#I feel I should mention I currently am in the closet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vivalas-vega · 8 months

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Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.”

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.”

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get.

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?”

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous.

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought.

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed.

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out.

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue.

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast, we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.”

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again.

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?”

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

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mysicklove-main · 1 year

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𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇"

Pairing: Bestfriend! Denki Kaminari x Gn! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Claustrophobia? (if you get that from reading idk), swearing, teasing, suggestive comments, me trying (and failing) to make Denki funny, mentions of ex-crush

Summary: Denki gets the bright idea to try and steal your homeroom teacher's sleeping bag. One thing led to another and the two of you end up stuck in a closet, with the addition of a new boyfriend.

Being best friends with Denki Kaminari, was definitely...something. There was not one moment where he didn’t keep you off your toes. You loved him for that.

You also happened to be in love with the fool. It was easy to fall for that smile, that laughter. It all just drew you in. The two of you would be perfect for each other if he felt the same way. You try not to think about it.

Currently, Denki is in your dorm room. It was 12 am and you were asleep. Like he should be. “Pstt. Y/N wake up!” He whispers yells and you groan as he rips the blanket off of you. “C’mon, I have a really good idea!”

“Denki,” You whine and he grins. “It’s the middle of the night. Go to sleep,” You mumble before tearing the blanket from his hands and spreading it back over your body.

His smile drops. So, he does the next best thing to wake you up. He jumps on you. “Get off of me, you idiot!” You shriek and he covers your mouth with his hand. He holds up a finger to his mouth, shushing you. You roll your eyes in the darkness.

“You gotta be quiet! Don’t want the others getting the wrong idea about me and my bestie.” He teases, eyes raising mischievously. You push him off you and he whines. “Okay, I’ll stop. But c’mon I have a good prank idea!”

You raise your head at this. “Prank?” You question, trying to stop that smile that forms on your face. If there was one thing you and Denki were good at, it was pranking people.

“Yep! It’s the most perfect, most evil, most hilarious, most-”

“Denki. Get to the point.” You warn, knowing he will go on a ridiculously long rant if you don’t cut him off. Even if you did have feelings for the blonde, it was 12 am you were not up to deal with all his bullshit.

“Prank of all time. It will go down in UA history. People will remember us as, Y/N and Denki, the greatest pranksters of all time.” He sits on his knees in front of you, you see the shadow of his raised fist.

You throw your pillow at him, causing him to fall down on the bed. “Would you just tell me already?” You say, exasperated.

He grabs the pillow and throws it off his face, and then stands on top of the bed. You raise your eyebrows and look up at his shadow. “We are going to steal Mr. Aizawa’s sleeping bag.”

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“Hey! Wait! It’s a good idea, right? What will he do when he comes to class and sees that he can’t sleep?”

“Kill us.” You grab the pillow and rest your head back on it.

“He won’t. I’m too hot to die.”

“Yeah, but you are stupid enough to,” You respond with your eyes closed.

He sighs dramatically and sits back down, crossing his legs next to your bundled-up figure. “Anyways, back to the point. We are going to steal it. You may be asking yourself, “Oh my super hot and sexy best friend, how are we going to infiltrate the academy?”” His voice poorly mimics yours and you refrain from throwing another pillow at him. “To which I respond, “Dont worry my darling Y/N, I will be here to lead the way, using my quirk to turn off the alarm system, and allowing us to have enough time to go in, grab the sleeping bag, and run out all before the brink of dawn.”

You don’t respond. He lets out another plea, “C’mon Y/N, we will have plenty of time to sleep when we get named the “Greatest Pranksters of all Time”” He shakes your body and you groan.

“You sure we won’t get caught?”

“Positive! I will disable the security cameras.”

You pull the blankets down and sit up, staring at him in the darkness. “Well, y’know I can’t turn down a prank like that.”

He beams.

You both decided to wear all black. Sure, it didn’t really matter due to the security cameras being turned off, but Denki insisted.

Currently, you were standing in front of the gates of UA, waiting for Denki to arrive. It looks a lot more creepy at night, which you reluctantly take note of with a gulp.

Suddenly you feel a tap on your back and you almost scream instinctually when you see a black ski mask. The only thing that makes him recognizable was his bright yellow eyes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and look over him again. His, very much unneeded, ski mask has black cat ears attached to it. “What are you wearing?” You whisper yell and point to the ridiculous ears.

He rubs them with his black leather gloves. “What, you don’t like it? It’s inspired by Catwoman.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know you are a real hero right?”

“So you have a problem with guys cosplaying female movie heroes, huh? How bigoted of you, Y/N.” He jokes, clutching at his heart like you genuinely wounded him.

You stare blankly at him, before turning back to the dorm building. “I’m going home.”

“Wait! Im just joking!” He reasons frantically, grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving. He pulls off his mask, exposing the rest of his face. “Is this better?” The blonde sighs and you nod. “Good. Okay, back to mission SMASH”

“Smash?”

“It stands for, Steal Mr. Aizawas sleeping house.”

You cock your head to the side. “It’s not a house though, it’s a bag.”

“SMASB doesn’t sound as good.”

“But that doesn’t–You know what. It doesn’t matter. Alright. Yeah. Mission SMASH.”

The two of you turn your focus back onto the entrance gate of UA. Denki grabs onto the monitor placed in front of the gate that locks and unlocks it. He takes a deep breath, before opening his eyes and activating his quirk.

He quickly pulls away when the device lights up a multitude of different colors before eventually powering off completely. He looks back at you with a grin, before swinging the door open.

You can’t help but smile mischievously back. Even with all his ridiculous antics, you were confident that he knew what he was doing.

The two walk up to the main entrance to the door and just like before he disables the alarm and the lock. You open up the door to your pitch-black school and gulp. It was strange seeing it like this. But the two of you were heroes, you were trained to be in uncomfortable situations, so the two of you step inside.

“‘Im going into the back room to disable the security guards. Wait for my signal.” He whispers to you, holding his hand out to signal you to stay put.

“What’s the signal?”

“A yellow canary’s mating call.”

You blink. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what that is?”

“It kinda sounds like an American Goldfinches mating call.”

You pause and stare at him for some time. He waits, meeting your gaze. “Why am I your friend again?” You murmur, before pushing him away toward the back room. He grins, shooting you finger guns, before scampering through the door.

You stand there for a minute awkwardly. “Coo-Coo!” You raise your eyebrows and wait, just to mess with him. “Coo-Coo!” You don’t move. “COO-COO” He basically screams and you fall over into a silent laugh, loving how ridiculous he sounds. “Agent L/N do you copy?” He whispers into his hands, pretending it is a walkie-talkie.

You indulge him like you always do. “Yes, I do, agent dumbass.”

“Good. Follow me!” He whisper yells once again, before grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs toward your home room.

When you two arrive at your classroom you pause.

Denki doesn’t, in fact, he seems way too excited to look through Mr. Aizawa’s stuff. His eyes widen when he sees a hero magazine stuffed into one of your teacher’s drawers. He flips through the pages and stops when he lands on Lady Midnight, who is looking especially suggestive in it. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, that familiar perverted grin on his face. You rip it out of his hands and push it back into the drawer before he could complain.

You open the last drawer and your eyes widen. There it was. Mr. Aizawa’s yellow sleeping bag. You pull it up for the blonde to see. “Bingo.” He grins at you, holding up a hand for a high five. You slap his palm against his with a triumphant smile.

Suddenly you hear a loud booming voice coming from just down the hall. “Hello? Is somebody there?” The two of you freeze, staring at each other, eyes wide in alarm. “I know somebody is around here somewhere. Damn, those kids.” The stranger mutters and the two of you begin to panic.

“We are fucked!” He whispers to you and you nod your head in agreement. You hear the footsteps begin to come closer to you.

That’s when you notice the closet at the end of the classroom. It was large enough to fit two people easily. You grab his hand and quickly stumble over the closet, pushing him in first. You grab the handle and shut the door.

It’s pitch black. You hear the footsteps walk into the room and Denki uses one hand to cover your mouth and the other to cover his. Your heartbeat picks up. “Damn those kids. Trying to steal from Eraserhead. What a joke,” The man’s gruff voice mutters and you gulp.

You hear the footsteps move and you close your eyes. “Whatever. They must be gone by now. Im going home.” The man says to himself, unaware the two of you are listening. You hear him walk out of the room and Denki removes his hand from your mouth. You sigh in relief once he is out of hearing distance.

“Jeez, that was close. Mission SMASH could have been a bust. Pun intended.” He says quietly and you laugh softly, adrenaline still pulsing through you. He manages to make ever the most intense situations funny. You liked that about him.

“Yeah, that could have been really bad. C’mon lets get out of here,” You reply and Denki nods. You can only barely see his figure.

He pulls the handle and pushes forward. It doesn’t budge. He shakes it again and pushes harder. It doesn’t budge. He begins to frantically shake it and forces all his strength to push forward. Other than the whine of the metal, it doesn’t budge. “Fuck.” He murmurs and your eyes widen.

“Oh god. Don’t tell me,” You gasp and he slowly nods.

“Yep. Might as well get comfortable. We’re stuck.”

“I’m going to murder you.”

30 minutes have gone by and nothing has worked. So now, the both of you sit on the ground, your backs pressed against the wall with your legs intertwined. You are grateful that it is a big closest because if it were any smaller you would be extremely claustrophobic. At least you have room to move your legs and arms.

The two of you have been chatting for the most part, about nothing too important. You have to wait until morning for when your classmates can get you out. “Do you remember the time I tried doing a backflip from the roof to the pool?”

“Yes! You made me record it! I thought you were going to die, you idiot! Scared the absolute shit out of me.” You grin, thinking back on it now, but at the moment, he did look way too high up. Granted, he did end up with bruises from the water from the jump so you weren’t too far off.

“That was crazy, but fun. What would I have done without my adorable best friend to cheer me on?” You try not to blush at his light remark.

You change the subject. “Yeah. Hmm, what else can we talk about.” You tap your chin and furrow your eyebrows, trying to think back

“You wanna hear about how I used to have a crush on Jirou?”

No, you didn’t. But you weren’t going to make your crush obvious. “Sure, Denki.”

“It was back in our first year, when you and I were nothing but classmates. Back when I used to flirt with every girl I saw.”

“You still do that.”

“Shut it. I’m getting better! I don’t flirt with every girl now.” You roll your eyes but laugh. He was right. “Anyways, something about her just kinda stood out to me you know?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you are talking about.” He eyes you in the darkness, skeptical of something, but doesn’t say anything.

“Had that laugh that drew me in. The smile lighted up the room. And when she played that guitar, the look of pure joy on her face, just really did something to me.” You bury yourself into your knees. You hate this. “But I don’t know. We wouldn’t have worked. She doesn’t deal with my antics as well as you do. She wouldn’t try sneaking into the school with me in the middle of the night like you did. I don’t think anyone would. ”

You smile at this, cheeks now warm, you’re glad he can’t see you. You feel giddy at the remark, but try to hold it in to match your usual teasing persona. “Can’t keep saying that, you’ll never get a girlfriend.”

He goes silent. It stays silent for a couple of long seconds and you fear you have said something that made him upset and that was hard to do. “Denki?”

A small soft voice in the darkness calls out, “Y/N, do you like me?”

Your eyes widen and your world comes crashing down. He knew. For god’s sake, he knew. You began to panic. “W-What, like you? You-You’re being ridiculous! How could I like an idiot like you?”

His tone changes, quiet, but sharper. “Is the thought of liking me so unreasonable?”

You are thrown off guard. You don’t know what to say to make this whole thing right. “No! Of course not. It’s definitely reasonable. It’s just–We are best friends, you know? You totally wouldn’t be into me like that.”

He goes silent again and you hear him grip his black plants. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you, Y/N. Y’know like romantically?”

You shake your head, tears begin to line your eyes. You have been wanting to hear that line for two years now. “Stop it. It’s not funny anymore. I can deal with your teasing flirting, but you are going too far, Kaminari.”

“I’m not joking. I like you.” He pauses, thinking. “I like your smile. I like your laugh. I like the way you tease me.” His voice begins to get louder. “I like it when you roll your eyes at me. I like it when you pull pranks with me. I like it when you don’t laugh or make fun of me when I fail a test. I like it when–god I don’t know, I just like you okay?” The closet was beginning to warm up. The both of you were red in the face, and neither of you could see the other.

It’s your turn to go silent as you begin to process everything.

The silence begins to make the blonde panic. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable and I didn’t want to do this in you know–a closet, on a ridiculous mission called SMASH. It doesn’t even make sense! Why the hell did I choose such a stupid name.” He stops his nervous ramblings when he hears the words he desperately craves.

“I like you too.”

He looks up, hopeful.“Really?”

You gulp and try to maintain your blush.“Yeah. For a while now. I was uh, too scared to say anything.”

“What? For real? We could have been dating for so long if you did!

The mood switches, back to the lighter one you guys had earlier. “Oh like you are one to talk. Why didn’t you confess!”

“Because I thought you would reject me!”

“Well, I thought you would reject me!”

The two of you break out into laughter like you usually do. After some time it begins to die down and the two of you try to stare at one another in the darkness. You only manage to see his shadow, but you slowly lean in. He does the same. “Wait,” Denki says and you frown. Did he not want to kiss you?

Suddenly his hands on are your face. “What are you doing.”

“Trying to find your lips. Already messed up the confession, can’t mess up our first kiss too.” At his words, you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his, not giving a damn if you accidentally peck him on the cheek. You don’t miss.

Denki is startled, but leans into the kiss immediately. He grabs your face into his hands and presses his body closer to yours, which was not hard to do considering the little space.

When you pull away, you wish desperately you could see his face. You hope that he was just as flustered and happy as you were. “Was even better than in the dreams,” He mumbles and you laugh.

“Pervert! Having dreams of me already?”

“Oh, like you weren’t writing in your little journal about how, “I developed a schoolgirl crush on my best friend!” He shoots and your eyes widen.

“How did you know that?” You shriek and he begins to laugh.

“I didn’t! I was messing with you. Oh my god you’re adorable, and I thought I was lovesick! At least I can’t control my dreams.”

You use your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

He hums dramatically, tapping his chin in the darkness. “Strange. I swear I just heard you confessing your undying love to me. Maybe that was my other best friend.”

“Mineta?” You tease and he shoots you a glare in the darkness.

“How many times have I told you, I stopped being his friend after our first year! You’re never going to let it go!” He whines and you laugh.

You run your finger through his hair. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you ask me out.”

You barely got to finish the second your response before he was stumbling out, “Y/N do you want to date me?”

“Hmm no, I don’t think so.”

“What?” He yells in pure shock and you quickly press your lips to his. This time you did accidentally land on the side of his mouth, but it was easy to fix.

“I’m messing with you. Of course, I’ll date you, Denki.” You wish you could see the smile that lights up the blonde’s face.

A couple of hours later, your classmates found you and Denki passed out and curled up against one another still in the small metal closet. Nobody was surprised.

#denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #fluff #mha fluff #x reader #mha x reader #denki kaminari fluff #denki x reader #denki imagine #denki kaminari x you #kaminari denki #mha fanfiction #kaminari x y/n #kaminari fluff

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d4yl1ghts · 15 days

Text

i’m the one with an irregular heartbeat

denny duquette x grey, pregnant, fem!reader

summary: you worry about the effects of carrying a patient’s baby but denny reassures you

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion

You forced the eggs that your sister, Meredith, had cooked down your throat. She wasn’t the best cook. You sighed to yourself, you’d found yourself feeling nauseous lately.

Suddenly you felt your eggs coming back up and ran to the closest bathroom. Meredith heard you sprint out and hastily followed you. “You okay?”, she asked as she held your hair back whilst you retched over the toilet. “Yeah. It’s probably just food poisoning from those eggs.”, you joked. Meredith glared at you. “I am not a bad cook!”, she defended. “Then why am I throwing up after I ate them?”, you questioned teasingly. “I don’t know, there could be many causes for that. You should know that as a doctor, Y/N.”, she said as she glanced at you. “Like pregnancy, for example.”, she added as she watched you scrunch your eyebrows.

“Please… as if I’m pregnant.”, you chuckled quietly to yourself. Meredith just gave you a pointed look. “Have you had sex recently?”, she asked. “Right, whatever, I have to go to work.”, you ignored her questioning and rolled your eyes. She walked after you. “I’ll take you.”, she offered. You knew she was going to use this as a chance to find out more information but you didn’t mind having a ride and so you accepted.

As Meredith finally parked the car, you picked up your pace to avoid more of her annoying questions that she had been asking you on the way here. Bailey had assigned you to rounds yet your current priority was finding the pregnancy tests.

You gently closed the door behind you as you entered a supply closet. You glanced around the shelves, hoping for some indication of where one could be. There had to be some in a hospital surely. You were rifling through all the boxes you could find when you heard someone open the door.

“Oh, um, hey Y/N.”, Alex mumbled. “Oh, hi.”, you replied awkwardly. “Why are you in here? Aren’t you meant to be doing rounds?”, Alex asked as he rustled around the boxes. “Yeah. I’m just here… what are you doing here?”, you decided to redirect the conversation. “I’m looking for some supplies for a patient. So, what are you actually looking for because there’s a bunch of boxes all over the place in here?”, he questioned as he looked around the messy closet. “Okay, fine. I’m looking for a pregnancy test. Do you know where I can find one? Also, please don’t tell anyone!”, you said in one breath.

“Oh.”, Alex muttered. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re in here. Do you want me to go and fetch you one? Then they won’t know who it’s for.”, he kindly responded. “That would be amazing. Thank you, Alex.”, you smiled at him softly.

Five minutes later, Alex returned with three pregnancy tests. “Thank you so much!”, you hugged him. “How can I repay you?”, you asked. “Do all my charts for the next two weeks.”, he stated as he smirked at you. “Fine.”, you rolled your eyes with annoyance. “You can’t tell anyone about this though.”, you added. “I promise I won’t.”, he said genuinely.

“Do you want me to like wait with you whilst you do it or-“, he asked quietly as he walked to the bathroom with you. “If that’s okay with you. You have work to do, do you not though?”, you reciprocated. “Yeah but it’s not much. Everyone else is busy doing important things and you look like you need someone to be here with you.”, he replied honestly and sweetly. Alex had a soft spot for you. He was like a brother that you never had. He acted like he was hard-core but really he was a teddy bear beneath the disguise.

You quickly went into the toilet stall and took all of the tests and you had snuck them back out into the supply closet as you wanted Alex to look at it for you but he couldn’t really go into the toilets or do it in the middle of the corridor. “The timer is up.”, Alex said to you. “Can you look?”, you quietly spoke. “Sure.”

Alex rapidly flipped them all over and you could faintly see the plus sign on them all. “Shit.”, you muttered to yourself. You abruptly broke down into tears and Alex pulled you into him. “You’ll be okay.”, he said into your hair. His pager went off. “911.”, he said out loud. “Sorry, Y/N. They need me in the pit. Will you be okay up here?”, he glanced at you with concern. “Yeah, go.”, you said and he looked at you sadly before going.

You knew that Denny Duquette was the father. You hadn’t slept with anyone else recently. You couldn’t believe this. Ellis Grey’s daughter was pregnant with a patient’s baby. You wandered up to Denny’s room, you couldn’t keep this a secret, you’d die from guilt. As you made your way up in the elevator, Meredith just so happened to walk in. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since this morning.”, she asked. “I’m fine.”, you replied as you avoided eye contact. She sighed as she looked at you. You finally looked her in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”, you said as tears blurred your vision.

Fortunately, it was only the two of you in the elevator. She took you into her arms carefully. You and Mer had always been especially close due to your little age gap. Now you were full on sobbing as you glanced at her regretfully. “The father is a patient, Mer!”, you whispered angrily. She stared at you. “Who?”, she asked cautiously. “Denny.”, you simply stated. “This is so bad, Mer. Imagine what people will say when they find out that Ellis Grey’s daughter is pregnant with a patient’s child.”, you added as more tears streamed down your cheeks.

“It will be okay, Y/N. You don’t have to keep it nor do you have to make that choice now.”, she calmed you as she held you in her arms. “I do think you should tell Denny though. He deserves to know. I’m sure he’ll be happy.”, she stated. You huffed as the elevator came to a halt at the level Denny was staying at. “See you.”, you said as you sniffled lightly. She gently smiled at you.

You purposely walked slower than usual to save yourself some time to think of how to announce this. You were shocked, you and Denny had only had sex once. Before long, you had arrived outside of his room. He saw you and waved you in and smirked at you charmingly as he pulled you closer to him. He noticed your nervousness as you okayed with your fingers. “What’s wrong, baby?”, he questioned as he took your hands and pulled you against his chest where he could feel your pounding heart. “You know that I’m the one with an irregular heartbeat, right?”, he said playfully, hoping to calm you down. You closed the blinds and the door. “Denny… I’m pregnant.”, you blurted out.

“Really?”, he asked excitedly. “Yeah.”, you answered. “Is that a good or bad thing?”, he looked at you tenderly. “I’m not sure yet.”, you said. “Okay.”, he replied. “I don’t mind what you choose, Y/N. You can keep it or not. I don’t mind as long as I have you.”, he smiled cheekily at you as he kissed your lips lovingly.

#denny duquette #denny duquette x reader #greys anatomy #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy imagine #greys abc #fem!reader

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

Text

The More You Give ❧ (Part II)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, drug use, grinding, brief mention of masturbation and sex. Reader is shy and full of doubt. Eddie is kind.

Word count | ~6,700

A/N | I am…very late with this. But my excuse is all of a sudden I had a social life I hadn’t planned for. That’s gone now so I should be more regular in updating from now on. It’s likely to be long, I’m at 20 chapters in the plan currently so I’m not looking to spread that out for ages. Thank you for waiting patiently.

Taglist

Previous Chapter

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Lying in bed last night, you felt something like the childish bliss of the night of your Birthday. Presents opened and enjoyed, full and satisfied by your favourite dinner and a cake made special by your Mom. The joy in the knowledge that, tomorrow, everything that had made you so happy would still be there.

Tomorrow, you thought. Tomorrow, Eddie will still be there.

But now you’re wondering if that’s true at all.

You were caught between feeling stupid, like you must be overreacting, getting yourself worried like you always do, and feeling, with certainty, that Eddie had realised he’d made a mistake. It was only a moment, a small thing, or it would be to anyone else, but you’ve been thinking about it all day.

You’d caught his eyes as you walked past Eddie in the hall, your hand coming up to give him a shy little wave. He did see it. His eyes were on you, but they’d only blinked. You might have said it was shock on his face, but he turned away so quickly you couldn’t get a proper read of his expression. Whatever it was, he ended up acting as if you didn’t exist.

“Once we have the posters up, we can get started on the banner,” Heather says, handing you a pile of yellow paper with her smiling picture. Running for Class President has been her main activity since the beginning of the year, and therefore your main activity, too. You look at the pile of paper in your hands. You helped design it, the pretty blue Vote for Heather! written under her picture is in your handwriting.

“Heather, does Patrick ever ignore you?”

“Since he went to college? All the time. But that’s just another guy thing. You got your blue tack?”

You nod and hold it up, accepting that she’s not in the headspace to be your resident boy expert today.

Being with Andy certainly hadn’t given you any experience of this feeling. He would disappear on you for days, weeks even. Then he’d be there, standing at your locker one morning, all apologies and hands clamouring for touches. He’d say he just got so busy the last week, he couldn’t really see you. You would tell him, smiling, that you understood, because that was the easiest way to end the discussion before he was asking to sneak away into a closet and make it up to you. On the weeks he was angry, after another failed attempt at caresses under your skirt, you only felt relief. It was a break from having to explain yourself, something you’ve never been good at, even at instances where you understand your own reasons. At the end, when Andy had laid out all the ways you had disappointed him, the tears had sprung from humiliation and hurt, but exhaustion, too.

But now, one missed moment, one turned head from Eddie. You’re terrified.

You’re still thinking about it after school, wishing you didn’t have to babysit, even if spending time as chief advisor to Princess Grace was often the great joy of your week. She’ll no doubt clock your mood the second you pick her up, and then it’ll be questions you can’t answer for the rest of the night.

If you weren’t so in your head with worry, you would have heard the engine of an approaching van, wailing electric guitar increasing in volume. It’s the sudden screeching halt of it that makes you jump, looking up to find Eddie grinning at you, arm moving in the effort to crank the window down. “You lost, Princess? Pretty sure this is not the way to your castle.”

Here he is, talking to you exactly as he was. Eddie brand kindness, complete with pet names that make your heart flutter even as it calls out, but why?

“I’m babysitting today.”

“Ah! That explains it. You want a ride?”

You curl your fingers in your sleeves, thumbs wrapped in soft cotton, wondering if he means it, deciding he surely can’t. “No, it’s okay.”

Eddie’s face displays his surprise. “Where you headed?”

“The church.”

“Well, can’t say I love it there, but for you-” Eddie jumps out of his van, hand pressed to his chest. “I’ll go wherever I’m needed. C’mon,” he says, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and taking your hand, helping you into the van. Just like yesterday, like there wasn’t a moment this morning where he pretended you didn’t exist. “So,” he says, letting out a little sigh when he’s back in the driver's seat, van speeding away from the curb fast enough that your body is pushed back into the seat. “This a preacher’s kid, or what?”

You blink at him.

“Babysitting at the church.”

“Oh. She’s at the after school club.”

“You like babysitting this one, or is she a little monster like most kids?”

“I like her.”

You see Eddie nod awkwardly in your periphery. “I’m just heading home to pick up an amp,” he tries. “I’m in a band, don’t know if you knew that. We play at the Hideout every Tuesday. You should come see us play, sometime.”

“I babysit on Tuesdays.”

“Right. Shit. Obviously. Of course you do.” He glances at you, his brown eyes searching. “Hey, are you okay? Did something happen today?”

You clench your eyes shut, rubbing the fabric of your sleeves, feeling stupid and confused and overwhelmed with the need not to cry in front of him.

“Baby?” His gaze moves to you, the road, and back again. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? I’ll try and fix whatever it is, I promise.”

His hand finds yours over your sleeve. Slowly, you free your fingers from the fabric, letting him clasp them gently. You swallow. “You didn’t-” God, it sounds so childish now. “I waved at you today, and you didn’t even- I thought-”

Eddie’s hand twitches. Obviously, he remembers the moment as well as you do. You move to let it go but his fingers tighten, linking around yours. “You thought I’d changed my mind?” You nod, sniffling. “No, sweetheart, Jesus. I was just…so fucking surprised, you know? I kinda assumed you wouldn’t want me to talk to you at school. I didn’t know what to do.”

“What?” You ask, voice watery.

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I’m not exactly well liked by the popular crowd. Being seen with me is not gonna do wonders for your reputation.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re not worried about how all your cheerleader friends will react?”

“May’s my only cheerleader friend.”

“It’s seriously not a problem,” Eddie says with conviction, as if your last sentence had only convinced him he was right. “If you wanna keep it between us, I’ll get it. Here we are.” He parks opposite the church, and you spy Grace in the distance, skipping rope behind the fence. “Look, the last thing I want is to be, y’know, something that adds to your worries. It’s…so fucking sweet that it didn’t occur to you, but you should think about it, kay?”

The shame is overwhelming. All the times you didn’t defend him, this boy who would let you hide him away if it kept you happy. All the jokes you laughed along with, at the expense of a boy who was surprised you acknowledged his existence after he treated you with gentle adoration. All the people you sit with every day, who hate a boy who already sees what worry does to you, and would hate to cause any more. He hadn’t ignored you because he doesn’t like you, he’d done it because of how much he does.

“I don’t need to think about it.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Eddie, I think you’re so-” Amazing? Wonderful? Perfect? “I’ve never-” Felt this way before? Let anyone get so close so fast? Wanted someone this much?

You swallow, sigh, find an easier way to say it. “I won’t pretend I don’t like you. I can’t.”

There’s a pause while Eddie blinks slowly. Then he grins. “Well, shit.” Eddie leans in close, his hair falling over his shoulders towards you. “You actually have it bad for me, don’t you?”

You squirm, that pleasant embarrassment filling you up again, your cheeks burning with it. Eddie’s hand finds your face and you lean into it, covering his fingers with your own. His lips are smiling when they meet yours, and his grin is catching.

“Okay. It’s noted,” he says, breath warm on your face. His tongue peeks out once to lick his lips. “Always wave back. Otherwise, hell to pay.”

“Exactly.” You giggle, giving him one more quick peck before climbing out. You stand on your toes and curl your fingers over the edge of the open window. “Thank you for the ride, Eddie.”

“Absolutely any time, Princess,”

“Good luck with your gig.”

“Good luck with the munchkin.”

You bite the inside of your lip. When you don’t leave, Eddie just smiles, letting you take your time in finding the right words.

“I feel silly.”

“Yeah?”

You kick the ground, bouncing the rubber toe of your sneakers off the concrete. “Sometimes I…get in my head; convince myself that something is a disaster when it’s not.”

“Like me not waving at you?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise with the question, and he nods with understanding at the affirmative movement of your head. “Don’t worry.” He taps his temple. “That’s noted, too.”

“Okay,” you say through a sigh, giving one last little rock on your toes. “Bye, Eddie.”

“Later, sweetheart.” He watches you approach the church gates, stopping to talk to an older woman standing by the door. Further in, a girl in a sky blue dress entirely abandons a skipping rope in favour of running towards you, crashing into you with as much force as a girl her size can muster, legs swinging happily when she finds herself held up in your arms.

The next day, as you sort through your locker, you hear him across the hallway. “Hey, Princess!” Turning, you find Eddie with his dimples on full display. He waggles his fingers at you while you tense in joyful embarrassment, smiling at the playful glare he puts on until you wave back.

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“You look nice,” your Mom says, face appearing behind you in your mirror. You smile, feeling content with the glittery shadow that covers your eyelids, the shiny pinkness of your glossed lips. “What’s the occasion?”

“Going on a date.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she says, playing with your hair a little until you tilt your head away, whining in protest. “Does he have a name?”

“Eddie.”

“Is Eddie gonna come in for a while before you go?”

“Mom.”

“I’m only asking. I didn’t meet Andy the whole time and then all of a sudden I hear he’s a disgusting little- well,” she clears her throat. “He was disgusting.”

“Eddie’s not like Andy,”

She hums, unconvinced, still doubtful of your ability to pick the right boys since Andy left you sobbing on the doorstep after your final trip to his house.

The doorbell rings, and you blink, glancing at the clock on your desk in a panic. “Oh, he’s early is he?”

“Mom-”

But she’s gone, flying out of the room like a shot and you groan, searching quickly for your shoes. You hear the door open downstairs as you’re tugging them on, hear your mother’s surprised greeting, the low hum of Eddie’s voice in return. Too late now. You glance in the mirror, smooth your dress down and sigh.

You hear your Mom’s laughter as you walk down the stairs. She turns at the sound of you approaching, grasping a bunch of daisies. “Look what Eddie brought you, honey!” Eddie stands in the open doorway, missing his patched vest over the zipped up leather jacket. His rings, too, are curiously gone. He’s wearing cologne that, from a distance, masks any hint of his habits.

Eddie’s gaze on you is entirely too intense for standing in the hallway with your mother, but she’s distracted enough by the flowers. When she goes in search of a vase, you grab his hand, enjoying how soft his face gets every time you touch him first. You swing your hands and look up from under your eyelashes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Dimples again, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Now, I want her home by midnight,” your Mom says, placing the daisies on a table in the hall. “Don’t think I won’t be up waiting for her.”

“Of course, ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He only moves when you tug his hand, pulling him towards his van. “Very nice meeting you!”

“You, too, Eddie!”

Eddie pulls away from your house with a care you’re sure he hasn’t shown to driving since his test. His expression is all self satisfaction while he unzips his jacket, revealing the W.A.S.P. t-shirt, printed with the full band and a stretched out skeleton, and speeds up the second you turn the corner of your street.

Eddie is in his full metal regalia by the time you reach the diner. His hair, even, has regained its frizziness from the demonstration of his ability to headbang while driving. He looks just as you like him when he goes through his gentleman routine, holding the door of the restaurant open and allowing you to choose your side of the booth first.

You are unused to the comfort you feel in the silence while you read the menu, normally on edge when other people are quiet, wondering if they’re waiting for you to be the one to say something. In the limited time you’ve spoken to Eddie, it feels like he’s already learned exactly how to talk to you, what to expect. If he’s silent, it’s because he’s happy to be.

When you’ve decided, you play with the corner of the menu, watching him shyly. His plush lips, set in a content smile. His long, dark eyelashes on display from his tilted head. His big hands stretched on the table, thumbs tapping a rhythm. The back of his hands, lithe and pale, flex with the movement. His rings are back, of course, displaying the length of his fingers that such chunky jewellery barely covers them to the first bend.

That one there, the middle finger of his right hand, has been inside of you already. You felt the width and length of it stretch and play with you. Your toes curl, and when you glance up, Eddie’s watching you intently, expression playful. Your face heats, and you pull your own hands from the table to play with your fingers under it.

“I’m thinkin’ a burger.”

“Me, too.”

“What you getting to drink?”

“Just water.”

“What? Sweet girl doesn’t want a milkshake or nothing? You don’t like ‘em?”

“No, I do.”

“Yeah?” He smiles conspiratorially. “What’s your favourite?”

“Strawberry.”

“They got that right there!” Eddie says, pointing to the page in front of you.

“Sometimes they just make it with syrup.”

“Ahh, and you don’t like that.” He nods in understanding, smiling when the waitress approaches. “Hi there, we are gonna have two burgers,” he glances at you to get a confirming nod. “A Dr Pepper, and hey, do you guys make your strawberry milkshakes with syrup?”

You watch his polite smile, heart a little sore.

The waitress, name tag reading Dawn, is chipper, shaking her head. “No, we make ‘em with fresh strawberries and ice cream!”

“Great! In that case, we’d like a strawberry milkshake, too. Thank you so much.”

When she’s taken your menus, you find Eddie’s pretty eyes. “Thank you.”

He waves his hand like it doesn’t mean anything. “Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart. I got you.”

You think he really does.

Eddie is good at talking. You like listening to him chat easily about his club and his band while you sip your milkshake. He clearly likes Dustin, one of the younger ones, who he talks about with the frustrated fondness of an older brother. He’s proud of the club, how it's grown, but says with charming humility that he’s aware it lacks feminine presence. Not his plan, he assures, though he’s not entirely sure how to fix it now.

Eddie is good at telling stories. You’re listening intently through each bite of your meal while he describes with impressive memory his first time DMing, overconfident and underprepared, something he’s clearly learned a lesson from.

Eddie is also good at prompting you, giving you space to speak as much or as little as you want.

“I don’t know if you remember, but uh, I played a middle school talent show with the band.”

“I remember,”

“You do?”

You nod, playing with your straw and smiling. “Thought you were brave.”

“Oh, Jesus, that fucking hurts.” You giggle as he clasps his heart only to return to full health a second later to eat seven fries together in a pile. “That bad, huh?”

“I meant that you were doing something different.”

“Different is one word for it. Kinder than most people, though, so I appreciate that.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” He raises his eyebrows. “Letting people judge something you care about?”

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s metal to just do it anyway. Especially here, where they’re bound to hate it, no matter how good we get. What’s the alternative? Playing in a garage for the rest of my life, hoping we’re good enough but not taking the risk that we might not be? Nope. Nah, man. Not me.” He shakes his head in earnest, bringing his hand up to point at himself. “I know I might not ever be successful, or even make enough from music to live, but I am for sure gonna fucking try.” He eats a couple more fries, has another thought while chewing and continues with them shoved to the side of his mouth. “Same reason I haven’t dropped out, y’know?” Eddie swallows, looking intense and sure of himself. “Nobody is ever gonna be able to say I gave up, that I didn’t try.”

You are wide eyed in admiration of him.

“Besides,” he grins, leaning into you. “I am really fucking good.”

As if heated, Eddie shakes his hair out a little, and removes his jacket, sighing. His bare arms are pale and inked. A flock of bats by his elbow, a demonic puppeteer on the inside of his forearm. When he brings his right arm across his torso to stretch, you spy a third and blink in recognition.

“You like my tats?” He asks, mischief in his tone.

“Is that a wyvern?”

He blinks, surprise evident. “Uh, yeah- yes. It is. How did you know that?”

You chew a fry. “Two legs.”

“Oh, yeah of course, how stupid of me. I forgot everybody knows that,” he laughs, shaking his head a little incredulously.

You hum. “They pop up in old Celtic stories and poems.” You tap your feet a little, gearing yourself up, that feeling of knowing you have something to say and wondering if you really want to say it. “The word has a cool origin, too.”

Eddie gestures for you to elaborate, then rests his head on his open hand.

“Well, it’s- some people think it comes from, um, wivre, which is Old French for snake, essentially. And then other people think it’s Old English. Cause that language has, um, wiver, which is snake, and guivre, which means a javelin? So, a javelin snake, like a flying snake. A wyvern.” You sip your milkshake almost violently to shut yourself up, still tapping your feet under the table while Eddie stares at you. You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not useful information. I just like stuff like that. I don’t know.”

“Things don’t have to be useful, if you like them.” Eddie leans forward. “Thank you for sharing something you care about, baby. Very metal.”

You twirl your straw in your milkshake, grinning at the table. “So, they’re used in your campaigns sometimes?”

“Of course,” he grins, starting to tell you about their powers, the way they can be used by somebody like him, a Dungeon Master, to add stakes to the worlds he creates. It’s like he knows, after your question, that you need him to be the one to talk for a while.

Eddie pays the bill while you’re in the bathroom, your resulting glare only making him more pleased with himself. “I’ll-” you start, stop, grab his hand and gain some confidence. “I’ll pay next time.”

“Next time,” Eddie agrees, squeezes your hand tight.

You glance at the time on his watch when you’re buckled up in his van. “Where we going, Eddie?”

“Well, that’s up to you. If you want we could go to my place? If I’m honest, usually around this time on a Friday I’m, well...high? Was wondering if you still wanted me to teach you how to smoke.”

You get a little fuzzy at the suggestion, remembering Eddie’s quip about what he might do when you were high. Just a joke, you knew that, but the thought of him touching you when you’re a little out of it is worryingly appealing.

“Okay.”

“You sure? Cause we can just watch a movie or something. Or if you’re tired I can take you home.”

“‘M not tired.”

Eddie’s pleased look is heat inducing in the evening light.

He warns you on the way, suddenly, that he lives in a trailer. Not ashamed, or defensive, just a mention. When you get there, he swings his feet on the way over to the door, holding it wide open and gesturing for you to enter in front of him. It’s nicely cool, a screened window open to let a gentle breeze drift through the air. You note a couch, chairs, a TV to your right, a little kitchen to the left that looks like it hasn’t experienced the presence of a woman in years.

“Eddie, do you live alone?”

“Nah, I live with my Uncle, but he works nights, so…we got this whole place to ourselves.” He grabs your hand, pulls you walking backwards down the hallway. “Bathroom,” he says, pointing to the first door you walk by. “Closet.” He taps the one opposite. You reach the end of the hall. “My room.”

If you had to guess what Eddie’s room would be like, this would be it. Posters and drawings line the walls, an electric guitar hanging by a mirror on the far wall. There’s tapes littered all over the place, a pile of records by a player. You smile at the clear attempt to condense the mess of clothes in one corner, a high pile lined with t-shirts to try and cover whatever else might be in there.

While Eddie opens a window, you sit up on his bed, leaning down to remove your shoes so you can tuck your feet up and cross your legs comfortably. Eddie turns and stares at you, giving a long blink. He watches you even as he crosses the room to start a cassette up, intense electric guitar and heavy drums filling the room until he turns it down for your more sensitive ears. Eddie takes one big step towards you, presses his fingers to your shoulder briefly. When he visibly pinches himself and flinches, you grab his hand, eyebrows creased in disapproval.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Just really, really had to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

Eddie lies himself easily back on his bed, legs stretched out, toes wiggling in his white tube socks. Like this, spread out and comfy in his t-shirt and jeans, Eddie looks so boyish and handsome it makes you want to crawl into his lap and stay there forever. You think about it while he grinds weed fished out of a plastic bag, wondering how seriously he meant the promise of no funny business. He pats the space next to him without looking up from his work. “C’mere.”

You settle back into his spare pillow, keeping your legs tucked in, your knee just resting on his thigh. Eddie’s pink tongue peeks out, wet and wide, to get the paper ready, then it stays there, held between his teeth while he concentrates on rolling it up properly. “Okay,” he says, expression serious on you as he turns the joint in the flame of his lighter. “Want you to take a couple deep breaths through your mouth for me, yeah? In and out.” He watches you do what he says. “What you wanna do is, sorta, get it in your mouth first, then you breathe from there, like so.” You watch him, the sudden intensity of the cherry when he wraps his pink lips around it, then the slow movement of his chest. He blows the smoke away from you before holding the joint out for you to take. He senses some hesitancy and shakes his thigh under your knee. “You don’t have to, baby. No pressure from me.”

“I’m gonna cough.”

“Damn right. Looking kinda dumb the first time you smoke is a right of passage. But it’s only myself here to see it, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You do cough, a symptom of breathing in too fast in your nervousness. Eddie pats your back softly, taking a couple pulls from the joint while you try to clear your throat from the burning sensation, looking up to keep your watering eyes at bay.

“That’s it, let it out. You gotta let it sit for a while. There’s no rush. Open your mouth even, get some air mixed in.” You follow that advice clumsily, but it’s easier, and followed after some time by the strange gentle wave that makes you want to settle back into his pillows and bury your face in them. Eddie watches some of the tenseness fall from your shoulders. “That’s it, huh? One more, baby, then you’re good.”

“Okay, Eddie,” you murmur, taking another drag before handing it back to him. He leans over your body to dispense some of the ashes in the tray on the table next to you. Your eyes stick to the porcelain column of his neck, stretched out and tense from leaning, relaxing as he sits back, settling the ashtray on the middle of the bed. You sigh, giving in to the need to relax entirely, slumping down until you’re only tilted at the shoulders. “I like your room.”

“Yeah? It’s a bit of a mess.”

“Did you do the drawings?”

“I did.”

“You’re so talented, Eddie.” You hum, turning on your side to look up at him properly. You reach out to grab the hand on the opposite side of you, the left one, covered in rings. You run your finger along them. A cross, a pig, a skull.

“You like ‘em?”

You smile a little, thinking yourself very clever when you reply. “I like you.”

“Me? You’re serious, baby?”

“You knew already.”

“Yeah, but it’s still hard to believe.” The weed is nice, makes you feel at ease, drifting instead of fighting to stay afloat. But you aren’t confident enough to list out all the reasons it should be very easy for Eddie to believe he is liked. Instead you keep playing with his rings, linking your fingers through his. “I like you, too, you know.”

Your sigh is deep and long. “That is hard to believe. I haven’t done anything at all to make you like me.”

There’s a pause, then Eddie’s detangling his fingers from yours gently, spliff hanging from his lips while he searches his bookcase. His fingers waggle, hand darting from shelf to shelf then a soft. “Ah, there you are.” You sit up when Eddie climbs back onto his bed, presenting you with his found book.

Sonnets to Orpheus. Beat up and a different addition to your own copy, but overall the same book. “I’ve sat through so many of those presentations, you know? You blew them all out the water.”

You tighten your fingers around the cover, shaking your head. Even like this, you couldn’t believe that for a second. “You must be confusing me with someone else.”

“Baby, I went out and bought the book. Read every poem in there, too. Thought I could,” he huffs a laugh and sits back, taking a long drag before he continues. “Thought I could, you know, impress you, maybe, one day. Which I’ve ruined now by admitting it, but it’s the truth.”

His tone, self consciousness mixed with sincerity as he tells you tried to understand something you love, did so entirely to impress you, fills you with fondness for him. The high is gently fading, but the confidence it brought is replaced by the growing feeling of safety that Eddie seems to radiate.

You rest the book on his bedside table, toes curling in your socks while you give in to what you’ve wanted since Eddie splayed himself out on the bed. You climb into his lap, calves pressed to the mattress either side of his thighs, feeling immediately right. That you are where you belong. His expression is all wide eyed surprise, especially when you take the joint from him and put it out in the ashtray, getting one final hit from what he breathes out across your face. You breathe it in, the bitter smell of it overtaken by Eddie’s aftershave, cheap but pleasant, sticking to the skin of his neck.

Safe, you think, leaning forward to kiss Eddie’s throat. You feel him swallow under your lips. Hands resting on his shoulders, you press kisses under his chin, the end of his cheek. His eyes are closed, letting your lips search the skin of his face until you reach his pink lips, giving the bottom one a quick taste with the tip of your tongue before you kiss him properly. Eddie’s hands come to your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your dress when your tongue finds his, fingers digging in a little at the soft, excited moan you let escape.

“I promised no funny business,” he says when you pull away to cast heavy breaths.

“Just kisses.”

Eddie fixes you with a look of disappointment that stokes the heat between your legs. “I think you’re looking for a little more than kisses though, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Your hips twitch, and the resulting laugh is harsh enough to send excited shivers down your spine. “Mm-hm, that’s what I thought. C’mon then, take what you want.” You blink, lips falling to a gentle pout that makes Eddie shake his head, hair moving about his face. “Don’t know what you want, do you, baby?” He pouts right back at you when you shake your own head. “No, course not.”

The hands on your hips press you down, spreading your legs wider on top of him until the warm place between your thighs is in direct contact with the denim of his jeans. You gasp, whimper a little at the stiffness there. “Been like this since I saw you sat on my bed, baby, looking all pretty and at home. Wanted to get you like this the second we walked in but, y’know, I was trying to be chivalrous.” His hands help you move in a slow roll over him, the cotton of your panties rubbing your weeping entrance, catching on your clit just a little at the end. “But what am I supposed to do when you sit yourself all wide eyed and willing in my lap, mm? I am but a man.”

You bear down a little, knees bouncing on his mattress to press the bulge at his crotch deeper, wanting him between your lips, wanting him inside. You whine low in your throat. “Eddie.”

“Know you haven’t ever had anything inside, but need you to tell me, sweetheart. You ever rubbed this little cunt on someone?”

“No, no. Nobody but you, Eddie. Just-” You gasp, finding the right tilt of your hips to drag the wet, sticky fabric of your panties across your aching clit. You focus on that angle, bouncing and rolling your hips against Eddie’s hard cock through his jeans.

“Just what?” You hum in question, mind already losing the thread of the conversation. Eddie digs his fingers into your ass, making you whimper. “What have you rubbed this pretty cunt on, baby?”

“Mm. Use my pillow sometimes.”

“Jesus Christ.” His eyes clench shut, jaw set in a way that would make you worried he was angry if you weren’t focused on how to rub your pulsing clit just right. Your panties are stuck fast between your lips now, exposing some of the wet skin to the air, to the roughness of Eddie’s dark jeans. “What do you think about?”

“Mm?”

“C’mon now. When you’re riding your pillow. What’s goes on in your busy head?”

“Oh,” your body clenches, thinking about the last time, just this week. Not as good as this, not nearly, but better than any time before because you knew what Eddie’s hands felt like, had kissed his lips and heard him speak to you, heard him call you good and pretty and sweet.

“Gotta know for my sanity. C’mon, please, tell me.”

“You,” you whimper, clit twitching happily at the sound of his groan above you. You press your face to his neck, hidden by his hair, deep in the smell of him that makes your head light. It takes you a second of gathering your thoughts, your bravery, but you continue. “You, mmh, saying I’m good.”

Eddie presses one of his hands to your cheek, bringing you up to face him. He tilts his head to you, eye contact intense and overwhelming, your chest tightening. “Talking to me like this? You’re so fucking good. I know it’s hard for you, baby, and you’re doing so well.” He nods as the tears build in your eyes. You are half wanting to look away, but the feeling there in his brown eyes is something you can’t get enough of. You want to see it all the time, the tenderness there, the pride. “Sweet girl, making us both feel so fucking good.”

You like that, smiling with pride. “Feels nice?”

Eddie laughs, finally letting you look away when he presses a long kiss to your forehead, hand moving to massage the back of your neck while his chin rests on top of your head. “So nice. S’fucking warm, bouncing all pretty on my lap. Your pussy’s gonna leave my jeans all wet, isn’t that right, baby?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer, mouth occupied by soft moans and little, begging whimpers. His hand is large and warm at the back of your neck, massaging points of pressure that make you feel like a kitten in his grasp, mewling for the comfort of his touch. Your hole clenches, missing him, gushing wet at the thought he might play inside again soon. You want him so much, the thought is distant but sure. If Eddie asked, he could lay you back and fuck you on his bed right now.

More than the perfect drag of your sodden panties over your clit, more than the hard press of Eddie’s thickness through fabric against your hole, the thought of Eddie above you, hair wild and falling around you, stretching you out on his cock and groaning, pushes you over.

“That’s it. Fuck,” Eddie laughs at the sudden change in rhythm, the desperate circling press of the top of your cunt against him, the sound of you bouncing on your knees against his mattress. His hand keeps rubbing your neck softly, keeping your mouth at the base of his throat while you clench up and cum against him, pussy leaking enough slick it’s starting to seep through the fabric, leaving even the check cotton of his underwear a little damp with you.

You breathe deep, Eddie’s neck perfect to press your face into and whine when you start your hips up again. You avoid your sensitive clit, but allow Eddie to guide your hips over him, firmly rubbing his aching cock. “That’s it, make me feel so good, baby- yeah-” You feel the moment he cums, a violent twitch against your cunt, his hands suddenly halting your movement altogether while he groans, low and desperate into the air. “Fuuuuck,” he breathes, then laughs, lips finding your forehead again. “Jesus Christ, you are a fucking temptress.” You look up at him, blinking in confusion. “Just made me break a solemn vow. I’m pretty sure this counts as funny business.” He sighs, head falling back on his neck. “Certainly wasn’t very chivalrous of me.”

“I needed you.”

His head comes back up with a grin on it. “Thanks for the loophole. Couldn’t just ignore a Princess in need. If anything, this should earn me the title.”

You rest your head on his chest, hearing the beat of his heart as it slows steadily. Eddie strokes your hair from your temple, hand hiding you from the world while you recover. You tilt your head, a silent petition that Eddie reads and grants within a second, lips finding yours in multiple kisses of decreasing length until he’s pecking your mouth, then your cheek, eyelids, forehead, back down to your nose, your chin. You giggle when he starts all over your neck, never stopping in one place until he finds a soft little spot at your collar bone which he pulls between his lips harshly.

Your hand tangles in his soft hair, keeping him there through the wide lick of his tongue against that spot, soothing the ache. There will be a mark there already no doubt, Eddie’s first claim on you. Ask me, a desperate, weak part of you thinks. I’ll let you do anything.

Instead, he holds you in his arms, lying back on his bed and letting you curl up at his side, staring at the serene expression on his face. When he opens one pretty eye to find you gazing at him, you aren’t even embarrassed.

Eddie lets you use the bathroom first when he starts shifting uncomfortably, needing to deal with the cooling cum in his boxers. The thought makes you a little giddy while you clean yourself up, that you made him feel good this time instead of getting trapped in your head. He runs in there when you’re done, holding a spare pair of underwear and jeans, but not before giving you another press of his lips to your forehead.

He finds you on his bed when he returns, swinging your legs a little and happy to see him back. Eddie stands over you for a minute, stroking your hair and watching for any signs of what happened the last time he touched you. All he finds is a sated, happy girl, so he clears his throat, suddenly turning to the piles of cassettes and picking one off the top. “I, uh, made something for you.”

He hands you the cassette, the white J-card reading METAL FOR BABIES written in scratchy black biro. Under that, a list of tracks and artists.

“Classic stuff on there. You might not like it. I mean, I have no idea what you’re into but I thought it would be kinda cool, you know? It’s nothing too heavy, so you might like it. And it’ll get you used to it, you know? Since you’ll be hearing a lot of it, probably, from now on.”

Your heart cries, yes please.

Eddie gets you home by half eleven, even after toning down his usual speeding violations to spend a little more time able to look at you, clutching your new tape, sitting comfy in his van, kicking your legs happily. With the warning that your Mom would no doubt make good on her promise to stay up, Eddie has lent you a black oversized hoodie, already big on him so it sits on you comfy, the arms long enough to cover your fingers, the neckline high enough to cover the mark he’d left on your collar.

He walks you up to your door, hands in his pockets, legs back to swinging. “I wanna see you again like immediately,” he admits, leaning right into your space the way he’s prone to doing. His face is close to yours, watching your agreeing nod. “You wanna do something tomorrow? We could go to the lake, maybe?”

Another nod. “I can make lunch.”

“I’ll bring beer.”

You give him a kiss, hand flat on his chest. “See you tomorrow?”

Eddie sighs dramatically. “Until then, sweet lady.”

You watch him drive away from your kitchen window, hands covering your warm cheeks. Your wet eyes close tight. Your heart sings.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #we cross our fingers this shows up in the tags this time #tmyg

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angelkissiies · 9 months

Text

e. prentiss relationship headcanons

╰╮ cw / tw : mention of death, mention of arson, fluff, tiny angst, wlw (fem reader)

* she buys you flowers every single week, whether she’s in another state or country— you can always count on a vase of flowers to find their way onto your doorstep when you get home from work. it’s the one thing she never seemed to shake, even after her alleged death by the hands of ian doyle, she couldn’t help but let you know she was still alive.

tear streaks stained your cheeks, a dark pink coloring your face as you clutched the recently departed woman’s sweatshirt— sharp cries rising from your lips as you shuddered. it was friday, a week gone since the death of emily, but somehow it felt like no time had passed. you’d been sitting in a hollow shell of your old body since the call from aaron, the one waiting for her to walk through the front door with her suitcase in tow. the one who had just placed the bouquet of baby’s breath in fresh water. the one who was still engaged to the love of her life.

a sharp knock arose from the front door, the noise numbed after the past five days being bombarded with friends and family. you couldn’t find the strength to move. it wasn’t until the person waiting spoke, “mavis’s flowers, delivery for—.”

you shot from your place on the couch, slinging the door open as you stared wide eyed and petrified at the vase of tulips in the man’s hands. as he handed you the vase, sparing an odd look at your current state, you jerked the card from its spot— in machine printed letters it read “i would never miss a delivery.”

* can make fantastic coffees and lattes, but, overall isn’t the best cook. she ends up buying an espresso machine for your apartment, as she rarely ends up staying in her own, so every morning she ends up waking you with the obnoxiously loud coffee grinder she purchased on the side.

morning light streamed through your blinds, catching slightly on your dark blue curtains before landing on your eyeline— making you ease, unwillingly, out of your sleep. as you twisted uncomfortably to avoid the streams of sunlight, your, now burning, eyes landed on the hand painted mug emily had made for you on your first anniversary. from the top, you could see small tendrils of steam rising from the liquid inside— meaning it was still hot.

you shrugged out from underneath the heavy duvet, hand clasping around the handle as you tested the warmth, taking a small sip. the taste sent a shiver down your spine, it was perfect— just like every morning.

* she takes you to work with her constantly for parties and celebrations. she can’t bear leaving you out of something to important to her. so you’ll get a text around noon, telling you to be ready for some event you can’t quite remember the name of— and you always oblige. if anyone loved the team, it was definitely you, finding yourself that evening wedged between emily and penelope as they all chatter on about something or other.

“and you’ll never believe it, but the guy actually cried! our emily made him cry!” penelope ranted, an excited smile on her face as you nodded along. the conference room was decorated for valentine’s day, though it had recently passed (reid hadn’t been able to deduce the correct decor, as ‘congrats on catching an infamous serial arsonist’ didn’t bode well with the decor company) and small paper cups filled with a mock tail were being passed around to everyone. “you should be so proud of her.”

“oh, i am.” you smiled, feeling the woman’s grip on yours tighten as she entertained a conversation with aaron and spencer.

* lets you rummage around her closet. the woman’s known to have expensive taste in clothing, coming from such a privileged background— it is to be expected. so when you’re pacing the floor, overstimulating yourself with outfit plans for work or— hell, even to go out to brunch, she simply grabs something of her own (that she knows you like) and sets it out for you to find. it never fails to put you to ease.

clothes scattered across the bed, failed outfits discarded into a pile on the floor as you eased yourself down to sit on the edge of the bed. you needed to leave in less than an hour and all you could do was try not to cry. a knock came at the door and you jumped, watering eyes shooting up to see emily slowly sliding through the cracked door with a hanger, of something unrecognizable through the haze of your tears, in her hands.

“th—,” “you don’t have to thank me, sweetheart.”

* lipstick marks. it’s like a ritual for her, especially after a long trip away, she’ll come home— still in her work clothes, gun tucked away in its holster— and find you, wherever you might be, and attack you with a dozen kisses to your lips and cheeks. she knows how dark her lipstick is and she knows how messy the two of you get after such a venture, but she couldn’t care less about the smudged edges of her own lips when she pulls back to admire the prints scattered across your face in varying shades.

“you gonna help me get this off?” you giggled, moving a hand up to swipe the lipstick off of her cheek with a gentle movement— fingers hovering slightly over her worn makeup, tracing the crease of her mouth.

“well, i kinda like how pretty you look. it’s a nice shade on you, i think maybe you need a little more.” she hummed in response, leaning down to meet your lips.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss cm #cm x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #misc

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mrwinterr · 2 years

Text

Over & Over (Again) - Part 1

Pairing(s): Pornstar!Pietro Maximoff x Female Reader (mention of Pornstar!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader)

Summary: You and Bucky are set to work with each other again, but insecurities and shit. Read Part 1 here.

Warnings: Adult themes. | Smut 18+

Disclaimer: I still don’t know how the porn industry works. We’re here for a good time, not a long time.

A/N: Fuck it. I wrote this and never finished it, but why should I deprive anyone who happens to want read this AU? Also, feel free to visualize either portrayals of Pietro in this piece. Enjoy!

“Now, I want a full report on everything that happens on that set, okay?” Wanda requests as she follows you out from your walk-in closet, where you had grabbed a new pair of lingerie for the said film you’re currently packing for, and back into your bedroom to stuff it into your suitcase at the last minute.

She doesn’t see the humorous roll of your eyes, but she knows you made some sort of playful gesture because of Natasha, who was lounging on your bed, and the smirk adorning her face. As your mentor, she still checked with you each time you left to film and you were always grateful for her advice. Her support is exactly what you’d be needing too because you were booked to film a scene for another prominent director - Tony Stark. For that reason, Wanda was eager to seek out any kind of insight she could get from you on how to continue in outing her rival.

“Let the girl focus on her real job, Wan,” Natasha says trying to get her off your back. It wasn’t actually a bother, but rather amusing to you that she and Tony would go to such lengths to outdo the other. He paid a hefty price with Natasha for her to allow him to book you for his next film. More importantly, she wouldn’t have steered you in the wrong direction or thrown you out there if you weren’t ready.

Your shoot with Bucky struck gold within the porn community and the momentum you picked up didn’t slow its roll. Just as you were told, you were a hot commodity! Your ranking skyrocketed, you were getting booked left and right, started working with bigger names and companies, which all meant you were getting paid more. It’s been quite the journey and the break you’ve been looking for since you started a career in the adult film industry.

“You’re right,” Wanda agrees, letting out a big sigh to alleviate her worry. “What am I really worried about? No one can top that film I did with her and Bucky,” then flashes a small, complacent smile to the two of you.

“Yeah, except maybe a sequel of her and Bucky…” Natasha counters with another knowing smile of her own.

“What?!” Wanda asks, bewildered, eyes bugging, the worry starting to creep back in on her face.

“Oops, I guess we forgot to mention to Wanda who your co-star was, didn’t we?” Natasha directs the question to you, getting a kick out of Wanda’s reaction. You shake your head at your friends before zipping up your bag and setting it on the ground, ready for you to roll on out with.

“How could you forget such a huge detail like that?” She questions, and it doesn’t stop there. “I can overlook the fact that he’s paying your expense to a lavish city in Europe, but not her and Bucky again!”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Wanda,” you say so casually with a shrug and you don’t miss the dead unamused look on her face because she knows what you said was complete bullshit to her. The now infamous video had been seen by millions and in counting, hell, you were already getting early nominations for it. Wanda feared that she wouldn’t be able to follow up to it and now her rival, who is just as acclaimed is getting a shot.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get at is that it doesn’t matter who I work with,” you explain with a different approach.

“Exactly. She was the star of that video not Bucky,” Natasha backs you up.

“Yes, but the chemistry between you two is unmatched!” Wanda insists. She’s not wrong. The connection and vibes both you and Bucky gave off was so authentic and believable that it made it a hit and for fans to beg for more in the comments.

“I don’t know…” you pipe up unexpectedly. Sex with Bucky was great and if you could you’d do it over and over again with him, but while you too were convinced you had great chemistry with him, you also didn’t want to feel type casted to work with one person your whole career.

The silence from your friends only indicated for you to continue. They were rather astonished because they knew there just had to be more of you and Bucky than you weren’t letting on.

“I mean...I work well with anyone,” you say, trying to make a point. Who were you trying to convince though? Unless you fess up and swallow your pride, you couldn’t take that back and had to just finish that thought process. “I had great reviews on the new video I did with Pietro!”

Well, you weren’t lying there. It was one of your “milestone” videos so to say. The kind that showed off where you were now, what kind of things have you learned now that you’re a “star” and people played into that, seeing the newbie become pro and only get better from then on.

“Yeah, about that…” Natasha speaks up, “...is having sex with him the slightest bit weird for you?”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, puzzled with her genuine curiosity.

“In a way, it’s like you’re having sex with Wanda,” she clarifies.

“We may be twins, but that’s totally not the same thing!” Wanda interjects.

“We work in porn, there’s nothing weird about anything,” you answer hoping that settles it. The more you worked in this industry, the more comfortable you became with things that may seem strange to most. Wanda and Pietro were both in this line of business and no doubt know about each other's work, but that’s the kind of thing that grows on you in the porn industry.

“It’s totally not the same thing and as I was saying Pietro and I get good views, Steve and I get good views...need I go on?” continuing your spiel that who your co-star is makes no difference at all.

“To an extent, yes, you do,” Natasha compromises, but you know your friends aren’t all the way convinced yet, “...but you’re still not denying it.”

“Whatever happened between you and Bucky?” Wanda asks the million dollar question. You were able to avoid the topic for a few months now, but a part of you knew with their track record, they’d bring it back up, “...I thought things were working out for you two.”

“Yeah, well I thought so too until he started ghosting me,” you reply with a hint of bitterness and annoyance at the unpleasant feeling of how his actions left you resurfacing.

“Hold on! He what?!” Natasha asks. How dare he, right? The guy makes a show of how infatuated he was with you during a shoot of all places and some months later tosses you aside like the others? Natasha was seeing red only because she was protective of you. Had she known, she wouldn’t have given you off like that again to Bucky to boost his profile.

“He just stopped replying to me one day,” you finally reveal. You don’t know where or when it went wrong, but who were you kidding? Could you two really have made a relationship work while working in the porn industry?

“When?” She continues to dig for more, Wanda leaning over intrigued by this admission.

As far as all parties were considered, everything was looking good between you and Bucky. The pair of you did go out on a few dates, recorded some home videos to upload, some private and others exclusive paid content. During all that, you were absolutely happy with your life. Your career took off, you had the best support from your friends and colleagues, and on top of that a sweet and sexy guy by your side. It was becoming believable that you two could make it work...except apparently some feelings weren’t put aside well enough.

“I don’t know…” you sigh and plop down on the end of your bed exhausted of this topic and the thought of Bucky, “...probably around the time he flew out of the country for a shoot and I was filming that sequel with Pietro.”

You were starting to reconsider this whole shoot now. Did he meet someone else on that trip? Someone better than you? Still, he could’ve at least had the decency to let you down. You can tell your friends are absorbing this new information as Wanda gently pats and runs a hand down your arm, noticing the light distress that’s overcome you. You turn your head to look towards Natasha from behind after hearing her make a noise suggesting she has an idea.

“What is it, Nat?” Wanda asks for you.

“Wilson said Barnes has a hard time watching you perform with other guys...” she starts out.

“That’s ridiculous! We do this for a living,” you’re quick to respond, not even entertaining the mere possibility of what she’s presenting to the table.

“He’s jealous!” Wanda blurts out connecting the dots, “...of you and Pietro!” Both of them looked at each other, carrying a proud look on their faces at believing they had it all figured out.

There’s a befuddled look on your face and you’re wondering if that could be it. Bucky always played it so smooth and cool with you, never showed any signs of jealousy before, but if you look back hard enough, you start to make sense of the timeline.

The whole duration of your “fling” with Bucky was when you were doing solo videos and/or girl-on-girl scenes. It was an experimental turn of your career and when he flew off to work on his next big project, you accepted the scene with Pietro.

“So, welcome back! It’s been a year since you’ve been on this couch,” the director states the obvious and to which you smile at, reminiscing that very day.

You were so green and nervous, and in some aspect you still felt that way. The sole purpose of you being asked to come back here was to show off what you’ve learned from being an adult film performer. Newly found confidence was the point of this shoot and not so much of what you could take, but what you could offer.

The only sense of comfort you were given then and now is from the person sitting next to you. Pietro was your first co-star and you were put at ease because you always felt safe with him. He calmed your mind and nerves on day one and taught you to take only what you like from any other guy you’d work with later down the road. You loved being in Pietro’s company and you had loads of fun working with him, but that’s just what it was, work. The relationship with him was strictly professional.

“You look amazing!” The director boasts.

“Thank you,” you respond modestly and put on a show of bashfulness.

“You’ve really made a name for yourself since then haven't you?”

“I guess…” you shrug playfully and continue to downplay. You’re always being told to just take the damn compliment but everything you’ve managed to achieve in a short amount of time was still so surreal to you.

“You’re kidding, right?” Pietro butts in jokingly.

“It’s only been a year!” You argue, shaking your head at him. There’s a smile on your face that you fail to conceal from him because it’s hard to legit be mad around Pietro when you’ve only felt happiness in his presence. He was very dear to you.

“And? A lot can happen in a year!” He counters, poking a hole through your logic and literally your side, causing you to squirm into his arms.

He got you there, alright, and the subtle smirk on his striking face, blue eyes luring you into the deep end, only pushed your buttons.

Okay, if they’re all so adamant that you’re this new Pro…you’d show them.

“You didn’t see that coming, did you?” You jab at Pietro, during the scene, and using one of his most used lines against him, after you successfully overtake him out of nowhere.

With him against the backrest of the couch, your legs straddling his hips, effectively trapping him in place, hands braced on top of his pecs. Well into this scene, he’d let his guard down for a few seconds after some deep and good thrusts of his hips into yours. When his quick pace began to falter, that was just the opening you needed to shine.

“Fuck me,” he pleads breathlessly, his fingers squeezing at the flesh of your hips. You feel his cock twitch up against your wet folds and your body naturally reacting by grounding eagerly on him. A satisfied hum escapes both your mouths almost at the same time as you reach down to guide him back inside your heat.

Being on top used to make you feel self conscious, especially when you were being filmed, but it was a power move you learned to master. Everyone loved a good view of the action, the way your greedy cunt dripped for the lucky cock that would find its way snug inside you and not to mention your ass and how it bounced from each force.

You roll your hips deliciously, loving the way your clit drags against the base of his cock and how the tip scratches along your walls. Pietro’s head rests on the edge of the backrest, you brush away his matted hair from his forehead to look at him. You’re absolutely reeling on the blissed out expression on his face, eyes half-lidded, eyebrows slightly furrowed, sweat building up along his hairline, and his lips parted in want.

Of course, you weren’t super human and your stamina could only take you so far, the scene ends with your back flat on the couch again, one leg propped upright against Pietro’s chest and the other hanging off the edge of the couch.

“Look at you…” Pietro comments, admiring the white streaks of his warm cum strewn across your midsection, up as far as your breasts, while he slowly tugs at his sensitive cock of every drop he has right then for you. The last bit of it that dribbles from the tip and pooling onto your skin causes you to moan inwardly, almost setting you ablaze once more.

“You made me cum so fast!” You comment letting out little fits of giggles and covering your exhausted face, almost embarrassed. Your pussy was still tingling as your orgasm coursed and rocked right through you so suddenly. The fourth wall never existed in this shoot because your amusement is only heightened when the director joins in on the joke pretending that Pietro ruined everything by unintentionally making quick work of it.

You’ve had lots of great sex with others prior to today, but Pietro knew where to aim his cock just at the right spot better than most. At first, it made you feel a bit pathetic that you’d come almost instantly with him, but you made up for it in other aspects.

“No one has ever made me cum that quick,” you mention rather shyly.

He beams at the compliment, plants a few soft kisses on your calf before letting your leg down to carefully hover over you. He gently caresses your cheek, before reminding everyone who he was, “they don’t call me Quicksilver for nothing.”

“You’re such a dork!” You tease, another smile breaking through, then start running your fingers through the thick fluid that stained your hot skin before bringing them up and engulfing them in your mouth sucking on his essence. He lets out a low groan, entranced by your sexual allure, watching your throat contract as you swallow and the way your fingers slip all nice, wet and clean from your lips.

“Oh, you’re a star, alright,” he says when you’ve finished cleaning up his mess and smiling down proud of how much you’ve improved since your first scene. Thriving on the praise, you bring him back in closer by the nape of his neck, your fingers digging into his silver hair on the back of his head, as your lips press to his in a sweet kiss.

“How quick can you make me cum again?” You challenge, locking your legs around him for more.

The skin of his knuckles turned white from the death grip he doesn’t realize he has on the small screen of his phone, having watched your next best film to date. His blood curdled knowing that someone seemed to outperform him.

Fucking Pietro Maximoff, and his talent to get his co-stars off in an instant as if he had a magic touch or something. No, what bothered Bucky the most was how not only flawless you were, but your raw talent. Everything you did looked so effortless on your part, like you were born to be in front of the camera and adored by.

After watching the movie a few times, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let his feelings get the best of him and the undeniable connection he had with you on set that day was just you playing it up for the cameras. After all, you’re an actress and your job is to look good with almost anyone you were paired with.

He wasn’t sure why he was watching this more than once. At first, it was to support you but then seeing how comfortable you were with Pietro and how you fawned over him, made Bucky’s skin crawl. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was anything more to you and the Maximoff twin.

“I didn’t peg you as a sadist, but now I’m not so sure,” says Sam ribbing Bucky for torturing himself by watching one of your films...again. Sam knew Bucky got worked up seeing you with another male performer even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Bucky is quick to swipe the video away, but not before fumbling with the device and stuffing it back in his pocket.

“Get out of my face, Sam,” he grumbles in response.

“Is this what you call studying your co-star? I thought you two were more than acquainted with each other,” Sam quizzes him.

“Stop. We filmed one scene together-”

“Bullshit! We’ve all seen those homemade videos on both your profiles. You’re clearly into her, but you’re acting like a-”

“I’m not acting like anything!” Bucky is quick to try and defend himself. He had his own reasons to feel how he felt and he didn’t need Sam telling him what he thinks of it.

“Pussy,” Sam finishes his sentence nonetheless, “you’re acting like a pussy, alright.”

“Exactly how am I acting like a pussy about all this, bird brain?”

“Instead of using your profession as an excuse to sleep with her again, you could be doing it on your own time, but you let your insecurities get the best of you and stop you from having a real connection with someone again.”

“That is not true! Our relationship was strictly professional.”

“Try convincing that to the millions that got off to the videos…” Sam throws and Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but closes it when he can’t find anything to say. You both really outdid it on that video together.

“Whatever. I have a flight to catch,” Bucky says in an attempt to dismiss the conversation.

“In five hours...now, come on, man. What happened between you two?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“No, but you’ve been a real buzzkill lately and I can’t help but think it has something to do with her.”

“There was never a thing with us.”

“Are you kidding? Did you or did you two not have sex on that couch in your living room? Then not tell me about it because you know how much I love that couch! You brought her back to your home because you liked her.”

“We needed extra income,” Bucky disputes the home videos you both agreed to share online.

“What’s the real reason, Buck?”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Stop changing the subject. Now, what did she do?” Sam presses Bucky.

“Nothing, alright! It’s me!”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that.”

“I’m head over heels for her.”

“What’s wrong with that? That’s perfectly normal when someone likes another person.”

“I’m not so sure she feels the same way.”

“What gave you that impression?” Sam presses while he knows he’s got Bucky right where he wants with the topic.

“I can’t believe I’m even telling you this. The first time I watched her video with Pietro, I saw... how natural she was in it...like they just looked so good together.”

“Okay, that’s her job...is to act like she’s enjoying it,” Sam explains and for a second it’s like he’s almost walking on eggshells because while he can’t help but want to smack Bucky for being childish about this, he needs to really understand why.

“Yeah, I know how to do our job…” Sam raises his hands in defense, “...it’s the fact that she looked so...good with him that if she looked so convincing in that video then what if...all that was happening in ours was for the cameras. Everything was fine between us for a while, but maybe she just has that factor of making anyone look good with her. What makes me different?”

“So, there’s a few things we got to address here: 1) Of course it was for the cameras. You're both performers. You act. 2) What you two were doing was not acting. 3) Do you not remember that she wanted to work with you?”

“Did you not see how much she was enjoying getting it from Maximoff?”

“She’s really good at her job! She’s not getting recognized for nothing.”

“Well, she had me convinced…”

“I forgot to point out one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re insecure,” Sam straight up tells him, “...you’ve always been insecure, but when you risked asking her out while the cameras were still rolling, you weren’t. She made you feel something and you liked it. You’re gonna have to talk to her anyways, so you might as well air it all out if you want her back.”

“How successful would that approach be for someone that ghosted the person in question?”

“Really? You ghosted her? Fucking idiot…” Sam says, shaking his head before walking away from his friend.

A/N: Annnnd...that’s it! There’s another piece with more of Bucky, but I’m not thinking about it enough to complete it. But plz, tell me what you thought or felt about this. Can you hype me enough? Bye, again!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff x reader #bucky barnes #pietro maximoff #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes x y/n #pietro maximoff x y/n #pornstar!bucky #pornstar!bucky barnes #pornstar!pietro maximoff #au #bucky barnes au

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elvisabutler · 2 years

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what are your favorite austin/priscilla actress!reader headcanons??

Oh anon, first off loved this ask, you are my favorite anon for it. But also, oh dear I'm so sorry about the monster you unleashed. TW: Angst, what can be seen as creepy/possessive behavior ( but not really ). Vague sexual mentions. I have a whole separate set of NSFW favorite headcanons and stuff not on this post.

Priscilla Actress Reader x Austin Butler Headcanons

Austin tries to make sure you've fallen asleep before he goes to sleep. It started during the quarantine when the two of you would be talking over whatsapp because one of you has an android and the other has an iPhone and once you moved in together he just never stops. The one time he doesn’t is when he’s in the hospital after filming Elvis.

He buys a ring for you, an almost exact replica of Priscilla's, about a week after you first film the scene. It stays in his closet hidden. You only find it when leaving Australia.

Y'all start dating during the shutdown of the film, originally you wanted a friends with benefits, maybe just a daddy/baby girl situation because that's what you're used to.

Having his number kind of shot that idea in the foot. You found you actually liked Austin as a person as you got to know him. It made his whole vibe make more sense.

The apartment's wifi is called the nest. Throughout everything that happens between you two that is the one thing that stays constant. You think it's silly and have told him as much but he still keeps it under that title.

During the Shutdown of the Filming you and Austin end up trying to keep a normal schedule. You both try and keep everything normal with the exception of you fully becoming his sub. His little dove in your little nest.

In going with that theme, both you and Austin start dressing and sounding like Elvis and Priscilla. You toyed with dying your hair Priscilla’s current red before deciding that black for both you and Austin was for the best. Instead of sweatpants, he’s in slacks with gold watches and rings. You’re dresses and skirts and jumpsuits if you’re feeling like making Daddy work for it. It makes it easier to look natural in the costumes when filming finally restarts. Catherine loves you two for it. Later on she realizes maybe she shouldn’t have encouraged it.

Austin calls you by a lot of nicknames: Little Dove, Dove, baby girl, baby, darling.

You never let him call you Birdie after he accidentally did one time during filming. It sent such a chill through your bones that you couldn’t stand hearing it for fear of feeling that again.

He calls you it one more time when he’s sick after filming is done.

As Elvis or in relation to something with the two of you on set, he’ll call you ‘Cilla.

In hindsight you should have put that in the same category as Birdie, but everyone else made jokes about the two of you being Baz’s Elvis and Priscilla and “I think we’ve only heard your actual voices at the beginning and through old interviews.” and “I am impressed with your vocal coach. You sound like I did back then.” So it didn’t seem like it’d be a problem.

It became one so slowly you didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late.

Your nicknames for Austin consists of a shorter list that eventually grows to a longer one later. He is Daddy or he is Austin or he is Satnin. Aus is mostly when his own name is too hard to say.

My King is always used as a joke just to bug him, but one time you call him your Cali Sunshine and he laughs a laugh so bright you swear you’re in the actual presence of the sun. That happens much later. So much later.

Austin knows when he has fucked up when you call him Butler. It’s said when you’re mad or when you don’t want to call him anything that implies you have a hint of affection to him.

During Quarantine you realize that maybe this is the first actual Daddy worthy of your time. It’s not that all your previous ones weren’t but- between his incessant (Seriously, Daddy, I’m fine, I’d have told you if you went too far. But darlin’ you’re shaking so bad. You made me come five times in less than an hour, if I wasn’t I’d be worried.) need to make sure you’re alright and checking in that you’re good and that he’s still managing to give you the best aftercare despite not being there in person it’s hard to ignore.

When both of your Quarantines are over you knock on his door and jump in his arms the second he opens the door.

You’re my Daddy if you’ll have me.

Only if you want to give yourself to me.

I wanted to a week ago.

He gives you a necklace with a Dove and his initials engraved on the back when you're on your knees in front of him.

He ordered it the night after the table read just in case.

That is not your collar, and that’s why it comes with you when you break up.

He knows your cycles which should be creepy you think and you tell him as much but as time goes on and he takes care of you every single time you’re on your period? You find it to be the hottest and sweetest thing another human being has done for you.

You’re on the patch because you had a scare one time on the pill at 18 and another on the implant at 20. You’re religious with making sure you change it but stress always makes your body a little late.

Austin gets his hopes every time you're late up because he wasn’t thinking about kids since he had broken up with Vanessa but then you came along and somehow having a kid with you seemed so right.

You’re usually only a few days late. One month you’re 2 weeks late. Austin buys an Elvis onesie that he hides the moment you get your period.

You break up after filming ends and it’s not because of just one thing.

It’s how you start to recognize that Austin can’t separate himself from Elvis.

Lil Dove, if I ever push you that far you gotta tell me, I can’t lose you. Not after my mom and Nessa. I can’t lose another-

I will, Daddy, I will. But you won’t ever do this to me.

You don’t and isn’t that the funniest lie you’ve ever told that someone believed.

It’s how your mom asks you how you are and you tell her how Priscilla is feeling in the scene you just filmed that night.

Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart? Are you sure that boy is good for you?

You have the best daddy in the world but he’s not just your Daddy he’s Elvis and you’re not just his Dove, you’re Priscilla.

It’s how Austin is sick and you hate hospitals and you can’t bring yourself to go into it even for him so you call him over WhatsApp. He calls you Cilla twice.

"Austin, what’s my name?" “What kind of question is that, I know your name.” “Then tell me what it is.” “Y/N, my little dove, my baby girl.”

You start packing the second you hang up.

You find the ring he bought you and an Elvis onesie hidden together. Never in your life have you sobbed as much as you did that night. Before or after it. You’ve come close a few times, but seeing those broke you.

You don’t hide it back properly. He finds it after you’re back in New York and he’s- going back to LA.

He calls you 10 times and leaves 2 voicemails.

“If this is what this was about, Lil Dove, I can explain, please let me explain. Please.”

"Why didn't you ask me about them?"

#austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler headcanons #so i was one of those people who took one of her headcanons and jumpstarted.#this is more angsty than i meant it to be but i truly am in a mood and my favorites reflect that today.#there are very very happy ones i swear.#ally answers asks #ally writes

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lucas-deziderio · 3 months

Text

Dezi reads Pact

I am a newcomer to Tumblr and have just found out about liveblogging books. It seems pretty darn fun! So I decided to try my hand at it to both exercise my literary analysis muscles and to maybe make a few friends in this site. And I've decided that my first subject on this will be John “Wildbow" McCrae's web serial Pact.

I've been a huge fan of his other work, Worm, for years now (though I do have a couple issues with it). And I'm also a big fan of urban fantasy stories with well designed magic systems, so the premise of this book is already very appealing to my tastes.

I have actually started reading through it before but put it on hold for a while. I am currently sitting in the middle of Signature 8.7 and will be picking up the story from there. I'll try to post once I finish each chapter, sharing my overall thoughts and analysis, and maybe once I finish each arc to stitch them all together and make predictions about the plot.

The road so far

Here are some assorted thoughts I've had on what I've read of the story so far:

Blake Thornburn is definitely a protagonist of all time. This little wet blanket of a man has successfully fled his toxic family, survived homelessness and got adopted into a found family of queer artists only to then be dragged back into his family's issues. And the skeletons in his grandma's closet want to eat his soul.

Also he totally fumbled a threesome. My dude simply can't get a win.

Rose Thornburn is a character who is completely devoid of any trans subtext, thank you very much. At the beginning I thought she was an excellent addition to the story, being a tool to get Blake to externalize his thought process and opinions. The first arcs would have been really dry without her. But she has grown so contrarian; convincing her to help is now an additional step Blake has to do every time he comes up with a new plan of action. I suspect she might become an antagonist even before the end. Is it just me? Is it some kind of ingrained misogyny?

Evan is the best character in the story. He's such a ray of sunshine that every line of his is like a breath of fresh air in this dark and gritty narrative Blake is trapped in. Please, let him become a fire bird. I beg you. He's just a cinnamon roll too pure for this world.

The magic system is maybe the best I've ever seen and is definitely what makes the story stand out. It feels like what I, almost instinctually, always imagined magic should work like. But defined and refined to a point where it actually becomes a usable set of rules. Everything from true names, binding, spirits, demesnes... It's ugh, so good! I will probably dig more into each of those elements as they come up in the next chapters because there's so much to chew on.

The monsters. The author has this amazing ability of grabbing well-known concepts of mythological creatures and giving them their own spin while at the same time seemingly distilling them to their core appeal. After meeting Wildbow's goblins, that's how I expect all other goblins to be like. The same goes for demons, fey, ghosts... As with the magic system, I'll dig into each of those as they come up in the next chapters.

During the discussion of the binding contract, the imp Pauz has mentioned some “inviolable rules", which caught Blake's attention for a second but were not clearly explained. This has been living rent-free in my head since then and I am very sure it will come back later.

Isadora, the sphinx, could step on me. Also, she has mentioned the fact that in the classical Greek myth Oedipus actually gave the wrong answer. I've been dying to know what is the true answer the the classic sphinx riddle, but unfortunately I don't think it will be revealed...

The way they defeated Conquest was, to me, a total copout. I couldn't fully follow Blake's plan until it was all over, and I can't understand why Conquest needed to travel into the mirror world to catch Rose when previously he just pulled her out of it like it was nothing. It just felt anticlimactic to me.

Also, please, can we actually just give him an actual arsenal of stuff he can use? I know Wildbow likes to keep his protagonists as the underdog but this is getting ridiculous. This magic system allows for basically anything but still our main man only has two or three tricks up his sleeve at any time and is constantly losing resources as fast as he can get more of them.

Last time I saw Blake he was swallowed whole by an ontophagic demon, being completely erased from reality as we know it and leaving Rose to steal his life. I know he'll come back, he's the protagonist after all, but I'm really excited to see how it will play out. Will he fight his way out Hell itself? Like Kratos??

The spoilers I already got

I don't care that much about spoilers, but still would like to avoid them if possible. I decided to list here what I could already gather from the future of the story simply by osmosis from the fandom:

There will be a mermaid called Green Eyes who is super cute in a “bite your face off" kind of way.

Blake will become part tree(?).

The ending is bittersweet at best.

#Dezi reads #wildbow #pact #liveblogging #liveblogging pact #pact web serial #pactblr #pact spoilers #otherverse

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bebepac · 11 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday 05.21.23 / Mood Music Monday

I have a new obsession peeps. I am watching this series called FROM currently, and it has all my senses tingling. Talking to some friends I have realized, 1. I like shows set in small towns where weird stuff is happening. 2. If the people are trapped in said town and there is spooky, weird or supernatural stuff going on, or something that just can’t be explained, I’m all about that life. And From tickles my fancy, watch it be cancelled tomorrow, as this tends to happen with all of my weird favorited shows.

Work has been crazy, but just recently in the past few days, even though work is still insane, I’ve been inspired to write, even though my whole day is spent typing for my job. Go figure.

So here’s amazingly what i’ve posted in the last little bit:

The Life of Riley: Book Two: Garden Party Photo Op

The Rotten Apple 🍎: The Last Part:

Original post: 05/21/23 at 7:52PM EST.

Here’s what I have in the pipeline

This one is a surprise. It came to me after I had a conversation with @angelasscribbles about Drake.

It could be honestly seen as a prequel to my fic with If Only For The Night

The Book: TRR Mood Music Monday Submission: That Don’t Impress Me Much by Shania Twain The Moments In Between Pairings: None: TRR MC is single Status: Still in the writing process, nearly complete!

To be honest, I wasn’t even surprised about how the trip was going being in Lythikos for Olivia’s tribute to Prince Liam. The room she put me in was basically a refurbished broom closet, dinner was served to my table cold with portions of the entree missing. But what struck me and what did surprise me is that Liam didn’t notice, and never checked up on us, supposedly his true blue friends were all sitting at the neglected table and he didn’t even glance in our direction the whole evening,

And not to mention….the kiss. He let her kiss him in front of the whole court. He genuinely appeared surprised when it happened, but everyone at the table, all their eyes were trained on me for a response. I mean honestly, what could I say? Prince Liam is not my boyfriend, I’m a suitor in this game we’re all playing. I am competing for a man that at this point has no true allegiance to me.

Nonchalantly I shrugged my shoulders. “She went for it. You know, she doesn’t usually get this much individual time with the Prince, so I can’t fault her for shooting her shot.”

“You’re a lot calmer than I thought you would be, Brooks.”

“I mean, these so-called 'noble' royals have been showing me who they are this whole time, I’d be a fool not to believe them.”

“You deserve a drink Brooks, meet up with me later, and we’ll find where the good stuff you like is stored in this keep.”

“I really might have to take you up on that.”

Liam finally cornered me for a brief moment, as I stood on the balcony letting the cool wind revitalize me.

“Are you angry with me for what happened?”

“No.”

“I thought you might be.”

“How can I Liam? you haven’t so much as stated any intentions you have for me, or of any feelings you might feel for me because you say, you can’t. You have a duty to your people and I get that. But don’t forget, all of us are “your people, and we are getting mistreated by some of these people that are supposed to be the “Nobility.”

Mood Music Monday Submission: This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush Final Chapter: The Wedding The Book: TRH Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎 Pairings: Elle x Nico (Eleanor x M!OC) Status: Still in the writing process

The family was sitting at the table eating breakfast when there was an urgent knock to the door.

“I wonder who that could be this early?”

“You’re not expecting anyone?”

“No.” Nico wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose from the table, as Tomas immediately headed towards the door behind Nico.

“Should we be concerned?” Liberty asked.

“I don’t think so, it’s probably nothing.”

A few moments later Nico and Tomas returned with one more gentleman in tow.

"Liberty you have a guest, Michail has come to see you. Apparently you told him you were leaving today, he wanted to make sure he saw you before you left."

“Hello Liberty.”

Elle wanted to laugh at the side eye her father was giving poor Michail.

“Hi Michail.” She had never heard her sister’s voice sound so giddy before.

Liberty gasped immediately reaching for her hair.

"You look perfect Libby," Elle whispered to her sister. Now Elle felt the way her sister had felt; she was the matchmaker. "Go say hello to him."

She watched her sister smiling and talking to her young gentleman caller who had brought her a bouquet of hand picked flowers, that Liberty didn't mind in the least. There was a light flush to her cheeks.

Elle smiled walking up to the two of them.

"Is your guest staying for breakfast?"

She didn't wait for him to answer in true Mama K fashion.

"I'll fix you a plate. And I'll put these in water. Nico please get a chair for Libby's guest."

"Thank you."

Chapter 5: Moonlight Rendevous The Series: The Blue Honey Cafe The Book: TRR Pairings: TRR MC is single Status: Still in the writing process

He sat down on the blanket with Riley placing the popcorn between the two of them.

“I’m glad you could come over here for a bit Mason, to sit here with me.”

“Me too.”

Mason tried not to read too much into it, but as the movie went on Riley seemed to inch closer to him. She was so close to him that he could smell the perfume of her body and the scent of her shampoo in her hair.

After the movie, Mason helped Riley pick up her things and fold her blanket.

“I had a great time with you Riley.”

“Me too Mason. I loved the movie. They definitely left it open for a sequel. What did you think of the movie?”

“She did a lot of terrible stuff. But I don’t know why, I still want her to be happy.”

“Because she’s not all bad. She felt guilt and remorse.”

“Exactly……. Well this is awkward.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The food truck, my ride is gone, therefore I have no way to get back to the restaurant and my vehicle.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Thanks Riley, that's nice of you.”

Mason carried all her stuff to the car for her.

“Hey I know, you’re depending on me to get back to your car, but I was wondering if you felt up for doing something else for a little bit. I mean we’re already out, and we both said we need to be more social.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Okay hear me out.. I’ve always wanted to go to this place.”

“Wheelz?!?!?! This used to be my favorite place as a kid. I had several birthday parties here. Midnight skating slaps.”

“But you said this was your favorite place as a kid?”

“Kids can be teenagers too.”

“Are you good at skating?”

“I am great at skating, are you Riley?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t have mentioned this place if I couldn’t. I’m not trying to embarrass myself. But I wanted to have someone to go with. I don’t have a date, so would you maybe be my plus one?”

“Yes. I’d be honored to be your plus one Riley Brooks.”

#bebepac writes #six sentence sunday #always more than six #the rotten apple #the blue honey cafe #elle x nico #liam x riley forever #choices fanfiction #choices fandom #cfwc sunday six #mood music monday

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absolutebl · 2 years

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This Week In BL - October Is Looking Chunky

Sept 2022 Wk 5

Happy fall everyone!

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying the most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Eclipse (Fri YT) Ep 8 of 15 - The pacing is starting to feel off and I am getting frustrated with the plot. That said, K is such a killer actor. And Aye is so damn pushy but with emotions as well a physical affection, he exposes his own vulnerability as a kind of benevolent attack on Akk to instill trust and worth and value and safety. Akk is just so scared and closeted. This whole narrative is less about love than it is about courage. Whether that is courage to live or courage to love.

Vice Versa (Sat on YT) Ep 12fin - They are very cute and domestic boyfriends, and I realize GMMTV often does domesticity with their couples in the final episode. I’m thinking about the fantastic final ep of Dark Blue Kiss. “Celebrity coming out for love” is very Love Stage!! Interesting that they advertised Not Me at the end, does that mean we have no new BL in this time slot from GMMTV next week? Curious choice they still have 4 more from their 2022 lineup.* I half expected the high school one.

So what do I have to say about Vice Versa?

It’s a solid BL with a weak plot but a strong concept. It’s very well acted and Jimmy remains the most charismatic talent that GMMTV currently fields. I hope we get more of this pair, either together or separated. That said, this is never going to be one of my top rewatch rotations, so I’m calling it for an 8/10. RECOMMENDED

My Only 12% (Fri iQIYI) Ep 8 of 15 - Oh goody more pain. Look I like the noona romance thread. It’s obvious she had to break his heart, it’s what I would’ve done, it’s what Minato should have done. But it was still sad to watch. This is a well cast show. Sniffling at the end of this ep. Looking forward to seeing Siew come into his own and Cake crumble while they are apart.

Ai Long Nhai (Mon iQIYI) Ep 1 of 10 - Words cannot adequately describe how much I dislike the credit sequence and music on this show. I nearly DNFed before a single line was spoken. The subs are also not good, but my Thai is getting better so I don’t mind as much as I once did. The show leads us out with: Slow motion + instalove + tons of familiar faces + some very terrible sound effects. Pretty much standard pulp territory. Despite all this, I actually kinda like it and they are so pretty. A rare sunshine/sunshine pairing! Nhai is an adorable idiot and Ai is confident king and I’m chortling away. Also GAY DADS played by IRL husbands Arm & Porsch! We’re good here, I’m happy.

Work from Heart (Thurs YouTube) Ep 2 of 7 - Cute ex boyfriends. Thank god for uniforms. But now evil ex is overly aggressive. I’m getting Check Out vibes and that’s not a good thing. I love the tattooed actor who plays Guy, I wish he’d get more roles. I loved him in Ingredients too.

Love in the Air (Thurs iQIYI) Ep 7 of 13 - It was a fine ending to the first couple and a good (if audio dubious) start to the second. I made more puns in the DUMPSTER FIRE TRASH WATCH ALONG HERE.

Fahlanruk (Sun GaGa) 3 of 12 - And now identical twins? SERIOUSLY? The show sucks so bad. The story of 2 players never runs deep. Absolutely nothing happened this episode. I might drop this one.

* GMMTV’s remaining 2022 BL line up is:

My School President - which I expected to be in VV’s time slot.

Moonlight Chicken - EarthMix’s next one, probably what they are working on next

Be My Favorite - recasting

Never Let Me Go - filming now (assuming this will take on Eclipse’s time slot)

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Takara-kun and Amagi-kun (Japan Thurs GaGa & Viki) 6 of 8 - This is my favorite BL currently airing BY A LANDSLIDE. 24 minutes of pure agony and joy. It just makes me so happy but it’s also so high school angst and traumatic to live through. This is the best of Japanese BL, I keep getting a feel of Seven Days off it and I don’t mention that comparison lightly. Takara is SO CORNEY. Also. THAT ENDING. Yes. Exposed! No more secrets! Squee! I can’t wait to see what happens next week.

Once Again (Korea Fri GaGa) 5-6 of 8 - This show. I swear it’s so in the throat creepy and tense (in a Kassandra the mad prophet way) but also weirdly sweet. Poor Ji Hoon, he’s such a nice guy in a world just has a in for him one way or another. I’m glad both actors are so good since it’s the whole reason to watch this. I’ve no idea how they are going to manage to resolve it, but it looks like we get a cute date next ep!

It’s Airing But I’m Not Watching It

War of Y - too hard on my soul. Will I watch it eventually? Maybe? Probably not. I think we have an ITSAY situation going on here. Also BL Express was not best pleased, and I while we rarely share taste, in this instance I trust their reporting.

My Tempo - a Thai BL movie about the Thai music industry. Yeah, no thank you.

Oh My Sunshine Night - I’m scared it’s gonna be sad, so I’m waiting for spies to tell me it’s safe

180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us - ditto above

In Case You Missed It

More Than Words (Japan indie subbed by furritsubs) - TIP ‘EM if you like em!) All the eps have dropped, so I binged it. Basically the definition of moody arthouse smackdoodle. Makki is an outgoing but mysterious boy with secret pain. Eiji is the an older gay boy struggling with identity. Mieko is a broken angry girl who both makes them work as a couple and aches to belong with them. This is a story about all 3 and their complicated interweaving relationship. It’s about love and intimacy in all its many faceted forms. This is not, and I'm being very clear here, a romance. In fact this is not a romantic show in any way. It’s poetic, sad, and wistful. Is it beautiful and a little lovely? Yes. Did I like it? No. For BL stans like me? NOT RECOMMENDED. For the ITSAY and YNEH folks... have at. BL Express likes this kind of thing and did a great review.

Zero Supporter featuring EarthMix in their KornWin roles dropped. Look these two are just so cute together. They aren’t as good at this premise as OffGun were in Our Skyy, tho. Still, ultimately, I like this special better than the original Cupid’s Last Wish.

NetJames (forthcoming BL Bed Friend) portray a BL side couple in Thai drama Catch Me Baby starting Oct 6 on WeTV.

Semantic Error won Best Couple at the APAN Star Awards 2022. And Jaechan won the Popularity Award.

Gossip

Thai casting call went out for the world’s first omegaverse BL Midnight Fortune. Twitter went as pearl-clutchingly hysterical over it as we might expect. It's not my thing personally and I doubt I will like it (frankly I doubt it'll be very good, either, the plot looks like it was written by MAME & Jittirain) but you better believe I will dumpster fire trash watch this SO HARD if it airs. It's about time Thai BL started to get seriously experimental in its cinemagraphic life cycle. It will be gloriously whackdoodle. I did have it down for Japan first, Thailand is so plucky!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting: Mon: To Sir With Love AKA Khun Chai - Thai (10 eps 40 min ea) on One31HD & possibly WeTV. Kabe Koji - Japan (10 eps 20 min ea) on Viki. Weds: Ghost Host, Ghost House - Thai (5 eps 30 min? ea) YouTube for reruns. Sat: Big Dragon - Thai (8 ep 40 min ea) reruns on Star Hunter’s YT. Sun: Remember Me - Thai (8 ep 40 min ea) Gaga.

FULL October 2022 line up is here.

This week’s best moments?

Fucking awesome Takara.

This year’s Namgoong Award for BEST WINGMAN goes to Katori in Takara & Amagi. He’s glorious.

Ai Long Nhai calling itself out.

And again.

Eclipse being a tease.

My Only 12% pulling our heart strings.

Vice Versa, beat that drum honey!

I LOVE a back hug.

(last week)

Current earworm? JJ Project (fetal GOT7) Coming Home

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lampmanliveblogs · 7 months

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Nevermind, the kids are happy, so I’m happy!

But jeez Luise Gus, you’re not even trying to be subtle about it anymore, huh?

You just know that if Gus wasn’t trying to out/support Hunter, he’d insist on going dressed as a normal human. And when people would ask him about his costume, he’d be like: ”I’m dressed as a completely regular, ordinary, normal human!” and they’d be like ”Whoa dude, that is scary.”

”Funny how things just show up in basements, right? Without you hiding or you putting them there. Life sure is full of surprises!”

And on tonight’s episode of ”Things that can be said by moms with secret nerdy hobbies, or serial killers…”

I guess those Not-Star Trek books really were Camila’s, huh? We got ourselves a closet nerd here!

I kinda get it though. I hate it when people ask me what my hobbies are or what I do on my free time. Because if I answer truthfully and say that I like to write, they’ll inevitably ask what it is I write, and then I’ll have to explain what fanfiction is, and there is just no un-awkward way to explain that to someone who doesn’t know.

Which is why my new tactic is to say ”I guess I like to write stories, like adventure stories. Oh, and I also like to bake!” and hope they focus on the baking part. The downside to that is when they respond with ”Oh, you’re good at baking? You should be on one of those baking shows on TV then!” and I’m like ”No, I didn’t say I was good at it!”

Another tactic is to mention that I have a (this) blog where I talk about cartoons. Most people seem to understand that, even if they don’t ”get it.”

Now, to be fair, they’re probably as interested in hearing me talk about my favorite cartoon as I am hearing them talk about their favorite football teams: not at all.

Speaking of explaining fanfiction though, I do remember in high school, we had this book on literature history. It had a (very) brief blurb on fanfiction with a picture of Lara Croft next to it? For some reason? I recall the teacher skipping over it so we could talk about ancient Greece or something.

I’m sorry, I started rambling there, what was I doing? Right, watching The Owl House, I’m a bit rusty, as you can tell. Let’s get on with it.

Let’s see, we’ve got a Nontendo Swap, what might be either a DVD box set or a VHS tape (ask your parents, kids) called Rage Ron, another VHS tape called… Jen or maybe Den? I think? I’m no good at reading cursive. I can also see that someone let their intrusive thoughts win and took a bite out of a DVD. Which of the kids do you think it was?

Hold up a second… does the bad guy(?) in the movie have a scar over their eye? Like Luz? I also notice Bad Guy(?) wears multi-colored clothes like Luz did at Hexside, and the tip of their staff kinda looks like an egg, like Luz’ palisman currently does. That… feels like it might be significant, especially considering the movie is called ”The Betrayening.”

And on tonight’s edition of ”If The Lampman had just waited a few more seconds…” the show explained it to me.

Villainous Lucy (GET IT?!?) betrayed their friends and now everyone is gone. Villainous Luzy says it was for ”the greater good.”

So, obviously, Luz feels like she let down her friends, betrayed them in a sense, and now everyone in the Demon Realm is lost to them.

The thing that’s interesting to me though is that Villainous Luzy says it was ”for the greater good.” That phrase… doesn’t really describe Luz, I think? I mean yeah, her motivation is to do good and help people and save the world and all that. Certainly, a greater good. But the phrase ”for the greater good” is almost exclusively brought up when someone wants to justify an evil action. You see it in villains all the time. They’re looking at ”the big picture” and find that they can justify atrocities for what is (in their mind at least) a greater end result.

To use one famous example from pop-culture, Ozymandias from Watchmen. His big masterplan would kill millions of people… to bring peace to billions, by preventing the impending nuclear war between the US and the Soviet Union.

My point is (and follow me here, I swear it makes sense), ”for the greater good” is not a phrase I would associate with Luz. But… there is a character that I would associate with that phrase. Someone who has a facial scar, a magic staff with a ball-shape, and betrayed someone close to them.

Philip.

I’m not sure where it’s all going but… Y’all remember that fanfic I wrote after Clouds on the Horizon? All that’s at stake, which you can read HERE. Well, to quote myself:

”I-I hate you,” Luz said slowly, her voice as shaky as her legs. Those words were like poison on her lips. They hurt her more than anyone else. ”We are nothing alike. And I don’t want to be anything like you. Not in any way.”

Hey, kinda random, but I just remembered back in Yesterday’s Lie, I theorized that Vee slept in the bottom bunk and Luz in the top bunk.

WELL. Actually, this doesn’t prove anything, I could still be right. Luz switched to the bottom bunk to be at level with Amity.

I do think it’s weird that Vee is lying on her back. That cannot be comfortable, right? I was even thinking of making another Vee headcanons post, where one of the new headcanons was that sleeping on their backs was uncomfortable for basilisks. I guess this smashes that to pieces.

Tag yourself, I’m Luz. I’ve slept next to walls my entire life, I’m not about to stop now. Also, we both have horrendous sleep schedules. Most of the time I’m fine, but if I get just a little off-centre then I’m out of tune for the next month.

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s3e1 #thanks to them

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bandaigaeru · 2 years

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when your brother plays cupid - hwang hyunjin

→genre: friends to strangers to almost lovers to one-sided enemies to lovers →synopsis: Hwang Hyunjin comes home from America and thinks a reality TV camera follows him (aka: he brings all the drama back). →pairing: hwang hyunjin x gn reader →word count: 11.3k →warnings: death of a parent (mentioned but not detailed), bad pacing

Home is where the heart is, says the arcane quote from a life well lived. And yet, the sentiment transcends generations. Why do we live repetitious lives over and over? What can be learned if the exact knowledge is recycled among lifetimes?

Romantics would defend that love is the reason we are bound to this planet. Destined to experience love and care for eternity.

Religious people may declare we are here to repay for our sins. Punished for eternity until the proper amends have been established.

You’re not sure what you want to believe. Perhaps you’d like to blame your presence on a brazen higher being. Or maybe you want to believe in the lies of love for the sake of feeling better. But life isn’t the black and white people may lead you to believe; it is an ugly, muddied gray.

What is certain, though, is that life could not be any worse. Some people have to return to their parent’s homes after college because life fails to pan out as originally planned. You, however, did not have that luxury. Since becoming empty nesters, they decided to skip countries for the perfect retirement spot. Instead, a room was offered by your brother in his tiny apartment. And by a room, he really meant a couch in his living room. He claims: “I never said you would have a private room. Living room has ‘room’ in it!”

You live out of a suitcase, for no closet is available to you, and because it allows you to sink into a false life that convinces you this is temporary. So temporary that it may just stop too soon.

Afternoons are spent with your brother hogging your temporary bed—his butt too close to the pillow you rest your head on. He puts on some investigative-comedy show, glancing at you after every joke to ensure your undivided attention is given. Reruns echo until his eyes sting with sleep.

In the morning, pale, wispy curtains are hung improperly and filter next to nothing. As soon as the sun peeks over the horizon, it burns into your eyelids until sleep is stolen from you.

When will life return to peace? And where will home be? You hope it won’t be long to find out.

♡♡♡

“Are you familiar with a boy by the name of Hwang Hyunjin?”

The name makes your ears perk up. Your chin tips downward in a half nod.

“Yes. I am,” you hesitate, attempting to locate the correct term, “familiar.”

The coffee shop is void of visitors. Leaning against the counter with your arms defensively crossed against your chest, it’s just you and your nosy coworker who stands across from you. Perhaps he saw your Facebook? Old, tagged pictures that serve no purpose and probably should have been deleted? A happy face that doesn’t match the current? If that were the case, maybe the upcoming question would be justified.

You imagine the likely question: “What happened to you two?”

Truly, you don’t know. He was tangible, and then he suddenly wasn’t—a ghost of your memory. Blurry, forgotten laughs captured under a saddened moonlight. Hell, it’s been so long you’re not sure you remember his voice.

But, instead, he asks, “Did you know he moved back to Seoul?”

Someone has taken a stake and has mistaken you for a vampire. Your heart is torn into two fleshy pieces, beating by a miraculous gristly connection.

“I did not know that.”

Hwang Hyunjin told you he would never return to Seoul. America was too glamorous for him to ever wish to return. This is betrayal, you think; but, he owes you nothing. This is a conflicted betrayal. Surely you shouldn’t care, but you do. A lot.

“I can tell,” he laughs, languidly pointing at your face. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

He challenges you with a simple quirk of the eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Mind your own business,” you advise, glaring out the shop windows in an incongruous attempt to lure someone in.

“I can’t ask innocent questions now?”

You nibble on the inside of your lip until blood is drawn. Finally, you snap, “You and I both know they aren’t simple, innocent questions asked from pure curiosity. You’re digging for drama and, frankly, it’s annoying. Get a hobby?”

Your coworker falls silent and remains so until the next customer strides in. He takes their order, glances swiftly in your direction to make sure you heard it right, and busies himself with wiping down the bar again. Quiet is so peaceful: harmful only to those whose thoughts scream so loud.

Hyunjin’s back?

♡♡♡

A month passes before your luck runs dry. From the day your coworker mentioned him, your eyes skittered across the streets searching for him. Though, the larger half of you wished he would never turn up. The rumor seemed too good to be true.

He stands in front of the counter, staring up at the menu with childlike eyes of curiosity. He’s bleached his hair. The long strands frame his soft cheeks enough to bring attention to his lips: pursed with concentration.

Slight panic itches the nape of your neck, but you have to do your job. You’re the only one scheduled for the closing shift.

You step out from the back, hands going behind your back to tighten your apron—and to make yourself appear calm, cool, and collected. This act of routine convinces yourself he’s not who you remember. For the time that has passed, he is nothing more than a stranger.

“Sorry for the wait, what can I get started for you today?”

“Yeah, can I-” he stops when he recognizes your voice, eyes dropping to study your face. “Wait, Y/N?”

You point to your nametag casually. “That’s the one.”

An awkward laugh passes between you two. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you majored in marketing.”

Pain rips your chest apart, but you maintain neutrality in your face. “I did. Job market’s not the best right now. Employers are too desperate for workers to do all the right work for the wrong pay.”

He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly hanging open and his eyes squinting righteously. Hyunjin would never have that experience.

You rip the tense silence. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

“Um, a medium passionfruit smoothie, please. Do you have any pastries left?”

You glance at the display case that is clearly right in front of him. “We have a few chocolate chip muffins.”

“I’ll take one.”

“Sweet. That’ll be $9.55.”

He hands you a $10, and you hand him back his change. He promptly dumps it in the tip jar. That’s forty-five scents you didn’t have a minute ago.

You serve him his muffin with a wad of napkins and he gently smiles. Fully expecting him not to continue the conversation, you turn to prepare his drink.

He waits for the loud ice scoops and blending to stop before he starts, “Hey, Y/N.”

You glance back at him, pouring the freshly blended fruity concoction into a medium cup.

As you click the lid on, he asks, “Are you free tomorrow?”

A classy move, but alas. You offer a pitying smile as you set his drink on the counter. “I work tomorrow. Noon to close.”

He groans. “That’s a shame. I’d love to catch up. When’s your next day off?”

You think hard. “I work just about every day. Money’s tight.”

“Where can I find you then?” His persistence is admirable, perhaps it even makes your heart skip a beat.

You grit your teeth. Of all the embarrassing questions you could answer, this one spawns a rumbling sensation in your stomach. “My brother’s apartment. I’m staying there until I can score a place of my own.”

Hyunjin’s face lights up. “You’re staying with Jisung?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s perfect! I’ll delegate two hangouts into one. You still have my number?”

Duh. Why would you ever get rid of it? “I believe so.”

He plunges a straw into the lid and grabs his drink. Backing out towards the door, he exclaims, “Perfect. I’ll text you. Tell Jisung I say hi!”

You sigh a breath of relief. A dual hangout with your brother saves awkward conversations. And you have your day off tomorrow to look forward to.

♡♡♡

“You lied to him?” Jisung exclaims, looking dumbfounded from across the couch.

“I had to! You know what happened between us,” you trail, glancing down at your work-ridden fingernails. A trip to the nail salon wouldn’t hurt you.

He huffs, resigning himself to his brotherly duties of reporting the truth. “You never told him you liked him. For all he knows, he went to chase his dreams and lost his best friend in the process via some long distance bullshit.”

“He knew,” you assert.

“No, Y/N, he didn’t. Just because you knew doesn’t mean he did. For the record, you withheld the information rather well. I only found out because Felix told me.”

Heartbroken, you weakly repeat, “Felix?”

Eyes wide with insistence and lips pressed into a distinct, matter of fact manner, he nods.

Brothers never offer lies to comfort their siblings (most might even intentionally hurt their feelings), but you wish he would sugarcoat things a little bit. Things with Hyunjin were so complicated for you. Nights spent addressing the turmoil feel so small now that you know no one would have guessed. The circumstantial insomnia makes you feel even more silly.

Heat sinks into your skin, seering every inch. “If Felix told you, then maybe he told Hyunjin too. You don’t know the way he shifted behavior like I do.”

“I highly doubt Felix told Hyunjin.”

“Then why did he tell you?” you exclaim.

He rolls his eyes, “I am your brother. I ask the right questions. I didn’t even know until two weeks ago anyway. Felix protects your secrets in a triple-guarded vault. I promise.”

“Maybe.”

“Look. Tell Hyunjin the truth. We’ll have him over tomorrow and everything will be just

fine. Normal. Like before life pulled us in every opposite direction.”

If only life had let you and Jisung be pulled apart instead of this nauseating proximity. You find comfort in the ceiling as you take a few deep breaths. Gathering your feelings in a pile, you want to stomp on them until nothing remains. However, you sift through them as an adult would.

“Okay. I’ll tell him a truth with lying properties because it’ll be embarrassing to tell him the truth.”

Jisung reaches across the couch, patting your shoulders. “If that’s how you want to navigate it. Just answer me this: do you still like him?”

Warmth flushes your face. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Tell me when you find out. I want to be a matchmaker!”

You push him away from you. “After that confession, absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!”

Jisung tries his best, but you motion a zipper dragging across your lips before it’s thrown out. Lost in the fuzzy rug beneath your feet.

♡♡♡

“He’s on his way up,” your brother announces from the kitchen.

Rushing into the bathroom, you take note of your appearance. A few flyaways make your hair look a bit disheveled, but they refuse to be tamed. You fix your shirt, untwisting the fabric across your chest. Finally, you get a glance at your face from every angle.

There’s a loud sequence of knocks at the door. Before you can get to the door, Jisung cuts you off.

“Remember, it can’t get worse than living on your brother’s couch!”

You roll your eyes, but you must admit he has a point. It cannot get worse than that.

So long as he doesn’t bring up you ghosting him.

Hyunjin is greeted by his best friends from high school. Jisung standing up front, and you peering at him from over his shoulder. Both garner a big smile.

“Hey!” the boys say in unison, each reaching for a quick hug, clapping each other’s backs cacophonously.

Hyunjin moves to you, pulling you in for a much longer hug. “It’s good to see you,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls away.

Jisung begins asking about his life, how it’s been in America, but the words are muffled to your ears. Hyunjin’s eyes linger on you as he tends to the endless questions. All the while maintaining a heartbreaking smile that you can’t peel your eyes from.

The conversation moves with you as you advance towards the kitchen, where Jisung has prepared a gigantic Chicago pizza. For authenticity, he claims. Though, Hyunjin stayed in New York.

As the boys claim their seats, you set three plates in the center of the table, picking the top one and offering it to Hyunjin. He winks at you as he continues his spiel, a silent thank you that ignites fire in your chest.

“Yeah, so I picked up photography while I was over there.”

“Is that your job?” Jisung asks, stealing your plate from your hands absentmindedly. The brotherly instincts are deeply engraved in his mind.

Hyunjin struggles to break the slices apart. Straining, he says, “Yep. Wedding photos, mainly. They pay more than landscape, which is what I really like capturing.”

You wave his hands away and help him. Making it look way easier, he pouts as you slide a healthy slice on his plate. You offer, “It must be nice capturing love like that, though, right?”

He nods. “Definitely. Makes me feel a bit lonely, but that’s okay.”

Jisung kicks your leg under the table. When you glance at him, he lifts his eyebrows up. You quickly shake your head, turning back to Hyunjin.

“So, what brings you home?” you ask. Home is a strong word to characterize someone’s hometown when they were so eager to get out of it.

“My mom passed away about a month back. This was the earliest I could get back. I’m not staying long. Just enough to make sure my dad’s okay. He adopted a dog, y’know?”

Jisung’s face softens. His eyes well with tears—he’s a sympathetic crier, though no one else’s eyes are damp. “I’m sorry for your loss. What kind of dog?”

Hyunjin covers his mouth as he chews, waving away the tension of sadness with a flourish. “He’s some kind of chihuahua. Funny looking dog.”

The conversation devolves into Jisung’s boring work life. Then, by the time the pizza has been devoured, it switches to old high-school drama.

“Seungmin became a prosecutor,” Jisung announces.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Hyunjin presses his back into the chair. “He’s always been the type.”

“That seems insulting,” Jisung chimes in, even though he agress.

You add, “I work with Changbin at the coffee place. He has, like, three jobs for some reason.”

“I know,” Hyunjin says. “He’s the one who told me where to find you.”

You ignore another kick to your shin. “What? You looked so surprised when you saw me!”

Hyunjin chuckles. Presumably at how flustered you look. “I was. You look a lot different, grew into your features a bit more-” Another suggestive kick. You’ll have extensive bruises if this keeps up. “Plus, Changbin didn’t tell me when to find you. Just where.”

“To be fair, Y/N,” Jisung intervenes so you will finally look at him, “you stopped posting pictures of yourself when Hyunjin left.”

You acknowledge this with a long, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you recognize me when you saw me?” Hyunjin asks, tipping his head in a deranged flirtatious way.

“Immediately. The bleached hair took me off guard, but really I was like ‘Why is Hyunjin wearing a wig?’”

He picks at his hair, pouting. Glancing at Jisung, he asks, “Does it really look like a wig?”

Jisung defensively puts his hands up. “Don’t look at me.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you rush, “I like it. A lot. It suits you.”

Hyunjin grins. “Good. I thought you’d like it.”

What’s that supposed to mean? You want to ask, but your shin is aching from a supreme series of harsh kicks.

Another conversation gets picked up, and you remain in the backseat for this one. It sounds deeply rooted in a secret language. Even if you wanted to participate, you’d have to learn how to communicate.

After promptly fifteen minutes of gibberish, Hyunjin glances at his watch and groans. “Sorry, guys. My dad needs me home. Thank you for lunch. It was so nice seeing you guys.”

He and Jisung perform another awkward, quick hug. Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, Jisung mouths, “Walk him out.”

The hug splits, but Hyunjin allows his hand to linger on Jisung’s shoulder. Admiring his best friend up close, you suppose. Nonetheless, sibling envy soaks your being in dread. That stare lasts forever. At some point, you’re convinced silent words are being shared in that unidentifiable language.

Finally, Hyunjin’s arm falls back to his side and he glances at you. Your withdrawn facade immediately shatters. “I’ll walk you out.”

And you swear his face lights up.

Hyunjin begins retracing his steps to the door, and you follow. You quickly glance back at Jisung, who winks and mouths words of encouragement.

Out of earshot of Jisung, he drags, “So.”

“So,” you repeat.

“I don’t know if this sounds too forward, but I’d love to take some pictures of you before I have to leave. There’s this sunflower field-”

The eagerness requires no further words, and you interrupt, “I’d love to.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. Maybe you jumped the gun a little bit.

But then his face blisters into a smile. “Perfect. Keep in touch?”

“Of course,” you smile up at him.

And you just have to stare at him. Because he’s staring at you. And you’re staring back. And maybe this is a dream because you’re nearly certain you want to kiss him right now.

He opens his arms out, and you meet him halfway. His hugs have been heavily missed, and he still smells like lemons and fresh laundry.

He sighs into your hair. “I missed you. A lot.”

“I missed you too.”

His wrist vibrates against your back, prompting an exasperated groan. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away from you. “I gotta go. Thanks for having me over. I’ll text you.”

“Of course. Get home safe.”

When the door clicks and five seconds have passed, Jisung leans into the foyer and says, “He’s so into you.”

You pick up a shoe and throw it at him, shouting, “Shut up!”

He retracts back into safety before peeking out again. “You like him too!”

Throwing its pair, you huff. You mutter, “So what if I do?”

♡♡♡

Hwang Hyunjin texts you every minute of the day he can. He enjoys playing catch-up, asking what your new favorite colors, styles, and media are. Sometimes, his questions get too specific, but that’s just his flare.

When you’re at work, he leaves you a long string of messages to read. Changbin hovers over your shoulder with a knowing grin, which you ensure is promptly whisked away.

“He’s into you,” he announces when the cafe is empty.

He stretches his arms high above his head. You reach across and tap his armpit, making him squeal.

Protecting his weak spots like a naked man, he hesitantly asks, “Are you into him?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you glare.

“So it’s a yes?” he taunts, smiling in an annoying, know-it-all manner.

“Don’t speak to me.”

He knowingly smirks. “Yeah, right.”

Hyunjin even stops by during every shift. If it’s busy, he always moves to the end of the line so he can talk to you extra long, which doesn’t quell Changbin’s bothering.

It’s as if nothing changed.

Eventually, he possesses all of your days off. Whether via texting or impromptu hangouts that Changbin and Jisung respectfully call dates.

“No man goes to a bookstore and buys you hardcovers if it’s not a date,” Jisung reasons.

It’s entirely different when the book being bought is a classic from your high school days. Hyunjin loves it too, claiming it in his top 5. Only one book, and it’s part of a friendship bond, which is totally normal! But, Jisung refuses to understand this.

No questions regarding your status are ever shared, which to you is obvious. If there’s no romance like kissing, then there’s no reason to question and ruin what you have.

Regardless of your perspective, Jisung is relentless in making sure you’re aware of his matchmaking abilities. “If you want an official date, I’ll score you one,” he offers every time Hyunjin takes you on a ‘whimsical adventure’ to McDonald’s at 2 A.M. Jisung’s description, of course.

Perhaps this is because you caved and allowed him to know that the feelings for Hyunjin never ceased. Maybe the heart does grow fonder in absence, but it doesn’t fare well with persistent presence either.

“You should just tell him,” Jisung advises one peaceful Wednesday night. Rain patters against the windows, drowning out the city’s signature honking and sirens.

“And if he rejects me?”

Jisung nods, carefully dictating his words, “That’s the worst possibility. Or, the better ones occur. You’d never know until it happens.”

“Either way, he has to go home eventually,” you sigh. The realization shatters your heart into ten million pieces, each broken so specifically that the puzzle would never line up again.

“You could always be his reason to stay. Home doesn’t always have to be a place.”

You shake your head. “No. He already made that decision.”

“Prior to the knowledge of you liking him,” Jisung swiftly points out.

“I suppose that is true,” you admit, but you cannot shake the impending sense of doom. Even if it’s love, it could be inane. Or rather, one destined to be temporary. At the end of that tunnel is a deeply rooted heartbreak that doesn’t seem worth the trouble.

As if sensing the negativity oozing out of you, Jisung aids, “Just give it a shot. Maybe the warmth will outweigh the darkness. And if he breaks your heart, that just gives me an excuse to beat him up.”

You chuckle. Jisung has always wanted to fistfight Hyunjin for whatever reason. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Standing up, Jisung concludes, “I’m going to bed. Give it some thought, but don’t destine yourself for the ravine of loneliness because that’s easier.”

“I will. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too. Idiot.”

“Heard that.”

You turn to your phone, lit up with countless texts from a single man. Isn’t that weird? How can someone have so much reign over your life by simply being present?

He asks about your plans for the upcoming weekend. Can you get someone to cover for you. Why? The weather will be nice, we can go to the sunflower field and finally get some pics.

Then it hits you. What better time to tell a boy you like him than in a sunflower field where you are the focus? Albeit anxiety inducing to consider, you can’t picture yourself doing it any other place. Plus, with such short notice, you won’t have time to stress it.

You tell Jisung of your plan in the morning, and his face lights up with glee.

“I didn’t think you’d settle on something so quick,” he admits, smiling over a fresh cup of coffee.

“I’m being spontaneous. Boys like that, right?”

“Definitely. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Hyunjin is so into you it’s honestly kind of annoying.”

“How?”

“I should’ve been the sibling to fall in love with,” he pouts. “I’m way funnier, hotter, and all-around amazing.”

You scoff. “In your dreams. I always had the valentines in high school. What did you get? Acorns stuffed in your locker?”

“I will never forgive Seungmin for that prank. I am not a squirrel. Simply a man desperate for love,” he dramatizes by pressing the back of his hand against his forehead.

You grab your keys. “On that note, I am going to work.”

“Kiss Hyunjin when he visits,” Jisung giggles.

“I hope you fall into a large vessel on your way to work.”

“Mutual.”

♡♡♡

The remaining days leading up to the confession are long and dreadful. Changbin won’t mind his business after you asked him to cover your shift. Jisung bothers you on your breaks about whether the ‘lover boy’ has visited yet and if so, what was he wearing? He swears Hyunjin is dressing up to impress you.

His texts grow spare, but no less eager to talk to you. You attribute it to being busy with other friends. Or maybe his dad is struggling more with each day. Who knows?

When the day of the date arrives, you ask him what he’d want you to wear to best fulfill his vision. An hour, and then two, and then an apologetic text promptly followed by a screenshot from Pinterest. He assures that you don’t have to appeal closely to the idea, but if you’re on board with him that definitely works.

He advises that it might be easier if you meet him there.

A pit opens in your stomach, hollowing your body with pure anxiety. Something feels wrong, but it’s too late to back out.

You consult your closet with wary eyes. Picking out multiple pieces, you set them on your bed and take a step back. Mix and match until the right one is as clear as glass. A burnt orange shirt with a small logo on the shoulder and roughed shorts. You’ll pair it with a brown belt and an old, beaten pair of sneakers to match Hyunjin’s vision as best as your closet allows.

You mumble affirmations to yourself as you dress. They’re meant to ease your nerves, but they make you feel exceedingly more aware of the situation.

Taking a glance at the clock, you puff your cheeks and dismiss hesitant air.

You pass Jisung in the kitchen, declaring you’re on your way.

“He’s not picking you up?” he asks.

“No, I guess something came up. We’re meeting there.”

He offers a comforting smile in lieu of his normal banter. “Good luck. It’ll be fine.”

Wildly enough, that doesn’t ease anything in your gut. In fact, you fear it makes you more nauseous.

♡♡♡

The sunflower field is connected to a plot of land owned by a well-traveled tourist farm. They sell all sorts of foods like jam, fruits, and vegetables. Pumpkins to pumpkin jam to pumpkin apples. You’ve heard their apple cider is to die for. Jisung comes and buys a huge gallon every Halloween season, but he’d threaten you every time you got near it.

Upon arrival, you find a bench under a tree dedicated to the farm’s previous owner. When ten minutes go by, you temporarily abandon your spot to indulge in some warm apple cider.

You nervously refresh your messages every few seconds as if your phone plan has ever cheated you out of your texts before. In the meantime, you text Jisung.

It’s not like Hyunjin to be late without warning. He’s always complained about those types of people, deeming them inconsiderate and selfish. Maybe that’s something Americans view normal. Adjusted his brain chemistry or something.

You try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. You sigh as the machine gives you the inane instructions. At the beep, you say, “Hey, it’s me. Call me when you can. Or text. Just let me know what’s going on.”

Suddenly you feel incredibly stupid for thinking any man could be interested in you enough to a) suggest taking pictures of you, b) arrive on time, and after all that c) like you back.

Naivete.

An older couple sits beside you on the bench for a while, discussing their grandchildren.

“I bet Channie would like this place,” the man says, releasing a contented sigh as a smile takes over his face.

“He truly would. When will he visit again?”

The man sets a gentle hand on his wife’s knee. “I’m not sure, dear. You know he takes his work so seriously.”

Leaning your elbows on your knees, you tuck your chin into your palm. It hides your face from the elderly couple. They can’t see the tears glossing over your eyes or how they eventually spill, puddling into your cupped hand.

The sun slithers in and out of clouds until suddenly, the sun is nearly gone. The couple is long gone by now, but you wish they had stayed longer. At least their presence was there.

When it hits 5 P.M., you stand up, brushing imaginary dust from your knees. You open Jisung’s text log, telling him you’re on your way home.

He tries to call, but you let each one ring out.

♡♡♡

Of all the times to not have a room, now is the worst. Jisung fails to comprehend that trying to explain only makes the sobs rush out faster, but he’s only trying to console you. Trying to get the message across, you turn your back to him and push your face into the couch cushion.

He paces in front of the couch. Back and forth, the neighbors beneath you must hate him.

“We have options,” Jisung declares after a peaceful moment of silence. “I can sneak into his home when he’s sleeping and place a pillow over his face and ever so gently push down.”

Your pillows shake with a lost effort to laugh.

“Will pizza make you feel better?” he asks, voice gone quiet with the gentleness only an older brother can possess.

You roll over to look up at him. The sudden light stings your eyes in pair with the never-ending flow of the river that is your tears. Hiccuping, you manage, “T-Tacos.”

He leans down and rests a hand on your shoulder, smiling as he gives a squeeze. “Sure. I’m sorry I encouraged you to go out with him.”

You dismissively shake your head. He couldn’t have known you would get stood up on a date idea that wasn’t even yours.

He starts for the foyer, tossing over his shoulder, “If I return bloody, I’m cashing out my sibling favor for your silence.”

You smile to yourself. At least you have Jisung to help remedy the heartbreak. And tacos. But you wouldn’t get the tacos if not for your brother. Maybe what you’re trying to say is that you love him, but those words would never dare leave your mouth.

♡♡♡

“Why do tacos taste better after sobbing my brains out?”

“It’s your loss of salt catching up to you,” Jisung reasons, his cheeks stuffed with big bites.

You reluctantly nod in approval, totally believing him.

♡♡♡

The days before the detour were inevitable, but you fear you’ll never return to normal. Changbin asked his questions, and you answered. You didn’t put up a fight or threaten his life for, yet again, being in your business.

You go to work, make fancy coffees for minimum wage, go home, sleep, and repeat. You ignore texts from Hyunjin, who is now just a number. He’s no different than the Red Cross begging for your blood donation. Except, Hyunjin’s not offering money for his mistake. Just begging your answer and dramatically apologizing.

When he starts appearing at your workplace, Changbin steps in while you attend to restocking cups, napkins, and wiping off tables.

Changbin keeps him busy from the moment he enters until the moment he is shuffled out.

“How much longer do you think until he gives up?” he asks one day, pushing his hair back to reveal his stress induced receding hairline. “He’s ruining my hair growth.”

You cross your arms against your chest, gravely attempting to suppress your smile. “Hopefully he’ll take the hint soon. My brother is threatening murder.”

Changbin smiles crookedly, a signal that he’s amused by that. “He has a prosecutor friend who could get him out of it.”

“And reasonable cause. The dude is practically stalking me,” you glance back to the window to ensure he’s not peeking in like Michael Myers.

Changbin points back to his hair. “And he’s making me lose my hair. That is a horrendous offense.”

“Right,” you laugh.

“Don’t laugh! This is real!”

“Real stupid,” you retort. Glancing at your watch, you light up, “Would you look at the time? It’s my break. Have fun!”

Changbin whines as you push past him to the breakroom. He stares at the empty spot you once held, saddened by the eternal breaktime excuse that always snipes his arguments with you. He liked your presence before the Hyunjin situation brought you closer, but now you’re nicer and more willing to entertain his dumb arguments. Shifts pass quicker with this newfound submission.

It’s only fifteen minutes that go by all too fast for you, and way too slow for him.

The moment you return, he starts an argument about the ideal pizza toppings. In the middle of defending anchovies and bacon, the store bell alerts you that a customer enters. You wave Changbin off and turn to greet them.

Mouth half ready to say, “Welcome to Seoul Searching,” you stop dead in your tracks.

The blond-headed boy looks entirely miserable. He’s dressed in stained sweats and an entirely too big hoodie. Dark rings surround his eyes as though he hasn’t slept in ten years. He is a saddened raccoon who merely wants dumpster food.

Changbin steps in front of you, finishing the greeting and asking what he can get started for him. He intimidatingly flexes his muscles in the process, a warning not to even think about it.

He tries anyway.

He peers around Changbin’s shoulders. “Please, Y/N, just talk to me. I can explain things. I can fix this.”

You turn around to busy yourself with cleaning the hot bar.

“I saw you there, but I just got so nervous. I’m so sorry.”

You grip the rag beneath your palm. The anger builds up inside you like a spinning top building up momentum. You fling the rag on the ground and turn back to him. “You were just going to leave me anyway. What was the point, Hyunjin? Really? To get me to fall in love with you again just so you could pack up and leave when things got inconvenient?”

Dread sinks into his face, relieving color from his face. “A-Again?” he stutters.

Remembering Jisung’s assurance it wasn’t obvious, you press your lips into a fine line. You nod, asserting that yes, this is the second occurrence despite his ignorance. Sure, he probably was unaware the first time, but this time was so different.

Everyone assured he was into you.

You watch him experience the stages of grief through vague twitches.

Changbin grows annoyed. “Come on, dude, it was so obvious.”

You’re relieved someone agrees with you.

Hyunjin glances over to him but swiftly returns his confused look to you. “You really liked me?”

Your voice breaks pitifully as you answer, “Stupid, huh?”

Finally, you dismiss yourself into the breakroom before you cry in front of a customer. He simply could be nothing more to you. Even a friend was a stretch now.

He calls out behind you. “I know it won’t matter but I like you too. I have since the day we met.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Love is at your fingertips, but instead of turning around and graciously accepting it, you shake the thought away and push forward. Jisung always warned you about your self-worth. It is better to grow as a person than to fall at the hands of someone who hurts you for the selfish greed of love.

You hear Changbin return to his customer service voice. “So. Can I help you with anything?”

♡♡♡

When you get home, tears in your eyes, Jisung is camped in the living room with Seungmin. They gossip over reality TV commercial breaks.

Jisung glances up at you with the remnants of a smile from the conversation, which swiftly drifts away. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

Your shoulders tremble, trying to withhold the tears to not embarrass yourself before Seungmin (whom you barely know). But, you have set up a simple 4x4 to block the flood.

You recount today’s happenings, making sure to go into detail about the context leading up to Hyunjin’s appearance. Horrible customers, a loud child’s iPad, and a spilled caramel frappe all over the floor. Every time you walked over it, your shoe stuck to the floor and made a horrible squelching noise.

When you finish, Jisung opens his mouth to spew threats on Hyunjin’s name, but Seungmin sets his hand out to stop him. Seungmin takes a deep breath. “I think he is a plain and simple idiot. Even I knew you liked him the first time.”

“What?” Jisung interjects, “How did you know? I didn’t even know!”

Seungmin’s jaw falls slack in disbelief. “How could you not know? Y/N stared at him during history daily. You,” he points at you accusatorily, “almost failed our finals because you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention.”

Jisung looks to you as if asking for confirmation. You offer a measly nod. His following outburst is ugly.

Seungmin manages to suppress his noise long enough to redirect the conversation back. “So, he said he liked you back?”

“Yeah, but I just kept walking. I mean, he stood me up. If he genuinely liked me, he wouldn’t have done that,” you reason.

“Maybe he got nervous,” Jisung offers. You glare at him. His voice was the one you heard when Hyunjin offered his confession. He shouldn’t be turning 180 on you, because now you lead yourself to believe you might have made the wrong decision.

Seungmin punches his shoulder. “He could have had the basic decency to have warranted a no-show.”

You sigh. “I just wish things made sense.”

“If you want a background check or,” Seungmin’s voice grows flat and serious. “If you need a legal hitman.”

“Jesus, Seungmin, I don’t want him dead.”

He shrugs. “It’s comforting to know it’s an option.”

♡♡♡

Unwarranted texts bombard your phone, again. The vibration of your phone sends a spike of pain through your head. Blocking him would be easy. So, so easy. And yet, you cannot convince yourself to follow through.

After a text sent at 4 A.M. that awakens you, you exasperatedly open your texts and tell him to stop bugging you.

Surprisingly, he does. He follows the simple direction from your concentrated burst of anger. Diligently, too.

Surprisingly, peace returns.

But peace never stays.

In the time before you inevitably get harassed by his presence again, you find a place for yourself. It’s not far from Jisung’s, just down the hall. He makes sure to copy a key for himself. Oftentimes, he is waiting for you to get off work. In the dark. Like a serial killer.

On the topic of jobs, one of your applications finally goes through for a huge music company on the expensive side of Seoul. They really loved you, and you were hired immediately as a social media advisor.

You visit Changbin at the coffee shop often. He and your replacement get along well, too. They bicker more than you did.

After Hyunjin’s absence allowed a period for your healing, Seungmin invited you on a date or two. It ended up just before double digits, you think. With his salary, he took you out to a lot of high-end restaurants, and always assured that he would pay for whatever you wanted. He was really good to you, but the interest fizzled out. Regardless, you remain better friends because of it.

Overall, the issue with Hyunjin felt like a minuscule pothole in an otherwise smooth road. Life has been good to you.

Rather, it was good to you until you opened Instagram this morning. At the top of your feed, Hwang Hyunjin is posed in front of your company, mouth open in superfluous excitement that cannot be contained with a smile. Your eyes, panicked, drift down to the caption.

“Nothing beats pictures of home.”

You mutter, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

You hang low on the way to work, aside from the mandatory stop at Seoul Searching.

Changbin beams when you walk in. “My love!”

“My idiot!” you return, grinning back as you approach the counter.

“Your usual?” he asks, and you pull your wallet out to pay him the usual, exact amount.

“You won’t believe it,” you start after he takes your money. “Hyunjin got a job at my company, and I think we might work in the same department.”

Changbin snaps his head to look at you. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

His face grows red. “That dude is stalking you!” he exclaims.

“I don’t think he is anymore. It’s been, what, six months?” you sheepishly admit. “Very unfortunate, though.”

Changbin leans over the counter, resting his elbows as leverage, and whispers, “Text me if he tries anything funny. I will be there in fifteen seconds.”

You drag your lip between your teeth, fighting a smile, nodding.

He encouragingly claps your shoulder before turning around to make your drink.

♡♡♡

A voice torments the normally quiet office all morning. Everso, the voice grows closer. “This is the social media department, where you’ll be working under.”

You glance over the breadth of your desktop, but immediately regret it, snapping your head back down. Too late, they saw you.

“Y/N,” your boss calls. “Meet our new hire.”

You stand up dutifully, offering Hyunjin a polite smile and a partial bow. He offers the same respect. You are nothing more than strangers, you remind.

Your boss continues her spiel, forcing you to awkwardly stand while she says, “And your desk is right over there, beside our youngest employee, Jeongin.”

You drop back into your seat when they turn the corner.

“You know each other?” your coworker, Jeongin, inquires without ever looking up from his phone.

You spin in your chair to look at him. “Uh, yeah. We kinda have history.”

“Let me guess: you liked him, he asked you on a date, then stood you up, but promptly begged for forgiveness as though he didn’t wrong you so terribly?”

Amazed yet also terrified, you hesitantly ask, “How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “Just an educated guess.”

Your eyes inspect him for a little longer before you drag them back to your desktop.

Jeongin’s phone clanks against his desk repeatedly until you look at him. His eyes are blazed with amusement. “Can I play matchmaker?”

You shiver. “God, you sound like my brother. Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I could get you a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but-” you try.

“You want it.”

“I do not,” you assert, attempting a harsh glare that only seems to fuel the fire.

He smiles, dimples pressing into his skin as he slowly turns back to his desk. “Sure.”

With his back fully facing you, he warns, “If you change your mind, it better be quick. I have a feeling he’ll be off the market sooner rather than later.”

♡♡♡

To your dismay, Jisung says, “Maybe he’s right.”

“Not you, too,” you whine, throwing your head back against the couch in irritation.

“I mean, I know he hurt you, but maybe he didn’t realize how things would happen. At least give him a chance to explain if he tries approaching you. I mean, it’s been six months,” he advises.

If anyone has any sense, it’s Seungmin. You’ll text him when Jisung finally tredges home.

You dwell over the minutes that feel like hours. Between Jisung’s stark conversation, you begin explaining to Seungmin over text. You read it over, and always add a new bit you previously forgot. By the time Jisung leaves, the text is freshly sent.

You don’t get a response until much later, and the anticipation disappoints in contrast to the response you receive.

Upon reading Seungmin’s text, you have concluded: men will always choose the wrong perspective. “Maybe it’ll be a learning experience. You don’t forgive often.” Nonetheless, you will take the advice, albeit begrudgingly.

♡♡♡

Jeongin gives you a mischievous smile when you walk in. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Why do you assume I did something?”

You keep your distance as you set your things down. “You’re smiling like Pennywise in the dream sequences.”

“I just have good news.”

“And?”

“Hyunjin is very single. Very lonely. He confided in me about a few things,” he smirks.

“First of all, you are a menace. Second of all, when did you find the time to weasel this information?”

“I found his Instagram. Cute pics from high school by the way. I’m surprised you didn’t date back then.”

You roll your eyes. “Respectfully, stay away from me.”

“You know you don’t want me to,” he sings, loudly spinning in his chair until you tune him out.

♡♡♡

A tranquil week of getting your work done and leaving immediately passes, but you cannot hide in your facade much longer, especially with Jeongin’s increasingly incessant demands.

He enlists the time you would spend leaving with asking questions he definitely knows the answers to, perhaps to up your game in the rush to steal Hyunjin’s eye. Nothing screams “I’m a catch” quite like answering the most basic questions daily with a dwindling patience.

One random Friday, he interrupts your daydreams of the long weekend ahead of you with his grating voice. “Hey, Y/N, if a company email is sent to all of us, how do I respond without notifying all of the company?”

You throw your head back, heaving a big, deep breath before spinning in your chair to show him. He feigns surprise when it clicks, gasping. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!”

You drag your chair back to your desk, returning to your duties. Email them regarding this sponsorship, reach out to this division about their upcoming comeback, and did they want jade green or more of a scarab for their promotional pictures?

Jeongin smiles from ear to ear as he announces his departure.

“So early?” Hyunjin asks, voice still partially reluctant in your presence. You may pretend to be strangers, but the tension of past events remains between you like a dense fog.

“Yeah, I have a doctor’s appointment on the other side of town. Gotta beat Seoul traffic, amirite?”

He is a terrible liar. Aside from the awkward quirk in his voice, the knowledge that he walks to work because he doesn’t own a car is not exactly confidential. Alongside that, his doctor is sponsored by the company, nestled down the street. This much might not be as known, but he knows you know. He sends you an affirmative wink to confirm your suspicions as he jogs to the elevator.

Disgruntled and frankly agitated with his incessant likeness to your brother, you glare at your computer screen. The lines of text blur into a fuzzy conglomerate. Until finally, the moment passes and you can proceed with your day.

Hyunjin’s voice comes into tune. The vibrations of his vocal cords make noise, and your ears process the sounds as words, words as sentences.

Peace never prevails.

“So. I heard you got your own place. Is it sweet?”

Without offering as small a flicker of a glance in his direction, you simply respond, “Yes.”

“Yeah, Jisung told me it was. Just down the hall from him, right?”

Though your heart instantly plummets to a place beneath your stomach, perhaps the depths of hell, you refuse to allow it to show. Your brother has betrayed you in a light you could have never imagined. He’s probably kept normal contact this whole time, that scheming troublemaker. And then it clicks. The sudden switch. Jisung knew. Hyunjin was playing you for months in his wake, claiming your brother as a means to conduct his vile behavior against you.

What sin have you committed to be treated like this?

“It is.”

“Come on. Give me something to work with here,” he begs, and though you continue to glare at the screen, you can hear his smirk clear through his words.

You clench your jaw, teeming with firecrackers of rage. All the mean things you could say glimmers in your mind, but you resolve politely, “I owe you nothing.”

He hesitates. For a split second, you think he might snap back into reality. Hwang Hyunjin, not everyone is going to fall for every word that glides off your tongue. But then, his vain returns. “I suppose not, but I really want to defend myself.”

Impulsively, you force your nails into the flesh of your palm to prevent screaming. Reluctantly, you spin in your chair to face him. His bottom lip is lodged between his teeth, gnawing nervously, but your empathy runs low. You huff, explaining gently, “So you acknowledge that I want nothing to do with you, and for good reason, but you expect me to hear you out. Why should I?”

His mouth mocks syllables, but nothing emerges. “Uh, well…”

You turn your computer off, standing too abruptly as you snatch your coat from the back of your chair. “Exactly. Shut the lights off on your way out.”

♡♡♡

Disappointedly, Jeongin plays as a mediator once you retire his matchmaking for him. When Hyunjin directs a conversation towards you, Jeongin instigates one in the opposite direction. If Hyunjin catches on, he ignores it and remains persistent.

He’ll ask, “Hey, Y/N, do you know when the deadline for the production company’s sponsorship is?”

And Jeongin will intervene, “Next Friday. I know because I harvest dates like energy. They’re instantly engraved in the folds of my brain.”

On some days, his persistence exceeds the threshold you can bear. You cradle your head, attempting to tune out his voice, but always to no avail. More days than not, you leave early with a pounding head. Jeongin picks up after you, but you fear the boss is centimeters away from summoning you to her office with intrusive questions.

Even at home, you cannot avoid his name. Jisung admitted to maintaining contact with him, revealing his betrayal but displaying no remorse under the guise of, “He’s matured. Give him a shot.”

Hint: no man will ever fully mature in six months.

The only way to escape him would be to flee the city, denounce yourself from your family, and change your identity so he can’t find you. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

Jisung lays uncomfortably on your couch when you return from work one day. His head is craned against the armrest, contorting his neck at a harsh angle.

You drape your coat on the doorknob. “What are you doing here?” you ask as you cross into the kitchen and consult the medicine cabinet.

“I have a proposal.”

You reach up and grab the large bottle of Ibuprofen.

“I’m not talking to Hyunjin.”

You decap the receptacle, dumping two capsules into your palm. Slinging the pills into your mouth, you tip your head back and swallow harshly against the friction.

“Stop being stubborn,” he chastises, just like your mother. “What if I give you incentive?”

“Unless you have a million dollars stowed away, it’s not gonna work.”

You walk towards him as his voice builds. “Okay, I don’t, but I have an idea.”

He sits up and allows you room on the couch as you approach.

You sigh, plopping down next to him. “Does it include me compromising once again so he can feel comfortable? Because I’m not doing that, either.”

“No, well, kinda. I guess the whole thing is a compromise, but—not the point. I ask you to give him a single day at work. Just one. All you have to do is not go out of your way to be mean,” Jisung reasons.

You scoff. “First of all, I don’t go out of my way to be mean. Secondly, I’m not hearing what I get out of this.”

“I’ll buy 20 boxes of Thin Mints.”

“20?”

“20.”

“Make it 25, and you have to promise not to steal two boxes every time you come over.”

“Deal. I’ll put this in writing.”

“Now can you get out of my house so I can rest?”

Jisung pouts, “But 90 Day Fiance is about to come on.”

♡♡♡

At the end of the week, Hyunjin shoots up from his desk and announces he’d like to reward you and Jeongin with dinner. “It’ll be a fun little thing, my treat,” he defends, perhaps preceding his ego to catch up.

Jeongin quickly bows out, citing family issues. His eyes skitter towards you, but they prove his innocence when he offers, “Dad’s in town.”

You announce, “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans with an old friend.” Your deal with Jisung was civility. Nothing more. Nowhere had he requested you to be honest.

He dips his fists into his pockets. “Who? Seungmin?”

The skin on your cheeks blaze hot. For fear of him choosing to invite Seungmin along, you putter, “Uh, no. You don’t know him.”

Hyunjin shoots you a knowing look, and for a split second your heart mends and you nearly reveal the truth. You look back to your desk with shame. After all, at one point, he was all you knew. It would be pretentious to admit he hadn’t left a giant hole in your life.

At the end of the day, Jeongin bids his goodbyes. “See you all Monday. Oh, Y/N, text me the details about that idea we discussed.”

You nod, scribbling a reminder on your sticky note and sealing it to the frame of your desktop. Silence drains the office of energy in Jeongin’s absence. Despite the heavy presence Hyunjin holds, you manage to ignore him and the eyes he bores into you.

After dwelling in a comfortable silence, Hyunjin ventures to ruin it. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

“Does the latter half of that involve the bill coming, you excusing yourself to the restroom, and then climbing out the window?” You smile, looking over at him.

He deadpans, “Ha-ha, very funny. I won’t. I’ll even pay for the whole thing. Pick somewhere expensive, I’ll prove it.”

No one in their right mind would deny free (expensive) food. Unless, of course, you’re a medieval queen and have many people who wish to poison you. Even if you fell into this category, Hyunjin would have no obligation to. If it were the other way around, though…

You tap the cap of your pen against your lips. “Hmm. You like Italian. Giuseppe’s?”

He nods. “If that’s what you want, sure. Only issue: we’re not exactly in fancy-shmancy clothes. Is takeout okay?”

“Sure. Then I know you won’t dump the bill on me.”

He gathers his things, joking, “Don’t get too comfy on that.”

Blindly, you grab the pack of sticky notes and throw them. They hit his head with a hollow thunk. He cradles his head, rambling in pain. You have nothing to do but giggle at the sight.

“That hurt!” he exclaims.

“Don’t threaten my free food, then.”

His hand falls to his side, tipping his head back up to question your countenance. Transitionally, his glimmering smile falters until his face draws blank. You admire his features from afar, praying your face isn’t betraying the demeanor you set. That deceiving beauty. Lips part to speak, but words fail him. Then, the smile returns. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

♡♡♡

After a long debate, including you refusing to let Jisung see Hyunjin at your apartment, he relents and takes you to his. Ironically, it’s only a block over from yours. He was closer than you anticipated, and despite the warm feeling in your stomach (similar to the heat a beer will provide), you hate it.

At his front door, he struggles manning the rustling bags of food while trying to grant entrance. The stubborn man insisted on carrying everything. You brashly reach and relieve him of the heavy order of chicken parmesan and a healthy platter of alfredo. Swiftly after, the door caves under his push and he guides you inside.

“You can just kick your shoes off here,” he gestures, stealing the food back with a snarky smirk.

Longer, intentional strides beat you to the kitchen. By the time you make it, he’s already digging out cutlery and plates.

“So,” you say, pressing your elbows on the island separating you. “What happened to going back to America?”

His shoulders tense, and his gaze falls to the pale ceramic in his grip. Reluctantly, he turns around to face you. “Uh, okay, I didn’t want to just jump into this, but since you asked I expect you want a forward response.”

Your stomach anticipates his response before words can confirm them. Innate intuition ruins you every time.

He stammers over every word like he’s sinking in quicksand, and no word holds the proper weight before he’s sentenced to smothering. To make up for it, he dishes out noodles and savory chicken. “I guess it starts from the beginning. And, I guess, beginning isn’t the right word for it, because our history stretches far back.

“Sunflower. Picture day, or, I guess, supposed to be picture day. You recall?”

You sympathetically smile, but the pain of that day rings clear. “Yes, I remember.”

He heaves a big breath, but it doesn’t seem to calm his nerves. “I guess I should just jump into it. I liked you, still do,” he glances up for your reaction, but quickly regrets it and his gaze dips back, “A lot. Like more than I can comprehend.”

“Huh,” is all you can manage to muster.

“It doesn’t make sense, right? If I liked you as much as I did, then why did I abandon you there? Frankly, I don’t have a straight answer to justify that. Being scared or nervous or whatever that stupid fucking emotion was clouded my judgment.”

He hands you a plate full of delectable food, but you suddenly feel dread at the thought of putting anything in your body. The repulsion is so strong, you wonder how you’ve ever felt delight in eating.

You swallow the stone in your throat, reaching out to accept it.

He uses his fork to push the food around on his plate, but it never lifts to his mouth. “So, to answer your question, I realized going back to America would solidify my actions that day. I couldn’t handle that, especially since the love has never faltered. And, trust me, I don’t expect you to return it; but, you deserve the truth. That day at the coffee shop, it all came crashing down in some dizzying clarity, and by then, it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

You draw your lip between your teeth, avoiding his eyes. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long did you really like me? In Seoul Searching, you had said since you first met me, but I think we both know you were just trying to save yourself.”

His shoulders fall as he releases a pent up mass of stress. “I realized when I left that first time. America felt so empty without you, and then I started thinking of all the things we could do when I got back. But, I guess I’ve always liked you. Truly. No one could ever compare to you. Hell, no place could ever compare if you’re not there with me.”

Despite it all, a bittersweet smile grazes your lips. Maybe those words were all you needed to move forward. Some kind of assertion that you were never the problem and that’s finally being verbally announced. You glance up, “Jeongin tried playing Cupid, y’know?”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, I know. The boy pinned me against a wall to pry information out of me. He even asked me about your brother, I guess to get a bigger picture. He weaseled his number out of me.”

You exclaim. “Maybe that’s why Jisung offered a compromise so I’d be nice to you! Those little—” you stop yourself, falling into a fit of laughter.

Hyunjin matches you, but his smile is far away as if he still has stuff to say. When the laughter dwindles, he rushes to add, “To be clear, I don’t intend to make advances on you. If I can have you as a friend that will be enough.”

You analyze his features. Those eyes share stories in their glistening expression, that mouth shares jokes and witty remarks, and by God have you missed him. Perhaps you should go on a whim and act spontaneously. Boys like that, right? You extend your hand over the granite, “Make it a date, Hwang Hyunjin.”

He gawks. “Are you sure?”

You nod, waving your hand until he grabs it. “Why not? I already know what best friend Hyunjin is like. Show me potential suitor Hyunjin.”

“First date, part two,” he declares with a tiny shrug.

“I guess the only way to get you on a date with me is to trick you into one so you don’t get caught up in your thoughts,” you ponder, retracting your hand to attack dinner.

He fails to even scoff because the truth in your words is haunting. Instead, he returns to sentiment. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

“Use it wisely.”

♡♡♡

“Hypothetically, then, would I have to gain permission to enter your apartment so I don’t…interrupt something?”

You drop your fork with a loud clatter and stare at him in disgust. You glance around the crowded restaurant, leaning to whisper scoldings at him. “Oh my God, Jisung, I’m not gonna have sex with him right out of the gates. We’re not even official yet!”

He shoots his hands up in defense. “You’ll make it out of the platonic dating phase. Damn me for preparing.”

You stab around your salad. “How are you so sure?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “A brother just knows, okay? You’d know if I randomly got romantically involved with someone I’d been best friends with for years. Your smell changes or something crazy like that.”

“I think you’re thinking of that purity culture propaganda piece,” you point out, and he shrugs.

To your surprise, the news of the first date did anything but shock Jisung. He stared at you as you delivered the gossip, but he didn’t even crack a smile. It’s like your love life is suddenly old news to him.

Cupid falls from the sky when his job is done. Boredom, you suppose. Cupid is a dramatic force.

Your phone vibrates against the table. Hyunjin’s name pops up accompanied by the silly work groupchat name, gifted by Jeongin. He asks when you intend on returning from your lunch, to which Jeongin responds with awkward emojis that silently warn him. You imagine a blanche, shocked look harboring his features when you respond cordially with an apology and an expected time.

“Lover boy?” Jisung asks, breaking the crust of his pizza into two and dipping one into an offering of ranch.

“No, it was Hyunjin,” you stubbornly respond, raising your eyebrows at his displeased face.

You dig in your canvas bag for your wallet. “I have to run. Twenty should cover it, right?” You offer him the cash.

Jisung waves your hand away, swallowing a large chunk of bread. “I’ve got it. My treat.”

To your discontented face, he quickly adds, “View it as my congratulations for new beginnings.”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Fine. But I pay next time with no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

When you return to the office, Jeongin is certainly scared by the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. Hyunjin asks how lunch with your brother was, to which you respond truthfully. “He wasn’t as shocked as I thought he’d be about us.”

“Us?” Jeongin interjects, eyes shooting between you and Hyunjin. They rest on Hyunjin, “You finally got the balls to ask?”

Your voice drags his attention back to you. “It was my idea.”

He jumps up and approaches you. “Okay, what? Are you feeling okay?” He presses the back of his palm to your forehead.

You reach up and push his arm away. “Yep. All good.”

Jeongin initiates another questioning bounce of looks. Thousands of thoughts travel through his mind at once, but none are vocalized. Finally, he turns back to his desk and mutters, “Weird. I owe your brother fifty bucks.”

♡♡♡

In the months to come, a relationship buds. Hyunjin atones his mistakes with daily knicknacks—snow globes in May, thrift store finds of picture frames embroidered with stranger’s names, and a hoodie he claims doesn’t fit him the same (but you saw him wearing it the week before and it was baggy and totally normal). Eventually, he upgrades to forehead kisses and good mornings by breakfast in bed.

Even though Jisung feigned disinterest, he probably gained the most from the development. He knocks before entering your apartment, but only on occasions he knows your boyfriend is there. Then, he’ll nestle between you on the couch and alternate discussions with each commercial break. The boy is in hog heaven knowing his best friends worked it out.

Awkward conversations still arise, with differing opinions on children and marriage (like those could even be viable questions right now). He asks you to move in with him on multiple occasions, but you shoot him down until you’re fully ready. When you finally approach readiness, and even then you’re not super sure in your decision, he is ecstatic. Finally, you can walk home together, eliminating his worries about you getting dragged into an alley and mugged of the three dollars in your wallet. Jisung pouts over this decision for a week, but his qualms are erased when Hyunjin offers information that a spare key is hidden in a fake potted fern outside.

When he leaves work early because of a migraine that’s stretching into his muscles and causing extreme aches, you think nothing of it. Until, that is, you open the front door and are greeted by a puppy sitting next to puppy pads and a bowl of water.

“Do you like him? His name is Kkami. Look, he even knows some tricks! Kkami, sit.”

Though not your idea of a relaxing Thursday, that’s just what you get with Hyunjin. He’s full of surprises, like when he also came home from work with a little tattoo along his wrist of a quote you once offered him in high school.

“I thought it’d be a curse to get your name, so I just got something you said that really helped me.”

Or like how he threw an outfit at you and told you to get dressed. Then, he hustled you into his car and drove without giving any answers to your undying questions of where. The sights grew familiar, and you glanced into the backseat and noticed his camera bag. The sunflower field, an outfit eerily similar to the one he sent you that day. He finally made it up to you.

His spontaneity is simply one of his best qualities. Sometimes, he’ll stand up from the couch, march into the kitchen for thirty seconds, and return with two takeout menus for you to decide at random, only for you to discover it had nothing to do with food in the first place.

Hyunjin’s words are desperately planned, though. Crossed over in his head a million times so he doesn’t accidentally misspeak. Speaking his love is the most intentional. In the morning as soon as you wake up, at work where he sits across the room from you, when at last you’re alone, and when the feeling of meaning creeps up his neck and he’s reminded that you (in all your beauty) are his home.

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids imagine #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz #hyunjin au #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids hyunjin #bandaigaeru

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justmeinadaze · 2 years

Text

Unattainable Part VIII (Eddie X Theater Girl)

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and trauma, Mostly a lot of Eddie being protective while these 2 battle with internal demons.

Word Count: 3300

A/N: I was going to write more but what I want to write next I want to solely focus on. Please forgive any errors in any of my stories. I proofread a lot but my brain still skips lol

##################################

The drive to Eddie’s trailer was completely silent. He kept both hands gripped on the steering wheel as he sped his van through the dimly lit Hawkin’s streets. I was so embarrassed by what happened with my mother. What must he think? What must he be thinking of me?

Probably wondering if the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

I close my eyes, trying to suffocate the thought. When I open them again, I take the opportunity to glance in Eddie’s direction. His own eyes are glued to the road ahead but his jaw is extremely tight as if he’s trying to hold something down. His knuckles on the wheel were starting to turn white with how hard he was hold on. I could hear the tight creak of the plastic between his fists. I know he’s not upset with me but I still feel like this is my fault. I’m hurting him.

The van lurches forward as Eddie stomps on the breaks in front of his home. He remains silent has he hops down and comes around to open my door, helping me out. He reaches in, grabbing my things, and slams the van door with a loud crack startling me.

When we make our way in through the front door, I pause, making eye contact with a man I’ve never met before in the kitchen. Eddie seems completely unphased as he charges past him towards his room.

“Hello.” Says the man coming over to me with a casual stride. He politely extends his hand. “I’m Wayne. Eddie’s uncle.” I give him a small smile as I reach for his hand and tell him my own name. “Ah yes. I’ve heard about you.” He turns his head towards Eddie’s room as we hear things aggressively being moved around. “So, uh, should I be concerned?”

“No!” Eddie shouts coming out of his bedroom to meet us halfway. “No reason to be concerned. She’s going to stay here for a few days.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. He was telling his uncle what was going to happen. Wayne, seemingly unphased himself, started putting on his jacket.

“You know how I feel about things like that.” His uncle places his hands on his hips as his eyes look over me and then back to Eddie. His shoulders go up and fall as he exhales. “Is it bad?”

Eddie curtly nods. “Okay. I came home because I forgot my food here but I’m heading back now. I’m trusting you here, Edward.” Wayne turns back to me and tilts the bridge of his hat before walking out the door.

“How…how long am I staying for?” I stammer as I follow Eddie into his room. He doesn’t answer me but instead removes his jacket and hurtles it towards his closet. He lights up a cigarette and proceeds to slam his whole weight onto the bed. Leaning his head back, he stares at the ceiling. I can’t take it anymore. “Eddie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was going to come home. I never would have brought you to the house if I had known—”

“So, you’d just hide it from me?” He interrupts my rambling. Eddie’s eyes are now on me and they are burning my skin.

“No…I don’t hide things from you. She wasn’t lying. She’d never hurt me like that.”

“Until tonight? Hm. Funny how ‘never’ didn’t last.” He stands up suddenly pointing his two fingers that are currently holding his cigarette at me. “And I know you don’t care but she hurts you every damn day with that mouth. You said it yourself! She treats you like garbage!”

I start feeling that feeling again. That defensive protective wall is slowly creeping up around me. Eddie is challenging what I know as my foundation and it’s making me angry.

“You can’t just come into my life and pretend like you understand all the pieces, Eddie! You have no idea what she’s been through. What we’ve been through! So don’t you dare point your finger at me and say I don’t care!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? If she really cared about you, she wouldn’t be drunk off her ass every single night and calling her kid a stupid whore! If she really cared about your well-being and the fact that someone like me or your father is going to break your fucking heart then she should be in your life!” With every word Eddie’s voice is getting louder. “She only cares about herself!”

“She’s doing her best.” I respond through gritted teeth.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh.” Oh please, you’re fucking smarter than that.”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Eddie?!” I step forward till I’m right up on him. Tilting my face up to meet his as I keep shouting, “Do you want me to tell you you’re right? That she doesn’t care about me? That my dad doesn’t care about me? That neither of my parents even bother to care about my well-being to even show up to dinner at night let alone my plays or a parent’s night at school?” I try to control the tears but they still start to fall. Eddie’s stoic features start to faulter slightly.

“That my dad would rather be 2,000 miles away with his new wife and daughters then be here with me? That my mother would rather drink herself to death than be around me?” I sit on the edge of his bed, my eyes cast to the floor. “Every night I lay in my bed and I wonder ‘If they love themselves more than me,” I shrug as my voice cracks,” than what’s wrong with me?’”

Eddie drops down in front of me, placing his body between my legs. Both of his big hands cup my cheeks as he moves my head to face him. “Hey!”, he says sternly. “Hey. Look at me. Now!” My eyes move to meet his chocolate ones. I still see anger but it’s not directed at me. It’s coming from somewhere else. “There is nothing, do you hear me, nothing wrong with you.” He runs the pad of his thumbs under my eyes to wipe the tears.

His hands fall to my knees as he leans back on his calves. We sit there in silence for a few moments and when he finally speaks again his tone is calmer. “I used to think the same thing… about my parents. I thought ‘Damn maybe if I was a better kid my dad would try harder to stay out of jail.’ Or ‘Maybe there is something wrong with me if my mom doesn’t do anything when my dad’s acting like a dick.’”

It started to make sense; his need to protect me from my mother and where he was mentally up until this moment. He was that little boy again. I reached for his hand on my lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He shakes his head as his palm rubs my thigh in a comforting gesture.

I rise to my feet, pulling him up with me by his hands, and turn him around so his back is facing the bed. I lightly push him back and he bounces down dramatically. Leaning down, I start to untie is shoes. “What are you doing?” he asks with an amused tone. My eyes meet his as I tug off his boot. I can slightly see my Eddie from earlier slowly coming back through. Without answering, I continue to remove his other shoe, socks, and jeans. I look around me and find a pair of shorts on the floor. I bend down to pick them up and start sliding them up his bare legs. He takes the waist band and glides them the rest of the way to his hips.

Feeling everything hit me, I’m too tired to dig for my own comfy clothes. I bounce down on the bed next to him just as dramatically as he had causing him to let out a tiny laugh. I pull off my own garments leaving on my underwear and shirt. I push Eddie back against his pillows and lean over him to turn off the light. Resting my head and arm on his chest, I wrap my leg around his and close my eyes. I feel his other arm reach down as he places his blanket over us, lightly pulling it up to my shoulder. Eddie leans in giving me a tender kiss on the forehead before we both fall asleep.

#############################

The sound of thunder shakes the trailer, jolting me awake. I look at my watch, noting it’s 8am. Eddie is still fast asleep on his back. Quietly, I climb over him and grab a pair of my shorts from the duffle bag we brought. I hear some slight rustling in the Munson kitchen. As I round the corner, I see Eddie’s uncle making some breakfast.

“Hey. Hungry?” Wayne asks.

“Oh, you don’t have to make me anything.”

“I know I don’t have to. I’m offering.” I smile and nod my head. He gestures to a stool near the counter. “Ma’am.”

My smile turns into a grin as I sit down. I see where Eddie gets his sass and charm.

“My nephew seems to really care about you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him behave like he did last night.” I feel my body stiffen slightly. He steals a glance quickly at me before turning his attention back to the stove. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. On the outside, Eddie may look a certain way but he’s a good boy. Kind heart, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Wayne reaches above his head for a plate. “When he cares about something he usually goes all in. Probably because he knows how fast it can be taken away.” He turns around and places two plates on the counter, one in front of me. Wayne sighs. “Kid’s been through hell that’s for sure. You have to, haven’t you?”

I nod silently at his question. “Yeah. Well, you’re in good hands with Eddie.” That makes me smile again. “And you’re safe here. Stay as long as you need to though I imagine at some point you may want to at least tell your guardian or whoever you’re safe so they don’t call the cops or something.”

“Oh my god. Why are you people awake?” Eddie murmurs in a groggy tone as he shuffles into the kitchen.

“Well, I got home a few moments ago and this young lady…?” Wayne’s voice trails off as he points to me. As if on cue, thunder erupts jostling the trailer a bit. I point at the ceiling. “Ah yes. One of the downfalls of living in this kind of luxury.”

Eddie reaches over and steals a piece of bacon from my breakfast. I move the plate closer to him so we can share. His uncle watches with a knowing smirk. “Alright guys. I’m going to finish my food and crash. I have another long night tonight. Ma’am it was a pleasure talking to you.” He dips his hat in my direction, heading towards his room, and closing the door.

One of Eddie’s fingers comes under my chin tilting my face towards his as he places a kiss on my lips. “You ok?” I nod my head as I pull him in for a hug. He’s still warm from being under the covers. Suddenly the phone in the Munson house rings.

“I got it!” Eddie shouts before letting out a deep sigh. “Yeah, hello?” His back slowly straights as his eyes shift over to me. “One sec.” He grabs my hand and tugs me towards his room shutting the door behind him. He hands me the phone as he whispers, “It’s your dad.”

My eyes widen. How did he even get Eddie’s number? I take the phone from him and place it my ear. “Hello?”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” his tone is full of anger. “I don’t even know where to begin! Do you know your mother is calling me at 3am telling me that you ran off with that trouble making Munson kid and she doesn’t know where you are! I have been calling hospitals and people I know in town! Now I found out you’re staying AT HIS HOUSE!” Eddie grabs the phone from my hand before I can say anything and this time I don’t argue. I’m too tired. I just want all this to stop.

“Sir!” Eddie tries to remain as calm. “Did your ex-wife tell you that she tried to hit her last night before I stopped her? Did she also tell you that on a daily basis she degrades your daughter calling her names? Or did she mention that she stays out at the bars till they close and even then, your daughter is home alone until early morning IF her mom comes home at all?”

Silence.

“Yeah, but she shouldn’t be with me? Someone who actually cares about her and loves her.”

My eyes immediately shoot up to meet his. He nods his head and says it again but not to my dad. He’s speaking directly to me. “I love her.”

There are muffled sounds as my dad says something into the phone. Eddie hands it back, his eyes never leaving me.

“Look, um”, my dad’s tone has sufficiently changed. “Is that true?”

I close my eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “Does it matter?”

“Of course, it does!”

“You don’t care.”

“Come on, I do care. She’s”, he lets out a sigh, “You know how she is. You just, you just have to ride it out for 3 more months. Can you do that?”

I laugh again but it comes out a bit more manic. “You know what I think is extremely funny? That you showed way more of reaction to me staying here with “a trouble making Munson” than with me being with mom. After everything he told you.” I hear my father start to respond as I pull the phone away from my ear and press “End”.

Eddie takes the phone from my hand and places it on the floor. He kneels in front of me, brushing my hair behind my ear to look at my face. I open my eyes, reaching my hand up to wipe a stray tear.

“You know, this is the second time you’ve kneeled down in front of me like this in under 24hrs.”

“I’d kneel down in front of you for the rest of my life if you let me.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes as he lets out small laugh. I really look at him then. My Eddie has completely come back through and is now shining brightly in his beautiful brown eyes. Those eyes that I fell into the first time I looked at them when we ran into each other that night we met.

“Oh wow.” He says as he gets up to sit next to me. “I think,” he reaches over placing one hand directly on my face and the other behind my head, pulling me gently towards him. I feel his ear land on my hair. “Yeah, I think I can literally hear those gears in there spinning.” Reaching under his arms, I push his chest, and he drops his hands with a big toothy grin. He leans his back against his pillow and tilts his head to the side.

“What are you thinking about?”

I make my way over to him and straddle his hips with my legs. His warm hands come up to rest on my thighs.

“Sometimes I get worried that there’s something in me that’s like her.” His mouth starts to open in protest but I stop him by placing my tiny hand over his lips. “Let me get this out. I meant what I said last night. I trust you and I know you wouldn’t hurt me like my dad or even yours. I always thought I was avoiding dating because I was afraid of that but since I started going out with you, I learned that it’s the opposite. I’m terrified of hurting you. I never want to make you feel like you did last night.” I remove my hand from his lips and move it over to his cheek.

Eddie sits up fully shuffling me along with him. He reaches down and wraps my legs around to his back. We are now face to face and through his gaze I can see his own gears turning.

“We’re going to fight you and I. That’s a given. We are incredibly stubborn. It’s one of the things I adore about you honestly. The fact that you are a fighter and you’re strong. Just because we may disagree about something or we argue doesn’t make you like her. Just because you’re biologically her kid doesn’t make you like her. Just like how because I’m a Munson doesn’t mean I’m going to end up in prison. It’s a name. Not an identity.”

He reaches up to brush my hair back with his fingers. “And last night was NOT your fault.” My eyes involuntarily move away from his in shame and he shifts his head to follow mine. “Nah ah. Look at me.” He grins and I let out guilty laugh. “I’m serious. Okay? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I wasn’t mad at you I was—”

“Angry at the situation. I know.” I interrupt him, leaning his head down so our foreheads meet. “I know.”

There’s a crack of lightening followed by the loud bang of thunder. “Well,” Eddie sighs, “I was going to suggest we go out and do something today but…” he gestures to the window.

“Oh!” I shout making him jump a bit. “I almost forgot something.” I push him back down against the bed as Eddie mutters out an overdramatic “Holy hell!” I kiss his lips again pulling his face to mine. My lips leave a trail down his cheek as I make my way toward his ear.

“I love you to.” I whisper. I feel his body shift as he maneuvers both his strong hands to grab my cheeks, bringing me back to face him. His eyes search mine as he blinks like he’s trying to make sure he’s not dreaming. I tilt my face and kiss the palm of his hand. “I love you.”

He wraps his arms around my waist, basically football tackling me on to my back, making me laugh as he starts happily planting kisses all over my face and neck.

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