#ignore me repeating the same words over and over again in the tags it’s not an essay—

[nsharks]

Hi! I love love LOVE the way you write Ghost and his relationship w/ the reader!! Ignore me if requests are closed, but how did he react when the reader discovered she was pregnant???

"surprising ghost with a pregnancy" words: 1.8k tags: pregnant reader, fem!reader, slight angst?, fluff

“Hope ya don’t miss me during breaks, Lt.”

Soap watches the man he admires, in his infamous ruthlessness and all, stare with a straight gaze at the base’s entrance.

“Only when I drink too much,” Ghost says.

His mask is good for anonymity, yes. But it also does well in moments like these: the Scot beside him has no idea of the pulsing artery in his neck, the eagerness in each flicker of his gaze. He’s looking for you. Looking beyond the gates where you should be hidden somewhere.

Soap has no idea.

“What do you do in your free time, mate?” Soap wonders aloud, shifting the bag over his shoulder. Then, in a cheeky murmur, “Didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve heard whispers ‘bout some criminal activity.”

“Criminal activity?” Ghost repeats dully.

They’re getting closer.

He looks towards the spot you normally wait for him in: is that—?

He can see you.

The tension in his limbs fades to adoration. In the shadows, perfectly hidden but readily visible to his knowing eyes, is his girlfriend. Wearing one of the black hoodies he’d left behind. So big on you. He nearly groans at the sight.

Girlfriend is a weak title.

He hates it. It doesn’t encompass the truth of you: it’s such a simple word, too simple to capture how complicated of an effect you’d had on his life for nearly five years. To say Ghost loves his girlfriend would be to say he has a reason to live. It would be to say that you’ve got this behemoth of a man wrapped so tightly around your finger that his lungs just don’t work the same until he’s holding you.

(Perhaps that’s the reason for the little black box in his bag.)

He turns to the Sergeant and gives a half-hearted clap to his shoulder. “I save the criminal activity for weekends, Johnny.”

And with that, he leaves him (never was one for heartfelt goodbyes).

But he is now one for heartfelt reunions, he figures, because he’s ghosting his way towards you like some wild creature. Preying. Slipping under any eyes. His skeletal hands beyond desperate.

If Soap were to look carefully outside, under the shadow of the building, he’d see how the Lieutenant actually spends his free time.

He’d see his broad form envelop you.

He’d see him eagerly inch up his mask to reveal a pink mouth that doesn’t waste any time before sealing over yours.

And maybe, if he really looked, Soap might’ve been able to see how you cling to Ghost’s chest and tremble.

(But Soap doesn’t see any of this. Not today.)

Not even Ghost, whose got you in his arms, sees the shaking at first. His mind is a bit frenzied with the sensory overload of your smell, your soft hair, your breasts against his chest.

He only ends the kiss so he can get a good look at your face.

“Three months,” he grumbles, lips wet as he ushers the mask back over them. “Felt like a fuckin’ lifetime.”

“I know,” you whisper, but you fail to meet his eyes. “I was worried about you.”

The faintest contour of a smirk beneath his mask.

“Worried, were you?” He rubs your knuckles. “Lovely girl. Don’ worry about me. I’m a bit tough to kill.”

“Don’t,” your eyebrows pinch together. “Please… don’t even mention that.”

He rests his masked chin on top the crown of your head. His arms are so strong and warm and you breathe it all in. His hands stroke your hair with the gentlest of caresses as if, even after five years, he thinks you might be a fragile dream.

“I was so worried,” you say again. A whisper that he barely hears. “I—“

It’s now that he notices something. The rush of adrenaline has soothed over and now, taking your hands in his, Ghost notices the little tremors, swallows them up in the gulf of his large palms.

“Jesus, love,” he frowns. “You’re trembling.”

“There’s… something—“

Ashen eyelashes flutter against smudges of black paint. His shoulders tense as he pulls his chin away from your scented hair. Shifting his weight from boot to boot, Ghost further tucks you behind the colossal mass of him so even now, if someone were to look, all they’d see was his back.

His brows furrow behind a hard-shell skull. “What something?”

You’ve practiced these word so many times but now—

“What?” your boyfriend repeats, low and gruff. His relief is quickly turning into something dark. “Fuck, tell me. Did somethin’ happen?”

“Well, yes—“

“Christ,” he chokes. He doesn’t want to assume the worst, but it’s a gnawing fear. Always. “Someone else?”

“No, Simon.” You’re shaking your head. “It’s not that—“

“What is it then? What’s got you like this?”

“Just—“ and you swallow your fear, “Give me your hand, baby.”

“My hand,” he repeats numbly and offers you one. You take his hand and tug at the glove. There’s little give, so he swears under his breath and helps you pry the fabric off to reveal warm, calloused skin.

Here, tucked away outside a military base, you guide his bare hand under the hoodie you’ve got on. Hold his fingers and spread them apart so he can cup the small growth of your stomach.

Because the reason for your trembling lies here.

Small, growing. Supple skin stretching over a little piece of him and you.

It takes him a moment to process the news under his hand.

He smooths his hand over you. Even after three months, he knows every inch.

This—

This feels different.

You watch a kaleidoscope of realizations, feelings, and perturbation play in his eyes.

You’ve had to keep this secret to yourself for weeks now because it wasn’t something you could just share over the phone. It was too heavy. Too intimate.

Surely, it’ll distract him from his job.

That’s what you figured. But now—

—seeing his eyes cloud frantically, you wonder if showing up 16 weeks pregnant was the best move.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost murmurs. Keeps moving his hand over your little belly as if he’s not quite sure it’s real.

So you lift up the hoodie even more, just here for the two of you to see, and reveal the entirety of your secret for him to peer down at.

And now that he sees it, the unmistakeable bulge, the reality truly sinks in.

He’s silent at first. You kind of expected him to be: your boyfriend is a man of few words. But it doesn’t make the drawn-out moment of uncertainty any less excruciating. You study his eyes with a bated breath.

Children. It’s not something you talked about too much. He’d said in the very beginning that it was completely off the table because “I’d make an awful father”.

But that was years ago and Simon had molded into someone softer, someone less afraid. Someone who, with the help of your love and light, had ripped through the tangled ropes of distrust and guilt that he’d been caught in.

“Say something,” you finally whisper. “Please, Simon. I know- I know this is surprising.”

But all he utters is, “How?”

“The pill isn’t perfect,” you explain sheepishly. “That’s what the doctor told me—“

“…Doctor?”

“Well, I’ve been to the doctor a few times already.”

Lowly, “You… a few times?”

“To make sure everything was alright, baby,” you whisper carefully. “But I— I didn’t ask for the sex yet. I wanted to… I thought you’d want to be with me for that.”

Ghost is controlled. He’s precise and tactical and rarely caught off-guard. But this, the swell that lays under his hand which he hasn’t been able to look away from, has managed to thrust him into feelings he rarely experiences. He feels confused. Shaken to the core. He’s spent most of his adult life determined to stay alone, protect anyone from ever getting caught in the hallow storm of tragedy that is his life.

But you—

You infiltrated his life with promises of bright colors and warm touches and suddenly, somehow, Ghost began to enjoy coming home. He ached for it. He wanted to keep you close and safely tucked away so that little light of yours would never fade from his life.

And now you’ve given him another promise, one that rests in his palm. Death— he understands that too well, perhaps. But this little promise of life is so new and confusing and in mere seconds, it has torn the past from the future. Ghost could never be the same shell of a person he once was because now he’s been filled to the brim. Could he even be trusted with all of this? He’d always felt like there was a carved void where his boyhood had been taken from him, ripped away by terror. How could he be a father with such hole in his chest?

What could he give?

You’re crying. He’s been thrown into such a daze that he failed to notice the onslaught of tears and quiet sniffling coming from his girl.

“Hey,” he’s grounded in the present now, swallowing down the shards of his hesitation and wrapping his arms around you. He could give this. “Hey now. I’m here… I’m here.”

“You’re here?” you ask him, weeping.

“Yes, sweetheart. Christ, m’here. Always.”

In perhaps his first act of fatherhood, Ghost holds you close and murmurs promises of love and safety into your hair. You’d been so scared to tell him. He wouldn’t leave you, no, he could never. If there was ever an ounce of worry that he might—

It’s now smothered by his presence, his warmth, his strength.

“You’re making me a father,” Ghost whispers after the two of you just stand there for sometime. His voice: terrified and in awe all at once. “Don’t know if I’ll be a good one.”

“Simon-“

“But-“ And he gives the entirety of you a squeeze. He’s not going anywhere. “But I won’t be like my old man. Fuck, I swear it to you.”

“I know you won’t, Simon.”

Ghost decides to push his inhibitions to the back of his mind. He can be strong, he can be what you need. He will prove this to you over and over.

“And here I thought you jus’ liked wearing my clothes,” Ghost mumbles, a bit numb and a bit elated.

He reaches for your stomach again and rubs the bump over the fabric of his hoodie. (Perhaps, here lies another reason to live.)

Your crying has ceased. Twisting his uniform in your hands, you murmur with a weak laugh, “Might be the only thing that fits me soon.”

“Bloody hell.” And Ghost sighs. Holding the two of you now, he already feels like all the synapses in his brain have been rewired. Lighted up with a primal urge to protect, he doesn’t think about all the worries for right now. No— just thinks about how he’s going to smother your stomach with kisses once you’re home.

“I’ve got plenty more of those for you to wear.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty #fluff #pregnancy #dad ghost

[toruro]

I REQUEST NASTY DIGUSTING SLIGHTLY WEIRD AND OFF PUTTING JIHOON SMUT THIS INSTANT

maybe like hate sex and they're really going at it and jihoon is kind of (really) a dick but the reader loves it and they're both possessive okay bye

or a/b/o

side by side

pairing. jihoon x reader tags. smut (18+ / minors dni), implied enemies & fwb au, bulge kink, creampie w/c. 1.4k (what the heck this wasn't supposed to be more than 500 words) a/n. ur targeting me bc i love mean men and this is only encouraging me

"say it again," he grunts from behind you, the words rumbling from deep in his throat. his voice is low and gravely, and the harshness of his tone has your stomach churning in a way that you don't want to unpack.

"missed this—" you choke out, body throttling as you brace yourself against the armrest of the sofa, shoving your face into the cushions. "missed it so-o-o much," you whine as jihoon's grip hardens on you. you're sure his knuckles are white, and you're even more sure that you'll have bruises all over in the morning.

"bet you did," he grunts, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust at the end, the skin on your ass burning at the contact. "missed my cock so much you had to hang off of soonyoung like a fucking pet to get my attention, huh?"

"'m sorry," you hiccup as jihoon's powerful snapping of his hips sends you deeper into the cushions. faced pressed into the sofa, your drool and tears staining the cloth. "'m so sorry," you try to repeat when he doesn't relent with his face, seemingly fucking into you harder as you gasp out the words.

there's something that burns behind his eyes when jihoon sees you like this; knowing that you can run your mouth all you want around your friends, being all coy with your deceivingly shy smiles and batting eyelashes, but at the end of the day he's the one who gets to see you like this.

this being the way your body seems to bend to jihoon's very touch (when he brushed a thumb against your bottom lip the first time and you swallowed him right in, swirling your thumb all over the finger), the way the only words you seem to know are a string of curses and his name ("ji-jihoon—ah, fuck ..."), the way you take everything he gives you.

who would've guessed that the person who couldn't seem to dislike jihoon enough was the same person crying under him every night. it enthralls him, how much power over you jihoon has.

(he ignores how every time you whine his name, he get's pushed closer and closer to his relief. he ignores how his heart melts just a little when you pull him down into a ravaging kiss. jihoon ignores the hold you've got over him too.)

"are you? are you sorry? seemed like you were having fun with 'soonie'," jihoon recalls when he slips out of your hot cunt, a series of incoherent whines and complains slipping from your lips at the feeling of being empty.

"jihoon," you drawl out, wiggling your ass back as you dumbly try to chase any sort of friction you can get, but jihoon's not having any of it as he pins you down with his hand. "fuck, i'm sorry ... i really really am," you choke out, as jihoon yanks you down the length of the couch and flips you over so you're laying on your back.

"really?" jihoon asks, and you can finally see his face—the way his eyebrows furrow together and sweat beads down his forehead. the way his lips are flush and mouth slightly open as he pants for air. it's beautiful, and for a second you realize you feel too much, and focus back on the feeling of his fat cock prodding slipping through your folds. "or would you rather be with 'soonie,' right now?"

"no!" you protest immediately, wrapping your legs around his torso as an attempt to ground jihoon in place. "only you, only want you," you pant, lifting your hips to meet his cock halfway as he finally pushed into you. "please jihoonie?" you coo, letting your eyes well up with tears once more, but this time out of pure frustration and desperation.

jihoon's got his arms on either side of your head, sharp gaze boring into yours as you blink rapidly, and something flashes in his expression before he furrows his eyebrows and pulls his hips back.

the feeling of being so full suddenly going to painfully empty is dizzying, and as your vision begins to grow foggy, jihoon scoffs, "you think you can just bat your eyelashes and cry a lil and i'll fuck you?"

when you don't respond, merely lolling your head to the side as you look up at him with pleading eyes and a pouty lip, jihoon slips away from all self control and jams his cock into you. "jihoon!" you mewl, thighs spread up higher against your chest as his weight presses into you, cock so deep in your cunt you think you might feel him in your tummy. "jus' like tha—oh, yea-ah jus' like that ..."

"feels good?" jihoon grunts, but doesn't give you the chance to respond so he can smash his lips into yours, tongues mingling in a hot mess of love and anger and lust all at once. jihoon's left hand runs over your waist as kisses you, cock fucking in and out of you with long and powerful deep thrusts. his paws at your tits occasionally, flicking over the nipples and kneading into the soft flesh while he swallows up your moans with his tongue. it's only when his fingers finally smooth over your stomach when jihoon freezes as he's balls-deep inside of you.

"n-no," you cry out, fruitlessly trying to squirm beneath his weight, but jihoon's still on top of you. "please," you choke out, "please don't stop jihoonie—"

"fuck," jihoon finally groans, cutting you off with a shallow but fulfilling thrust, eyes trained on watching your stomach as he does so. you're about to whine and tell him to fuck you harder, but for a moment you watch his face flush and muscles twitch, and you curiously follow his gaze.

you don't expect find is the imprint of jihoon's cock against your stomach.

"oh," you breath out, watching as jihoon takes your hand gingerly and presses it agains the bump at the base of your tummy. gently, he throws in an experimental thrust, and for a moment the bulge disappears before you feel it reappear. "oh—jihoonie, fuck ... s'deep," you moan as his thrusts begin to regain their original vigor.

you feel something different with the way jihoon fucks you. it's difficult to articulate into words because he's fucking your brains out at this point, but there's a fire behind each thrust that has you moaning at the top of your lungs.

jihoon's fucking into you with harsh and calculated snaps of his hips, watching the way his cock bulges against your tummy, groaning under his breath. "needed me so much, huh? had to make room for me and my cock, didn't you?"

the way you struggle to responds spurs jihoon on. he's drunk on you; he'd hate to admit it but you've grown on him. it'd be a problem, he vaguely thinks, but when you begin to babble about how you "love his cock, love him," jihoon realizes that it's not really a problem at all. fuck. he can unpack his feelings later, but right now, he needs to lose himself to you.

"good baby," he coos finally, bringing down a hand to rub against your clit. "g'na cum soon, right?"

"yeah," you nod your head vigorously, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him back down for a messy set of kisses. "cum w'me, jihoonie," you mutter against him.

"fuck," and the way jihoon whines the curse has you writhing against the sofa. "fuck yeah, you'll let me cum in you, right baby? g'na let me make you mine, yeah?"

"yea-ah, please," you grunt against him as your body lurches back and forth and the increasing force of his thrusts. "'m so close," you continue as your vision starts to blur and your ears begin to rush.

"shit, me too just—fuckin' perfect pussy every," he groans, and with one final, sharp thrust jihoon's spilling inside of you. the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls white in thick, heavy spurts has your own orgasm crushing down on you, spasming around jihoon as he shallowing continues to thrust and ride out your highs.

you chant a mantra of his name as your vision blurs white and you pant for air, him flopping down onto your chest as he stills inside of you. jihoon can think about his feelings later, but for now, he revels in the feeling of you murmuring his name as you doze off under him.

#jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #woozi x reader #woozi smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #💌 drabbles #answered #✰ rubyreduji #<jj3 #lee jihoon x reader

[writingforstraykids]

Keep it together

Pairing: Chan x femReader

Word Count: 2199

Summary: You come back to an empty home, overwhelmed after a shitty day. Once Chan's there he makes sure to take care of you.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, cuddles, emotional hurt!comfort

A/N: My dear friend and editor Miya @miyaluvvsyou wrote this beautiful comfort fic for Channie, trying to make me believe that it's "just a lil sth and probably not good"...please, help me prove her otherwise🤭🖤

Pushing the front door to your home open, you drag your tired body inside and let it slam shut behind you, ignoring the sound that normally makes you flinch. You slide off your shoes, drop your bag and keys on the nearby table, and take off your jacket to hang it up on the hook next to the door. You turn towards your living room, taking a few steps into your home. The air is still, silence clouding the air as you realize no one is home besides you. The sunlight peaks through your windows, and subtlety illuminates the space just enough to see the features of your home. 

You walk past the living room and towards the stairs to your bedroom, stripping the clothes from your body in the process. As you reach your bedroom, you drop your clothes in the laundry basket by the door and head into the master bathroom, leaving the door open. Standing in front of the sink, you look into the mirror and you inhale a shaky breath, exhaling as you examine your features while only standing in your bra and panties. 

Your hair, now frizzy and all over the place from its neat style this morning, is the first thing you see. The dark circles resting under your eyes threaten to deepen with one more sleepless night. Your eyes were red and puffy from rubbing them all day, also ruining your makeup you put effort into this morning. Your skin was slightly paler than normal. As you take in the sight, tears begin to brim your eyelids, and you take a shaky, deep breath to center yourself. You were drained in every sense of the word, and it was very apparent in your appearance, though you tried to hide it. 

And all you wanted was him.

A tear escaped and rolled down your face, but you wiped it away quickly with a sniffle. Moving towards your shower, you turn on the hot water and let the steam envelop the room for a couple of minutes while you continue wiping away the tears still escaping your eyelids. 

Keep it together just enough to shower. Wash the day away, and you will be fine…

You repeat the same words in your head as you strip from your underwear and step into the scalding water, letting it welcome you with a deep sigh. You try not to waste any time and energy getting to work on washing your body. With every scrub of the soapy cloth, you imagine every single worry and inconvenience from the week being taken away. But no matter how hard you scrub, your mind can’t seem to relax. The flowing hot water only giving you temporary relief from the icy atmosphere in your mind. And you can’t stay in the shower forever, as much as you want to sink down to the floor and let the water consume you. You resist the urge and continue cleaning your body until you’re satisfied. 

Finishing your shower and getting out, you wrap a towel around your body and walk back to the bedroom. Grabbing your lotion, you sit at the edge of the bed and moisturize your body as you get lost in your thoughts again, staring at the floor and spacing out. Your body moves on autopilot, making sure to cover every inch of skin with the sweet-scented lotion as you’ve done countless times before. If anyone were to walk in, they would think you’re just doing your normal routine. But they’d have no idea of the depressive storm brewing in your head.

Keep it together. You’ll be under the covers and away from the world soon…

As you continue your routine on autopilot, you tug one of his t-shirts over your head, slip on a pair of panties, and sit on your side of the bed, facing the window. Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply and hold it in. The tears that were in your waterline begin to slide down your cheeks. You exhale shakily, and before you can stop it, the tears fall faster. You begin to cry, feeling your mind and body give in to the breakdown you have been avoiding all day. As your sobs get louder, your body slides down onto the floor, leaning back against the bed, and your hands reach up to cover your face. You cry your heart out, trying to keep your heart from racing out of your chest. 

You don’t hear Bang Chan come home almost an hour later. He’s humming to himself as he closes the door, guiding it so it won’t slam, and puts his keys in the bowl on the table. As he takes his shoes off, he notices yours and smiles to himself, putting his bag next to yours. “(Y/N), I’m home, love!” He calls out to you. Taking off his hoodie and hanging it next to the door, he turns towards the living room, expecting to see you. 

But he’s met with nothing but the still silence of the home. There weren’t any lights on, just the few rays of sunlight coming through the window. There wasn’t any movement coming from the kitchen. As he walked further in, he noticed the tv wasn’t on either, couch unoccupied. 

“(Y/N)? Are you home, baby?” Chan called out again, his eyebrows raised as he awaits for a response. But none came, and he frowned. 

Strange.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he opens it and calls your phone, listening to the ringing. A couple of seconds later, he hears the vibration from your phone and looks around to locate the sound. He follows the vibration back to your purse, where he sees your ringing phone with his name on the screen. He looks around once more before ending the call. He softly hums and begins to make his way upstairs, 2 steps at a time. Maybe you were in the bathroom or in the shower.

Chan notices the bedroom door open and looks inside, standing in the doorway. His eyes scan the room before he sees the top of your head poking out from your side of the bed. He exhales with a small smile and slowly walks in, trying not to make noise to surprise you. But his smile fades as he gets closer to you and hears your small sniffles. Are you crying?

“Baby?” Chan speaks gently to get your attention. Your head snaps up to meet his gaze, and his heart drops at the sight. You’re sitting on the floor in his t-shirt, one shoulder exposed and crossed legged. Your eyes are bloodshot red and puffy, tears flowing. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you sniffle but struggle to breathe. My poor baby..

He’s kneeling down in front of you not even a second later, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “(Y/N) what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?” Chan rattles out questions as he closely examines your body. You shake your head and sniffle, more tears flowing from your eyes. 

“C-Chan I-“ You struggle to get out between sniffles. You put your hands over his and close your eyes. He leans forward and kisses your nose softly, then your forehead, and finally pecks your lips so delicately. It causes you to still, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent. It calms you enough to finally open your eyes and meet his gaze. 

He looks at you with a pained expression and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs gently. “What’s wrong, princess? What’s upsetting you, hm?” He asks sincerely. Chan hated seeing you upset, especially if he’s the one that causes it. But since he’s just gotten home, he doesn’t think he might be the cause this time. 

“I don’t k-know, but hold me p-please” You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck. Chan sits back against the wall and pulls you into his lap, holding you close to his chest as he rubs your back. You bury your face in his neck and sniffle, trying to steady yourself in his arms. 

Chan rubs soothing circles on your back and shushes you softly. You instinctively pull him impossibly closer, taking deep breaths. “It’s okay, babygirl. I’m right here. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” You nod at his words. “We can sit here as long as you’d like, okay?”

“O-okay Channie.” You whisper into his neck, steadying your beating heart as you find comfort in his arms. 

The two of you sit like that for 2 hours. Once your sniffles died down and the tears stopped flowing, you curled up in Chan’s lap, subconsciously trying to shrink yourself. He continued to rub your back while planting soft kisses on your head every now and then. He even started to hum one of your favorite songs to help steady your heartbeat. He didn’t complain about being on the floor for so long, he just wanted you to be okay. Once the silence was in the air long enough, he spoke up. “How ya feeling, love?”

“I’m okay…” You shyly reply, shifting a little in his lap. “I’m sorry I couldn’t-“ You begin to try explaining yourself, but Chan interrupted you almost immediately. 

“Shh hey, don’t apologize to me. My concern is you, no matter what.” He looks into your eyes as he speaks reassurance to you, letting the hand that’s not rubbing your back gently caress your face. “If you’re not ready to talk about it, it’s okay. I won’t pressure you.”

You nod and your eyes flutter as he leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. With a sniffle, you begin to speak. “I just had a really tense work week and once I got home, my body just…broke down. It’s just been so-“ The tears begin to rim around your eyes as you explain, and you take a pause to take a deep breath. Chan notices and kisses your forehead, running a gentle finger underneath your eyes to wipe away your tears. You take his hand and look into his eyes. “Thank you, Channie.” You speak lowly, but sincerely. 

“Don’t thank me, it’s my job to make sure you are okay baby.” He speaks softly with a smile. You match the small smile resting on his face and nod. “Do you wanna sit here for a little longer still?”

“Can we lay in bed and cuddle? You’re probably uncomfortable from sitting like this for a while. Especially with me sitting on top of you.” You give him an apologetic look, while an adorable pout rests on your lips.

Chan shakes his head. “You know I’ll never complain when you’re sitting on my lap, princess.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows. You gasp softly and slap his shoulder playfully, smiling as he giggled. “But we can lay down and cuddle baby, whatever you want.” He chuckles and kisses you. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving to straddle his lap. He wraps his arms around your legs and stands up with ease, causing a squeal to leave your lips in the middle of the kiss. He chuckles and kisses you again as he takes a few steps towards the bed and lays you on your back. 

You keep your arms around his neck and wraps your legs around his waist to keep him close. He smiles and kisses your forehead and cheeks, going back to your lips for a soft peck. You whine softly and try to connect your lips again, but he pulls back just enough to be out of reach, a grin that flashes his dimples rests on his lips. “Channieee” 

“Uhn uhn, cuddling only princess. That’s what you asked for.” He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. 

You sigh and pout at him. “Just a little kiss?” You give him the best boba eyes you can manage. 

But he doesn’t crack, giving your pouty lips a quick peck before he playfully slaps your thigh. “There’s your kiss. Now get under the covers while I change my clothes.” He says, giggling at your stunned face from his movement. He gives you one more small peck before standing up and going into that closet to change. You smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. 

Chan comes out of the closet in a pair of sweatpants but his chest bare. He climbs into bed and underneath the covers, pulling your body close to his. You lay your head on his chest and intertwine your legs, feeling safe and sound in his arms. He kisses your temple and smiles. “I love you darling.”

“I love you more, Channie. So much more.” You speak, placing a kiss on his chest and smiling to yourself. You turn on Netflix and you watch that K-Drama you both have been waiting to watch, feeling that much needed peace you craved just hours ago. 

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[wonderlandwalker]

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it. 

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything. 

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to. 

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone. 

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned. 

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had  a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment. 

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue. 

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of. 

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too" 

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there. 

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go" 

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him. 

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it. 

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat. 

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him. 

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk  and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

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[outerspacebisexual]

What Remains in the Wake - Eddie Munson

Part Two of Until the Chaos is Through

Part One - Until the Chaos is Through

Part Three - Blessed Silence After This Mayhem

Part Four - Heinous Regret With No Salvation

Summary: You're left reeling after your boyfriend Eddie's infidelity. It doesn't feel like you'll ever move on, and a tiny part of you wants to go back to him.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied/referenced cheating, again maybe steve x reader if you squint, you have really great friends in this i stg

a/n: HOLY SHIT guys i seriously didn't expect all the love on until the chaos is through! i LOVE reading your thoughts about it. genuinely so many made me laugh so much.

i really hope that you enjoy part two. i got so many requests to be tagged that i couldn't get through them all, so i am sorry about that!

thank you all so much for the support! <3

Masterlist

Your days wasted away into the night after the Halloween party.

You teetered on a razor’s edge between wanting to run straight back to Eddie and wanting to never see him again.

Like today, when laying alone in your room only bought thoughts of missing him. When your covers still smelt like him, and the photos of the two of you stared blankly from their spots on your dresser and the walls and the bedside table, their wide smiles and bright eyes mocking you.

Everywhere you looked, there was Eddie, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave this little self-proclaimed bubble of ignorance.

Because if you didn’t think about it, it wasn’t real. Eddie was simply on his way over to hang out and spend the night like he used to, and everything was fine.

The night of the party, your friends had stayed with you until mid-morning. They took turns in comforting you as you spent hours sobbing on the couch, crying out against the unfairness of it all. About how stuff like this didn’t happen to people like you.

It didn’t happen to couples who loved each other.

Because you loved him.

And Eddie loved you.

But that affirmation you had been repeating to yourself for weeks held no weight now. It had been your lifeline in all those moments of doubt and insecurity, the one thing that you told yourself over and over and over, assuring you that you were wrong.

And yet, you had been right, despite all the lies you pretended were the truth.

You heard Steve’s car pull into your driveway.

You didn’t get up to let him in. He and the other’s had borrowed your spare key, taking turns in checking in on you after your refusal to leave your house for the third day in a row.

You stayed still, curled up beneath the covers, eyes closed as Steve opened your bedroom door.

“Hey,” he murmured, coming to sit on the edge of your bed.

You didn’t reply, just barely peeking your eyes open, but he didn’t look dejected, he just gave you a tight-lipped smile—one that reeked of pity.

Yesterday, it had been Nancy who came by. She had sat right where Steve was, that same sympathetic look on her face. You hadn’t wanted to talk then either.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

The tears burned the back of your eyes. “I’m fine,” you whispered, but your lip trembled, and Steve was quick to brush his hand over the side of your head.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” he told you, the same softness to his voice as before, as if he, too, was trying to protect the quiet bubble just as much as you were. That was what you told yourself, even though you knew it wasn’t true. “Talk to me.”

Your throat ached as you swallowed back a sob. You’d cried enough these past few days. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

His hand brushed over your head again. “About what?”

“About the love I have for him. I love him, Steve.” Just saying those words out loud had you weeping. “I love him so much and it still wasn’t enough.”

Steve’s hand rested on your shoulder, and he squeezed it just tight enough to make you look up at him. “Y/N, it would have been enough for anyone else. I don’t know why he did what he did, but I do know that it wasn’t because of you.”

“But if I—”

“No,” he cut you off, tone firm—firmer than anyone had been in days. “No. This isn’t on you. This is on him.”

The words should have comforted you. He meant them to be comforting, but they didn’t help. They only caused you to think about Eddie.

And it made you think of the fact that he hadn’t contacted you at all.

He hadn’t tried to call. He hadn’t come over. He hadn’t made any effort to try and talk to you.

Maybe you don’t mean enough to him, that tiny voice whispered. Maybe you weren’t enough for him to even bother to apologise. Maybe he doesn’t want to apologise.

You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the awful words that just kept tumbling and turning through your mind.

Steve removed his hand from your shoulder, and you instantly missed the comfort of it.

When you opened your eyes, they fell to him—to his hands—and you frowned.

“What is that?” you asked.

“What?”

You removed your arm from the warmth of your covers to take his hand in yours.

His knuckles were bruised, the middle two split, but they had healed enough to not need to be covered.

Steve tried to pull his hand away, but you held fast. “Steve?”

“I—uh,” He swallowed and looked to the wall, avoiding your eyes. “It’s from the party.”

Your brows furrowed. “You got into a fight?” You had been so focused on yourself that you hadn’t even realised he had been hurt at all, not at the party or over the past few days.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes not leaving your patterned wallpaper. “Sort of.”

You studied his side profile, the way his eyes darted around, his hesitancy to answer your questions.

Steve had been with Jonathan and Nancy most of the night at the party, if you remembered correctly. From the couch at the Roland’s, you had been able to see most of the first floor and you couldn’t recall him getting into a fight. If you had, you would have at least tried to stop him. That man did not need any more knocks to the head. It must have happened upstairs—

It hit you, and you shrunk back.

“Oh,” you said, and this time when he attempted to pull his hand away, you let him.

“I—yeah. Jonathan and I, we—” He cleared his throat, standing. “I should probably go. Do you need anything?”

Jonathan had been at the top of the stairs, but Steve…Steve hadn’t come out until after. Judging by his knuckles, now you knew why. You wondered if Jonathan had even tried to stop him.

You stared at him for a long moment before shaking your head. He rushed out a hurried good-bye, and then your door was pulled shut with barely more than a click.

+

School was the absolute last place you wanted to be.

The incident wasn’t common knowledge amongst your peers, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before they found out. Already, hushed whispers trailed you; some sympathetic, some not.

It was also the first time in over two years that you didn’t have Eddie by your side as you walked through the front doors. Even before you got together, you had been friends, and his presence right beside you had become a staple in your life that you never thought you’d lose.

But you had.

The worst part was lunch.

As you grabbed your tray, your eyes immediately went to the Hellfire table out of habit, and you stopped short when you realised that you couldn’t sit there anymore.

Eddie wasn’t there in his pride of place at the head of the table, thankfully, but Jeff’s eyes found you, confused as to why you weren’t coming over.

It became obvious that the rest of The Hellfire Club didn’t know.

As you stood there, you wondered if they had known about Eddie and Chrissy. Had they been aware of Eddie’s deals with her? Had you sat across from them every day being the only one in the dark? They were Eddie’s friends first; they didn’t owe you any loyalty. That belonged to their infallible Dungeon Master. Had they humoured you while Eddie snuck out to the—

An arm slipped through yours. “I hear that the band freaks and the school newspaper weirdos have way more fun than D&D nerds,” Robin whispered into your ear as she guided you towards a table at the back of the cafeteria.

You had never been more grateful.

She saw the beholden look on your face and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said softly, and then launched into a spiel about how she had a pop quiz this morning that she most definitely flopped.

Nancy was happy to see you, eyes lighting up as she moved her bag off the table to make a place for you opposite her. Robin dropped into the seat beside you. “Hello, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

You sent Nancy a shy smile. “Yeah,” you said, picking up your fork, “I was surprised, too.”

You had been thinking about skipping school today, and the rest of the week if you were honest, but you knew that it wasn’t going to make a difference about how you were feeling. Your bubble was nothing more than a delusion that you allowed yourself to believe in anyway.

“Well, either way, it’s good to see you here.”

Robin was quick to say, “And to have you sitting with us now. You have no idea the fun we have here.”

You raised a brow. “Oh really?”

“You bet,” she told you, taking a rather large bite out of her sandwich. “Us two? We’re living it up while you losers sit around whining about whatever it is you whine about all day.”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Rob. I believe you.”

Around a mouthful of food, she said, “Look! You’re already laughing. Proof!”

True to her word, you were grinning wider than you had in nearly a week. Being by yourself for so long had only allowed you to stew in your own self-pity. Being here, with your friends who were trying so hard to help you?

That was worth braving the school corridors for.

Robin placed a hand on your arm. “Oh, did you hear about Lucas’s basketball game? He wasn’t benched—” She immediately cut herself off as her eyes flew to something—or someone—behind you.

You tensed, already not liking the way her eyes bulged as she beheld who stood there.

“Um, Y/N? Can I please talk to you?” Chrissy’s voice was quiet, so much so that you almost missed it as you turned to look at her.

She fiddled with the sleeves of her varsity cheer jacket, the one she always wore, the one you knew that she wore when she would see Eddie.

“W-What?” you managed.

She swallowed, eyes darting around at the stares that came with being the Queen of Hawkins High. “I—I would like to talk to you, please.” She pulled the sleeve of her jacket particularly hard, and it displaced the neckline of her shirt just enough to reveal a tiny patch of discoloured skin on her collarbone.

Your throat suddenly felt like it was closing up.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from that spot of skin. Had it been Eddie? Or had it been Jason? Had Jason known that his girlfriend slept with the freak he hated so much? You had never really liked Jason Carver, but right now, in this exact moment, there was no one else on earth who you understood more.

Both thoughts had bile rising as you tried to calm your racing heart. “I don’t want to talk to you, Chrissy.”

She looked down at you, a dumbstruck look on her face. “Why?”

Your jaw dropped open, and you knew that Robin and Nancy shared the same look. “Why—Why do I not want to talk to you?” you uttered. “Because you slept with my boyfriend, Chrissy.”

Her eyes widened, and she quickly glanced around at the surrounding tables.

As she did, that feeling that you had become so accustomed to whenever you saw her slowly morphed into disbelief.

Even now, she was worried about people finding out that she was the one who fucked the freak. Even as she stood beside the person who she had stolen him from, who she had a hand in betraying.

“Are you serious?”

“Please,” she murmured, “Can we speak outside?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told her, voice shaking.

“But—”

You dug your fingers into the side of the table.

You had no idea where all of this anger was coming from. For days, you hadn’t been able to feel anything except a swirling pool of heartbreak and numbness. And now, this rush of hostility coursed through you faster than you could stop it.

“—Chrissy,” Nancy interrupted. “You should go.”

Robin’s hand coming to rest on your forearm was the only thing keeping your grounded.

Chrissy eyed the growing number of stares that were on her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and your chair was sliding back in an instant as you stood.

She shrank back at the ferocity in your eyes, mouth dropping open as you leaned forward. “I don’t want your apologies,” you spat. “I want you to fuck off.” Robin and Nancy were standing, too, Robin’s hand a hairsbreadth from your arm as if to grab you at a moment’s notice.

Chrissy took a single step back. Then another. Her eyes didn’t leave you as she raced away from your table.

You stared after her, blood thrumming in your ears and your heart pounding in your chest.

But as soon as the adrenaline rush arrived, it deserted you, and that rage became humiliation as you noted all the eyes on you.

You slumped back into your seat.

Nancy sat wide-eyed across from you. “Are…Are you OK?” she asked, somewhere between shocked and…impressed?

“I honestly don’t know,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Your face burned, and you shook your head. At what, you didn’t know. Maybe at your actions. Maybe at Chrissy’s fucking ignorance.

“Well,” Robin said, brows raised as she looked between you and Nancy. “I think we can safely say our table hasn’t seen this much action in years.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I thought you said you had fun here?”

“I’m a liar.”

+

You knew that going to The Hideout for the first time since Halloween would be difficult, but you hadn’t expected it to be so hard.

You didn’t expect to see Eddie in everything.

He wasn’t actually there on the random Friday night that you, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Jonathan decided to hang out, but you saw him on the stage.

You saw him leaning against the back wall, you standing snuggly against him, playing with his hair as you listened to the band on after Corroded Coffin.

You saw him sitting at the bar, peppering kisses along your jaw.

You saw him at the table by the window, his eyes lighting up when he spotted you coming back with drinks in hand.

The Hideout was a living, breathing reminder of everything you and Eddie had once been.

And you didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

“I just can’t believe it’s taking this long,” Jonathan shouted over the music, bringing your attention back to the group. He was rambling on about something to do with Chief Hopper and his mother, and to be honest, you were a little lost.

“Didn’t they go to high school together?” Steve asked. “They’ve known each other forever.”

“Exactly!” Jonathan exclaimed, surging forward enough to jolt Nancy who was perched under his arm. “It’s like, you’ve known each other for so long and you both know you like each other, so why are you just waiting around for something to happen?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but one of the bartenders appeared at the end of the table. Earl, you remembered, and from the way his face lit up, he remembered you, too.

“Y/N!” he called, and you waved politely. “I haven’t seen you here for ages! We missed you at Eddie’s set last week. I almost called you when he got so wasted he couldn’t walk, but he insisted he was fine. Stumbled out of here by himself with nothing but his wits. Stupid boy.”

Despite everything, a pang of worry shot through you. “Oh,” you said awkwardly, “I—yeah, Eddie and I aren’t really…” You trailed off, and Earl’s face fell a fraction.

“Ah, well, next round is on me,” he told you, and you sent him a grateful smile as he disappeared into the throng of people.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself, and Steve picked up on it, launching back into the conversation with Jonathan.

That seemed to be your general state of being now. Unsure.

You were unsure who you were without Eddie. You were unsure how you could go forward when a small part of you kept wanting to go back. Back to the man that you had made plans with for after graduation. The man who you had promised to be with forever; promised to build a life with outside of Hawkins in less than a few months.

Eddie still hadn’t tried to see you. He still hadn’t called, or come to your house, or even tried to accost you at school like Chrissy had.

Over the past two weeks, you hadn’t even seen him in the halls at school, or the cafeteria, despite his van being in the parking lot every day.

He simply disappeared from your life, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The lump in your throat made itself apparent, just like it always did. It practically lived within you now.

You slid out of the booth, shooting your friends a quick glance. “Bathroom,” you said quickly, before weaving past people you both recognised and didn’t. Most of the people you only knew because of Eddie.

The bathroom was empty. A small mercy, as you locked the door and sat on the lid of the toilet, head in your hands.

Coming here so soon was a mistake. It was too much.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, quietly savouring the pressure.

You didn’t belong here without Eddie.

You didn’t belong anywhere without Eddie.

No matter how much you tried to kid yourself, nothing felt right without him.

There was a knock on the door, but you ignored it.

You hadn’t ever even been to The Hideout without him. It was his place, and you just tagged along, ringing in the perks of being with the band. Which weren’t many except maybe a few free drinks here and there.

But to everyone you met there, you were Eddie’s.

And now you weren’t.

And that hurt so much.

Someone knocked again, and this time you shouted, “Give me a minute!”

The person on the other side was silent, and you rubbed at your eyes, patterns playing behind your eyelids in a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes.

It was comforting, somehow.

The door clicked open, and your head shot up to see Nancy standing there, hair pin in hand. “Sorry,” she said, looking only slightly guilty. “I wanted to check on you. I was worried.”

You scoffed. “What if I was peeing?”

She shut the door. “Then we would have known each other a lot more intimately than we did ten seconds before now.” She eyed you up and down, eyes not missing a thing. She was so perceptive that it was almost scary. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

“We can go, you know? We don’t have to stay if it’s making you upset.”

“I—I want to. I just—” You waved your hands around. “—It doesn’t feel right. Without him. Nothing does.”

Nancy gave you one of her closed mouth smiles. “I know it feels that way now, but it will get better. I promise.” She knelt before you, hands on your knees as she leaned down to catch your eye. “What he did, you can’t go back, no matter how much you want to.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “How long will it take?” You felt like a child asking questions that didn’t have an answer.

Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know that a week ago, this would have sent you spiralling. And now, you’re not even crying.” You blinked, feeling for the first time that your eyes were dry. She smiled. “Time, honey. You just need time.”

+

“Why are we here again?” you grumbled to Jonathan as you both got out of his car on the main street.

“Because one: I need help carrying all this to the car, and two: I also need help putting it together,” he told you.

“And why am I tasked in helping you put your brother’s Christmas present together? It’s still months away.”

Jonathan sighed, all mock disappointment. “Well, you weren’t my first choice, but everyone else is busy.”

You jabbed your finger into his arm. “That’s mean, you know that?”

“Maybe if you stopped complaining so much, we’d already be done,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

The main street wasn’t as busy as you thought it would be on a Saturday mid-afternoon.

People still meandered up and down the street, but most were on a mission, like you and Jonathan.

Jonathan hadn’t even explained exactly what it was that you were picking up and putting together. You just knew that he was really excited about giving it to Will. And you could hardly say no to him when it was practically saying no to sweet, little Will.

“Don’t forget we have to pick Lucas and Max up from the arcade on the way back,” you reminded him.

“Why do we have to do that again?”

“Because you recruited me and I already said yes to them, so we have to combine plans.” You side stepped a large group of elderly women who pushed straight through the middle of you two. Jonathan kept walking and was a few metres ahead by the time the group of ladies finished filing past.

You stepped off to follow after him when your name was called from across the street.

Looking up, you froze as Eddie came rushing across the street towards you.

It was as if every single thought you’d ever had emptied from your mind as he came to a stop a few feet from you.

His hair was just as messy as it always was, and you noted the faded bruise on his cheekbone. You didn’t have to guess where that had come from, and the bags under his eyes were much more prominent than they normally were.

Seeing him now, your stomach churned with so many different emotions that you weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

He was a little out of breath as he said, “Can I talk to you? Please?” His dark eyes were pleading, and you fought against the urge to instantly cave, just like you always did when he shot you his puppy dog eyes.

“I—”

You were cut off when Jonathan suddenly appeared beside you. He looked beyond angry; his brows creased, and his top lip pulled back. “I thought we told you to keep your distance, Munson,” he ground out.

Eddie looked surprised to see him. He obviously thought you’d been alone. “I just want to talk, man. Please. I’ve stayed away, but I need to talk to you.” He directed the last bit at you. “Please.”

You didn’t think that you’d heard him say please so much in his life. He was practically begging.

“What do you want to say?” you asked timidly. Eddie glanced between you and Jonathan. “It’s fine, Jonathan. Just give me a minute?”

He looked unsure, but eventually conceded, shooting Eddie a dirty look as he made his way up the street just enough to give you some privacy. You had known him long enough to know that he was still within hearing distance.

“What did you want to talk about?”

When Eddie’s eyes finally found yours again, they looked pained. “I…I wanted to talk about us.”

“There is no us, Eddie.”

“I know. I know that. But I’m so, so sorry. You have no idea how hard these past few weeks have been for me. Staying away from you—”

“How hard they’ve been for you?” You laughed, right in his face. “How do you think they’ve been for me? You didn’t even try and see me.”

“Steve and Jonathan told me not to. They said—”

“I don’t give a shit what Steve and Jonathan said. You cheated on me and then just abandoned me.” Your voice wavered, and you hated that Eddie caught it.

He tried to reach for you, but you stepped back and pulled your hand away. His eyes flashed with hurt, and you squashed the part of you that felt bad. “And I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It was a mistake.”

You closed your eyes for a second, hating the way your pet name rolled off his tongue. The pet name that he hadn’t used in the weeks before Halloween. It had become non-existent once he started seeing Chrissy.

“How many times?” you asked suddenly.

He looked confused. “What?”

“How many times, Eddie?” you repeated. You didn’t want to say the words out loud.

Understanding your meaning, his eyes found the ground. He was silent for a long moment. “Six,” he mumbled.

You choked. “Six?” You took another step back.

“It—Y/N, wait—”

“—Six times you slept with her and then came home to me?”

You weren’t even sure why you were entertaining this conversation. You knew that it was only going to end up with you hurting more than you already were.

“No, I never saw you on those days,” he confessed.

You stared at him. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

His eyes widened, and he rushed out, “No, no. I’m just trying to explain.”

The melancholic agony that you’d been stuck in for weeks was suddenly sharpening. The razor’s thin edge became no longer wanting or not wanting, it became anger and rage. “There is nothing you could possibly explain to make this better.”

His voice became pleading, and he stepped towards you as if you were going to suddenly disappear. “Please, baby, it was a mistake. Chrissy—she’s not you. I want you. I need you—”

Your fist was flying before you could stop it, and you only registered what you had done when your knuckles stung.

Eddie reeled back, and you stared wide-eyed at him. His hand went to his face, holding the spot between his cheekbone and his nose.

He opened and closed his mouth.

“I loved you, Eddie,” you uttered, clutching your fist in your other hand. “I gave you everything, and it still wasn’t enough for you. I needed my boyfriend to love me enough to not sleep with other people.”

Jonathan was suddenly standing beside you.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” you spat as Jonathan took your arm. “I don’t need you anymore.”

If Eddie was going to say something, you didn’t find out, because Jonathan was pulling you up the street past the onlookers who were gawking at both you and Eddie.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“No,” you muttered, and you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or just pure mania, but you started to laugh. “That really fucking hurt. I think I broke my hand.”

+

Pulling the door open to Family Video an hour before closing, you were pleased to see it was empty aside from the man you were looking for.

“Harrington,” you called as the door shut behind you, “I need a movie recommendation.”

Looking up from where he was leaned against the counter flicking though a magazine, Steve seemed both surprised and happy to see you. “You’ve come to the right place,” he declared, standing up. “We have movies galore. What are you looking for?”

You grinned as you reached the counter. “Something funny, but also a little sad, with a killer soundtrack.”

He pretended to ponder for a moment. “Sounds an awful lot like your favourite movie,” he pronounced.

“Someone has to keep this place afloat. Why not me and my little favourites?”

Steve rolled his eyes playfully. “Where would we be without you?” he joked, pulling a tape from beneath the counter and setting it in front of you.

You raised a brow. “You had it sitting back there already?”

He shrugged. “Had a hunch.”

Reaching for the cash in your pocket, you hissed when your knuckles caught the lip of the pocket. Steve noticed, and his eyes shot to your hand.

“I heard you socked Munson in the face today,” he remarked, and you couldn’t quite tell the tone he used.

“Yeah,” you said sheepishly, placing the money on the counter.

He held out his hand, wagging his fingers. “Let me see.”

Gingerly, you placed your hand in his own, watching as he studied your knuckles. Unlike his, the skin of your knuckles was still intact, but they were slowly starting to bruise.

And they hurt like hell. You didn’t know how people did it over and over again. Just one mediocre punch and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to hold a pencil for a week.

“We match,” you observed, and he shot you a disapproving look.

“Not really something I wanted to match you for.” He brushed his thumb over them, and you winced. “You’re lucky it’s not broken.”

“Jonathan already gave me that spiel,” you muttered. He had seriously ripped into you on the drive from the main street. Not only had you ruined his plans for the day and still forced him to pick up Lucas and Max, but he then had to take you to the hospital which he was less than impressed with.

The verdict had been bruised knuckles and not a break, but the doctor had advised you to lay off punching people in the face in the future.

Still looking at your hand, Steve started chuckling and you narrowed your eyes. “What?”

He shook his head. “I just can’t believe you punched him in the main street.”

“He’s the one who came at me. If anything, he chose the location,” you tried to justify.

Steve smiled. “I’m proud of you,” he said after a second. “I know it was hard for you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. “Thank you, Stevie.”

And you really meant it.

You had no doubt that if it weren’t for the support of your friends, you wouldn’t be where you were. If it weren’t for them, you might never have known about Eddie and Chrissy.

And as much as you had been confused and upset about not seeing Eddie in the last few weeks, Steve’s threats about giving you space were the best thing that could have happened. Because you would have gone back to him if he showed up on your doorstep. You would have continued to bleed yourself dry for him over and over again.

Steve tapped your fingers, and you looked back at him.

Like Nancy said, it would still take some time.

But you were all right with that.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things angst #steve harrington x reader #outerspacebisexual

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Influencer Island

Isn't this generation the worst! My family's resort used to be a peaceful retreat, but now it's crawling with whiney influencers who spend their time staring at their phones and ignoring our service. All of them are rude and obnoxious to the staff, but I have a new plan for every entitled brat I find.

"Hey you!" a snide call comes my direction.

He's lean, muscular, and emerging from the tropical shrubbery of the hotel's expansive gardens. The guy is clearly a fitness YouTuber, and he's just returned from a sweaty jog. His body seems to be the only thing on his mind, because he flaunts it in front of me without even glancing in my direction.

"Grab me a towel," he insists and brushes past, "This place is humid as hell."

A bored look sits on his face as he begins routinely stretching the toned legs inside those tiny shorts. The guy actually scoffs and looks offended when he realizes I haven't raced off to fetch his towel. It's the first time he's actually looking in my direction, and I can practically feel the sense of entitlement dripping off of him.

"Dude, I want a towel. The air on your island is wet and gross," he slowly repeats, like I must be an idiot who can't understand.

"Shut up about the humidity, Carlos!" my anger gets the best of me, but I finally put my diabolical plan in place.

"Who the hell is Carlos?"

For the first time, the influencer's smug face flashes to one of confusion. He doesn't believe someone like me would talk to him like this, let alone call him the wrong name.

"Carlos is the new gardner," I explain in a spiteful voice, "He's hard-working, he's humble, and he isn't bothered by the wet muggy air one bit!"

The athletic social media star looks completely taken aback now. He's retreated from my barrage of words, but there's no escaping the transformation he's already undergoing.

His revealing shorts rapidly unfold into a more coarse material that extends over his shoulders, forming a baggy pair of working overalls. Our hotel staff polo pops up beneath the straps of his workwear and leather gloves appear on his hands.

"How...?" he quietly gasps, "What am I wearing?"

"Carlos isn't very smart, but he makes up for it by shutting up and working hard. Don't you, Carlos?" I continue, "You spend all day in this disgustingly humid air, trimming bushes, pulling weeds, and manicuring the shit out of this garden. It's the only thing you're really good for. Isn't that right, Carlos?"

"Yeah," the former jock answers numbly.

A name tag appears over his chest, sealing his identity as Carlos the gardner. His face ages and takes on the character of a Hispanic local. His once youthfully lean body expands outward, filling his new uniform with a layer of fatherly pudge. This guy looks like he's spent his entire life working on this island. I know he'll spend the rest of it here too.

"Get back to work, Carlos, and don't let me catch you taking a break again," I say.

"Yes, Señor," he answers humbly, turning to a wheelbarrow full of mulch right beside him.

I watch sweat glisten on Carlos' forehead as he dumps the wood chips and rakes them around the plants. I note the damp air already permeating his heavy uniform before leaving and stepping inside the hotel lobby.

The interior of my family's hotel is quite grand and luxurious, but it's Mediterranean architecture creates an atmosphere of culture and class. Unfortunately, not many of my younger guests have the same culture and class. Approaching the front desk, I find a handsome young man in a vehement debate with the concierge. Apparently, his room was not up to his standards.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks tersely.

"I have 300k followers on TickTock! Everyone sees my travel vlog, so don't piss me off," he demands loudly.

My employee working the front desk looks overwhelmed and exhausted. Guests should never verbally assault my staff. This guy needs to learn how to behave at my hotel.

"So you're the famous influencer!" I jump to the defense before voices are raised any further, "We of course prepared a premier experience for you and your followers."

The entitled TickTocker's eyes roll but he seems relieved that somebody is finally treating him as he believes he deserves. I send a comforting wink to the concierge before gracefully escorting the rude guest away from the front.

"About time," he clicks his tongue, "That bellboy could barely speak English. You'd think a supposed luxury resort would be a bit more accommodating."

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. How may we be of service to you?"

"Well to start, my room faces the forest. I booked one with a view of the ocean," he explains, missing my blatant sarcasm.

I'm done playing around.

"Come on, Jose. You don't care about looking out windows," I correct him, "Just cleaning them."

The young man stares back at me like he's just been insulted. He can't believe I have the audacity to call him by the wrong name.

"I'm not Jose," he snaps.

"Sure you are," I go on, "You're the Jose I've always known. The Jose that keeps his head down and gets his work done. The Jose that is quiet and respectful with the guests."

"That's not me," he growls, frustratedly denying it.

"I know there's a bit of a language barrier, Jose, but come on. Just look at yourself!"

The influencer narrows his eyes before nervously glancing down. As he does, his crisp white shirt fades to an old blue color. The buttons latch themselves all the way up to the base of his neck as the shirt tail stitches itself seamlessly with his pants of a now identically worn material.

"What I have on!" he gasps with an awkward inflection.

"Jose, it's your uniform," I laugh, "You're the hotel janitor! You wear coveralls, buddy."

"Estoy el janitor?" he questions with a heavy new accent, but his mind is already accepting the new role.

His eyes glazed over as he pulls out a pair of rubber gloves from his back pocket. He slips them on like it's second nature, and a uniform cap appears on his head of dark hair. The final touch of a name tag reading 'Jose' slides over the breast of his coveralls, cementing the reality of his new life.

"Jose," I say slowly.

"Sí, jefe?" he seems to snap out of an idle daze.

"You know your not supposed to loiter in the lobby unless you are cleaning."

"Lo siento, señor."

Jose fishes a rag and spray bottle out of his pocket to act busy wiping down different surfaces in the lobby. He keeps casting nervous glances in my direction as I supervise his work.

"Jose."

"Sí," he returns to my side like an eager puppy.

"The staff bathroom has a clog in it. Take care of that and the rest of the staff area. You can clean the lobby tonight when guests aren't here," I instruct.

"Por supuesto, jefe," he nods and shuffles through a staff-only door to the rear of the building.

Thank God I took that pretentious jerk down a peg. Thanks to me, the hotel has one less raving social media nut and one more quietly dedicated janitor. He'll certainly help clean up after all the other careless youths who make a mess everywhere they go.

Patting myself on the back for a job well done, I leave the lobby and head deeper into the building and towards the kitchens.

"Excuse me?" a wandering voice calls from down a hall.

An exasperated sigh blows out of my nostrils. Am I really about to deal with another entitled young man again?

"You shouldn't be down here, sir," I explain impatiently, "This is a staff-only area."

"Oh, I know," he throws his hands up in mock surrender, "My family owns a hotel back home, so I just like to check out the behind-the-scenes when I travel different places."

"Well, then you know hotel staff could use less distractions in their work space," I retort.

The young man doesn't seem to understand my frustration. He throws his hands in his pockets and slumps his shoulders.

"I just like to see how the employers of hotels treat their employees," he defends himself, "Especially in a place like this."

"What do you mean a place like this?"

"You know," he continues, "Foreign countries don't have all the protections for the working class that America has. I wouldn't be surprised if this hotel took advantage of the natives."

"You think I take advantage of the people from this island?" I shake my head in utter disbelief.

"Well, maybe," he goes on, "I write a blog about-"

"Let me stop you there," I cut him off, "You know I don't take advantage of the locals because you are one, Pedro."

"I'm not Pedro. Does he work here?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yup. Pedro started working down here about four years ago. He was so excited to get a decently paying job," I explain, "He reminds me of yourself, only he keeps his hair neat and trim, the way a good employee should."

The young man seems interested in my story but doesn't seem to realize it's about him. His oversized Hawaiian shirt slowly tightens into a fitted jumpsuit while thin gloves glide over his hands. Meanwhile, his wildly long hair shrinks into a head of neatly cropped black curls.

"Pedro doesn't leave the basement too often, but he doesn't mind because he is so excited to finally have a consistent source of income. His bedroom is right around that corner, actually."

"Really," the guy asks dreamily, completely unaware of the uniform cap that's dropped over his new haircut.

"You're Pedro."

"I'm Pedro," he agrees without resistance, and a name tag materializes over his yellow coveralls, finalizing his transformation.

"Pedro," I say, "I know it's nice to catch up, buddy, but don't you have a lot of work to do?"

Pedro glances down the hall towards the laundry room. "Your right, sir," he responds with a new accent.

"A lot of guests arrived today, and I heard quite a few of them put in requests for clothes to be laundered and pressed."

"I'm on it, sir," he assures me.

My newest employee races to find an empty laundry hamper and starts rolling it down the hallway. The idiot is rolling the laundry bin towards the guest elevators in the front of the building.

"Come on, Pedro!" I call.

"Yeah, sir?"

"Son, use the service elevator in the back," I remind him, "The front ones are for guests. You know that."

"Right! Sorry, sir," he shakes his head and turns around, lugging the hamper in the opposite direction.

Pedro climbs on the old elevator and hits the button. Rusted machinery groans to life, pulling the laundry boy and his hamper slowly up to the top floor.

I take a seat and rest in the service corridor. It's been a long day of transforming insufferable influencers into good employees. Their absence will no doubt improve the atmosphere of my hotel greatly, but I may need to consider expanding the business if I keep taking on so many new workers...

#gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay mind control #male transformation #servant #hypnotized #gay ai art #mind control

[btsxmalereaders]

♡ pairing — bang chan x male reader

> genre — fluff

> tags — pre-debut bang chan, strangers to friends to lovers, just the reader being supportive af.

> word count —  5,11k

> summary — when you spot a lonely and seemingly stressed customer on the cafeteria you work in, you don't hesitate to keep him company. soon you find out what has been troubling him and decide to help him out, knowing it will be so easy to fall in love with him in the way.

Chan swears he could burst into tears once he takes a seat in the busy cafeteria he has arrived at, dragging the soles of his shoes and with his head down. Fortunately he has found an empty table, so he sets up his laptop after cleaning up a bit and plugs in his headphones, hoping to find at least some peace.

Even though this visit to the coffee shop was still to work, Chan feels his muscles a little less tense as the smell of coffee and tea brewing, also the bread and cookies coming out of the oven hits his nostrils.

His stomach growls, and after trying to ignore it for a few minutes, he finally decides to order something to keep him satisfied until it's time for dinner.

For the next few hours his eyes are fixed on his laptop screen, his fingers moving nimbly over the keys and cursor. He feels so pressured and guilty, and the unchanged expression on his face really hints at it.

There are so many questions running through his head, but no matter how hard he tries to find the answers, he always ends up in the same place. He knows that, as the leader of the group, he should be stronger and more supportive of his members; but now, in that small and now almost empty cafeteria, he feels like he can just let his worries be noticed without making the others be more preoccupied.

The sound of a teacup landing on his desk and being moved in his direction makes him look up, removing the only earpiece he had on and being met with a friendly smile.

"You look like you like tea better than coffee," You mutter, a little sheepishly. "It's on me. You look like you need it."

Chan doesn't know what to say for a moment, but before you can walk back to the register is when you can finally hear his voice.

"Thank you." He says with a sincere smile peeking on his face that denotes tiredness. "Uhm... _____?" Chan catches a glimpse of the nametag on your uniform. "I really needed it,  you're very kind."

"Of course, enjoy it." You smile at him and turn on your heels, until his voice stops you again.

"Wait," Chan scratches the back of his neck and quickly takes a glance at the now empty cafeteria. "Would you like to take a seat? Unless you're busy."

"Don't worry, it's nearly closing time so it's unusual more customers come at late hours." You assure him with a shy smile, taking seat in front of him. That's when he realises it's late and he lost track of time again.

"Oh, I didn’t even notice it was that late," He murmurs. "I'm sure you have to do lots of things before closing and if I'm being a bother I'll-"

"Don't worry," You repeat, this time giggling. "You're fine. We still got time left."

Chan can't help but smile and sigh before taking the cup you just brought and take a sip. His eyes closes for a moment as he feels the warmth and sweet flavor on his tongue, then he speaks up again, surprised: "Oh, wow, you did this yourself?"

The tone of his voice makes you giggle a bit, and you teasingly answer, "Why? Don't I look like the type of person that could make such awesome and sweet brews like this?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to question your brewing abilities" He giggles as well. "It tastes amazing, I swear, it's almost as if you could read my mind and give me exactly what I needed."

"Yeah, actually when I got hired they told me I had to have this ability to read people's mind and give them their favorite beverages." You joke around, making him laugh even louder. "I think I'm doing a great job so far."

"Well, I pretty much appreciate it. No wonder why my friends recommended me this place so much, I think I'll become a frequent customer."

"It'll be nice to have you around here." You smile as you hear how your coworker thanks you for staying later for him and taking his coat before walking off the building. "Looks like it's only you and me."

Chan takes a glimpse of the time on his computer screen and yawns, "I spent a lot of time here and I haven't gotten a proper meal."

"Really? You should have dinner now before it gets too late. I think there are still ingredients to make something you'd like, do you-"

"Oh no, please," He immediately says before you can fully stand up. "Sorry. It's fine, you don't have to- I mean, you've been nice by given me this tea. I don't wanna look like I'm taking advantage of your kindness."

"Are you sure? I don't have any problem." You insist.

"Of course, plus, it's getting late, aren't you supposed to be closing in like twenty minutes?"

You nod, "Yeah, I just have to clean up some stuff and that's it. We don't really have clients coming last minute."

"Alright, how about I wait up and invite you something to eat on our way home? I'll pay you back."

You sweetly smile and stand up, "Alright. But I have to know your name first."

"Right, sorry, I am Bang Chan."

You extend your hand and he nervously shakes it, "Nice to meet you, Bang Chan. I'll tide up and be ready in a moment."

He watches you dissappear in the kitchen and starts to get nervous. This isn't how he expected his night to go. He had lots of things to do, to work on, to fix.

He entered the coffee shop feeling so down but determined to work hard and focus. At the verge of tears and slightly shaking still but wanting to fix everything, even when he deep down knew it wasn't at all up to him. He felt so guilty for allowing it to happen in first place and now he felt guilty for going out with someone he just met instead of working harder.

His head was surely a mess lately and even the thought of going out just for a night felt like something he didn't deserve to have. It has been so difficult and tough for him, he just felt the need to keep working so he could see the results he wanted the sooner as possible.

Without even noticing it, he starts biting his nails; his knee going up and down as he's sat in front of his laptop and saving his progress up to three times, just to make sure. He sighs with tiredness and an aching stomach, starting to feel his hands shake a little.

Breathing exercises, of course, he remembers it well. Minho has been there for him in tough times like this, being his companion at ungodly late night hours and being a shoulder Chan could lay on when it gets hard, but now he doesn't have it. He feels lost. Empty. How can he breathe well and feel on track when his friend isn't there to help him?

Millions of thoughts begin to cloud his mind. He is so tired and saddened by this situation but he doesn't have the time to grieve. The need to get back to the building and finish composing, as well as rehearsing and helping Felix study, gnaws at his insides.

"Hey," you say softly, snapping him out of the little trance he was in. "Everything okay?"

Chan looks beside himself for a moment before quickly gathering his belongings and standing up. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. You ready?"

"Are you sure? You look kind of... tired." You murmur, grabbing your backpack and keys. He shyly follows you and exits the place before you and you quickly close the door.

"Well, I am. I haven't been able to properly sleep, honestly," He chuckles, but still sounds saddened. "It's been tough days."

You both start walking down the streets; the neighborhood's nightlife highlighted by hearing people dining at nearby establishments and entering bars. Something quite common on a Friday night. Chan found it quite ironic how people were living their lives with ease and fun when he, in his full youth, was feeling so exhausted and stressed, wondering when things would get better for him.

"Well, I know we just met, but whatever you wanna talk about, I am here to listen." You smile and look at him as he sighs.

Chan doubts a little bit; was it really a good idea to vent out to a stranger? You looked really trustworthy, but would you even be willing to listening him ranting or were you just being nice? He doesn't say a word for the next minute, and you stop when you find small food truck.

"Want a corn dog?" You say, trying to lift the spirits a little bit. He nods and rushes to pay for them before you could even approach your hand to your pocket. "That's not fair."

"It is. You've done a lot for me and we just met. You're a nice guy," He chuckles and after you finish your order and get the food, you two walk a little bit to sit on a bench. "So... I know this might sound weird, but you seem a very trustworthy person and... I don't know, I guess I just need to vent out."

"I'm all ears, go ahead."

He sighs for the nth time that day and his leg goes up and down unconsciously. Chan looks somewhat nervous but once he starts talking, it goes on for minutes. He starts talking about that he is a trainee under a music company, and he, along his friends, is participating in a survival show in order for them to debut, and what has been making it so hard for him is that the person in charge and who has been giving them feedback, also decided to kick out two members of the group. Chan says he felt responsible for this because he is the leader, but has been struggling with this whole situation because he, at the same time he's sorting this out, has to calm everyone else down and give them the support and help they need too in these desperate times. He has been so hard on himself and has been overworking too to help his friends and avoid at all costs for them to ever feel that way again. Chan doesn't want them to be separated from the group, because he personally chose them and saw the potential in them to become part of this project. At this point, it's like they're a family, and wants to stick with them forever.

It almost feels as if he is truly pouring out his heart because he’s talking out with so much detail and constantly telling how he feels about every single thing coming out of his mouth. His gaze is fixed on the ground and he hasn’t even started to eat. You can only suppose he has been in a lot of pain and restlessness lately.

As he speaks, you can't help but notice the despair he feels. His eyes are glazed and he's fidgeting his fingers a lot but now you can't seem to do anything to help him; just listen. It's a lot to process, but you're doing your best.

You are not even sure if he has asked for your advice, so you try to process all the information you have received. Anyway, what could you possibly say to that?

After he stops speaking, he just keeps his gaze on the pavement, his food is getting colder and he feels this need to cry. You don't say anything for a moment until he raises his head.

"I'm sorry you're going through all of this... It really must be hard." You murmur, suddenly feeling your hands sweaty, your mind racing as it looks for comforting words to say. "Look, you probably already know not to worry too much and not to overwork yourself, you probably have been told this a lot... but you should know too that you're doing your best."

Chan can't help but chuckle at that, sniffing afterwards and clearing the traces of tears on his cheeks.

"Seriously, being in charge of a group it's a big responsibility, and I admire you for that. You're doing everything you can and it's okay, don't be too hard on yourself. Things will be just as you want them to be, and even better. Have patience and keep doing what you're doing. It's going to be okay soon."

Surprisingly, your words make him feel a little bit tense. Chan sincerely smiles and looks at you, nodding and feeling a comfort for the first time in a while, "Thank you, _____, I really appreciate it."

All he ever wanted was just vent out and feel heard. It's not like he didn't feel that way with his friends, but he truly needed to hear it from someone who wasn't involved in this situation. Hearing comforting words from someone else have given him the reassurance he needed.

"Of course, I wish I could help you more but I'm afraid I don't know a lot about these music companies... Is there any other way I could help you out? Because I'd be happy to do it in any way."

Chan thinks about it for a moment. "Yeah, there might be a way... but for now let's enjoy this food, alright? I know this has been a lot."

So the next hour goes more smoothly, making Chan laugh with dad jokes and ridiculous puns, but at least he is distracted enough and, for the first time in a while, he feels like his preoccupations doesn't exist. He's just living the moment and having a good time.

When it gets too late, though, he walks with you to a place near where you live and says goodbye, thanking you for hearing him and making him feel better this night, and promising he'd visit the cafeteria soon. You give him your number, with the excuse of asking him to tell you the way you could help him on that survival show or just talk to him whenever he needed to, thing he appreciated.

Chan waves his hand goodbye with a big smile on his face and his heart beating fast.

You don't hear anything from Chan for a couple of days, until you get a text message in the middle of the night. You quickly open it, your heart racing as you read the beginning of the message; Chan apologizing for texting you so late and telling you that a new episode of his survival show is coming out in the evening, and that he has seen on social media that some fans will be sending messages of support and sharing petitions to get Minho and Felix back into the group, so he extends the invitation to you to help, which you agree to.

You reply immediately with a "Count on it!" and a separate message inviting him and his friends to stop by the coffee shop on any free day they have, promising to treat them to whatever they want for their hard work.

Truth is you have been catching up on the program and listening to the songs they have posted online, and you were so impressed that it left you wondering how come you didn't hear about them before. They all were really good, talented and you just knew they were all destined to be together.

So in your spare time, in the next weeks, you don't miss the opportunity to watch the show and support through messages on social media, immediately getting friends joining together for the same cause.

You keep exchanging texts with him from time to time, some days you talk for hours, some others you only get to send just a few messages due to the busy schedules, but you have been consistent and have managed to keep a good communication, and you'd say you're good friends now.

He visits you on the cafeteria on his free time, and every time you see him cross that door with a shy smile on his face, you immediately feel nervous. You know why, you know yourself, you know your feelings, but decide to put them aside for now. It's better this way, right? With all of the pressure Chan has been feeling lately, the only thing you can do best now is offer him your friendship and support.

The smile that appears on your face every time Chan visits the cafeteria is raising suspicions among your friends. As soon as he steps inside the place, you feel a tickling in your stomach, your hands feel shaky, but you manage to walk to his table and greet him.

"Hey, how have you been?" You sweetly ask, leaving a blueberry muffin in front of him.

Chan smiles and thanks you, "I actually came with great news! Are you free now?"

You think taking five minutes won't hurt anyone, and you have been waiting for news so you decide to take a seat next to him and listen to what he has to say. "Go on, what is it?"

He can't hide his big smile, the beautiful dimples his cheeks have and that glow on his face, it's a big difference from the last time you saw him, and that makes you feel happy as well.  He starts explaining that J.Y. Park let them prepare a performance with Felix and Minho for the finale, since they heard the audience's opinion and will deliberate if the group is going to debut with or without them, and the audience will be a big help for that.

"Wait, that's is awesome!" You say, not trying to hide your happiness. "It's so obvious everyone will want them back in the group, they're coming back for sure!"

"I know, I know, although I try not to get my hopes high because he can change his mind last minute or change everything up, you know? I just don't wanna get disappointed..."

"Chan, I know you will debut together, trust me, and trust your friends, alright? Have faith in the future. That man will make the right choice."

Chan nods, becoming more and more convinced, more confident and happy. Maybe you were right, even if his mind reminded him that he shouldn't get his hopes too high, the truth is that he wanted so much to believe that the best would come.

"Come on, let me buy you something to drink, okay? Relax a little, think positive! I'll be right back."

With everything that has been going on, Chan has been involved in so much work, so many rehearsals, so many talks and so much stress, that he hasn't stopped to think about how he feels. Of course, he has been talking to you for a couple of weeks and has found your advice very helpful, just being there for him when he needs it is just amazing and so meaningful to him. The one thing he has been trying to avoid is thinking why every time you two talk, he can't help but feel his heart racing, he can't help but smile every time he gets a text from you during the day to remind him to eat and take a break from time to time, and to let him know about your day to day to distract him during difficult times. Chan has noticed that talking to you brings him an incredible calm that he really needs and has had so many questions on his mind that he still can't find an answer to.

Maybe it's better this way for now, he thinks, he'll just let things flow.

Finally, the day has come. To say Chan was feeling nervous was an understatement, he was getting his make up done while reviewing the notes he made on his phone for the finale. Jeongin and Seungmin are rehearsing, Changbin and Jisung are talking and probably giving tips to Hyunjin, he has been struggling a lot because of the nervousness but they are reassuring him he will do perfect tonight.

Felix and Minho are the ones who look the most nervous, practicing the choreography in front of the big mirror and then singing together. Chan gets closer to them once his make up and hair is done, patting their shoulders and giving them advice, but most importantly, he reminds them what they're capable of and how far they've gotten.

"You got this, you know? Once we perform together, it's gonna be like that for a long, long time, alright? 8 is fate!" He says, and walks away with the rest of them as they were finally given the cue to leave backstage. Everyone says comforting words to everyone before start.

You, on the other hand, didn't get the chance to be in the venue, but didn't think twice to watch it on your phone.

"Has it started yet?" Your friend says as she puts on her apron and gets closer to you in an attempt to look at the screen.

"In a few minutes." You smile and take a seat on an empty chair. "Thanks for covering for me."

"It's okay, whatever helps you to go out with that guy." She jokingly murmurs.

"What are you talking about?" You say, surprised.

"Oh, please, ______, don't play the fool, I've seen you drool over him every time he stops by. Why else would you hype him up so much and help him out with his show?"

"Cause he's a good friend!"

"Yeah, right, maybe a friend you wanna-"

"Hey!"

"...You wanna go out on a date with. God, see? You're just proving my point." She giggles and walks to the door. "I'll tell you if we need help, and keep me updated, alright? Good luck."

The show starts and your heart starts racing. You notice immediately there are a lot of fans in the venue, holding banners, screaming to the top of their lungs and supporting all of the members of the group. The MC starts the show by making a introduction about how far they've come and how J.Y.Park is going to evaluate and deliberate whether they stay with or without Minho and Felix.

As soon as a number pops up on the screen you immediately write it down, since is the way they're going to receive the fans' votes. Luckily, your friend lend you her phone to send messages too, so you don't hesitate to start, and also posting on your media to help out as well.

A few weeks ago you wouldn't even thought you were going to be doing this, but it's been a long time since you were so dedicated to any band or artist, so getting the passionate experience of being a dedicated fan again is really nice.

As soon as the stages start you feel so happy and so highly strung, but you had nothing to worry about since they were doing amazing. The feedback they were getting was great although there were some things missing due to the nervousness they must be feeling as well. Over all, they were giving amazing performances and you felt really happy for them.

When Minho and Felix finally make their appearance it's when the fans gather and start sending their votes. The group makes an amazing performance of Hellevator that shows off their hard work, and the fans doesn't get behind when the MC announces a mid-results revelation of the votes, showing that 96% of the people who casted their vote, want Stay Kids with no members left behind.

Everyone is shocked, yes, but not because they didn't know the fans obviously wanted those results; but they thought the gap would be wider. That only increased their hopes and made Jinyoung know what his priority should be when making a final decision.

After a few performances more, with some clips of the guys preparing for this very moment, the time has finally come to know what does the future hold for them. It's a big moment. The members who were eliminated on previous challenges are on the center of the stage. It's a tense moment, especially since the MC is repeating himself and keeping the suspense.

Once Jinyoung starts talking everyone listens carefully, but at some point Chan stops listening. He feels so disconnected for a moment there, he feels incredibly nervous, shaking, just hoping for the best. You are at the edge of your seat, hands shaking as well; your friend has come to check on you a few times and every time she entered the room she just saw you more and more anxious. But the results are finally here; you both just feel an amazing feeling once you hear the long-awaited: "Congratulations, Stray Kids will be 8 members."

You jump off your seat and your friend enters the room almost running, and giving you a hug after seeing the expression of victory and happiness on your face.

"Hey, I'm so glad everything worked out for them! Don't you think we should prepare something special for them? Ask them to come any day and we'll see."

You don't think it twice, and immediately send Chan a text message, firstly congratulating him for this great outcome, and inviting all of them to celebrate in the cafeteria. To your surprise, he replies a few minutes after the broadcast ends.

Thank you so so much for your support, _____

I don't think I could've gone through all of this without your help!

And thank you for this invitation, is tomorrow a good day? We'd be happy to come by, x

So with the butterflies in your stomach and tinted cheeks, you confirm him, willing to do your best for their visit.

When they enter the coffee shop, they notice the decorations and smile, tons of ballons in red, black and white, a banner that reads 8 is fate, and a special brew on the menu named after them.

Chan greets you with a hug and whispers a sincerely thank you, "You did this all yourself?"

"Yeah, well, I got a little help from my friends of course. They also became fans of you, so we all prepared this for you, guys. Do you like it?"

"It's amazing, I swear, thank you!" He says, still looking around in awe. "Let me introduce you to the guys, alright?"

So you approach the table where they have taken seat, some of them taking pictures and thanking the workers for this. Chan clears his throat for everyone to listen to him.

"Guys, there's someone I'd like you to meet," He shyly says, turning to face you. "This is ____, I met him here a few weeks ago and has helped me a lot, but you know this already. Also, a big fan of ours ever since."

You smile and wave at them, to which Felix sweetly smiles at you: "We've heard a lot about you, _____! It's great to finally meet you. Channie hyung has talked about you for a long, long time, I thought you were his boyfriend."

Everyone laughs and agrees with him, making Chan turn red.

"Oh, really? Well, it's a shame he hasn't asked me out yet, I've been waiting a long while." You respond, making them boo at Chan for not doing it earlier.

Without saying more, you go back to the kitchen to start preparing the beverages and pastries along with your friends, and after giving them to the guys with more congratulations and thanks, Chan grabs you by the hand and looks at you, serious. "Can we talk for a minute?"

You nod, suddenly feeling dizzy. You guide him to the staff area and pretend not to be nervous, even though your legs feel shaky.

"What's up, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, this is awesome, again, thank you so much for this, but uhm... I wanted to ask you about... you know, earlier." He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. "I'll just ask; did you mean what you said? About me asking you out?"

You swear you feel your heart stop for a moment, but gather up the courage to answer: "Yes, I meant that." You chuckle at Chan's reaction, who seems to be in shock. "Honestly, you can't blame me. You're just an amazing person, and meeting you has been the highlight of my life, no joke. However, if you only intend to be friends with me, that's alright. I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable around me or make you feel pressured, I just wanted to let you know that I like you."

Chan smiles and doesn't hesitate to give you a tight hug. He feels his heart beating fast, but at the same time he feels this ease. He's so glad to hear that from you.

"Thank god I wasn't the only one feeling this way." He murmurs and separates from you. "I couldn't wrap my head around it, especially since I was going through that difficult moment, but last night I just confirmed my suspicions. When I got that text from you, there was nothing else I could think of but coming here to you, to tell you I like you. I like you too, and I am so glad to hear you do too."

The biggest smile appears on your face, and you swear you could melt from the warmth and comfort you were feeling right now. You hugged Chan again, feeling incredibly lucky.

After a moment of just hugging and feeling this calm, you look at him in the eyes, "So... Is it okay if I ask you out?"

He giggles and hides his face with his hands, "I can't believe this is happening. Yes, of course yes. I'd love to go out with you."

You can't help but giving him another big hug, hiding your face on the crook of his neck and smelling his sweet smell along with the coffee.

Chan smoothly moves his hands on your back and pulls you a bit closer, "Thank you for staying by my side this whole time. And for making me feel like I was not alone."

"Happy to, I'm glad things turned out this way." You murmur and separate a bit, his face right in front of you, his breath against your lips and his eyes fixed on yours, "So, would you like more coffee?"

Chan giggles, seeing you got nervous, but then he gives you a small kiss on your cheek. "Of course. Let's go."

#kpop x male reader #skz x male reader #stray kids x male reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x m!reader #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #bang chan x male reader #bang chan x reader #chan x male reader #skz fluff

[samiiy20]

✩ 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗪𝗼𝗼𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 ✩

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: fem! lector x Boyfriend! Jung Wooyoung 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗲:  Smut, little bit fluf 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.8k 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: oral (f receiving), names (whore), unprotected sex (don't do it) If I forget something please tell me. 𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀:  You've never been intimate with your boyfriend and you don't know how to tell him what you really think.

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

You looked in the mirror one last time and smiled satisfied, you were sure Wooyoung would like it. After admiring yourself for a while you heard the door and ran open it, your boyfriend was smiling as he held a bouquet of flowers.

"Hi Wooyoung" he grabbed you by the waist and hugged you giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"You're beautiful," he said, looking at you from top to bottom, you blushed as you noticed how his eyes slowly traveled over you without stopping smiling. "Are you ready?" You nodded and were about to close the door "oh… here, they are for you" he handed you the flowers while smiling when he saw how you came closer to smell them.

"Thank you, let me put them in water" you entered the house for the last time and went out to meet your boyfriend.

"Come on."

He opened the car door for you and hurried to get in. The whole way they talked and laughed, that's how it was when you were with him, you felt free to say anything no matter how stupid it seemed and he would listen to you. You hadn't been dating him for long, going from being friends to being a couple was a little new for both of you, but it seemed to work and that comforted you.

The first stop was a museum, he knew how much you liked art and even though he didn't understand much, he liked to see you happy. Afterwards they went to visit an aquarium, both were fascinated by the sea creatures and their bright colors standing out in the water. It didn't take long for them both to get hungry and go to eat at their favorite restaurant.

"Are you sure you don't want that?"

"I'm going to explode" they both looked at each other for a second before laughing, he knew you were lying, they both knew you could still handle that and another round "stop it, my stomach hurts."

"Okay," he said, getting a little serious, "finish it while I go pay."

When they left there they realized that it was already dark and they couldn't go where they wanted. He took your hand and started walking, you followed him, admiring him in silence but he seemed to notice.

"What?"

"Nothing" you blushed when you were surprised and looked away, Wooyoung smiled when he noticed it and stopped for a moment. He held your face so you could see it and when you met his eyes the emotions accumulated making your body shudder from his gaze "I have say you what I love it when you get like that?"

"What are you talking?" you joked, trying to break the tension in your body. "I… I'm normal."

He held your chin, approaching your lips and without taking his eyes off your eyes he confessed to you.

"I love you."

Before you could process his words he caught you in his arms surrounding your body. You wanted to tell him the same thing, but your mind repeated his voice over and over again. The only thing you did was hug him back while you buried your face in his chest so he wouldn't see your glassy eyes.

"You're a fool…"

***

They changed their plans to watch a movie at Wooyoung's house since it was closer. Even though you had been there a million times before you didn't know why you were more nervous than normal, but you ignored that when Wooyoung talked about what movie they were going to see and at first you played with him by asking for a scary one even though you were even scarier than he.

They walked through the hallways of the building holding hands until they reached the elevator, they still joked a little about anything, but when the doors closed, silence filled them for a moment. You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him, caress his hair and listen to his breathing. His fingers played circles on the skin of your hand, provoking your thoughts, but the sound of the elevator brought you back to reality before you could continue.

When you entered you sighed, erasing the ideas you had had, in your time as a couple you had never gone beyond just passionate kisses and a couple of caresses over your clothes, but you had noticed that he was the one who always stopped when you started to sigh. And although you were dying to go further, you didn't know how to tell him.

"Pick a movie, I'll go get things."

You sat on the big couch while watching the repertoire, you didn't really care what it was, you just wanted to spend time with Wooyoung. When he returned he sat next to you stretching his arms out, you snuggled into his chest while his hands combed your hair and covered your bodies with the blanket, you sighed, preparing to endure the scares you would have for the next hour and half.

"I don't want to see" you moved, hiding your face between the covers because you were sure that someone was going to appear behind the protagonist.

"But you chose her" you got as close as you could to her body and hit her arm because you knew she was acting brave. You heard his laughter mocking you and you smacked him harder.

"I don't want to see that anymore" Wooyoung took the edge of the blanket, uncovering your face, his eyes connected and the emotions you had before reappeared. You couldn't help it, every time he looked at you that way your brain stopped working and you only thought of the thousand and one ways to shout his name.

"Me neither" you placed your hands on his chest and slowly approached his lips without stopping to look at him. You thought he was going to move away from him but one of his hands surprised you by grabbing your neck, shortening the distance.

You moaned into his mouth when you felt his tongue inside him, your hands gripped his clothes and you felt his hand go down your back to your waist. The air under the blanket was hot but his passionate kisses made you forget to breathe. You moved a little to sit on his lap but as soon as you did he withdrew, ending everything.

"Let's put on something else." He carefully helped you sit where you were and removed what was on the television. He stood up, turning on the light and adjusting his hair. "Do you want a glass of water?" You nodded, a little hurt by his attitude, wondering if there was anything something wrong with you "are you okay?"

"Woo… do you want me?" You didn't know where you got the courage to ask him but now there was no turning back, you had to clarify your doubts or you would die trying to give them an answer.

"Of course," he knelt down, looking for your gaze and his heart sank when he saw your eyes full of tears. "I love you."

"I know… not that way… it's just…" the words had gotten stuck in your throat and you avoided his gaze to sigh and continue "you never want to continue when… you know…"

You felt so embarrassed that his face could explode, Wooyoung realized what you were talking about and laughed, he had been so scared that he was about to die. His teasing only made you feel worse and you lay down on the couch covering yourself with the blanket, regretting having said it.

"Will you shut up?" you threw a cushion at him with your foot, containing the urge to cry, "it's not funny."

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think it was just that," you curled up into a ball, turning your back to him, "but tell me what's wrong?" His voice changed and you came out of your hiding place for a moment.

"You are going to laugh at me?"

"A little bit maybe" he turned you around before you ran away again and took your face in his hands "just kidding… you know you can tell me anything."

You brought your hands together, clawing at your skin to look him in the eyes. You took a deep breath and spit out everything you thought.

"Do you ever think about having sex with me?" He opened his eyes wide and bit his tongue. Of course he thought about it, all the time and he fought the urge to not rip your clothes off every time he saw you.

"Maybe."

"Then why do you stop every time we start?"

"Because I don't want to pressure you," he admitted, "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he caressed your face, looking at your lips, "I want you to tell me when you're ready."

"I'm ready," you said almost immediately, "I want to be yours…" You blushed when you heard those words leave your lips, but when you saw Wooyoung's smile, something in your chest trembled.

"Are you totally sure?" He stood up while you followed him with your eyes and nodded, eager to give yourself to him. His fingers traced your lips, "then say it again."

He knew you weren't good with words and if you really wanted it as much as you said you would say it again, that and he really wanted to hear you say it. You stood up taking a breath and looked into his eyes so he could see the truth behind them, you wanted to do it, there was no doubt in your being and you were going to show him.

"I want you to fuck me Woo…" your boyfriend bit his lips and you moved closer, standing on your tiptoes to get closer to his ear. "Fuck me until you make me forget my own name."

Wooyoung forgot about all his barriers and launched himself against your lips. It wasn't a kiss like the others, it was quick, sloppy and passionate. You could feel his tongue playing with yours, you dug your fingers into his hair as his mouth began to trail down your jaw and his breath tickled your neck.

His tongue probed your skin as he recorded the sound of your voice moaning. Wooyoung shuddered since he heard you say what you thought and desperation made his hands shake. He didn't want to give you a bad experience because of his impulses, so he put his hands under your blouse, caressing your abdomen, slowly getting rid of the garment to admire your breasts.

You suppressed a moan as you felt the cold air, Wooyoung looked at you when he realized you were wearing lingerie. You avoided his gaze, wanting to cover yourself, but he took your hands.

"Let me see you," you saw the way his eyes locked onto your chest, noticing how your nipples had gotten hard. He raised an eyebrow and smiled before continuing the path of kisses on your body, you moaned as you felt his hot breath watching as he went down until he reached the edge of your pants. You gulped as you watched him toss the garment to the side and admire the entire outfit.

"Cute," he said as he left kisses along your thighs and made you move back a little to the couch, "sit down darling, I'm going to make you feel good."

You obeyed, watching as Wooyoung crawled over, putting his hands on your knees. He slowly opened your legs to reveal your wet panties and sighed as he ran his fingers through your folds. He noticed how your body contracted at the feel of him and directed his gaze to your face as he began to spread your juices across your underwear.

You had your head leaning on the backrest, your breasts pointing to the ceiling and your hips rocked on their own towards his fingers. Wooyoung sighed, bringing his mouth closer to your growing wetness as he moved the fabric to the side to meet your pussy. He left a short kiss to taste you and ran his tongue over your clit starting a slow rhythm.

You looked at him for a moment and sighed when you saw him between your legs, you had imagined endless things but this was better than any fantasy you had ever had. You held his hair and watched as his eyes went to you as his movements became faster and faster. One of his fingers was placed at your entrance, introducing it little by little while continuing to massage your clit with his tongue.

You moaned his name as you felt a second digit and how he began to massage your insides. That combined with his mouth made you feel dizzy, you could distinguish that tickling in your stomach, you knew that if he continued torturing you like that you would get there faster than you thought.

"Woo… I… I'm close" without stopping to listen, your boyfriend continued moving his tongue and massaging your pussy until he felt you squeezing his fingers and your legs fighting not to crush his head. You closed your eyes and squeezed his hair tightly when your entire body contracted, the knot in your stomach had gone away, leaving a mess in his mouth.

Wooyoung slowly withdrew from your pussy seeing what you had done, he smiled wiping himself watching the way your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath. He took the opportunity to undress and noticed how you made an effort to look at him.

"Do you like what you see?" You nodded, looking over his body, stopping at his hard cock and noticing the liquid coming out of the tip. You licked your lips, tasting it, you sat up approaching his cock, you gave hungry look watching him bite his lips. Up close it was even more tempting, watching her cum spill from the base of her to her balls and noticing how red she was. You approached him, leaving a kiss first and then sticking out your tongue to taste him. You heard a loud sigh from Wooyoung as you opened your mouth and dove in, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

"I don't know if I can hold it…" Wooyoung confessed, looking at you from above, taking your face so that you could look at him the same way "shit…" he forced himself to step back, taking his cock out of your mouth and pushing your body to settle on top of you "it will be another time… “He ripped off your panties and ran his tip along your lubricated pussy.

They both moaned at the sensation, you hooked your legs around his waist and held his face so he would stop for a second to look at you. You needed to tell him what was on your mind.

"Do it, I'm dying to feel you so deep inside me…" Wooyoung didn't need any more words, his body moved on its own and he moaned into your mouth as he put his cock into your warm pussy. Your hands gripped his shoulders and scratched at his skin as he started to move without waiting for you to get used to him.

He hid in your neck, licking your skin while he crashed his hips with yours, your legs hooked around his waist and your moans accompanied the sound of his bodies. Your head was spinning and you couldn't even say a coherent word anymore, you just enjoyed how the cock fit so well with your pussy.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked with effort as he left a mark on your neck. You could barely hear his voice, you were so dizzy from the sensations in your body that you couldn't respond. You heard a laugh in your ears "just look at you…" his movements did not stop but you were so affected by the overstimulation that you knew that at any moment you would break again "you have become a whore just for a little cock…"

His words were what you needed, hearing him speak that way made your body contract, squeezing him and letting your juices cum down his cock. Wooyoung felt the same way and collapsed as his cock emptied itself inside you, mixing his juices.

You closed your eyes trying to come back to reality and collect your thoughts while you found something to say, but you were so tired that you could barely keep your eyes open, but you could feel Wooyoung's breath close to your ear.

"Are you okay?" you nodded, you wanted to look at him and tell him it was fantastic but a part of you was still embarrassed and you kept your eyes closed.

"I love you" Wooyoung smiled, kissing your cheek and reached for the blanket on the floor to cover them.

"I love you too" you felt his arms surround your body and you smiled snuggling against him "rest for a moment, this is not over."

#wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #kpop imagines #wooyoung x you #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #ateez fic #ateez

[spiralizera]

Mistranslations

Pair: Namjoon/reader (English/anglophone)

Summary: You get into a fight with Yoongi over speaking English and not Korean.

Tags: Hurt/comfort; angst; protective Namjoon; angry Namjoon; soft so soft Namjoon; besties Namjoon and Yoongi

Warnings: xenophobia, mentions of racism [writer is white take that as you will], severe panic attacks, depression, non verbal coping mechanisms, use of the word ‘waegukin’ [I know it’s not a racial slur in the same way we understand racial slurs in the west, I mention that in the fic], chats about eurocentrism and colonialism [lol]

Notes: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, v spontaneous, possibly due to sun exposure, it’s like 29C rn, inspired by the gorgeous work of @dreamescapeswriting

You were waiting in the dressing room for the boys to finish their set. You’d been working in Gwanju and Namjoon had insisted that you come see him in Busan. The crowd had been insane and quite quickly you’d retreated backstage, overwhelmed. The English translator, now almost permanently on staff for unexpected interviews or even just preliminary prep on translation before content was churned out for online consumption, came and sat with you. She’d been working on her cultural knowledge of English recently and you quite quickly descended into a deep conversation about the politics of Eurovision. You were happy to help, she’d been a saint over these last few months, helping you with Korean.

Just as you were explaining the running joke that is the U.K. and the ‘nil point’ streak, Yoongi and Jungkook burst into the room on a performance high. Jungkook was giggly and jokingly collapsed into your back while Yoongi grabbed some water. They were mid conversation, their breath labouring, rushed and hard to hear. JK turned around and asked you something and since you were just talking to Seo in English, your brain couldn’t quite register what Jungkook was asking. He asked again, gesturing his hands towards the table, too tired to form full sentences. You turned to where he gestured and before you could fully kick your brain back into Korean and ask him to repeat it again, Yoongi scoffed something under his breath.

You paused, unsure if you’d misheard.

‘Sorry?’ You turned to Yoongi, asking in Korean as your brain played catch up with the chaos slowly pouring in from the stage.

Yoongi ignored you and started speaking to Jungkook. Jungkook laughed and pushed lightly off you, grabbing a bottle of water. You were close with the guys, it was easy. They had such a close and intense bond, it was impossible to be intimate with one without becoming close with the others. The only one who’d always remained at a distance from you was Yoongi. He sometimes pretended to exchange pleasantries, but largely kept himself a distance from you. He never spoke in English to you, he never tried to include you. You knew he spoke far better English than most of the boys, except for Namjoon of course. But he only spoke Korean around you. ‘Around’ was the correct word, never at you or with you, just around you, like you were an unfortunately placed pillar obstructing conversation. You largely ignored him, ignored the sick feeling in your stomach whenever he was in the room. It was natural to not click with everybody. Healthy in fact. These were Namjoon’s friends, not yours after all.

You heard the word again. You’d definitely not misheard this time.

‘Hey,’ you stood up, walking over to Yoongi. The boys turned around, jungkook slightly startled by the raise in your voice. ‘What did you call me?’

Yoongi looked at you deadpan. You were the same height and his eyes bore unflinchingly into yours. ‘I said,’ his English was slow like he was speaking to a child, ‘fucking waegukin.’

You stepped back, slightly stunned. It wasn’t a bad word, you knew that, it was a fact, you knew that. People referred to you as one all the time, it was fine, it was-

‘Everywhere we go it’s ‘speak English this’, ‘speak English that’, why don’t you fucking speak Korean? Why do we have to always accommodate you monolingual fucks? The level of entitlement, you come here expecting everything to be handed to you on a fucking plate. We just gave everything out there, Namjoon killed it and you’re in here demanding everyone speak to you in English, wasting the time of our translator, and not even come out and watch us. Namjoon gives you everything, what do you give him? That’s all westerners do, they take and take and demand we meet their standards, demand we make them comfortable. Would you even like Namjoon if he wasn’t an idol? Would you even like him if he couldn’t speak English? He gives so much of himself, so much energy translating and managing interviews and making sure we come across the right way to you westerners. Now he has to come home to you and your English face and your English language. Give him a fucking break. What can you give him, fucking waegukin?’

Yoongi had been getting closer and closer to you, Jungkook had tried grab his shoulder, to interrupt him but he’d shrugged him off. He’d seen red and couldn’t stop. You were just as stunned. You’d almost zoned out after a minute, watching the scene from another corner, alongside the stunned crew. In theory you knew that Yoongi was tired, that this was about something else, something bigger than you. He was right you hadn’t seen the majority of the concert, maybe something had happened onstage. There’d be a simple explanation, you knew that. You knew that. But your heart was in your throat, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. Every insecurity, every worry that had been simmering underneath your skin since you started dating Joon, that Joon had always dismissed and told you not to worry about, was now echoing about the room in one awful silence.

It felt like an eternity had passed.

‘Y/N-‘ Jungkook broke the spell, but you were faster. You didn’t even grab your things, you just needed to leave as quickly as humanly possible. You ran out the room, heading towards the cars, asking the nearest taxi to please drive, before you could see the way Yoongi’s eyes slowly cleared, the realisation that he’d truly fucked up dawning on his face.

——————————————-———————-

14 missed calls. 8 from Joon. 4 from Jungkook. 2 from Seo. You didn’t dare look at the messages that had been solidly lighting up your phone for the past hour. You just needed to get out. You needed to get out right now. You were shoving clothes into your suitcase. You’d catch a train to Gwanju, or maybe a plane would be easier, would there be any planes this late at night? Maybe the train then, or a hire car, but you weren’t really in any state to drive- Maybe you should just cut out the middle man and go straight to Seoul. You had friends there, friends from home who’d grown up split between Korea and Europe. But you didn’t want to worry then. You didn’t want them to know that this kind of relationship couldn’t work. That you were repeating the same mistakes that their parents had made, that maybe the cultural gap was too big. You didn’t want to cause them pain, you were causing everyone so much-

There was a knock at the door. You froze. Shit. You briefly debated scaling the fire escape, but thankfully dropped that idea. Maybe if you just stayed quiet, whoever it was, would go away. Maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you’d still be able to escape. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. You needed to leave right now. Right fucking now.

‘Y/N please,’ it was Namjoon. ‘Please open the door. It’s just me. Please I need to know that you’re ok.’

You softened slightly, your body couldn’t help but respond to his voice. But then your brain kicked into gear again. English, he was speaking in English. He was accommodating you, yet again, he had just finished a concert and he was probably exhausted and he had to deal with you, Yoongi’s words bouncing around your head. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t-

You heard some soft swearing behind the door. ‘Ok I’m coming in Y/N,’ Namjoon slowly entered the room. He had an idea about what had happened, he’d seen you react like this before, he was just glad you were still at the hotel. He walked slowly towards you, arms outstretched like he was approaching a stray. He’d made sure to get rid of every single bit of his anger before coming to find you. He’d ripped into Yoongi and Yoongi had taken it, stood there limply and said nothing. Still high from the stage, he would’ve punched him if it hadn’t been for Jin and Jungkook holding him back. He’d forced himself to calm down before going to find you, he knew he it couldn’t come near you in this state.

He’d phoned the hotel to check you were there before sending Hobi ahead with explicit instructions to not to knock but just make sure that your hotel room light was still on and let him know if you left.

‘It’s ok baby,’ he almost whispered. ‘It’s ok, it’s ok,’ he softly repeated until he was close enough to envelop you in a hug. You initially resisted before allowing yourself to break down and cry. Namjoon held the back of your head to the crook of his neck, kissing the top of your head as he continued to repeat the mantra. Your legs started to go and he swiftly carried you to the bed. He didn’t let you go. He wouldn’t let you go. He controlled his own breathing, holding down the anger that bubbled just below his skin. He took your shaking hand and kissed each finger tip with such care and love before placing it flat against his chest You focussed on his heart, it’s even beats, strong and steady. You matched it’s rhythm with your fingers and eventually your breath followed.

‘It’s ok. You’re ok. I love you. I love you so much,’ Namjoon whispered sweet nothings into your hair and you focussed more on the feeling of his lips than his actual words. Eventually your eyes became heavy and you thankfully slipped away from this awful evening.

Morning came and Namjoon was still holding you. He was reluctant to let you go. Your head was heavy and you felt like were moving underwater. This was often the way after a bad night. You’d finally learnt to recognise the signs, learnt to treat them as something external, symptoms, side affects, not personal failings, character flaws.

Namjoon had learnt too. Just as you had so quickly become attuned to his bad days, the days he couldn’t leave the bed, the days he communicated solely through text messages and grunts, the days he was tired of fronting, tired of masking. It’d been hard, so hard. But you’d eventually let him in too. Let him take care of you. Stopped being so vigilant to everyone else’s needs and let him catch you.

You both stayed in bed for a long time, waking up slowly before letting yourselves fall back asleep again. Joon ordered room service and made you tea, forcing you to drink something and nibble on toast. Wordlessly and easily you moved in time with the other, understanding each others signals. Only the occasional ‘come on’, ‘jagi’, or ‘baby,’ from Namjoon as he coached you into returning back to your body. He’d put the phones somewhere you both couldn’t see them, and while you read, he went and drew you a bath.

The sound of the crowds, thickly ringing the hotel, continued to echo into the afternoon. Ideally Namjoon had wanted to take you somewhere outside, go for a walk to a park or a convenience store, something easy and familiar. But that simply wasn’t possible.

‘Jagiya,’ he called softly to you, still lying in bed, reading your book and tracing the late afternoon sun spots. ‘I’m taking you home tomorrow, is that ok?’

You nodded softly, allowing Namjoon to drag you across the bed into his arms. You felt numb. You felt tired.

——————————————————————

‘Absolutely not.’

Namjoon was trying to find his current reading book before heading to the studio. He’d reluctantly returned to work a couple days after you’d both come back to Seoul. You’d insisted, insisted that you were ok now. Maybe he’d jumped the gun.

‘You are not going anywhere near him, especially not alone.’ He came and stood in the doorway of your study, like he could physically stop you from leaving.

‘Jin is leaving in a couple of days, I’m not going to be the cause of any tension or awkwardness that’ll ruin his send off. You guys need each other more than ever now.’

You get up, matching his stance.

‘You haven’t done anything,’ he punctuated the ‘you’. ‘If anyone’s ruined anything it’s him. He crossed the fucking line.’

You sigh. Your fingers graze his arms, you can feel the anger vibrating just under there. He pretends it’s not there, he pretends you don’t know. He thinks he’s protecting you. You don’t say anything, just gently need the tension from his arms.

His hands eventually fall to your hips before travelling up your back and neck. He leans down and kisses you, your face between his hands like an offering. Its not horny. Its gentle. It’s protective. It’s like you’re the most precious thing in the word. ‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’ He whispers, refusing to even let your eyes slip from his grasp.

‘I know’, you whisper back. ‘I know Joonie. you’re good jooni, so good.’

——————————————————————

Yoongi hadn’t attempted to reach out to you since the night of the concert. Not that he would usually text you, it’d be more disturbing if he had.

As soon as Joon had left for the studio, you texted Jungkook to let him know phase 1 was complete. Jungkook’s job was to keep Joon distracted just long enough to execute phase 2. Before you could think about it too much, you picked up your phone and dialled.

‘Meet me at the convenience store in Dosan. I want to talk.’

——————————————————————

Mid afternoon the streets were almost deserted in Gangnam. Everyone was working or at least trying to avoid the mid afternoon heat. You sat at a plastic picnic table, your back against the shop’s glass windows and your feet up on the bench. You sipped on your coffee - hot drinks in hot weather, you’d learnt that working service - and watched the fruit cellar obnoxiously ring his bell, hopping from one dappled island of shade to another. If the coward didn’t show then at least you’d had a pleasant afternoon.

Two bottles of beer were carefully placed on the table, the clink of glass bringing you back to reality. ‘I thought you might like something stronger than coffee.’

Yoongi’s face was almost completely covered - the classic idol combo of bucket hat, sunnies and face mask - but he still radiated sheepishness.

You say nothing, and watch him eventually open the bottle and pour you a glass. It was unnecessarily formal for a convenience store. But you thought, let him play host. Let him show the foreigner good korean table etiquette.

You take a swig and return to watching the fruit seller. He has some customers now. It’s quite busy. They’ll need to form a line.

You’re both silent for a long time. Neither one of you are great conversationalists and Yoongi seems to be on the brink of an aneurysm. Eventually you relent.

‘Listen,’ your Korean is tense but you know it’s correct, you’ve made sure it’s correct, you refuse to give him an inch. ‘You were right the other night. It’s fucked up how the west and Europe looks at Asia, especially relatively new democracies like Korea. We hold them to,’ you gesture with your hand as you look for the word, ‘unbelievably high standards and then judge them for it. we judge you from democracies that are far far from perfect, democracies that are always on the edge of fascism, democracies that are built off the blood and backs of slavery, colonialism and ecological devastation. We forced you all to speak English and now English is the lingua Munda. You’re right to be angry, you’re right to be upset, especially considering the awful things this country has had to deal with from the likes of the USA. It must be incredibly frustrating and patronising to have to learn English, conduct interviews in English and be constantly asked for everything to be in English, to be considered worthy of international recognition. If anything you guys are proof that you don’t need English at all to dominate the global stage.’

Yoongi went to open his mouth then, but you waved him away.

‘But that doesn’t mean that you get to talk to me like that. Not you. Not anyone. Everything that you said, I’ve thought about myself ten times over and ten times worse. Namjoon and I have had so many conversations about this; before I came to Korea I had some understanding of the history of violence and colonialism this country had been subjected to for centuries, from the Japanese, from the US. But I still came to it from s western, trans-Atlantic understanding of colonialism and I’ve been working and researching to understand these different histories and thoughts and ways of speaking so I can fully understand. It’s a huge part of my job Yoongi, working in Gwanju.’

You could feel yourself getting off track. You took another swig of beer and tried to rain it back. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you, he was staring out into the street. You weren’t sure if your Korean was making any sense.

‘White guilt, western guilt, it’s boring and fruitless. It puts the onus on those who’ve been subjected to these systems of systemic violence. I know this. But in that moment Yoongi what you said was cruel and hurtful and i panicked and I needed to get the fuck out of there. You were right I missed half the show, I don’t know what happened out there, but whatever it was, whatever all of,’ again you gesture wildly, ‘whatever all of this fucked up fuckery we live in is, you don’t get to use me as a…a punching bag.’

Your Korean had become shaky at the end and you’d stumbled into English just so you could finish your point. You weren’t used to defending yourself, it still went against your instincts. Your heart was racing.

For a couple minutes, the sound of your breath was all you could hear, blood rushing to your ear drums.

‘It’s not true.’

‘What?’ You look up, Yoongi was now looking directly at you.

‘You said that what I’d said had been true. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. It was xenophobic and racist. You’re right, we’re subjected to these fucked up systems but that doesn’t mean that we can weaponise them and manipulate them to hurt each other, that’s not how they will end.’

You look at him, unconsciously mouthing some of his words as you try to process them in your head.

‘I’m sorry Y/N. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I knew about your panic attacks. I knew what I was doing. It was completely and utterly fucked up, I’m so so sorry. You’re so great with Joon and I-

‘You don’t think that.’

He faltered. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think that I’m good with Namjoon,’ you repeated. ‘Ever since we started dating, you’ve avoided me, you never talk to me.’

‘I-‘

‘In fact you often leave the room if im in it. I think the other night was perhaps the longest conversation we’ve ever had, if you can call it that.’

Yoongi seemed to close then. He drew back. You sighed, you were tired of this. ‘Namjoon acts like it doesn’t matter but you’re his best friend Yoongi. I know he’s used to telling you everything. He’s so angry right now. I don’t want to come between you two, I don’t want him to lose you. He needs you.’

Yoongi looked up suddenly at that. His eyes were bright. ‘I don’t want to lose him either.’ He whispered, quickly ducking his head and raking his hands through his hair. You were worried he might try pull it out.

‘I’m sorry i treated you the way that I did. It was cruel and unnecessary, to you and Namjoon.’

You folded your arms and cocked your head.

‘I was weary. And it wasn’t because you weren’t Korean, I’ve close friends who’ve married people not from Korea, who’ve moved abroad-‘

‘Careful,’ you interjected, smiling. ‘You’re starting to sound like those people who insist that they aren’t racist because they have black friends.’

‘-but I was worried about how it’d affect the music,’ he persisted. ‘I was worried about how Namjoon’s priorities would not only shift towards love but also across continents and languages. I was worried he’d be stretched too thin and that the music would suffer.’ He looked at you then, before voicing your deepest fears. ‘That he would suffer.’

‘I’ve known him since he was young and he wasn’t like the rest of us. He’d never allowed himself to get distracted by girls or love. He’d been 100% on the music and the group, nothing else. Part of me worried about the music, but a big part of me worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle it.’ He grabbed your hand then, he could see the guilt and panic start to fester behind your eyes. ‘Because he was falling hard for you Y/N, so hard, harder I think than any of us have fallen before.’

You nodded, unable to speak.

‘I love him Yoongi,’ you breathed, not daring to look away.

Yoongi let go of your hand, he leaned back and took a swig of beer. He fiddled with the label, tearing it into tiny pieces.

‘The truth is Y/N that I’ve never seen him so happy.’ Yoongi rolled the shreds of bottle label into tiny cigarettes and laid them in a row on the table. ‘His songwriting is on s different level and, and he’s calmer,’ your breath catches in your throat at that one. ‘He’s calmer and you can see behind his eyes, you know, he’s not…always putting up a front.’

Yoongi stopped talking then. But you didn’t dare start. You didn’t want to break the spell.

‘I said some fucked up shit the other night. One thing I said was that he must be so tired coming home to you and having to speak English, but it’s not true. I’ve never seen him so healthy, so full of energy. I don’t know your relationship, and that’s my fault, but I don’t think you drain him at all. Not in the slightest. I think you do the opposite, Y/N. Im sorry.’

Yoongi leaned back then, pretended to watch the people walking past. His shoulders slumped forward.

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’

His head whipped around. He must have misheard you. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’ You repeat again, smiling at him.

He blinks at you. ‘What is this? Primary school? You want to be my friend? Is it that easy?’

‘It can be. If you want it to be.’

Yoongi leaned back before suddenly smiling and getting up from the table with outstretched arms. ‘Come here, noona.’

You laugh and meet him in the hug.

‘You’re older than me!’

He grips you in a bare hug and shakes you from side to side. ‘Doesn’t matter, you’re far wiser than I will ever be.’

Suddenly a car pulls up and Jungkook is apologetically staring at you both from the driver’s seat. Before any of you can register what’s going on, Namjoon has vaulted out of the passenger side, across the car and scooped you into his arms.

‘Oh my god, I was so worried.’ His hands moved across your face and hair as if to make sure everything was where he’d last left it. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour but you haven’t been answering. I was freaking out and then Jimin said that Yoongi had also gone awol and hadn’t been in his studio for at least an hour and we put two and two together-‘

It was at that moment that Namjoon remembered Yoongi standing there, his arms swinging from where you’d been ripped from them. Namjoon instinctively put himself between you and him.

‘What do you want? What did you say to her? You’ve got some fucking nerve coming anywhere near her.’

Jungkook was out the car now and fruitlessly had his hands between the two, unsure who he was going to have to hold back.

You scoffed and pushed past Joon. ‘It’s ok Joon. It’s fine.’ You kept a steady hand on his arm.

‘We talked it out. It’s ok. It’s sorted, Yoongi apologised, all is forgiven, I promise.’

Namjoon’s eyes flitted between yours and Yoongi’s, the pain in them at having to fight his best friend over his girlfriend starting to seep through.

Yoongi must’ve seen it as well because he stepped forward. ‘Joon it’s true. She called me. I apologised, atoned for my sins, we solved neo-colonialism and late capitalism, we’re good.’ Namjoon’s eyes were still tight, he wasn’t moving. Yoongi sighed and grabbed his neck before Jungkook could intervene, leaning his forehead against Joon’s. ‘She’s incredible bro. You’re lucky to have her. I’m so fucking grateful she forgave me. I can’t wait to get to know her better. Can you forgive me?’

There was an intense few seconds. Before some silent communication took place because suddenly Namjoon and Yoongi were in the deepest of hugs. The kind of bear hug guys will do, slapping each other on the back and sort of rocking back and forth. You joined Jungkook on the sidelines, leaning against the car and trying not to laugh at the greatest romance in history unfolding before your eyes.

‘I missed you bro.’

‘I missed you too.’

‘Uughh!’ Jungkook loudly groaned, ribbing you. ‘Hyung can we go get tonkatsu now or what?’

#bts fic #kim Namjoon #rm #namjoon x reader #namjoon scenarios #angst #namjoon angst #hurt/comfort #namjoon hurt/comfort #namjoon fic #BTS oneshot #min yoogni #namjoon and Yoongi #relationship anarchy #love your friends people

[neteyamsoare]

It's Over.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Ao’nung x Fem! Sully! Omatikaya! Reader.

༉‧₊˚. Anonymous Request. Hi 💕 if you don’t have too many requests, can I ask for something with aonung? Angst or angst to fluff with a Na’vi reader, I seen a cool edit and I thought you’d like it too so I’ll give you the link 😌 also, you can ignore my request and just have the tiktok if you’d like! 💗 it’s here, also have a good day/or night btw!

༉‧₊˚. Summary. He really had you fooled, making you think he changed for the better but the truth always comes to light.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Angst and hurt w comfort.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Aged up! Ao'nung, anger. cursing, crying. No happy ending!

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 982. – I was for sure thinking this drabble was going to go over 1k because of how much I was writing.

༉‧₊˚. Index. Oeyä — [my], Tiyawn — [love], Skxawng — [moron/idiot], Tsmukan — [brother],  Marui — [homes of Na'vi clans like the Metkayina or the Ta'unui], Sevin — [pretty].

༉‧₊˚. Notes. I really hope I did your request justice. I did like the TikTok, this is my first time writing something that’s inspired by a TikTok so I hope I did it very well.

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

Neteyam told you and you didn't listen. You allowed yourself to be blindsided by the nice things Ao’nung did for you to forget how much of an ass he was when you and your family first stepped foot seeking shelter that you didn’t even see what was going on when you weren’t around.

You clutch onto the necklace that lay still on your neck, it was the first gift Ao’nung had given you after you decided to give him a chance.

“A beautiful necklace for a sevin girl like you.” He had said and it made you swoon but now the words felt like they were laced with a deadly poison infecting your heart that was hurting the most as you witnessed Ao’nung making fun of your younger sister’s, Kiri, five fingers. 

The same five fingers you had and it infuriated you even more.

Lo’ak who was right next to you was about to step in but you put your arm out in front of him silently telling him to stay in his place.

You didn’t know what you were going to do or what you were going to say but your feet started to carry you toward them.

“He asked if you’re a freak!” One of his friends had repeated, Kiri was still unphased but you were seething with anger. “No” Kiri softly said but Ao’nung just scoffed. 

“Are you sure, I mean you’re not even real Na’vi” He snickers as he tries to reach for Kiri’s hand but before he can, you push him with all your strength making him stumble onto his friend. “What the-“ As soon as he saw your angry face, he knew he fucked up big time. 

He puts up his hands in surrender. “This is not what it looks like.” Kiri makes her way over to you putting a hand on your shoulder knowing how much you’re hurting inside.

“Then tell me what it looked like 'cause it’s pretty clear you were making fun of my little sister!” You yell at him, stepping towards him as he steps back.

“I was just joking-“ you interrupted him with a hiss filled with hatred, his ears pinned flat to his head as his tail slowly dropped sadly.

“You lied to me! You promised me, you would treat my siblings with respect,” you fight back the tears not wanting them to fall down in front of him.

If you break down just one bit, it’d be so hard to fight yourself from running into his arms which became your safe haven.

“I trusted you!” You push him again. “I was a fool to think that a skxawng like you could ever change.” His eyes widen with fear, “Oeyä tiyawn, what are you saying?” He tries to take your hand but you step back and look into his eyes that were filled with tears.

“I’m saying we’re over,” you take off the necklace still fighting back the tears as you place it in his hand which was frozen in place.

“No, you can’t, we’re meant to be together.” He protests, gripping tightly on the necklace.

“I can’t be with someone who would find joy in making fun of my family, different features or not, we’re ‘real na’vi’” you recalled one of his words which still stung as you kept going over the many memories you both made with each other.

“Tiyawn, I didn’t mean any of it, please don’t do this.” His voice cracked as tears rolled down his face. The sight just made you even angrier than you already were, how dare he cry when he was the one in the wrong. 

You let out a small laugh causing him to look at you with confusion, “You really are a skxawng you know that?” He opens his mouth to talk but you immediately hissed and his mouth shut quickly.

“When you call her a freak, you’re calling me a freak as well!” You yelled as you pushed him again.

You raise your five fingers at him. “I have five fingers which you held onto and said you loved, so why is it different with me, huh?” You held back a sob that threatened to escape your mouth.

“I must be some fucking fantastic freak you’ve ever seen.” You yell as you meet his teary gaze that held nothing but fear and regret. You point to him and back to you.

“Whatever we had is over, I don’t ever want to see you again.” With that being said, you turn to walk away but before you can take a step, his hand grips your wrist trying to plead with you to give him one more chance but you snatch your hand away from him and walk in the direction of your marui with Kiri walking close to you.

Ao’nung tries to go after you but Lo’ak stops him, quietly telling him to go the other way, trying to restrain himself from punching him right then and there. 

The walk back to your marui was silent as you replayed everything in your mind, tears finally allowed to fill your eyes but never fell because you didn’t want Lo’ak and Kiri to see you like this but you failed to cause once you stepped foot in the marui and saw Neteyam, your lip trembled as the tears rolled down your face, you make your way over to him and he immediately embraces you in a hug as you let it all out.

“Tsmukan, you were right, you’re always right.” You cried as he held you close as Lo’ak and Kiri patted your back letting you know they were here for you.

As you wept, no one said anything, just comforted you til you quieted down. Neteyam couldn’t wait till he see Ao’nung so he can punch him for making the one thing he didn’t want to come true happen.

🔖 @livelaughloak @blackheart-stuff @onlytays @amart-e @neteyamsbaby @almondmilk8 @jakesully-sbabygirl @blep24

© neteyamsoare 2023. | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

#ಣ : sylaphone #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x fem!reader #aonung x sully!reader #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #aonung x y/n #ao'nung angst #aonung angst #ao'nung drabble #atwow x reader #atwow x you #atwow ao'nung

[matan4il]

Most of the time, I don't bother talking about the hate and harassment I get, because I don't think haters deserve the attention. The person I'm gonna write about definitely doesn't deserve any, but they've started harassing others that I know of, not just me.

So this is basically a warning post for Jewish bloggers and bloggers who are allies to Jews, and a request for anyone who can, to report and block this person (if you want to warn other bloggers, then please consider a reblog, too). @staff, This is also for you, proof of a pattern of harassment and abuse. Please do something and protect your Jewish users and their allies.

They first commented here, denying the antisemitism of Hamas, with the url @grizzlyismyspiritanimal and they seem to change their url quite frequently. For now it's @fancowboy but expect that to change again. Since IDK if Tumblr will let the mention (@'ing their url) hyperlink to their blog, here's how you can check out what their current url is, so you can report and block them. Go to this post where they're tagged as @grizzlyismyspiritanimal and hover your mouse over their url, you'll see their blog pop up no matter what new url they changed to. Here's a screenshot of what that looks like:

Here's their first comment on my post, along with my reply. Tumblr arranges these comments with the oldest at the bottom, click to see the image better:

Of course they never provided a link sourcing their claim, instead they provided a link to an op ed, which was not written by anyone affiliated with Hamas. This link did not support their claim that "Hamas specifically stated," but that didn't stop them from ignoring the fact that they couldn't prove their claim. Next, they repeated an already refuted antisemitic conspiracy theory (and I linked them to a refuting source, which they just ignored), while using strawmen arguments (attacking statements I didn't make). Obviously, none of this addresses the point actually made in the post they were commenting on.

When I called them out on the antisemitism of their whole narrative, they pulled the "I can't be antisemitic, because I'm Jewish" line of defense, while also bragging in the same comment about not going the easy route by doing that:

I no longer believe people who say antisemitic things, and then use this defense, after several have been proven to have lied about being Jewish, but more importantly, and this is the point I made to @fancowboy, Jews are not immune to internalizing antisemitism, and repeating antisemitic narratives. But I was curious whether there was any sign of this person having any sense of a significant Jewish identity on their blog. When I went on there, one of the first posts I came acorss was an antisemitic one, claiming that Jews have stolen the Star of David from the Muslims... I know there are a lot of anti-Zionist Jews out there, and that many of them are very capable of saying antisemitic things, but I don't think even they would endorse this false claim.

What's ironic is that the post shares a screenshot from Wikipedia, which explicitly mentions that this Muslim kingdom that existed in the 13th century AD (roughly 700 years ago), adopted the six-pointed star, due to the Muslim belief that it was a symbol on the ring ("seal") of King Solomon, a Jewish king who lived about 3,000 years ago. In other words, this post literally points out that Muslims borrowed this symbol from Jews, not the other way around. And just for historical interest, the first archeological find of Jews using the Star of David is dated to the 6th century BC (around 2,600 years ago).

I pointed out to @grizzlyismyspiritanimal / @fancowboy that I no longer believe they're Jewish, because I don't believe any Jew would reblog this antisemitic lie. In response, not long after, this "I'm not a coward" and "you would've blocked me (aka fanatic)" person blocked me. Instead of addressing what I said, or taking responsibility for their wrongdoing, and deleting this antisemitic post. Our exchange started on Jan 5 IIRC, this post was reblogged by them on Jan 4, and as of Jan 25 it is still on their blog, as you can see here (post and current date highlighted in this screenshot):

A minute after they blocked me from the above blog, they commented on my pinned post with links to my fandom content from another blog, @verygardenerland and this comment made it clear that it was the same person. I made a mistake, I wanted my fandom space free from antisemitic harassment, so I deleted that comment, which means I don't have that piece of evidence that it's the same person, but I do have another bit of proof. Remember how this person claimed to be Jewish? This is how they presented it:

(again, using a strawmen, I never said all Muslims are terrorists, and never would, because it's simply not true, and if anyone made that claim to me, I would be correcting them)

Well, this is the VERY similar way @verygardenerland talked about their supposed Jewish identity, in a post they made solely to harass and DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender) me:

Jews were almost completely ethnically cleansed from Muslim majority countries, so the likelihood of a random online stranger being a Jew from a Muslim country is generally incredibly low to almost non-existent, and two who just so happen to both harass me on my blog one minute apart is probably less statistically likely than winning the lottery.

It's poetic irony that the one comment the above post got from another blogger, is someone else also calling this person out on the antisemitism of what they're saying:

Gotta love the bonus misogyny with "bitch."

I'm also going to offer you this following antisemitic comment (which distorts the Holocaust, and refers to Jews insultingly as "the chosen ones"), which I also don't believe any person with an actual Jewish identity would make:

And here's also one of the last comments this person made from @fancowboy before blocking me on that blog and continuing from @verygardenerland. Just notice how we have the same antisemitic abuse themes from both of these blogs:

Once more, extra touch of misogyny with "that much of a pussy."

(I have to address the white phosphorus claim. There are 2 ways of using it in battle, one legal, the other's not. Israel stated that when using it, that's only in the legal way. There is no record to show the contrary. People just exploit the fact it's used, to pretend it's automatically illegal. But I accept this is an antisemitic libel against the Jewish state, that sadly some Jews might repeat. The rest is what makes me think this person isn't Jewish)

@verygardenerland noticed I write fandom meta, and harassed me on these posts. Here's one example:

Then they searched related tag/s, and proceeded to harass me by calling me names in comments they left on random posts from other fandom members. These are posts that had nothing to do with me. One of the people on whose post they were calling me a Nazi is someone I have never even spoken to. The OP deleted the harassing comment, but this time I did get a screenshot before that, so here it is, as an example:

Now, on top of all of the above, @verygardenerland also started stalking my main blog at the same time they made their first comment from this url, as well as my two back up blogs. One's last post was on Mar 2022, the other's on Apr 2021, so it's completely pointless to follow them, other than as an intimidation tactic:

And they sent me anon hate. The thing is, they made it explicitly clear through what they said and the language they used, that it's them. They sent more than one message, but the one I'll attach here was obviously meant to freak me out the most, because it falsely starts out as a fandom ask, and then transitions into abusive language, as well as telling me there's more blogs they're stalking me from, basically making it clear that even if I block this url, I'll still not be safe from their stalking and abuse:

From a certain point on, I told them that whenever they make a comment to me, all I'll do is just remind them repeatedly that they're an antisemite, which is exactly what I've kept to. That's when I even bothered to respond. I postponed blocking their second blog, 'coz I wanted to put this post together first. Now I'm done with them.

To wrap this up, here are some final screenshots of their antisemitic abuse, how they obsessively comment on my posts, or posts that in their mind are related to me, and how they have started directly addressing random people who are commenting on my posts, telling them not to talk to "it," meaning they're also using de-humanizing language when referring to me, and of course once more employing the DARVO tactic by accusing me of that which they're guilty of:

My activity feed yesterday:

And not just yesterday. Love the bonus hateful language towards those who are disabled...

And this is just one of their comments on a post simply mourning the death of Israeli soldiers, and putting it in the context of multi-generational Jewish trauma:

To summarize again, please:

report and block this person

reblog this post if you feel comfortable to, in order to warn others

@staff please do something to stop the abuse. Thank you in advance!

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part sixteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"I can't believe I woke up early for this."

You loosen your muscles, turning to dead weight in Ghost's arms, before using the awkward position to slip away. 

"No one said you had to be here," Ghost throws over his shoulder before his gaze fleets back to yours. "Good. Again."

Blue groans as you reposition yourself for the basic defense maneuver. You can see why she'd find this boring— Ghost started you off with a move so basic it was almost insulting when he explained it. But you quickly realized his reasoning. Each time you do it, your pulse tampers down less and less while in his arms. He's had to remind you a few times to "Breathe, Twix"— the order so quietly uttered into the shell of your ear that Blue likely didn't even notice. Perhaps you have grown used to taking orders from him, or maybe having Blue close by is helping, because you've been able to ward off the threat of panic so far.

"Fine, I'm out of here," Blue rolls her eyes the second you've finished the move again. "Let me know when you—" she jabs a finger at Ghost, "—decide to make things more interesting." As she leaps off the log she'd been perched upon, she adds: "Oh, and don't get too close, Ghost. She might bite."

"So I've heard."

Heat rises to your cheeks. And then— you're alone with him. You take a swig of water from the canister Blue lent you to ignore the awkward feeling in your chest. "Again?" You wipe your mouth. "Or have I passed your test?"

"Test?" he repeats, the gravel in his voice rolling over the word as his brow lifts in question.

"Well, I haven't... had a repeat of last time, and it's been an hour. I think I've proved that I'm ready for something a little more..."

"More what?" 

More interesting.

"Hand-to-hand, I guess. Something harder."

He rubs his jaw, as if to feign consideration. "Right, then. Let's try another one."

The next one he shows you is still simple, except you fail every other time. Basically, he gets behind you and you have to sidestep to avoid the trap of his arms. Somehow, Ghost's movements are light as a feather even though he's built like a rock. 

But then you get better at it. The next two days pass in much the same manner until you start to react a bit faster. He teaches you a few more basic tactics. How to wriggle your wrist out of someone's hold. How to avoid being grabbed from the front by rolling to the ground. All defense. After hours spent with him, he doesn't even have to remind you to breathe anymore. Chopping wood in the evenings helps, too. You go to bed exhausted and wake up ready to practice before Ghost even touches your shoulder.

On the third day, he gets you up even earlier. You cram your wool-covered toes into boots, confine your hair in a hasty bun, and follow him to the clearing that has become your makeshift training ground. It takes you a moment to register that some things are different: his boots have been replaced by sneakers, and his jeans by loose, black gym shorts. The exposed skin is strange, making your eyes widen. If Blue were awake, she'd certainly comment. 

His calves mirror the strength of the rest of him, and on the left leg, swirling ink catches your eye, reminiscent of the tattoos you discovered when tending to his wound. Skulls and a dagger; perhaps corny, but fitting for him.

"Have you tried it?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Tried what?"

"The bow."

A white cloud forms around your mouth as you nod. "Needed some getting used to, like you said."

Yesterday you had a hard time shooting a chipmunk you wanted for lunch, so you spent the early afternoon firing arrows at oaks until the new bow started to feel like an extension of your limbs again.

"Let me know if I need to adjust the string."

"Will do," you say, almost mumbling.

When you reach the familiar circle of trees, you bounce once on your toes and crack your knuckles. Ghost retrieves something from his pocket. A roll of gauze. It is tossed at you without warning, and your hands fumble to grab it. 

"Wrap up," he commands. "Your hands will thank you for it."

You look up at him, brows raised, but begin covering your palms and knuckles. When you're done, you throw the roll back to him. Ghost stretches his arms above his head and splays his feet into a firm stance, jerking his chin at you in a go-ahead motion. Your brows furrow as you try to understand what the fuck he's doing.

"Go on. Get ready."

"Um. Ready for what?"

"A little hand-to-hand."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

He shrugs. "That's what you wanted, right? I think you're ready for it."

"That's not what I meant," you almost laugh, shaking your head. "I didn't mean I want to— to fight you. I just meant we don't have to stick to the basics."

"We won't." There is the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, so faint you wonder if it's even there. "You have ten seconds to get ready, Twix."

"I don't even—" you sputter, eyes flying open. If you weren't awake before, you are now. He seems completely serious, his hands in fists and his shoulders squared.

"Five."

"Oh, fuck me," you exhale, balling up your bandaged hands. Did he get you up at this hour so there was no chance of Blue joining? He didn't want her to watch him finally annihilate you? You don't think he would seriously hurt you, not after everything, but that doesn't mean your heart doesn't begin to thump wildly when the seconds are up. Neither of you makes the first move; you are focused on keeping yourself distant, and he is circling you like a predator, flicking his eyes along the length of you. 

"What the fuck is that stance? I could just tap you and you'd fall over." His amusement has faded. "Is that how I showed you to stand when chopping wood?"

You shake your head, teeth gritted, and fix it, spreading your boots against the soil. 

"Better."

Then, he's lunging. You forget everything about your stance and prance to the side like a skittish deer. There is a moment of relief when you successfully dodge him, only for it to abruptly end when he darts around your back and hooks an arm around your neck. Your heart skips over a beat. Holy shit is he fast. 

"Be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastises against the top of your hair. His hold is not aiming to fully restrain you, so when you claw your nails into his arm, it loosens and you slip away, staggering three strides before facing him with your fists up.

"What's the point of raising your fists if you're not going to hit me?" Ghost circles you again, and you have to shift your feet to keep up with him. "Come on, nurse. Where should you aim?"

"You're too tall." Your chest heaves. "I... I can't reach your face or neck without you blocking."

"Use the height difference to your advantage. Reach places that I can't."

You pause to think about it, studying him.

Ghost almost growls. "Stop hesitating. I could have killed you by now."

A mix of annoyance and determination makes you leap forward, jabbing your knuckles at the part of him where you know his liver would be. He captures you by the elbow before the blow can land, and sends you stumbling to the side, a few wisps of hair cascading over your face.

"Liver. Not bad. I might've let you have it if you moved quicker."

A hiss leaves your lips as you whirl around and punch directly into his core this time. He allows the hit, but your knuckles ram into solid muscle instead of the vulnerable stomach you hoped for, and you recoil with a wave of your hand, cussing under your breath.

"You hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Well, should I just kick you in the dick then?" you retort without thinking, flexing your fingers. Luckily, the gauze absorbed most of the damage. 

"That's always an option."

His tone is serious, to the point that you almost give it a try, but then he's closing in on you again, sending you back to the defensive. He doesn't hold back. You run in circles and duck frantically, earning a few hits to your ribs. He doesn't use enough force to send you down to the ground, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Rapid breaths fire through your lungs and beads of sweat percolate your hairline. Ghost, on the other hand, appears unaffected.

"Fight back," he says in a mild voice; almost bored.

You nearly throw your arms up. "I would if you'd give me a fucking chance."

"You said not to coddle you."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to—"

Your spine suddenly meets something hard. A tree. He's backed you into it without you even realizing. When Ghost takes another swipe, you dip your head down and then use his recovery time to grab onto a branch and hoist yourself up.

You're barely perched upon it when a hand grips your ankle and drags you back down, an audible gasp reverberating in your chest as you land flat on your back with Ghost on top. His hand quickly cradles the back of your skull before it can crack on a hard tree root, while his other hand captures both of your wrists.

"You good?" Although he is the one who has you effectively pinned, his tone seems sincere. He scans your face from your forehead to your parted lips. 

"Just... peachy." 

His brows furrow. "What was your plan once you got up there?"

Labored breathing splinters your voice. "I didn't have much of a plan, really."

He speaks flatly. "I can tell."

"You had me cornered," you point out.

"You should have been—"

"Aware of my surroundings," you finish for him, exhaling deep through your nose. "I know."

Your eyes shift around, from his covered face to where his chest just barely presses into yours. It's all so close. Uncomfortably close. You can feel the steady pace of his heart against your sternum, and make out the faintest flecks of green in his eyes.

An ounce of fear and something else you can't quite discern balls up in your stomach, making you swallow. You've been pinned like this before and nearly had your face eaten. Ghost simply stares at you, as if waiting for you to make a move, but when you tug on your wrists, his grip doesn't relent.

"Could you... could you maybe get off of me?"

He shifts some weight off you, if only by a little. "Relax and think," he murmurs. "What are your options here?" The curve of his lips tightens before he adds, "Besides biting my nose off. I'd like to keep that for now."

With a sigh, your eyes slide up to the awakening sky. Hues of violet and orange stare down at you. "Do I... do I even have any options? You must weigh like a ton." The words are past your lips before you can shut your mouth. 

"You always have options." 

"Doesn't mean any of them will be effective," you say.

His eyes darken, and the green disappears. "Why do you do that?" 

"Um... do what?"

"Doubt yourself. After all that you have survived." He sounds irritated. 

"As if you haven't doubted me?" You can't help it; you scoff. "You told her I wouldn't come back that time I went on my own. I mean, I'm still weak, remember? No amount of chopping wood will make me as strong as you or those men who almost killed us."

"It's not about strength," he replies.

"That's easy for you to say," you wiggle your wrists for emphasis. "You have nothing to be afraid of. You were cut out for this shit from the start."

"I have everything to be afraid of." His eyes narrow, but his voice softens. "And so were you."

"Me?" Your voice slightly elevates, and a lick of anger curls within you. "I should be in grad school right now, or maybe I would've quit nursing and gone into something useless and hate my life, but I was never meant to kill anyone, let alone fight them. I was meant to be young and stupid and make mistakes. Now, if I make a fucking mistake, it will cost me my life." Your nostrils flare as you huff, sending a piece of hair flying up into his face, and you writhe beneath him. "Get off of me, Ghost."

But he doesn't.

Beats of silence linger in the small gap between your bodies.

You should feel embarrassed for saying all those things, but instead, you think about what he said:

Don't hesitate.

The ball inside you is a fiery mix of emotions that you usually try your damn hardest to ignore and break and shove away.

But now you let it spread through your body like a sizzling tide, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes and... to your knee. Before you can change your mind, you slam it upward as hard as you can into the apex of his groin. 

"Fuck," Ghost mutters, the only sign of any pain aside from the brief moment that he closes his eyes.

His hold loosens only by a little, but it's enough for you to slip out from under him and find your way back to your feet, your chest rising and falling.

He clears his throat after a moment and rises.

"Good." The two of you share a stare-off for a few seconds before he shakes his head, saying again: "Good, Twix. More of that."

You rip your gaze away from him, cheeks hot, and say nothing as you snatch the canister and bring it to your lips, but the water does little to cool you down. 

You shiver in the bitterness of twilight, your fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. The fireflies are coming out, dots of luminescence darting around you. You swing the axe down again, throat raw as you grunt, and then you add the broken logs to the growing stack. Sudden light footsteps announce the end of your alone time. 

"It's me," Blue greets kindly. 

You drop the axe, hands feeling stiff, and turn to face her with a breathless smile. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Checking on you. Ghost went hard on you this morning, huh?" she says with a sigh. "I could hear you guys. You were a bit... loud. Made it hard to sleep."

"Not too hard. I'm… I'm good." 

If she is unconvinced, she doesn't comment on it. Rather, she hugs you. A warm one. You return the embrace before she pulls away.

"I also came because I wanted to invite you to a bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Well, with all your..." her eyes flicker to the pile of logs you've conjured over the past hour. "...special workouts, we have a lot of wood now. I told Ghost to make a big fire outside and we can cook dinner over it. It'll be fun, come on. Ghost is making tea, too."

Soon enough, your sore fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug of tea. Ghost chucks another bundle of wood into the fire, spitting out smoke and embers, and sits on a tree stump while Blue takes the folding chair. Your hair is down, tucked behind your ears, and a patchwork quilt Blue grabbed from her room lays across your lap. The mug burns pleasantly against your lips when you take a sip, the herbal taste sliding down your throat. Whatever plants he used to make it work together perfectly. It reminds you of the tea your mom used to make when you were sick.

"Do you like it more well-done or is this okay?" Blue asks, meticulously spinning the skewered squirrel meat over the fire.

"That's good, thank you."

Ghost cooks their dinner, and the three of you eat and sip in a comforting silence. You avoid looking at him, opting for the starry sky above your head, where bold stars beam even brighter than the fireflies. It's quite nice. When you're done, you toss the bones into the fire and listen to them splinter.

Blue breaks the silence. "Would you rather be burned alive or be attacked by a bunch of squirrels with rabies?"

You take another sip of tea. "How many squirrels, exactly?"

She taps her chin. "One hundred."

"I think if it were fifty, I could handle them. One hundred, probably not. I'll choose being burned."

She makes a face. "That is a terrible death."

"Most deaths are terrible."

"Fair enough. Ghost?"

For the first time since this morning, you steal a glance. His elbows rest upon his splayed knees, and the orange flames reflect in his eyes as if they were twin black, mirrors. "I could handle the squirrels."

She snorts a laugh. "Even you can't survive rabies, though."

He shrugs. "Takes some time to kill you."

"Let's play a different game," you interject. "Maybe something a little less... morbid tonight."

"Like what?" Blue chimes. 

You shrug indifferently. "What other ones do you know?"

"Not that many. You tell us one, Twix."

"Well, I know one good one. You have to act something out and then we'll guess what it is. But you can't talk."

"Oh, that's easy."

"Try it, then," you nod at her.

She leaps up from the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Without hesitation, she puts on a stoic expression and begins shooting finger guns. Quiet laughter shakes your shoulders.

"Are you, um... Ghost?" you guess, making her throw her arms up.

"How did you guess so quickly?"

"It was a bit obvious."

"Not to me," Ghost murmurs. "Terrible impression, kid."

Across the fire, you glance at him again, and his eyes meet yours, reminding you of the events that took place and the words that you spat. Emotions pulse against your ribs, like a swarm of flickering fireflies, but you fail to catch and examine any of them. 

A tug on your arm ends the shared look. Tea splatters around the rim of your mug as Blue ushers you up. "Your turn now."

"Alright, alright."

You decide not to feel humiliated with both pairs of eyes on you. They've both seen much stranger things than you act out a squirrel, which must be a good impression because Ghost guesses it right away.

A sudden crack of lightning in the distance puts an end to the game before Ghost can have a turn, which you suspect he is pleased about. He puts out the fire just before clouds roll in, blocking out the stars, and a drizzle of rain begins. Back inside, you kick off your boots and sink to the sofa as Blue says goodnight. Once she’s in her room, Ghost pauses in the threshold of the hall and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow, even if it's raining.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #cod #zombie apocolypse au

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION : SAME BOOK BUT NEVER THE SAME PAGE

SUMMARY : part III of the love letter collection. still dreamwalking. chasing after someone who can destroy worlds. and dean is jealous of his variants. what could go wrong?

PAIRING : mario!dean winchester x peach!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : luigi!sam winchester, lush edryx (ofc), toad!castiel, jack kline 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, fluff, real physics, theoretical physics

WORD COUNT : 5.6k

A/N : a day to remember song title. this fills the dramatic death square for my @jacklesversebingo card. this was inspired by the second season of What if…? My siblings and I used to play Super Mario Sunshine on our GameCube so that’s what this is based on, too. And my physics degree is paying off! 😂 XXXXxx

It all started with Cas suddenly appearing within the Bunker, frantically searching for Sam, Dean, Jack, and Y/n. 

To be fair, it was three in the morning and everyone was asleep, so Cas had only found Jack passed out on the kitchen table after another round of Krunch Cookie Brunch in the middle of the night. 

The original plan for Jack was to try Y/n’s remedy for not being able to sleep. Warm milk. Of course, she’d meant in a glass. Then, he got hungry being there—surrounded by food, grabbed the blue box of sweet cereal and served himself once. After finishing his cereal, he still had some milk leftover, so he convinced himself easily that to finish the milk he needed one more serving. 

He got that from Dean. 

Cas sighed at the sight of him, but he was in a hurry. Like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, that’s what he felt like at that moment. So he shook Jack—rather than being gentle—who abruptly sat up, “I didn’t eat it!” He shouted sleepily, his eyes wide and surprised. “Oh, Cas. I thought you were Sam,” he whispered, rubbing sleep from his eyes, much like Dean did. 

“I need to find Sam, Dean, and Y/n,” Cas said distractedly.

“But… it’s late,” Jack stated, having flashbacks of Dean pointing a gun at him for waking him while he was deep asleep. “And Dean and Y/n-”

“I’m aware,” Cas interrupted Jack. “This is more important. They can have coffee.” 

“Erm,” Jack hesitated, but Cas was already making his way out of the kitchen, his beige trench coat billowing behind him. It reminded Jack of Snape, but he shook his head from the distraction and quickly cleaned up before he got scolded by Sam for being ‘unhealthy’. 

Meanwhile, Cas bursted through Sam’s bedroom, the door cracking loudly against the wall, that it alone woke Sam. The gun was quickly in Sam’s hands and the bullet that he’d sleepily fired grazed Cas’ shoulder. Cas pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the messy nest that was Sam’s hair. 

“Sam, I’ve got a case,” Cas declared bluntly.

“What the hell, man? It’s-” Sam looked towards his clock by the nightstand with squinted eyes, heavy with sleep. The time glared at him in green, made him groan and fall back into bed. “It’s three in the morning, couldn’t it wait?” Sam turned over onto his stomach, uninterested, and held his pillow to his face, knowing that Cas was not going to let him go back to sleep. 

“This is important. Every second that goes by, catastrophic things can occur,” Cas attempted to explain. 

“Yeah?” Sam asked sarcastically, at the end yawning. “That’s life. We’ll take care of it in the morning.” To emphasise that he was going back to sleep, he lifted his knee to the side and wiggled around until he was back in his original position. 

“I know that,” Cas enunciated with irritation, “this is really complicated and I’d like for all of you to be awake to hear what I have to say so that I don’t have to repeat myself.” Sam groaned loudly into his pillow and then sat up swiftly to glare at Cas.

“Oh my god,” he complained, combing his fingers through his unkempt hair in an attempt to fix it. “You know what? Fine, but if Dean gives you the cold shoulder for a month—again, don’t expect any sympathy from me,” Sam warned grumpily, getting out of bed to get ready to meet Cas in the library. 

Cas gave Sam a deadpan stare and walked out without a word to find Dean and Y/n.

When he made it to Dean’s room, Cas was far gentler with the door. He held it open rather than letting fly open and hit the wall, the way he let happen with Sam. He watched the two figures in Dean’s bed and tilted his head at the sight of Dean practically draped over his girlfriend’s back.

Cas let go of the door and stood there awkwardly trying to see better in the darkness. He could see that the sheets were a mess around them and Y/n was curled up slightly, nearly at the edge of the bed. Cas assumed Dean either pushed her all the way over there or that he was holding onto her so tightly so that she wouldn’t fall. Maybe both. 

Dean was snoring softly, had one arm wrapped tightly around her front and his legs were tangled with hers. Cas didn’t think it looked very comfortable for Y/n, but she was in a deep sleep, completely undisturbed by both the sounds coming from Dean, the lack of coverage with a warm blanket in the cool room, and the lack of personal space Dean was giving her. What a hypocrite.

Cas knew though, it was different when the two of them invaded each other’s personal space, than if it were him or someone else being that close to them. Dean would go ballistic if anyone else stood that close to her, not that she’d ever allow that to happen, she gets irritated easily by other people.

Cas found that strange, too. The way she despised certain traits or habits in others—she made it very clear, verbally—but forgave them in Dean. Perhaps that is love. Compromise. Chaos. Irrationality…

The lights in the hallway turned on and Cas knew it was Sam who turned them on and was now up properly. The light allowed Cas to see much better into Dean’s room, with the light pouring in from the hallway. 

Cas tried to think of something to wake them that would not make Dean and Y/n too angry. He looked around Dean’s room, clothes were strewn on the floor and Dean had his record player on, just static now that the needle was up. It didn’t take very long for Cas to deduct what had happened. Sex. 

They were both naked, Cas could see now. He flushed and averted his gaze, then quickly made his way to the record player, dropped the needle, and put the volume as high as it would go. Led Zeppelin’s Baby Come on Home blared through the room causing Dean to jolt up sleepily, finally disturbing his peacefully asleep girlfriend. 

She whined Dean’s name and Dean froze when he saw Cas standing by the record player. Cas stumbled and turned it off swiftly, smiling nervously at Dean who was now glaring at him. Part of Cas wanted to laugh at the state of Dean’s hair, one side was flat, the other side was a mess, and the top was just sticking up. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean whispered aggressively, struggling to lift the tangled sheets to cover up Y/n’s naked body. She turned over onto her stomach and threw her arms around Dean’s waist, grumbling for him to sleep again and hold her. Instead, Dean dropped his hand over her head, buried his fingers into her sex hair, and gently massaged her scalp. She hummed appreciatively and squeezed her arms around him gently.

“Uh… I’m sorry,” Cas apologised slowly. “It’s an emergency and I need her help. It’s about a case, we’ve been working on it together,” Cas explained, then dropped his eyes hesitantly to the small body tangled in Dean’s sheets. 

“What?” Dean asked, no longer playing with her hair. She groaned softly at the loss, so Dean started up again very slowly. “Since when? Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Cas sighed exasperatedly and Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the sassiness exuding from his best friend. 

“Okay, fine,” she finally spoke up, struggling adorably to get up, not caring that she was flashing Cas with her naked body when she turned to face him. “Go, I’ll be there with Dean.”

“Woah, hey,” Dean complained, grabbing her breasts in his hands. She laughed and Cas only became more flustered. “Dude,” Dean said, silently holding a conversation with Cas.

“Right,” Cas averted his gaze and stepped backwards out of their room. “Just, please don’t have sex like you guys always do when we have something important to do,” Cas pleaded. Dean glared at Cas halfheartedly, feigning offence, but knowing very well that it was usually Dean who initiated it and delayed their appearance. 

Dean began to splutter a blush growing on his face. “We have never d-”

“Save it, Dean,” Y/n snorted softly with a laugh, “yes, we have.”  Cas nodded—tried and failed to hold back a smile—and left them to get ready. “I’m so sleepy,” she whined, leaning into Dean’s side. He slipped out from the embrace he had her in and ignored her pout to settle between her thighs with a smug smirk. 

He pushed her gently onto her back and leaned over her, giving her a big kiss on her forehead. She laughed, held his jaw gently in her hand to kiss him lazily, and pushed her fingers friskily into his already messy hair. 

He moaned softly and pulled away, snickering. 

“What?” She asked, brushing his hair with her hands and fingers to make it look better. Even if he looked adorable with it messy. She bit her lip and traced his cheekbone with her thumb. 

“We should be late, y’know, just to keep up with our tradition,” he grinned boyishly. She looked away from his freckles cheek and the cute eye-bag that was more prominent on this side of his face. She raised a brow, opening her mouth to say her piece, except she could only laugh. 

He scowled, leaning forward to press his face against her neck, and laid down on her to stop her laughter. Dean grabbed her thighs to lift them so she’d wrap them around his waist. He bit his lip and squeezed her tightly. She whined in protest, lazily and weakly attempting to push him off her. 

Her heart began racing and heat grew between her legs. The way he moved his lips down her neck, placing wet kisses across her skin, didn’t help her fight between what she wanted from him, and what Cas wanted from her. 

“You don’t look like you want me to stop,” he murmured with a smirk against her breasts. 

“I don't want you to,” she agreed quietly, “that’s why… I’m hoping you'd be nice to me and get off before we waste sweet time doing awesome… stuff.” 

He chuckled against her skin and lathed her nipple up in saliva, needily tugging at it before getting off her. He slid his hands down her sides and groaned at the sight of her, fighting with himself to get up and get changed. 

“I was just trying to wake us up,” he pouted, reaching beneath her to cup her ass and squeeze. “I just need five minutes,” he offered, lifting her hips up suggestively. Her heart leapt excitedly, her stomach flipping when he started to shuffle forward on his knees, his cock nudging her folds. 

“Nah, you can’t change your mind more than once,” she told him playfully, wagging a finger at him with a huge smile. She sat up to wrap her arms around his waist, trying to make him feel better, and pulled him with her as she got off the bed. He groaned and followed her reluctantly to get ready. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean chuckled dryly, leaning over the table with his palm on the surface, gazing at his girlfriend. “You’ve been working on the case the other me’s were talking about before we left?” She leaned forward and placed her hand over his, perfectly showcasing the ring he had given to her just three months ago.

She inhaled, then exhaled. Dean braced himself. He expected a lie, an explanation. 

“Yes,” she told him bluntly. He appreciated the truth, but he scoffed, and gripped her hand—the one with the ring on it. He brushed his thumb gently over her knuckles, his verdant eyes wide, filled with confusion and hurt.

“We’ve never had this problem before,” Dean frowned at her, it made her tilt her head in regret, “it’s why Sam, and Cas, and literally everyone keeps you out of plans if it involves lying to me…” Dean paused and released her hand gently, realisation dawned on him. “It was that other me, right? That’s why it’s different…”

Sam quickly began to escort Cas and Jack out of the library, the three of them moving out quietly to give them space. Neither of them said anything about their departure, instead Y/n took Dean’s hand again.

“Look,” she sighed, tugging him to stand between her legs. “No matter what reason I give for hiding this from you, you’re gonna poke holes into my logic, and I’m gonna realise you’re right…” She looked up at him, opened his palm, kissing the callouses there lovingly. “We’re in this together now, I should’ve thought about that before hiding this from you. I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Dean cupped her face with both of his hands, taking her words into consideration as he looked into her earnest, soft eyes. He’d never been lied to by her, which was exactly why he couldn't help the hurt in his chest. Still, he leaned forward and kissed her on her lips, slowly, barely feeling her response, before pulling away with his eyes closed. 

“Don’t do it again,” he murmured, sliding his hand down her neck. He brushed his thumb against her collarbone, gazing down at the ashamed expression on her face. It didn’t make him feel better, he knew something was off the past month, but he thought it was the wedding plans that were distracting her.

She placed her hand over his and nodded wordlessly.

“I’m gonna go get them,” she told him quietly, squeezing his hand before getting out of his grasp and walking away to give Dean a few minutes to think and let the information sink in. 

Dean watched her go and took the seat she got up from as he thought about what she’d done. It’s not like… she’d be unfaithful. He knew she would never do that. And she knew him so well she didn’t give an excuse, but he’d like to hear one now, just to understand why she didn’t let him know.

“Okay.. so, the Dean stuff was good to know,” Sam breathed in and then exhaled as he entered the room with Cas, Jack, and Y/n. “But… I mean… whatever Lush is doing is… kinda confusing. It’s Lush, right?” Sam asked, giving his brother a glance to make a quick assessment of his mood.

“Yes,” Cas answered. 

“So, I can use jars of sand as a metaphor or the human body metaphor, which one?” Y/n asked Sam, then glanced at Dean with a tight smile. He gave her a soft one in response. 

“Start with the sand, and if we don’t understand the first one, try the human body,” Sam answered for Dean. She excitedly clapped her hands together and stepped towards where both can see her. 

“Well, let’s say one grain of sand is our current universe: all the stars, the galaxies, dimensions, y’know the makeups of one single universe,” she began, pinching her fingers together. “But if you have a jar of sand, that’s a multiverse. A second grain of sand would be the universe with Hunter Corp, and a third grain of sand would be the universe Micahel destroyed. Still with me?” She stopped waving her hands around, her eyes drifting away as she became engrossed with her explanation. 

“Yeah, yeah… grains of sand as an alternate reality, universe, parallel or whatever…” Sam quickly replied, almost with the same enthusiasm as her. Dean wished he could join in, but part of him was still hung up on her omission. 

“Yes, exactly,” she smiled at Sam. “Well, a whole shelf of jars would be the omniverse. Every multiverse-”

“Every multiverse? Like… what do you mean?” Sam interrupted, frowning. He was clearly overwhelmed with excitement as he ran his fingers through his long hair, hazel eyes adrift before focusing on her once more. 

“Well, one jar of sand would be our multiverse. A second jar of sand would be… the Doctor Who Universe, ya know? And a third would be… a Hunger Games universe. Every jar of sand would be a movie, show, book. Oh, it’s so awesome,” she sighed, leaning over the table with both her hands flat on the wooden surface.

Cas and Jack stared between them, dumbfounded. 

“Wow, yeah, that’s… a lot,” Sam sighed, pulling a chair out to sit down. He thought quietly to himself, chewing on his lip. “You said… every book, does that include maybe.. short stories?” He asked suddenly, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. She lifted a brow.  

“Yes..? You have something specific in mind?”

“You know… the stories people write about… me… and Dean?” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. Y/n burst out laughing after hearing the question, almost ignoring the disgust on Sam and Dean’s faces. 

“Gross, man,” Dean grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest, looking away.

“Okay, sorry,” Y/n brought herself to say between laughter. She wiped tears from her eyes and dried her fingers on her jeans. “No, yeah, that’s a good question,” she sighed with an amused expression, “anyway… no, those types of stories exist outside of the main multiverse, floating in the omniverse. They’re typically unstable—fleeting, and they collapse in on themselves,” she explained sincerely, an expression of relief while over Sam’s face.

“How come?” Sam inquired, leaning over the table with his fingers entwined together.

“Well, back to jars of sand. The jars are sealed; that makes it an isolated system—nothing gets in and nothing gets out. Nothing new can be created besides what’s already inside. The omniverse, however, is not an isolated system. When someone creates a book, movie, show, or whatever… if it’s… you know.. Popular and strong enough to not collapse in on itself in the omniverse-”

“If we could get to the main point…” Cas pleaded, interrupting their conversation. She looked over at Cas and pouted playfully—it almost made him laugh. She focused anyway, with a roll of her eyes. 

“Right, well, Lush Edryx is breaking those ‘isolated system’ rules by hopping multiverse after multiverse. None of us knows what she's trying to find, but she keeps destroying everything in her quest—or almost destroying everything—which means we need to stop her,” Y/n got to the point, staring at Cas with a glint of mischief. 

“How did she get so powerful?” Sam asked, gazing from her to Jack.

“Well, every multiverse has its own God, Darkness, Lucifer… and all that… Jack thinks that for Lush’s multiverse, the Darkness gave her the ability to travel from multiverse to multiverse. We just can’t find out what they’re looking for. We just know where she’s currently headed. Well, Cas and Jack know,” she started to ramble, carefully scratching the table with her nails mindlessly.

“How can we help if none of us has those kinds of powers?” Sam questioned, leaning back in his chair. 

“Well, technically Quetzalcoatl is my descendant, which means Jack can make it so that I can hop multiverses too,” Y/n mumbled thoughtfully. 

“Who now?” Dean finally spoke up. 

“Please, no more questions,” Cas begged once more, his head tipping back in irritation. 

Sam chuckled, leaning forward again. “How can we help?”

“Well, we can possess our multiverse variants and omniverse variants, and they already gave me permission so… what do you guys say?” Y/n asked, drumming the table with her fingers enthusiastically.

“Let’s do it,” Sam shrugged, looking over at Dean who nodded in agreement.

“I see why you were excited,” Dean grumbled, poking the green grass with a stick. Sam looked up at the bright blue sky with squinted eyes. Cas and Y/n looked ahead, eyes peeled for what they were searching for. For who they were searching for. 

“Hmm?” She asked, looking down at Dean in his Mario outfit. She grinned once their gazes met and he rolled his eyes at her, a cute smile on his face. No words had to be spoken, she knew that he knew it amused her to finally be taller than him. 

“So, he’s taller than you in your universe?” Cas asked, taking her attention from her quieter-than-usual boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t their Cas, it was this universe’s version of Cas, Toad. She smiled down at him brightly, it felt amazing to do so. 

“Yup,” she said, putting emphasis on the ‘p’. “And you’re way cuter here. I could take a bite out of you,” she snickered, lifting her pink dress as she walked down the hill awkwardly with Dean, Sam, and Cas. Or should she say, Mario, Luigi, and Toad? That would be confusing because they look nothing like the originals, except for Toad, Cas, whatever. 

“Please don’t,” Toad pleaded, frowning. Dean took her hand to help her down, it made her flush. He looked so cute. 

“Of course not,” she murmured warmly, squeezing Dean’s hand. Before he could look at her, she spoke up. “So, how far until we get there?” She asked impatiently, looking around endless mushrooms of all colours, shapes, and sizes. 

“Not too far,” Cas reassured her.

“How come we didn’t just come in our normal bodies?” Dean asked, jogging to catch up with her. “Wouldn’t it be easier? We’d have an advantage in our original bodies.” She slowed down, brushing her fingers with Dean’s for him to take if he wanted. He took her hand fully, holding it gently in his, a single touch making her breathless. 

“Well, puppeteering or possession is less dangerous since it’s not a permanent link to the realities we go to. This way, there’s a smaller chance that we’ll cause destruction… y’know unlike Lush who’s actively invading what’s supposed to be an isolated system.” Dean mulled over her words silently, squeezing her hand. 

“Well, we won’t have to fight Boswer or anything, right?” Sam asked, moving her attention away from Dean and to him. 

“No fighting. We’re going in the opposite direction to find a Mega Mushroom,” Cas reassured him, still on high alert for any movement from sneaky mushrooms. 

“Which is what Lush is after according to… Jack and Cas,” Y/n added, scoping the area with Dean. 

They’d been searching for a while now. Long enough for her to have become bored with her surroundings, the thrill of feeling, seeing, smelling, tasting… all of everything amazing around her had died as the search for the Mega Mushroom began to take longer than she would’ve liked. 

She even went back to thinking about wedding cake flavours. Dean’s so… adorable. He wants a confetti cake. She’d indulge him in any way possible, but she was torn between serious flavours such as honey, strawberry and rhubarb, and white chocolate raspberry. 

And the colour scheme; Dean’s thinking of a soft pink, blush, watermelon, salmon… but all she can think of is matching everything to the green of his eyes, the gold of his freckles, the honey of his hair… completely ethereal colours that symbolise his beauty and her love for everything that he is.

The guest list wasn’t a problem at all, for obvious reasons, and neither was the music, but the location, the reception… If she could just stop being so worried about Lush, the omniverse, all the Deans, and everything else, she was sure she could help Dean out a little more. He was doing a fantastic job on his own—which wasn’t surprising. Of course he’d adapt perfectly to the situation-

“Oh, shit,” Dean whispered, tightening his grip on her hand to stop her from walking. She froze, her focus returning with the rustle in the tall green grass besides Dean. 

“Princess, Mario has to capture it,” Toad explains, “erm, I mean, Dean,” he corrected himself quietly, prying the lovers’ intertwined hands apart as the rustle got further away. 

Dean nodded, looking to his girlfriend who smiled at him encouragingly, before he quietly began sneaking through the grass, rapidly getting accustomed to his surroundings and his body. 

“He’s shorter than me here, more than usual,” Sam joked from behind her. She giggled quietly, turning back to look at Sam dressed in a Luigi outfit. He was once more, taller than Dean, but not taller than her. He had a silly smile on his face, pleased with his joke—as any sibling would be. 

“He could probably still beat us in a fight,” she teased, climbing mushrooms to get to the biggest one. Sam and Toad followed her to the highest point, trying to find the red of Dean’s cute little hat in the waves of long green blades. 

“Good point,” Sam laughed once he stood beside her. “Over by that butt looking mushroom,” Sam pointed to where Dean was pouncing on something and jumping. She laughed at Sam’s accurate description of the mushroom, at Dean once she found him again running in circles. 

To live far away from her world would be nice. This place seems nice. But the last thing she wanted was to kill innocent lives and destroy innocent worlds. Had she lost everything the way that other Dean did, she’d imagine she’d commit a billion atrocities to find her happiness—even if it was wrong. Is that what Lush was doing? Trying to find happiness? 

This was not the way to go, but then, she’d be a hypocrite to argue against it out loud. She knows in her heart just what she’s willing to do for her family, for Dean, for those she loves… She has the power, the opportunity to take what she wants. It might be worse than what Lush is doing. 

“Guys?” Sam asked to get hers and Toad’s attention. He got closer to the edge before jumping down and running towards Dean, calling his name multiple times. 

It was only afterwards, when she looked away from Dean that she saw a much larger rustle within the grass. Large enough to be human-human rather than video-game-human. It was headed towards the same orange mushroom Dean was after, but Dean noticed the rustle, too. 

Y/n quickly made her way quickly to help the two brothers, with Toad shouting some advice to her, which was pretty helpful in reminding her that she could use stuff from this world to help Dean and Sam. She slapped grass away from her face and lifted her pink dress so she wouldn't trip on it, running as fast as she could on heeled boots.

Dean abandoned the Mega Mushroom and Sam was close behind to catch what she figured could only be another Toad or Lush. A set of piercing blue eyes and a head of white hair rose from the green grass, removing a Toad as a suspect. It was Lush, who was focused on the Mega Mushroom while attempting to evade Dean, but when she noticed she’d been spotted, she tackled the Mushroom, gripping it by its leg before shoving it into her satchel aggressively.

Lush ran from Dean, towards the closest green pipe to escape from them, but before she could jump in, Y/n threw an ice ball at her from the pocket of her dress. The ice grew upwards, trapping her legs to the ground. She pulled something from her bag, a jar full of brown sludge and threw at Dean, the closest to her.

The glass broke at Dean’s feet. He stopped too late, causing the brown mud to splash over him. Y/n threw a second ice ball at her feet, watching it grow higher up Lush’s torso. Y/n was closer to Dean who started to grunt in pain, the brown mud sticking to him no matter how much he tried shaking it away. 

While Toad finally caught up to them and tended to Dean by pouring water onto him, Y/n and Sam pried the bag away from Lush.

“Give it back!” She shouted, the ice cracking at her torso, but Y/n was quick to create a portal a few feet away, and threw the bag into it. It shut immediately after the bag fell through, which made all the fight slip from Lush. 

It was as if she only now realised they were all there. She analysed them curiously, silently—confused more than anything. She didn’t recognize them, which was good. It’s why Jack and Cas didn’t come along, she’d recognise them.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, stepping back as the ice cracked more and more, falling to the grass and dirt where it slowly melted. Instead of answering, she broke out of the ice and jumped into the pipe before Y/n or Sam could stop her.

“God dammit, that shit hurts!” Dean complained loudly. “I’m pretty sure it’s fiery, acidic shit! It’s brown!” He continued to whine, shoving away the bottle Toad kept using to squirt water on him, washing away the muck completely.

“Dammit,” Y/n muttered, but brushed it off to check on Dean who was still wincing dramatically, curled up on the ground while Toad searched his backpack. Was that thing bigger on the inside? She kneeled beside him and smiled down at him, taking his hand in hers. “You’re gonna be fine,” she reassured him, lifting his hand to her cheek.  

“I forgive you. You know that?” Dean coughed, softening her smile. “I can’t stay mad at you, I love you so much. But I need to know why you hid it from me.” He groaned once more, clutching his stomach with his free hand, bringing her face down. She kissed his forehead rather than his lips, bumping the red hat off his head with a nudge of her nose. 

She indulged him as she squirmed and wriggled on the ground. With a sigh and a thought sweep over his grimacing face, she responded: “Because… I know you, Dean. You’d throw yourself into the case and then blame yourself for every little bad thing that happens. You’d be unhappy and pressured, and… you’d sacrifice yourself for the whole damn world. I hate that. So I decided to hide it from you because… I’d rather you be stressed out by cake flavours and colour schemes… you know? Pressured by the guest list, the location, and the music… I just want you to be happy, but… I should have been honest, I know, Dean… I truly had your best interest at heart,” she apologised once more, partially amused by Dean who was now laying on his side, squirming despite the sludge being nowhere in sight, absorbed by the dirt. 

He looked up at her lovingly, despite having a somewhat different face, it was cute. He was cute. Maybe cuter, with those giant green eyes full of admiration. A flush on his cheeks. She hadn’t looked at herself, but the way he looked at her, more animated, made her feel like a whole universe.

“Fuck Lush,” he whispered, “fuck the Monument, and the omniverse, and heaven, and the monsters, and everything else that tries to get in my way. In our way. I don’t care about the job. Or the mission, or whatever the hell else there is. I don’t care that I’m afraid all the time. I don’t even care that you’ll outlive me. All I know is that right now—as I exist in the same time and space as you, right now and forever, I want to be with you-”

“Don’t tell me all of this when you’re dying,” she interrupted his emotional speech, which made him pout. Toad, or Cas, gave her a heart from his backpack after a few minutes of digging through it, and she interrupted Dean halfway through his speech by shoving it into his mouth. Dean’s brows furrowed, he chewed slowly, and gulped down the heart. 

“That’s one way to shut me up,” Dean chuckled after swallowing. Dean slowly sat up, looking at Toad, Sam, the love of his life, then scooped her up in his arms.

“You’re wet,” she giggled, hugging him back. He buried his face in her neck, laughing with her.

“I usually say that to you.” Dean kissed her neck, then pulled away as Sam groaned in disgust. 

“You’re right,” she murmured, burying her fingers in his soft hair. “Everything that you said… I feel that way, too. I’ve got all this information in my head that I didn’t have before and I’m ancient in ways that I just don’t feel like I am anymore and.. I know what I want, I know what I need… and I’m not gonna let this, Lush, or anyone else stop me from trying to get it.” She pulled away and smiled at him, remembering they were in different bodies. “Well, I mean… I’d like your consent… but I already know how you feel, so really, I just need you to trust me.”

Instead of answering her, he leaned forward and kissed her glossy, pink lips. One chaste, long kiss that made her smile, fluttery, warm, and breathless.

“Feels weird kissin’ you here,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“You’re still a great kisser,” Dean pulled away with a smirk.

“We didn’t get to stop Lush, or even get to talk to her, but at least we’ve intercepted her satchel…” Sam interrupted their moment. They smiled at each other before turning to Sam. Dean stood up, then helped Y/n up off the wet ground.

“Jack will make sure she can’t come back here…” She reassured Sam, taking Dean’s hand, she took one last look around. Toad smiled at her, a silent goodbye. “Let’s go home.”

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[avocado-writing]

Hi! I love your Good Omens fics<33 *sends you little cut out paper hearts*

May I request an Aziraphale and nonbinary reader? where Azi fell in love with them and always becomes a cute, blushed babbling mass around them?

(I just want fluff after that season ending:’) )

notes: thank you for the love & the paper hearts *hangs them on my wall* I paired you up together hope that’s ok !

words: 1.4k

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rating: T

tags: mild claustrophobia; mutual pining

Aziraphale is in love, and Crowley is annoyed.

Not that he’s annoyed about the love, per se, they’re immortal beings after all - occasionally they end up developing feelings for humans. It’s not unheard of. Aziraphale has had his share of infatuations, but the problem is he very rarely acts on them. Just makes puppy eyes at someone for fifty years, and then they die.

So when Crowley sees how Aziraphale is around you, he knows the angel is going through the same steps again.

There you are, every week, doing your delivery. Looking “rather smart” in your postie’s uniform, as Aziraphale once remarked. Arms full of parcels and a smile plastered on your face. You clearly like him back, it’s obvious, but neither of you will bloody talk to each other about it.

Aziraphale becomes a bit pathetic around you. Crowley would tease him for it, if he didn’t know he was already agonising over every interaction after you’ve gone anyway.

“Good morning, Mr Fell!”

You call out as you gently nudge the door open with your boot. You’re holding a stack of parcels using your chin as a wedge to keep them in place, lest the pile topple over and litter the shop floor. Aziraphale gets out of his chair - where he’s been sitting for the past hour, waiting to hear the sound of your engine like a child might wait for the trill of an ice cream van - and skitters over to help.

“My dear, let me help you with those–”

“Oh, it’s alright! I’ve got strong arms. Just show me where you’d like it.” You pause, then quickly correct: “Them! I mean, like them.”

From the corner of the room, behind his gossip magazine, Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Just in the stockroom here, thank you.”

“Gosh, you are ordering a lot of books lately, Mr Fell.”

Crowley bites back the urge to comment that he’s doing it in order to see you. One week you were off sick and a different postie covered your route, and Aziraphale was miserable about it for days.

“Well, I am a bookseller!” - lies - “And please, my dear, I’ve asked you to call me Aziraphale.”

“Alright,” you say, shyly, but you never do.

The angel’s cheeks go a rosy colour as he signs for his packages, and Crowley can tell he’s desperately trying to think of a way to get you to stay for a bit longer. His normally erudite friend is reduced to blabbering awkwardness around you.

“Actually I was just boiling the kettle, would you like some?”

A beat, then Aziraphale looks mortified.

“Tea! Would you like some tea?”

“What is this, a bloody Carry On film?” Crowley mutters under his breath. You don’t seem to hear him, and if Aziraphale does he pointedly ignores the comment.

“Oh,” you say, looking perhaps a little disappointed at the correction, but recovering quickly, “I can probably spare ten minutes before I need to get going. I’d love a cup, please.”

Crowley watches the two of you engage in idle, unimportant chatter, and the way you stare at the other when you think they aren’t looking, the brush of fingers as mugs are passed, the affectionate smiles. It’s maudlin. It’s saccharine. 

Aziraphale manages to stumble his way through ten minutes of conversation with you despite his nervousness, and it makes Crowley nauseous. When you finally have to say goodbye the angel looks like a kicked puppy, and he follows you to the bloody door to see you off, and then starts making a list of what else he can order to make sure you’re back next week.

It’s been this way for months, this repeated pattern of dancing around each other. And it’s getting dull. 

Crowley snaps his magazine shut. If neither of you will make the first move, he will.

📕

“Where would you like them today, Mr Fell?”

“Same as always, my dear. Stockroom!” 

He holds the door open for you and you haul the ridiculous pile in with surprising strength. Crowley waits until you’re both fully inside, Aziraphale showing you where the delivery needs to go, and quite suddenly a gust of wind slams the door shut behind you both (and somehow manages to lock it).

You yelp, dropping the parcels all over the floor.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry Mr Fell, let me–”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it made me jump too! Here, I’ll help…”

The two of you get to your knees, gathering up parcels and stacking them neatly on one of the tables. The room is not large, a couple of metres left in space maybe, every other inch being taken up by books; so when you both stand up you’re rather close.

Aziraphale looks into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat. You want to say something, anything, but instead you chicken out and reach for the door handle.

It’s stuck.

“Oh, erm,” you say, rattling it harder. Aziraphale frowns.

“Let me have a go, hang on.”

But the outcome is the same. The door is locked. Aziraphale knows it didn’t lock on its own, but he can’t really miracle it open while you’re right there. Instead he knocks hard on the door.

“Erm, Crowley, are you out there?”

“Oh dear, Aziraphale, is something the matter?” comes the reply from the bookshop.

“Yes,” the angel answers through gritted teeth, “by some terrible luck the door has gotten stuck. Can you be a dear and find the key for me? Should be in the desk drawer.”

“Alright, I’m having a look for it now,” says Crowley, as he walks over the road to go and get a coffee.

Aziraphale turns back to you, ready to assure you that you’ll be freed soon, only to find you looking very peculiar.

“My dear, are you quite alright?”

“Ah, sorry. I’m, erm, not great when I’m trapped in small spaces,” you tell him, eyes darting wildly, looking for a way out and coming up empty.

Aziraphale swallows. You do look quite worried. Crowley had better be quick. (Crowley is currently ordering a large americano and taking a seat in the corner of the coffee shop).

“Can I help?”

“Can I–” you wince a little, “gosh, this is so unprofessional, can I please ask you to hold me? Having someone rub my back calms me down. You don’t have to, of course, just–”

You don’t need to ask twice. Aziraphale steps forward and takes you into his arms. You fit perfectly, and feel just like he always imagined you would: soft but sturdy, the most wonderful shape against him. His hand is unsure at first, running up and down your back lightly, but when he feels you relax into him he renews the gesture with gusto.

“Thank you. Sorry, I feel very silly.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’m sure Crowley will get us out of here lickety-split.”

“Mr Fell?”

“Aziraphale, please.”

“Aziraphale…” it’s the first time you’ve actually used his name, and he’s pleased as punch to hear it fall from your lips, “may I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Do you actually sell the books you buy, or just order them to see me?”

There’s a beat, and Aziraphale freezes.

“It's just because whenever I drop off new packages I always notice you never unpack the old ones, so I thought…”

“Erm.”

“It’s alright if you do. To tell you a secret, I always rush my route so that I can spare the time to have a cup of tea with you. It’s my favourite part of the week.”

“Oh. It’s mine too.”

And suddenly he’s not comforting you, he’s embracing you, and you’re returning the gesture. You readjust your position so you can look up into his face, and he finds you have the softest eyes.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for dinner?”

You light up.

“I’d love that. Are you free tonight?”

“Call it seven?”

“Sounds… perfect.”

When you reach to kiss him, he finds your lips are soft too. So he kisses you again. And again.

📕

Crowley comes back forty minutes later with a little pastry in a bag for Aziraphale, to say sorry for locking him in. A wave of his hand at the door means he doesn’t even need to bother with finding the key, and he throws it open, hoping to find you finally properly talking.

Well, turns out your mouths are a bit busy for that.

Snogging. Snogging is what’s happening. Your hand is buried in Aziraphale’s curls, tongue firmly pressing against his. Aziraphale has a hand full of your arsecheek and has lifted you a bit so that you can wrap your leg around his calf, letting you caress him a bit with your foot. His waistcoat is undone, your shirt is untucked from your shorts. Both of you are a bit of a mess.

Crowley opens his mouth to speak, can’t find the heart to interrupt, and gently closes the door again.

-

Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan

#aziraphale x reader #good omens x reader #ineffable husbands x reader #michael sheen x reader #request

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

15: This Side Of Paradise

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle, life as lovers

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: SMUT (it's marked, if you are minor, don't read it)

a/n: hello my darlings!! I hope everyone is having an amazing week! Is everyone ready for the upcoming season? Who will watch Drive To Survive??

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Watching him placing his clothes on my wardrobe made me feel happy and nervous.

I tried to ignore those feelings, sitting on my bed and folding his clothes the way I fold them so they could fit better. I watched him hand his formal suit, his jeans and jackets. I saw him place his shower things and creams in my bathroom.

Since I was little, I always thought that at this age I would be already married, or at least living with the love of my life, sharing an apartment and having a good life with a job I liked and with a good amount of money. And even if the picture I had in front of me, with Lando placing his toothbrush next to mine as well as the perfume I gifted him not long ago, was the one I always dreamed of, I didn't want to believe it, not yet.

Sure, I love Lando, he gives me every reason to make me think that he's the love of my life. But still, there's something that makes me want to take a step back.

Maybe it is that I already saw this picture before, that I saw men's clothes next to mine on a wardrobe, that I saw someone's toothpaste next to mine. Maybe it's the trauma, or the not so friendly reminder that I lived this once and it didn't end well. That this is not a first time experience with someone I love.

I wanted to smile, really. I wanted to smile, laugh, hug him and kiss him until both were out of breath. But the thorn of that memory was stuck on my brain, showing me glimpses of that golden haired man that I used to call the love of my life.

“I need a minute” I said, getting up from the bed and walking out of the room, going to the small balcony of the living room.

I didn't hear his answer, just sitting on the small chair outside and looking at the lights.

I should be happy. I really should. And I want to be happy, grateful. But why, suddenly, I feel this heavy weight on my chest that is not letting me breathe?

“Love, you will get cold” I heard him sigh, opening the door behind me. “Come back inside”

I swallowed thickly when I heard him call me like that. The first time he called me like that and I wasn't smiling.

“What is going on? Do you want to talk?”

I looked at him and sighed, wrapping my arms around him and I took a step to get inside the living room, breathing the scent I learned to love. He wrapped his arms around me and closed the sliding door, kissing my shoulder softly.

“What's going on inside this smart brain of yours, hm?” he whispered. “Be I know there's something, I noticed it while being in the room”

“It's just stupid” I sighed. “Don't worry”

“I do worry, Violet” he sighed. “You mean so much to me, I worry when something is bothering you”

“I can't stop thinking about Owen” I mumble against his neck. “About the day I moved in with him. About how I thought that he was the love of my life…”

“And watching me put my clothes in your wardrobe made you remember that” he ended for me.

“I'm sorry…”

“No, I understand” he said.

He took some steps back until his knees touched the couch, sitting on it and pulling me with him to sit on his lap, holding me tighter. The warm hand in my back rubbed circles while the other secured me on his lap.

“I guess I'm scared” I whispered. “Of living this over again. Of watching things that are not mine in my place and slowly getting used to it to the point that I wouldn't mind if we shared a place. I guess it terrifies me to get my guard down and repeat the same that happened with him…”

“And I promise you that it won't happen again” he interrupted me.

“You don't know that…” I whisper, sadly.

“Violet. I promise you that I will never ever hurt you” he said, firmly. “That I will never do something you don't like. That I will never touch you when you don't want it. What I said this morning was really serious. I want to settle down with you. I don't want to think of someone else that is not you, you are my favorite person in the universe”

I took a deep breath and hugged him tightly. Why do I feel this bad? Why am I letting my memories play this bad with me?

“I just want to be enough for you” I whispered.

“You are more than enough, my love” he whispered. “Just stay with me. Talk to me. And we will make this work, okay?”

“Okay” I whisper.

I pulled away from his neck, looking at him and smiling weakly. I don't deserve him, he's too good for me.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asked and I tilted my head.

“I don't think so, why?” I frowned.

“Come with me to dinner” he smiled. “To McLaren. Oscar wants to meet you”

“But…”

“Come on, tomorrow we'll have a shopping day” he smiled, pecking my lips quickly. “I have to get the suit from some sponsors”

I sighed and just leaned on him, getting comfortable in his embrace and closing my eyes.

“Just give me a day to get used to this” I whisper. “To make my mind understand that you will stay here longer than just a few days. I know I was the one asking you to come stay with me, but…”

“Heya I understand it” he whispered. “I get it, you lived something similar and you are getting flashbacks. And it's okay. But I'm not going to hurt you. I would rather die than hurt you”

“Please don't say that again” I whisper. “It just… it scares thinking of that. Thinking of something like that happening to you. I still feel nauseous when I see Pietra Gasly holding a flower bouquet in Belgium's race… And now I don't want to imagine myself doing the same as him”

“I'll never make you put yourself in that position” he said. “I'll always come back to you, okay? I'll always end a race and put this bracelet again”

I smile weakly, remembering the matching bracelets we have in our wrists. The promise we made that night in that house.

“Put it back always and think of me” I said, pulling back my face from his neck and looking at him.

He smiled and nodded, leaning closer to me until our lips met. And this kiss was different. It felt like the cherry on top of a cake, that sealed our feelings, like the signature on a contract. This kiss was everything we needed to start our life together after pouring our hearts out, after talking about our worries and doubts, after putting the trust in each other.

And without saying anything we understood it. We knew that when I got up from his lap and stood up, he did the same, standing in front of me and kissing my forehead. I held his hand and we both walked to the bedroom, temporary ours.

🔞

We didn't need words, we knew what was going to happen next, and the shivers over my body were just a product of how my heart was beating for him, only him. Our eyes asked each other for permission to take off each other's clothes, so slowly that it felt like our hands and fingers were dancing to the choreography of a slow song. His lips were on mines, never pulling away for at least a pair of millimeters to breathe and then to melt again on mines.

“My beautiful, beautiful Violet” he whispered, running his hands over my naked body, caressing my back and sides with his palms. “You have no idea how lucky I am”

“Make me yours” I whisper, feeling his fingers unclipping my bra.

“Oh, for sure I will” he whispered, tracing his lips over my jaw towards my neck. “I'll treat you like the queen you are”

I chuckled softly, kissing him again and again and feeling how my toes touched the edge of the bed as well as the back of his knees, making him sit with me on his lap. I moaned softly when I sat on his bulge, feeling how it touched my clothes core. His hands moved to my hips and helped me to move slowly, rocking my hips and making our intimate parts still clothed rub against the other, making him get harder and me wetter.

“Feels good” I moaned, feeling how the tip was rubbing perfectly on my clit, how his kisses were moving to my breast and his lips wrapping around my nipple.

I arched my back, giving him more access to my chest when I felt his hand cupping the breast he wasn't kissing, leaving subtle marks on my skin. He was worshiping every inch of my body like a good lover, exploring it like he wanted to make a map of it only for himself.

I felt him stand up with me in his arms just to turn us around, placing me on the bed with him on top of me.

“I need you” I whispered looking at him, cupping his cheek.

“Yeah?” he smiled, bringing his lips to the breast he didn't kiss yet while his hand cupped my core, making me gasp and moan at the same time.

I moved my hips against his hand, feeling how I clenched around nothing, needing him. At this point I didn't care what part of him, his fingers, tongue or length, I just wanted to feel him.

His hand pushed down my panties, making me moan when I felt the cold of the room, that wasn't going to last long, hit my core. But that cold was immediately away the moment his fingers traced my folds. I moaned arching my back again, burying a hand on his curls while the other held the blankets.

“Lando” I moaned, feeling his fingers tracing circles on my clit before pushing them slowly inside of me.

“Good?” he whispered looking at me, smiling and kissing my lips while pumping his fingers in and out of me, his thumb rubbing my clit.

“Fucking amazing” I moan against his lips, kissing him deeper.

He curled his fingers making me gasp, feeling how he touched my sweet spot. I stopped feeling his lips on mine to feel them on my chest, then on my stomach. I opened my eyes and saw him between my legs, watching in awe how his fingers moved inside of me, and seconds later feeling his tongue on me.

“Fuck” I cried in pleasure, feeling how the knot in.my stomach was ready to snap, making me clench around his fingers and release around them.

“My sweet girl” he moaned, pulling out his fingers just to lick my core, pushing it on me, making me gasp and hold onto his hair.

It felt like heaven, looking at his face buried between my legs, not pulling away until I came apart for the second time.

He sat on his knees after pulling away from my core, making me moan at the sight of him. I copied his posture, kneeling face to face and kissing him, making him hold me close to him.

“I have condoms on my bag” he whispered, making me chuckle.

“Did you buy them before coming home?” I said.

“Of course” he smirked, pecking my lips and getting up from the bed.

I smile looking at him, watching how he took off his boxers and came back to bed. He placed the box on the nightstand and I followed his hand with my eyes the moment he grabbed one, holding it between his heart and index finger.

“Sit straight” I said, standing on my knees and moving closer to him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

I grabbed the condom and unrolled it down on his length, hearing him sigh relieved with my touch, feeling his hands in my hips to help me sit on his lap, his length between our bodies.

“I love you” he whispered, holding me and looking into my eyes.

I smiled softly and kissed him, breathing in deeply and raising up my hips just to sink down on him slowly. I felt him all inside of me, filling me and fitting inside of me like a piece my body lost.

“I love you too” I whispered, moving my hips with his help.

It was magical, perfect. The feeling of his lips on my skin, his hands on me, his length inside of me. Everything I could think about was him, on how good his hands hold my breasts, of how good he sucks my nipples, how good it feels when we roll our hips together, skin against skin.

I just didn't know how many times we did it that night, but the only thing I know is that what we did was real, it was pure love.

🔞

Waking up next to her in her bed felt amazing. Getting up and watching my things in her bedroom felt so real.

Yesterday, when she told me that watching me put my things inside of her wardrobe made her think about Owen, I felt angry. But not angry with her. I was angry with him. Because he destroyed her, made her be scared of things like this, of being in love again, of being touched.

And I wanted to make sure she knows she's loved. I'll make sure to remind her every day that I love her and that I adore her. I know I will never do something like what he did, I love her too much to hurt her and push her away.

“Oh, you woke up early” I heard her yawn, walking inside the kitchen.

“Mhm, yeah” I nodded looking back at her, king when I saw her wearing the shirt I had yesterday. “I wanted to make breakfast”

“You said that you won't cook” she chuckled, standing behind me and wrapping her arms around my torso.

“Toasts and tea are something I can make” I said. “I won't burn the house because the toaster is configured”

“Okay” she laughed softly, pressing her lips on my shoulder. “Last night was amazing”

“It was” I nodded, turning around and looking at her, kissing her forehead. “Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, right?”

“No, I'm perfect” she smiled, standing on her tiptoes and kissing my lips.

I smile and pick her up, sitting her on the counter and standing between her legs. There's something about her that pulls me like a magnet, that makes me want to kiss her and touch her all the time. I need to hold her hand or hold her close to me. Maybe it's my subconscious mind that wants to make sure this is not a dream, just in case.

Last night I couldn't stop. I needed her, more and more. I needed to feel her, to hear her, to taste her. She's mine, now for real. I spotted every mole on her body, traced a constellation with the moles of her arms and back and kissed every inch of her skin, worshiping her and treating her how she deserves to be treated. I lost the count of times we did it, how many times I made her fall apart and how many times she did it to me. It was a night full of pleasure, and none of us cared about it.

“Why don't we stay all day here, hm?” she smiled.

“I have to get the outfit for tomorrow's dinner, love” I smile, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Then we go now in the morning and then we'll stay all day here” she reaffirmed.

“You don't want to buy something for you?” I asked.

“I mean… it's not a dinner where everyone will go with gala dresses, right?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, something she always does when she's either confused or paying attention to something.

“Oh, no” I laughed. “That kind of dinner is the one for the FIA gala. And I wasn't invited. I mean, I didn't do something relevant to be invited”

“Hey, I'm sure this new season will be better” she smiled cupping my cheek.

“Unless I'm one of the top three…” I sighed, smiling weakly. “Anyway, what we were talking about”

“Right” she sighed. “Just… You know my style. Do I have to buy something to fit in the dress code?”

“No, but…” I smiled softly. “I just wanted to spoil you, silly”

“You can spoil during the trip” she chuckled.

“Oh, right! We have to reserve things” I said, squeezing her hips.

She smiled and nodded, kissing my lips and jumping out of the counter when we heard that the toasts were ready. She went to her office and grabbed her laptop while I placed everything on the table of her kitchen.

It was perfect. This life with her, cooking and eating together, sleeping together and making plans. It felt amazing and I couldn't wait for this to be a routine and make it official, having an apartment for both of us.

I was once in the MTC some years ago when Lando invited all of us to their car launch. It was a big place, full of cars and history decorated for the launch event, full of orange, black and blue balloons.

But now, it was decorated with Christmas things. Fairy lights around the columns, some Christmas trees, and some drawings made of fake snow on the windows.

“Hey, guys!”

I turned around, with a glass of champagne in my hand, and found Oscar with his girlfriend walking towards us. Lando smiled, unwrapping his arm from my waist and walking towards his teammate to hug him.

“Lily, hey” I smiled, recognizing Oscar's girlfriend.

“I guess I have to welcome you to the team” she smiled softly, hugging me

“Yeah” I laughed softly.

“I'm glad he finally confessed” she said.

I laughed softly, smiling when I felt Lando's hand back on my hip, holding me close to him.

We walked around, looking at all the cars, at all the trophies. It was just like the day we spent together in the museum, he explained how every car worked, who drove it, who won the trophies and where. And everytime I looked at him he had that beautiful sparkle in his eyes whenever he talked about the team, about his dream.

“I'm proud of you” I said, placing my hand on his chest.

“Oh? Where did this came from?” he chuckled, looking at me.

“Because you made your dream come true” I smiled. “This is the place you dreamed with, the team you wanted since you knew you wanted to work in this sport. And you are so focused on following that dream that you didn't notice that you already made history here, my love”

“But it's not enough” he smiled weakly. “I didn't win yet”

“But you will win this year” I said cupping his cheek. “You said it, the second half of the season was good, the team worked hard and found the missing piece and thanks to that you and Oscar had a lot of podiums. Even a Guinness record! You will have plenty of opportunities this year to win, I'm sure”

“You have no idea how much your words mean to me, Violet” he smiled, hugging me and resting his forehead against mine. “You have no idea how lucky and grateful I am to have you by my side”

“We can do this, Lando” I smiled. “We are in this together. I will be by your side every time you'll need me, cheering for you, supporting you. And I'll be in the crowd, screaming your name when you stand on the top of the podium, okay? And when I can't be there on the races, I'll wear your colors, I'll watch you on the TV or my laptop. I won't miss anything”

“God, stop it, you'll make me cry” he laughed, hugging me tightly.

“And I'm here to hold you and wipe away the tears” I giggled, hugging him, kissing his cheek.

After some minutes alone, we walked back to where the dinner was taking place. Lando introduced me to his team, and it just felt right. Watching all his mechanics welcoming me and hugging me, teasing Lando and making him blush, felt good. Watching Zak smiling at me and patting Lando's back was like looking at a father congratulating his son. The girls of the team welcomed me, happy to have a new addition and to meet Lando's girl who he couldn't stop talking about.

McLaren is Lando's second family, and feeling welcomed even if they knew me because I was at previous races, felt good.

“Where are you going to spend New Year's?” Oscar asked us, sitting on the same table with his girlfriend. “Are you going with your family?”

“Oh, no” Lando smiled, looking at me and resting his arm on the back of my chair. “We're going tomorrow to Egypt”

“Egypt?” Lily asked, surprised.

“It was my Christmas gift” I smiled looking at Lando, kissing his cheek. “I study art history and ancient languages”

“Oh, right! You work at the British Museum! I forgot that” Lily laughed softly.

“We just want to be on our own” Lando said. “And I have my personal tourist guide, so it's a win for me”

“I hope you'll pay me” I said, hitting his chest softly.

“Oh, I will” he smirked, kissing my temple.

“Gross” Oscar laughed. “But I'm happy for you, actually. It was so annoying watching how you were like a lost puppy whenever Violet came to the races and hearing your sad songs”

“I wasn't playing sad songs!” Lando gasoed, making us laugh.

“I have audios, mate” he laughed.

“Cute” I laughed looking at Lando, kissing his cheek softly.

The rest of the night was amazing. They made a speech, taking everyone for their hard work, promising that good things will come the next season. And I couldn't feel prouder when I saw Lando standing next to me, holding a mic and talking about how grateful he feels, how lucky he is to be where he is.

I was happy to be with him, to see him smile whenever he talks about his dream and about what he loves.

taglist

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#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 serie #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 drabble #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris x oc #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #mclaren

[gaysindistress]

Dial Drunk - part 2 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst and the feels oh and Peggy Carter slander

Word count: 2.1k words

Master list

Fine line 1 & Cocaine Jesus 3

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom​

a/n: I love a good song fic. Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan sponsors this fic so I highly suggest you listen to it.

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Son, is there someone I can call for you?” the Sheriff asks while half dragging and carrying a drunk Steve into the station. Under the dead weight of the mafia boss, the elderly Sheriff struggles to get them inside as the rain pelts them so hard, he’s expecting there to be bruises on both of them.

Steve mumbles something as his head lolls to the side but the other man cannot make out a single word or number for that matter. At the door, he waves to his deputies to him with the door and he all but drops Steve onto his younger deputies.

“Son, I don’t know your name. Where is your wallet or your phone?”

Steve shoves his hand into his coat pocket which sends all of them into high alert but it’s all false as he dumps the asked for items onto a desk. The Sheriff gets to work to figure out his name and find an emergency contact or anything at all that might be helpful.

“Alright, Mr. Rogers,” he announces as he types away at a computer, no doubt pulling up Steve’s criminal record as well as his contacts, “Should I call a Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers? Is that still current?”

Steve scoffs at the name as he falls into a seat next to the Sheriff, “My own wife hates me.”

A deputy gives the Sheriff a look but he ignores it and calls the number nonetheless. Steve slumps back into the hard chair and drops his head back in attempts of sleeping off the horrendous hangover he’s going to have. The phone rings and rings, leaving him with just the dial tone as Peggy ignores the call. They try again but nothing happens. She ignores the call. They try a third time and finally she answers.

“Hello?” her accented voice wakes Steve.

“Hi is this Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers?”

She snorts, “Not anymore. If this is about Steve, call someone else. I don’t care”

The dial tone replaces her voice and all of the officers look at each other in disbelief.

“Did… Did she just hang up?” the same deputy asks.

The sheriff clears his throat and brushes over his thick gray mustache as he thinks about what to do next.

“I told you she hates me,” Steve pipes up, “Wasted your time.”

“Is there anyone else we can call?”

He shrugs, “She won’t answer either.”

Behind them two deputies are whispering to each other about how wrong it was of Peggy to hang up but quickly stop when the Sheriff gives them a pointed look.

“Maybe SHE will answer. What’s her name and number?” He extends the phone out to Steve who drops it and has to slowly reach down to pick it up. It takes him longer than usual to open it and find the number of the woman whose house he practically ran from. After he left Y/N’s house, he found the nearest bar and drank the place out of anything that would numb the rejection pain. For ten years, he dreamed of nothing but seeing his girl again and when he finally did, his past decisions ruined any chance of a relationship with her again. For ten years, he resented Peggy, his father, his mother even and himself for not fighting harder for Y/N. For ten years, he regretted everything he had done and prayed that somehow he could go back in time to just be with her.

“Y/N hates me too.”

Still the sheriff dials the number and hopes that this mystery woman will answer the phone. It rings five times and they’re all beginning to think that this will be a repeat of the first call but she does answer.

Her voice is raw from crying but she answers, “Hello?”

“Hi ma'am, is this Y/n?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Well ma’am, this is the Kings County sheriff department. I’m Sheriff Anderson. I have Steve Rogers here and he’s going to be held overnight in the drunk tank or you can come pick him up.”

“Shit, okay. Um…” there’s a long pause but they can hear her shuffling around, “I can be there in 45 minutes, is that okay?”

“Yes of course ma’am. We appreciate you answering the phone so late and coming right away.”

“Uh… yeah no problem I guess,” she mumbles something else but Steve doesn’t catch it.

Anderson motions to his deputies and has them take Steve to a cell while he waits. He’s half asleep and even heavier than before as they haul him into his own cell. Next to him is another lonely drunk stranger who was ignored and left to figure their shit out alone. Regardless he can’t be bothered to care and he shucks off his overcoat to use it as a pillow. Crossing his arms over his chest and his legs over each other, he settles into a short nap while he waits for Y/N. A part of him isn’t even sure that she is actually coming and he’s starting to convince himself that she never answered the door in the first place. She’s not coming to take him home…there's no home where they live together. There is no place where they love and support each other because he destroyed that when he married Peggy. Tears begin to grow heavy on his eyes but he won’t allow himself to cry over the past no matter how recent it might be.

He pulls his arms tighter across himself and rolls over so that his back faces outwards. With his face hidden, the tears start to fall against his will and he does nothing to stop them even though just moments ago he vowed that the past wouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t try to wipe them and lets the pain metastasize in his body, growing a tumor of emotions that can’t be cured by anything.

Time slips away from him as the memories and hurt wash over him. Anderson clears his throat to get Steve’s attention and starts to unlock the cell’s door.

“We took his keys so you can drive it home if you didn’t bring your own car,” Anderson says to Y/N.

She smiles and nods, taking the keys from him and clutching them as she stares at the sad excuse of a man laying on the bed. Steve wipes at his eyes and groans as he slides off of the hard jail bed. Shaking out his pillow coat, he puts it on before making eye contact with her. She sighes at him and thanks Anderson for all that he’s done even though it’s not procedure. When Steve stands, he sways and she’s quick to catch him, waving off Anderson who offers to take him. They don’t say anything to each other as she acts as his crutch and walk towards his car. She fumbles with the keys and drops them.

“Lean on the car,” she tells him as she bends down to pick them up, “Do you need my help getting in?”

He furrows his brow like a toddler, “No I can do it myself.”

Shaking her head at him, she unlocks the car and lets him struggle to fold his large body into the passenger side. She slides into the driver’s side and takes a deep breath. Never again did she think that she would dealing with Steve let alone driving his car as he’s almost black out drunk in the passagner seat.

He mumbles something along the lines of “It’s a remote start.”

Y/N hums her understanding and finds the button. It blinks to life and heavy metal music greets them at an unbearable volume. He whimpers at the noise and slams his hand onto the power button to turn it off as quick as he can. Satisfied that the offending noise has stopped, he curls into himself against the window and rests his head on the cool glass.

“Did you put your seat belt on?”

He answers by puling the belt over himself and clicking it into place.

She backs out of the spot and leaves the Sheriff’s station behind. Silence fills the space around them as the street lights and porch lights pass through the window. The lights splash across her face and unbeknownst to her, Steve is stealing glances at her through the window’s reflection. What little he can see of her breaks his heart even more as he can see the fatigue and hurt tense in her features. Her hair, usually styled and pristine, has been hastily clipped up with a claw clip that’s holding on for dear life. Under the long winter coat she’s wearing is just a pair of pj pants and a white crop top. She’s not even really wearing shoes but instead a pair of worn down clogs that should only be worn inside. Seeing how vulnerable she is, he can’t help himself grow protective and upset that she left in such a hurry.

“I hope you drove,” slips out albeit slurred.

“What?” she asks, quickly looking over at him.

“I said I hope you drove.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Do you see what you’re wearing?”

She blinks and scoffs at him, “I just picked your drunk ass up at 2 am and you want to lecture me about my clothing choices.”

“That’s not what I….”

She cuts him off, “Stop. You’re sleeping on the couch and I expect you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Honey.”

“Don’t. I already made myself clear earlier; I want nothing to do with you. I should’ve left you at the stupid station,” she mumbles the last part to herself but he still hears it and sews his mouth shut. The rest of the car ride back to her house is quiet aside from the normal noise of the car and the city.

She wants to regret hurting him with her words but she can’t find it in herself to care anymore. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the petty side of her that strives to inflict as much pain as she can onto him. He did deserve it after all and he’s not protesting at least out loud.

Internally he wants to confess his undying love for her but he knows she won’t care and it won’t change her mind. He does deserve all of her hate and anger. It’s all just no matter how harsh it might be.

Steve keeps stealing glances of her in his window’s reflection and accepts the heartache it induces. Her house comes into view and he can feel her relax when it does. She pauses before fully pulling it and has the garage door open to hide his car from sight in it.

Once inside, she turns it off and waits for the door to shut completely before getting out. Steve watches as she kicks her shoes off and takes off her coat, leaving her in her thin pjs. He climbs out and does the same as her. Following her inside, she instructs him to sit at the island like before while she goes to get him blankets and pillows.

His eyes find the Polaroid again and the memories replay again. The sound of Y/N dropping a stack of bedding brings him around again.

“Here’s a couple blankets and a pillow. Don’t worry about folding them, I'll have to wash them.”

She turns to leave but he calls out softly and stops her, “thank you.”

Her hand rests on the wall beside her and she drops her head to rest on it.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I want you back. I want YOU.”

She faces him again, “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to make a reappearance and magically everything goes back to how it was.”

Steve pushes off and is before her in a few short strides. He gently holds her face in his warm hands and refuses to let go even though she tugs lightly at his wrists.

“Give me another chance. Please honey, just one more chance,” he begs her as he touches his forehead to hers. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed and her breathing grows shallow, hot breath brushing against his face.

He nudges her head back and ghosts his lips over hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she doesn’t, he captures her lips in a slow and intimate kiss. Everything he’s felt over the last 10 years is flooding her as he moves his lips over hers. Every promise he’s made to himself in her name is conveyed as he sighed against her lips.

She’s the first to pull away and is shaking her head when she does so.

“No.”

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