s been really strict about me ever using hair dye. It was a reeaalll hassle to convince him to do this. And an even bigger one to convince him to get a matching streak.”

“Okay, well, hopefully with my handy skills, the convincing won’t take as long. If you’re ready, Dad and Ella, I can get you guys situated in my chairs. I’ll start out with doing a test strip of bleach on your head, and if that ends up being a fail, then I can get started with using color immediately,” Steve explains. His voice stays light, despite essentially doing customer service. But he begins to walk slowly back towards one of the further most chairs, gesturing for Ella to sit down. She does, a soft smile plastered to her face, and then Steve ties an apron around her shoulders.

He follows hesitantly, sitting down in the adjacent chair, turned to watch. Hands over the bag of supplies when asked and waits with baited breath for Steve to survey his work.

“Hm,” Steve grunts. “This all looks good to me,” he murmurs. “I’m honestly so relieved you guys went with Manic Panic. This stuff is such a good first time dye and it’s not boxed. You would not believe the amount of botched dye jobs I’ve seen in the last decade or so all because of boxed colors. Honestly, those companies should be sued or something.” Eddie feels something stir low in his belly—something mixed with enamor with how Steve is genuinely excited to explain and do his work. Never, in a million years, would Eddie expect to see them here like this.

“Dad insisted on the Manic stuff. I almost made my friend smuggle in some boxed hair dye in my school’s restroom,” Ella confesses, a little breathy and nearly amused. She doesn’t look at Eddie at all, but he hopes that she feels his disapproving glare like daggers.

When there isn’t a response, Eddie drifts his sight over to Steve. Though, he isn’t concerned, instead finding him hyper-focused on his craft. He’s carefully grabbing a lock of Ella’s hair between his fingers. Checking it over to make sure it’s well hidden, in case this doesn’t work out. His tongue is poking out between his pouting lips, eyes squinted on his task, and eyebrows furrowed for the challenge. Once he finally finds a good enough chunk, he whispers, “A-ha!” And clips it to stand-out.

“So…” Eddie starts the conversation again, dragging out the word. He pats his hands down on his thighs. “How long does a test strand take?”

“For best results,” Steve mutters, now looking over the container of bleach, “I like to wait forty minutes. Just to ensure that there really isn’t any sort of reaction to the product. Longer means safer and that means I can sleep at night knowing I didn’t give a kiddo a bald spot or a chemical burn.” And then he looks over to Eddie, flashes him a quick and easing smile. He steps away for a moment, returning with an apron dutifully draped over himself, and begins mixing the product with something Eddie didn’t even grab.

“What’s that?” He asks.

Steve hums. “It’s developer. Don’t worry, it’s the same brand as the powder solution you brought. I can tell—“ He sets his little bowl of product down on the nearby counter. Faces Eddie as he puts on some latex gloves. “—That you’re nervous. I’ve been doing this for years, I know what I’m doing. Honed my craft real well.”

Eddie juts his chin up once in silent approval. And then he just sits back and watches.

This guy is an artist in his craft. He’s really undersold the whole “I’ve been doing this for years” gig. Steve is so gentle, so careful with Ella. He’s quick, efficient. Yet focused and tedious. It’s in the way he paints the mixture onto her hair, holding the hair between his fingers, how he really rubs the bleach in. In the calculated cut of foil he settles around the strand. How he puts all the utensils away, cleans up his equipment, hangs his apron up, and then comes back over to assess.

“Alright,” Steve sighs, over checking the foil. “We’ll keep that on there for forty minutes, my timer’s been set and is ticking. And then we’ll come back, rinse that out with cold water, and see how the hair reacted. If it worked, we can go ahead and bleach the whole head, same regime, and tone it afterwards.”

“And the color?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Hm,” Steve grunts again. He sticks his right hip out and places both of his hands on the waistband of his jeans. “I think,” he states slowly, “I think we should wait just a day or two for color.” He looks over to Eddie, eyes considerate and his face thoughtful. “Since her hair is new to this kind of treatment, we should take things a little easier. Usually, I’d go right in with the color after bleaching, but again—Virgin hair.”

“What about Dad?” Ella butts in. “His hair is also new to this kind of stuff.”

“Oh?” Steve asks curiously. “Really? I thought you would’ve done something funky to your hair, considering your whole…The whole aesthetic you’ve had for, what seems like, years.”

“Well,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. He shrugs. His cheeks are heated and his stomach is flipping with all of Steve’s attention on him. “I’ve always really loved how my hair’s looked. Reminds me of my mom, so.”

Steve’s gaze softens. Something like remembrance flashes over his face before settling back to a gentle thing. “Well, I’ll make sure to be careful with your hair, too,” he promises softly. “Yours should actually be done today. Considering it’s only one little strip, nothing too extravagant. I’ll test your hair with the bleach, too. Let me just head in the back and prepare another bowl of product for you. Be back in a jiffy.”

It’s weird having Steve Harrington be nice to him, considering the status he held in high school. But Eddie supposes that when time passes and circumstances change, you have to, too. And he thinks it’s accurate to say that Steve’s a changed man, with how gentle he is with the people around him. Even a person he may have never known, never gotten along with. It’s all the better when he comes back into the main part of the salon, gloves on, bowl of bleach in hand, and the softest of smiles adorning his features.

Eddie doesn’t stand a chance. Whatever inevitable heartbreak comes from this, at least he’ll know what Steve’s fingers feel like in his hair.

Ella leans over before Steve makes it to them. Whispers, “Dad, close your mouth. You’re practically drooling.”

“Wh—Huh?” He dumbly says.

She smacks his knee with the back of her hand, punctuating each word with another slap. “Stop. Ogling. My. Stylist.”

“I can do whatever I want, miss ma’am. I am an adult, mind you.”

Her eyes roll so hard, he fears they may just pop out of her skull. “Can you at least wait until after my head is bleached to do your weird flirting?”

“It’s not weird, Ells. Besides, even if I were flirting, I wouldn’t have the time. My hair’s gonna be a quick thing anyway.”

She goes to reply, but Steve sidles up beside her. Sets his bowl on the counter and looks to Eddie once more. “You ready to test this in your hair?” He asks, voice polite.

He nods like a loose spring. “Uh—Yeah, yeah, sure,” he squeaks out. “Just…Just a little nervous, is all. Like you said. Y’know. Nerves.” His palms are sweating like they may just be able to put out a damn fire. And he wonders, for the first time in ages: When did I get so out of practice? Eddie’s seeing this guy for the first time since their mutual senior year, a time when they weren’t even friends, and he can’t keep the humiliation out of his flirting. If it’s even flirting, that is.

“Hey,” Ella speaks up, “would it be alright if I sit in the waiting area with some headphones in?” She gives Steve a polite expression, but when she makes eye contact with Eddie it’s more of a: I’m Saving Myself the Embarrassment of This Reaction. He should’ve known that she’d pull something like this, she typically does if Eddie’s having a good interaction with somebody. How he didn’t spot her walk in with her Discman and some headphones, he’ll never know. But there they are, being gestured to in her lap, and her eyes gleaming softly for Steve to be tricked by. “I’ll make sure to avoid the foil in the back,” she tacks on for good measure.

And it works on Steve because her little gags always work on new people. He shrugs, smiles softly, and gestures loosely to one of the waiting area chairs. “I mean, knock yourself out. Could always sit here, but uh—“ He crouches down and leans in close, dropping his voice to a faux whisper. “—Between me and you, your dad is being a little embarrassing, huh?”

“Hey!” Eddie squawks.

Ella is amused, to put it lightly. She grins, holding back a snort. Eyes gleaming with something like mischief now. “Yeah,” she sighs as if she’s actually put out. “Guess I should just dump him on you for now. But you know what you’re doing, so it should be fine. Volume will be up, so just tap me or something.” When she walks past Eddie’s chair, he knows she’s fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

He does it back anyway. Because he’ll always be the bigger child, if he can help it.

Steve pats his shoulder, his hand lingering. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice normal again, “I don’t actually think that of you. I think…You being nervous about both of you guys is actually kinda sweet.”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to save face, man. She got my attitude, she’ll use it to her advantage. If she can ‘charm’ you into dealing with me, she will. Just the ways of a teenage girl with a dad ‘stuck in the past’, so she put it a few days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll still be careful. Do you want me to get started on that test strip?”

He sighs, untenses his shoulders. “Actually,” Eddie begins. “I’ve been kind of eyeing myself in the mirror the couple of times you’ve gone into the back. And I was wondering if I’d be able to get a little trim? I’ll pay you for the extra work, of course! But I…God, it’s been a while.”

Above him, Steve hums. His eyes roam, calculating. He peels off his left latex glove and plucks some of Eddie’s dead ends. Thumb working over the wiry hair. “I can, of course I can. How much are you willing to take off? Might be a good…Hmm, two inches?”

“Where would that put me length wise? Sorry, I just don’t know much about hair. Let alone how many inches I’ve got to work with.”

For a moment, Steve smirks. Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said, Eddie thinks. He gently swipes up a good couple inches from the same strand he’s been working with. And his face goes serious and contemplative again. “Think that would put you right at your collarbones,” he muses. “And, if you really are nervous, I could always bleach and dye your streak when she comes in next.”

“Really?”

Steve nods gently. “Yeah. I’m practically a hair wizard, I can do anything. Which includes doing your strand on top of her full dye.”

Eddie sighs, relieved. His heart’s been rabbiting behind his ribs for the better part of half an hour. It definitely doesn’t help that his high school crush is also his stylist today. Doesn’t help that he’s making nerd references while being gentle with Eddie’s little silent freakout. But gosh does it sound nice to not go head first into this. “Please, Steve,” he murmurs, “I just need a trim today. Nothing else.”

Fingers rake from the top of Eddie’s head down to his shoulders. Steve’s left hand resting heavily on his shoulder afterwards. “Let me go ahead and dispose of the product mixture, alright? Just get yourself comfortable and I’ll take care of you.”

If something awakens in the butterfly storm of Eddie’s stomach, he’ll never say. But he does indulge Steve’s request. Leans back fully into his salon chair. Spreads his legs a little to make sure he doesn’t need to readjust himself during the trim. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And by the time they’re opened again, Steve is back with an apron for Eddie’s clothes. He lets him drape it over silently. Relishing in their slow, mingled breaths. And the brush of Steve’s warm fingers to Eddie’s bare neck.

Steve is warm, solid, and soft. His face is immeasurably cute. Tongue poking out, eyebrows furrowed, squinting at the ends of Eddie’s hair. He breathes gently by Eddie’s ear. Fingers soothing and careful. Whenever they get caught in a tangle, he just quickly detangles it, doesn’t scold Eddie or sigh at him (like some other stylists have done in the past). For that, Eddie’s even more thankful than he thought he could ever.

What really makes him nearly squirm is when Steve bends down in front of him. Putting one another at direct eye level. He pinches the ends of Eddie’s bangs. Snips them. Combs them, even. Up close, Eddie can see how deep Steve’s smile lines really go. Where his crow’s feet are beginning to develop. The fine stubble above his upper lip. Every little strand of slivery grey in his hairline. Up close, Steve’s even more gorgeous than Eddie remembers.

“You do these yourself?” Steve asks softly, his voice deep and warm.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs back, “been doing them in my bathroom since…Probably since freshman year of high school, honestly.”

A thoughtful grunt-hum. “They’re really good for somebody who doesn’t do this professionally,” Steve whispers. “I mean, I assume you aren’t a stylist.”

Eddie snorts. “God, no. I know how to take care of my hair, for the most part, and Ella’s. That’s all I do. I’m actually a mechanic nowadays.”

“Oh? You don’t do music anymore?” Steve asks, now standing back up, walking behind Eddie’s chair. His fingers rake through the bottom of Eddie’s curls again. And then he grabs the comb inside of his apron.

Eddie stops completely in his tracks. Frozen in his chair. Cheeks flushing. “How do you remember that I do music?” He asks quietly.

It finally hits Steve, too, what he said. His fingers halt and his cheeks blush and his eyes go wide where they meet Eddie’s in the mirror. “Uh,” he eloquently states. “I—Um. My best friend and I used to go to your bar shows? I-I thought you were really good.”

“Steve Harrington thought my crummy bar shows were good?”

“Well…Yeah? You were the best of the best when it came to the music lineups every night.”

“Every night?!” Eddie asks incredulously. “You were in the Hideout watching my stupid bar shows and I never saw you once? Are you pulling my leg right now?”

“No? Of course I’m not, Eddie. I used to see your Corroded Coffin posters in the halls and around town every once in a while and I thought, y’know, what if I stopped in there once? And so I did and you were really cool—I mean really good. I was just intrigued, man. I really wanted you to make it big,” Steve rambles. His fingers are still in Eddie’s hair, not stopped anymore, mindlessly combing. And his whole face is tomato red.

And even though he’s a little bit embarrassed, he’s still beautiful to Eddie.

Eddie blinks, taking in the information. Licks his lips, noticing the way Steve’s eyes follow the action. There’s tension here, Eddie can discern. The kind, he isn’t sure. “You should’a said hello, man. Maybe I would’ve done a private show for you.”

He spikes with pride at Steve’s continued flush, as it colors down his neck. Steve looks down to Eddie’s hair. Gently brushing both of his hands, palm and all, from the scalp to the ends. There’s a small smile on his face, graceful and pleased. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But I doubt it. I mean, I was an asshole, Eddie. To people like you. Even if I did change by the time we shared a senior year, you probably would’ve…It doesn’t matter.” He goes back to snipping at Eddie’s dead ends. Focused on his task. “If I were a nicer guy, we could’ve been friends.”

At that, Steve goes silent again. Combing out the trimmed, loose hair. Even as it isn’t necessary. Even though Eddie knows he’ll be going home and showering after this. But he hums. “We can be friends now, though,” Eddie states quietly. “You seem like a good guy, Steve. Even if I don’t know you all that well, not yet, I can just tell that you are. You’re good with my little girl, you aren’t being an ass about me being nervous. You’re good, Steve. We should hang out.”

When he’s finally done, Steve stands at Eddie’s right side. Scissors and comb dutifully put away. His hands are on his hips again, looking down at Eddie with a quizzical expression. “You’d really want to be friends with me?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure, why not? I live just around the block. And I’ve got a lot of free time after work in the week. Let’s make a statement—Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are friends.”

He gets this sweet little grin on his face. Eyes squinting with the action. “Yeah, okay,” Steve huffs. “Sure, I want to be friends. Maybe take you up on that private show some time?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Eddie says, a little too quiet. A little too real. But he smiles. And knows, looking at Steve’s matching face, that he’s entirely fucked.

✂️—————✂️ Taglist is Open for this fic! (Comment to be added, please <3)

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #original child character #single parent eddie munson #hair stylist steve harrington #mild angst and hurt/comfort

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