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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months

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Curses from Ex-Boyfriend || Oneshot

Character: Artist!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N navigates humorous breakups and manages an art gallery. A reunion with first love, Bucky, at an exhibition ignites a whimsical love story woven with unexpected enchantments.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Y/N sunk into the barstool, her eyes telling tales of another failed relationship. Yolanda, the supportive friend, encouraged Y/N to share the latest misadventure in her love life.

Y/N sighed, "Okay, get this. The first one, Mike, broke up with me because he claimed my choice of pizza toppings was a reflection of our incompatibility. Apparently, pineapple lovers and non-pineapple lovers are destined to fail."

"Then there was Mark," Y/N continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "He couldn't stand the fact that I had a more extensive collection of pokemon than he did. He said it was a sign of divergent life goals."

Yolanda raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Tell me more."

"James, number three," Y/N chuckled, "Simple, he doesn't like dog."

"Alex was next in line," Y/N continued her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "He called it quits because he believed my excessive use of emojis in texts was a clear indication of a lack of emotional depth. Can you imagine?"

Yolanda laughed, "You can't be serious! What about the fifth one?"

Y/N sighed again, "Oh, Tom. He said my insistence on arranging our bookshelf by color instead of genre was a deal-breaker. Apparently, a good relationship requires organized literature. Can you believe these reasons?"

"Bucky was the longest, wasn't he?" Yolanda mused, a smile playing on her lips.

Y/N nodded, "Yeah, high school sweethearts, you know? We were the classic emo couple, complete with matching black outfits and moody music playlists."

Curiosity flickered in Yolanda's eyes, "So, why did you guys break up?"

Y/N chuckled, "Dead serious. Bucky was deep into it. I remember one day, he used a spell to try and cancel a math quiz."

Y/N grinned, "Oh, maybe because I'm over with emo and I think because Bucky got into magic, like, real magic. He bought this ancient-looking spell book at a flea market."

Yolanda's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, "Magic? Seriously?"

Yolanda burst into laughter, "Wait, what? A spell to cancel a quiz?"

Y/N nodded, "Yeah, he was convinced he could influence the universe with his newfound magical prowess. The thing is, our math teacher did cancel a quiz that week, but I later found out it was because he had a stomachache."

Yolanda's laughter faded into a look of realization, "Wait, are you saying Bucky's spell worked, or was it just a coincidence?"

Y/N shrugged, "Who knows? But I guess that was the beginning of the end. Bucky's magic phase and my inability to take his magical ambitions seriously eventually led to our breakup."

Yolanda winked, still teasing, "Maybe he enchanted you with a love spell, and that's why your relationships have been so... uniquely challenging."

Y/N rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation, "Please, if Bucky had any magical influence, it would've been to summon more black eyeliner or something."

Yolanda joined in the laughter, realizing the absurdity of her own suggestion. "I guess you're right. Love spells and high school relationships don't really go hand in hand."

As they clinked their glasses together, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for Yolanda's light-hearted humor.

Y/N groaned as she woke up with a slight headache, the remnants of the drinks from the previous night's escapade still lingering. Despite the throbbing in her head, she dragged herself to work at the prestigious art gallery where she served as the manager.

As Y/N settled into her office, her boss, the eccentric Madam Madeline, swept in with her fur jacket and oversized glasses, an aura of sophistication surrounding her. Madeline, always on the lookout for the next big thing, had an uncanny talent for discovering hidden gems in the art world.

With an air of excitement, Madeline announced, "Y/N, darling, I've found the next big artist during my travels around Europe. A true visionary! Prepare yourself; this is going to be huge for the gallery."

Y/N, still nursing her headache, tried to focus on Madeline's words. "Really? That's fantastic news. Who is this artist?"

Madeline beamed, "Oh, you'll see soon enough. I've arranged for the gallery to showcase their artwork. We need to get everything ready for the grand reveal. This could be a game-changer for us, my dear."

Despite the pounding in her head, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline at the prospect of introducing a groundbreaking artist to the gallery's patrons. With a nod and a determined smile, she assured Madeline, "Consider it done. I'll make sure everything is prepared for the big showcase. This artist is going to leave a mark on the art world, and our gallery will be at the forefront."

As Madeline left the room, Y/N rubbed her temples, contemplating the exciting challenge ahead.

The day of the grand art exhibition arrived, and the gallery buzzed with anticipation. Y/N couldn't help but be excited about unveiling the mysterious artist's work. The moment Madam Madeline revealed the artwork, gasps of awe echoed through the gallery.

The paintings were truly impressive, capturing the essence of emotion and movement in each stroke. Yet, as Y/N studied the intricate lines, a sense of familiarity tugged at her. It was only when Madeline dramatically unveiled the artist's identity that Y/N's surprise reached its peak.

"Bucky?" Y/N muttered under her breath, disbelief washing over her. She couldn't reconcile the image of the once-emo high school boyfriend with the sophisticated artist standing before her.

Without the signature eyeliner and long hair covering half his face, Bucky had transformed into an entirely different person.

Madeline, reveling in the dramatic revelation, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the brilliant artist behind these captivating pieces is none other than Bucky!"

Y/N's eyes widened as Bucky approached her with a confident smile. "Hey, Y/N. Long time no see."

It took a moment for Y/N to process the situation. "Bucky? The Bucky from high school?"

He nodded, "The one and only. Surprised?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh nervously, "More than you can imagine. I didn't know you had this side to you."

Bucky chuckled, "Life is full of surprises. Just like art."

As the reality of the situation sank in, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected twist of fate.

Intrigued by the transformation in Bucky's life, Y/N couldn't help but ask, "Bucky, where have you been all these years?"

Bucky grinned, a twinkle in his eyes, "After high school, I decided to pursue art more seriously. I entered art school, but it turned out the formal education wasn't for me. So, I packed my bags and hit the road, traveling around the country to draw inspiration from different landscapes and cultures."

Y/N listened, captivated by the adventurous turn in Bucky's journey. "And then?" she prompted.

Bucky continued, "I found myself in Europe, sketching the beautiful landscapes and immersing myself in the art scene. That's where I crossed paths with Madeline. She saw something in my work, and the next thing I knew, I'm back home."

Y/N couldn't hide her amazement. "That's incredible, Bucky. I had no idea you were out there making a name for yourself in the art world."

Bucky smiled modestly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and gratitude. "Yeah, life has a way of surprising you," he remarked. "Art became my language, and every stroke on the canvas felt like a piece of my soul. Little did I know it would lead me here."

As Y/N continued to admire Bucky's work, a comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft background hum of the art gallery. The familiarity of their shared past mingled with the newfound understanding of the paths they had taken.

Bucky broke the silence, "You know, Y/N, seeing you again brings back a flood of memories. The art, the laughter, the quirky moments—some things never change."

Y/N smiled, "Indeed, some things don't. Life has a funny way of circling back, doesn't it?"

As Madeline enthusiastically dragged Bucky away to meet other attendees, Y/N found herself momentarily alone, surrounded by the captivating artwork.

Observing Bucky engage with the crowd, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the once-emo high school boyfriend who had evolved into a renowned artist. The whimsical nature of their teenage years seemed worlds apart from the sophisticated individual now navigating the art world.

Y/N strolled through the gallery, and she noticed a subtle but significant detail in each painting – a delicately drawn flower nestled somewhere within the vibrant strokes. The realization struck her like a soft breeze, and she couldn't help but smile. It was her favorite flower, a subtle signature Bucky had left in each masterpiece.

Bucky, engrossed in conversation with other attendees, glanced in Y/N's direction. Their eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Y/N felt a warmth spreading within her, realizing that the flowers in Bucky's art were more than just a visual motif.

The language of art spoke louder than words, and Y/N interpreted the message within those flowers in the quiet exchange of glances. It was a silent acknowledgment, a whispered confession that transcended the boundaries of time and distance. Bucky's subtle gesture conveyed, "I still think of you."

As the art gallery hummed with admiration for Bucky's creations, Y/N couldn't help but feel a connection rekindling.

After the event, the air crackled with anticipation as Y/N mustered the courage to approach Bucky. "Bucky, would you mind grabbing a coffee with me? It's been so long, and I'd really like to catch up," she said, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Bucky, meeting her gaze with a warm smile, replied, "Absolutely, Y/N. I'd love that."

As they sat in the dimly lit cafe, the atmosphere seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions. Conversations veered into shared memories and life's twists and turns. Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, this was a crucial moment—a juncture where destiny hung in the balance.

Later, in the intimacy of Bucky's hotel room, he opened an old sketchbook. Pages turned with a whisper, revealing an old photo of Y/N. Intriguingly, on the adjacent page, a spell was inscribed—an enchantment woven into the fabric of their shared history. The room seemed to pulse with an energy that felt both familiar and intense.

Bucky's chuckle was dark and enigmatic as he muttered, "Damn, it works."

The revelation left Y/N completely unaware. Little did she know that the seemingly whimsical magic from their teenage years had woven a thread connecting their souls, guiding them back to each other after years of divergent paths. As they continued to share laughter and stories, the magic of the past lingered in the air, creating a subtle but powerful force that bound them together.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

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Here's the link: Ko-fi

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brodieland · 9 days

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Its the day of the party, and Percy and Y/N have some realizations. Does it go the good way or bad way??? Warning(s): cursing, underage drinking, sex jokes if I may Word Count: 2555 A/N: the urge to add a little bit of a smau was too great I fear😕

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt5

You were currently in your sisters room laying on her bed, thinking about why you even agreed to go in the first place. Silena was currently digging around her closet for something to wear, and let out a groan as she turned toward you.

"Y/N, this one or this one," she held up a pink dress and a nearly Identical slightly darker pink dress.

"Silena, I hate to be the one to say this, but I swear its not this serious," she rolled her eyes as she threw down the dresses and went back into her closet. "I liked the pink one though."

She kept running through her closet before pulling out a black dress, "Is this yours, I don't remember buying this?"

"Hm," you sat up and faced her examining the dress. "Did you not buy this during your secret little 'emo' phase?"

"God don't remind me," you chuckled at her embarrassment. "Suits you though, here. Maybe you can wear it later."

She tossed you the dress and she was right. It did suit you. "Maybe I can."

﹒º. ౨ৎ

＠Y/N2lit ● 20 min

Liked by BeauregardOnTop and others... ＠Y/N2lit: me n my sister a lit asf duo ＠BeauregardOnTop View comments...

＠BeauregardOnTop: ayo emo ass fit?? →＠Y/N2lit: ＠BeauregardOnTop this is ur dress?? but if I brought up ur emo phase suddenly im the villian right? →＠BeauregardOnTop: ＠Y/N2lit oh okay sorry

＠percy2lit: holy skibidi →＠Y/N2lit: WHY DID U CHANGE UR USER TO MATCH MINE →＠percy2lit: wow I didn't even notice🤷🏻‍♂️ →＠Y/N2lit: delete ur acc lil boy

﹒º. ౨ৎ

'Who does he think he is?' You and Silena were still in her room getting ready while she put on her 16th layer of lipgloss.

"Your gonna run out of lipgloss, and you just bought it," you said without looking up from your phone.

"I need to look as good as possible," you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"My god you'll be fine. You would have guys falling at your feet even if your lips were chapped and gross."

She jokingly glared and you chuckled, suddenly the door bell ringed. You and Silena walked downstairs and saw your dad standing by the door staring at Percy, not looking very amused.

"Percy," you asked.

"Hey Y/N, I said I'd pick you up at nine didn't I?"

You looked down and saw that it was in fact, nine on the dot. "You're a punctual fella aint ya?"

"And what's going on here," you dad sternly asked. He looked between you two with an eyebrow raised.

"Well," your sister started. "Y/N here is going out, so that means so can I, right?"

"You look really good by the way," Percy interjected, earning a glare from your dad and a chuckle from your sister.

"And how were you planning me on 'picking me up,'" you used air quotes as you ignored your dad. "Did you plan on stuffing me in the basket of your bike?"

Percy looked back at his blue bike laying down in the lawn, then back at you. "Maybe I didn't think that far ahead, but its the thought that counts, no?"

You laughed at his effort. "Yeah okay, sure. Anyways I'm driving," you said as you swung your fingers around your fingers and walked out to your car.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

Charles and Leo were at the party, one was drinking in peace and the other one was slowly starting to freak out. Guess who's who.

"Dude, just relax," Leo said as he tried shoving his drink into Charles face. He just moved it away with his hand.

"You don't understand me sometimes."

"Thank fucking god. I think I'd kill myself," Charles just glared at Leo, and he held his arms up in surrender. Both of them paused when they heard the front door open and Charles whipped his head around. He saw Silena walk in and he could've sworn a fly flew in his mouth. Her pink dress fit her beautifully and the way her long dark hair fell behind her made her look unreal.

"Y/Ns actually pretty hot when she tries," Leo nodded approvingly. He turned to his friend and saw him shamelessly staring at the other sister. "Dude, you look like a creep. Go talk to her."

"Your welcome," Charles clearly was not paying attention.

"The house is on fire."

"Yeah no, I got it."

"I'm literally getting my dick sucked right now."

"Cool- what," Charles turned as quick as possible and stared right a Leo.

"The house on fire gets no reaction but me getting a blowjob is absolutely outlandish??" Leo sassed.

"Can you not talk about your dick??"

"Can you focus up on your lady," Leo pointed back over to Silena, and to the slowly approaching Luke coming in from 'round the corner. "Might be time to lock in, I dunno know though, don't quote me."

Charles shrugged Leo off and went walking towards Silena. "Hey, you made it."

"Yeah thanks to you," Silena said as she continued to scan the room. She looked back at Charles and quickly looked him up and down and cleared her throat. "You clean up nice y'know."

"Yeah, you look-"

"Hey gorgeous," Luke announced from behind Silena, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Glad your here."

Silena smiled as she thanked him and looked back at Charles. "Hey Charles, I'll see you around, alright?"

"Yeah, um. Sure," Charles watched Luke smiled at him like an asshole as he led Silena away. Charles turned back around and made his way towards Leo again.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

You watched from afar as Luke made his move on your sister, sending you weird looks as he did so. God how you hated him more than anything. He was a massive douche and it bothered you to think Silena could like a guy like that, but then again, surface deep attractions all he's got going for him, and you knew your sister would hopefully find that out on her own.

You just tried to ignore it and went off to the kitchen for some shots. You saw a half filled bottle Smirnoffs and quickly secured it for yourself.

One shot. Two shot.

Then Percy walked into the kitchen. "Woah, whats the rush?"

"I only had two," you said as Percy took a shot for himself. He decided that was it if this was the way you were going to drink throughout the night. "Isn't this what I'm 'supposed' to be doing. Drinking and dancing?"

You snatched the bottle and took a third shot. You knew you should've probably stopped there, at least for now, but Luke was terribly flirting with your sister, and murder was depressingly illegal. Percy looked away for a second and when he looked back you were gone. He quickly walked around trying to look for you when he was stopped by Charles.

"Dude, we have to stop this," he said.

"Stop what," Percy asked.

"This whole thing," he waved his arms around. "She doesn't want me, she just wants him."

He looked sad and defeated, and Percy felt bad. And weirdly enough, he didn't want to stop taking you out. "Charles, do you like her or not? Is she worth this whole thing?"

"I mean, I thought so but-"

"But nothing, yes or no?"

"Yeah, yeah she is."

"Then no, this isn't over till you get the girl, and I know you can dude," Percy patted Charles shoulders and walked off to find you. He saw you across the room taking another shot, but when he went to speed walk over to you he was stopped yet again. This time, by Luke.

"God, I knew you were the right person to turn to."

"Huh," Percy turned confused, and was starting to get annoyed.

"You did the impossible, removing the stick from Y/N's ass," Luke cheered.

"Yeah whatever," Percy rolled his eyes, getting more bothered with the way people spoke about you. And before he got the chance to push Luke away and make his way back over to you, the music started blaring and cheering started getting louder, including Luke's cheering. Percy was now purely annoyed, he just wanted to make his way back over to you, hopefully stopping you from taking anymore shots.

He walked toward the center of the cheering to see you hopping on a table and dancing to the beat of the roaring music. Your body was swaying and Percy right then and there forgot that he was paid to take you here. He forgot that if it wasn't for some random guy coming up to him wanting to date your sister, he wouldn't be standing here watching you dance like there was no one in the room, like it was just you and him right now.

He wondered where'd he be right now if he had said no. Would he be home, or would he maybe have found another girl in this short time period? Probably not, but anything could happened in such a short time frame, like this. Percy thought there was something about a girl who can so brazenly insult you like it was nothing, yet still bandaged you up if you were hurt. He was quickly snapped from his daydream when you slipped from the table and fell into his arms.

"Oh, its you," you blew raspberries in his face as you went to stand up. "I'll be fine."

As you went to stand, you started stumbling back down, making Percy grab you again. "Yup, your very fine."

"Stop flirting with me Jackson," you rolled your eyes and he just laughed. He started leading you out the house, away from all the noise, and all the alcohol, so you could rest up. You've had one too many drinks and it was now time to stop. "I wanna sleep."

You two were outside, and you had wandered off and found a nearby bench to lay down on. "You shouldn't walk off like this, might get kidnapped y'know."

"Oh and you'd care? I'm only ever mean to you if you hadn't noticed."

"Well of course, you know I think I might have a thing for girls who hate me."

"As opposed to what, the girls who like you? Because I've yet to see those," Percy grabbed your arms and stood you up. He rummaged through his pockets for your keys. Percy was thankful that your dress didn't have pockets and wouldn't have to wrestle you for said keys.

"See, just like that, why have compliments when I could get insulted like there's no tomorrow" he said as he opened the door for you. He walked over to the drivers seat and when he sat down you gave him a weird look. "Yes?"

"Can you even drive?"

"Just because I don't have a car doesn't mean I don't have a license," you were still staring straight at him, looking between both his eyes.

"Your eyes are really sea-green, I really like sea-green," you smiled and Percy felt speechless. He smiled softly.

"Lets get you home."

﹒º. ౨ৎ

Silena was absolutely bored out of her mind. For the past who knows who long she's been forced to taking pictures of Luke for his instagram. His excuse? 'your gorgeous hands take gorgeous pictures.'

If he called her 'gorgeous' one more time there, Silena might've shown up. She handed him back the phone as he continued to talk about himself, again. That seems to be all he ever does. 'What the hell did I ever see in him,' Silena thought.

After like 15 minutes, the party was getting stale and people were starting to leave. The two walked out together when Silena was approached by a good friend of hers, Drew.

"So Silena, ready to hit the next party," Luke asked.

"Darn," she looked down at her phone. "Gotta be home in 20 minutes."

She pretended to look disappointed when Drew quickly spoke up, "I don't have to be home till like, 2-3AM."

She boasted as Silena looked her up and down. "That settles it. Silena, this is your last shot. You coming or not?"

"Nope, I can't. Sorry," she shrugged as they quickly sped off into Luke's convertible. Silena rolled her eyes she realized she now didn't have a ride home. Looking around, the only person she saw was Charles. Despite feeling awkward for having somewhat blown him off earlier, she still approached him.

"Hey there Charles," Silena waved. He half-heartedly smiled back. "Can you, um- give me a ride home?"

Charles felt his heart slightly speed up, but still felt slightly dejected. Silena had sent the whole night with Luke, why would she not just leave with him? "Yeah, of course."

They both drove home in silence. It felt kind of awkward, then Charles had pulled up in front of the Beauregard house and parked. The two sat in silence not moving, but when Silena turned over, Charles seemed to have a face on. "Charles, is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Well yeah-"

"No nothing. There's nothing wrong. I mean sure yeah I went through the trouble to get your sister asked out so you'd finally be able to date. But of course I did it for Luke. I did it for Luke but I literally learned how to speak French for you-"

Charles was quickly cut off by Silena leaving over and grabbing Charles face into a kiss that could've melted him on the spot. They went on for a moment before Silena went back into her seat. The two were panting before Silena spoke up.

"A whole language, just for me," she giggled, and Charles felt slightly embarrassed for having admitted to that. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He nodded as he watched Silena step out of the car, waving to him as she walked off to the front door. Charles started cheering in his car before driving off back to his own home.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

It was the next Beauregard's turn to be dropped off by a man tonight.

As Percy parked your car in its normal spot in the drive way, he turned to look at you. "You still wasted or are you sobering up now?"

"I'm as sober as a judge," you declared, waving your finger in the air. You turned toward him and stared at him, reaching over and twirling a piece of his black hair between your fingers. "Your hairs soft."

You were close now. Close enough for him to smell the vodka expelling from your breathe. You looked into his eyes, and leaned slightly in. Percy thought about leaning in, but the shots on shots you took tonight made it not such a good idea.

When you noticed he didn't lean in, you felt a mix between mad and embarrassed. You quickly grabbed your keys and slammed the car door shut on your way out, running up to your house door and rushing in as fast as you could. Percy sighed as he sat back, feeling like an idiot.

One sister had a happy ending with the boy she didn't expect, and the other couldn't even get a kiss goodnight from a guy who was paid to be here (more and more everyday, he cared less and less about the money).

﹒º. ౨ৎ

✰Taglist: @liviessun @lara20aral @balletfilmss @job-ross-the-second @brokecollegebitch @riaaavm @avihashearts4lix @huera-ne @zn0v1a @sofiacblair @itzjustj-1000 (just lemme know if you wanna be added)

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #charles pjo #charles beckendorf #silena pjo #silena beauregard #charlena

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rip-quizilla · 4 months

Text

Polyjamourous

Eddie x GN!Reader

Description: You get a job at the record store, where you terrorize Eddie with so many different genres of music that he gets whiplash, but your energy is adorable so he's instantly soft for you.

Tags: big grumpy/sunshine trope here, fluff, workplace relationship (kind of), outgoing!reader, Hannah putting her liked songs on shuffle and using them here shamelessly, no physical description of reader other than hinting that they have a glorious gyatt that Eddie can't help but stare at.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I didn't coin the term "polyjamourous"! I saw it in a TikTok by Viktor Fellbrink. Does it describe me perfectly though? Absolutely.

🎧🎧🎧

When Eddie had interviewed you for a job at the record store downtown, one of the first questions he’d asked was about your taste in music. Your response had caught him so off guard that he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m polyjamourous.” you’d said.

Eddie had blinked a couple of times, a snorted laugh jumping from his throat. “Polyjamorous…” he’d repeated, an amused grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “That’s one I have not heard before.”

You had shrugged, smiling the same way you’d been smiling throughout the entire interview. “I listen to a little bit of everything, I like pretty much all music.”

What Eddie had expected from that was mostly pop, maybe a classic rock hit here and there. Judging by the ripped jeans and Doc Martens you were wearing the day of your interview, he suspected there may have been an emo/alt rock phase in your history so maybe some Paramore or MCR.

What he hadn’t been expecting was the fact that when you said you liked all music, you meant all music.

A month into working with you, and he already dreaded the days that you’d signed your name on the list entitled “Aux Cord Dibs” that sat on a tattered clipboard under the counter. The first hour of your shuffled liked songs on Spotify, and Eddie already had whiplash.

The songs that played (in order) were:

Satisfied- The Broadway Cast of Hamilton

Raise Hell- Brandi Carlile

The Offering- Sleep Token

Magical- Ed Sheeran

Dream a Little Dream of Me- Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Just to name a few.

Not only were you completely unashamed that the first song to pop up under your aux cord time was a fucking show tune, but you knew every word. You sang, rapped- acted- every word.

Eddie was now absolutely sure that you had had an emo phase, because this meant you were also a theater kid (same as him, but he wasn’t about to admit that to you) and in Eddie’s experience, most theater kids were also emo kids in some way, shape, or form.

“How much coffee did you drink this morning?” he’d muttered once you’d finished your one-woman show whilst shelving new records.

“No coffee, this is all natural.” You’d said that with a grin so wide, it was obvious to him that you knew how obnoxious that sounded and you were taking it in stride.

“You’re just the Energizer bunny… naturally?”

Somehow, you grinned wider. “Yes!”

You can imagine how terrified Eddie was when you pulled a Celcius out of your bag an hour later. What happens when you give an energy drink to a person with natural energy?

You get impromptu dance breaks.

Eddie had been boxing up an online order when out of the corner of his eye, he saw your oversized sweatered form bouncing around between aisles to the beat of whatever K-Pop bullshit was currently assaulting his speakers.

Wordlessly, his eyes drifted to the monitor displaying the security camera feed where he found a full view of your hopping, stepping, and jumping to the bouncy rhythm of a Korean song with random English words sprinkled in. The grainy feed from the camera even picked up the subtle motion of your lips moving, and Eddie’s lips couldn’t help but twist into an amused little smile when he realized that must mean you were even trying to lip sync to the words, and he might be wrong but he was pretty sure you didn’t speak Korean.

His shoulders shook, silently chuckling at your antics until the music slowed down in tempo. Your hips began to move in slow, pronounced circles, sending the rest of your body rolling with the momentum. Eddie knew you didn’t mean to turn him on with the way your hips were moving… but you had an ass that shook when you walked, much less when you were actually wiggling your hips around. It wasn’t a you problem that was making Eddie’s eyes bug out of his skull and glue themselves to the screen; it was definitely an Eddie problem.

He had to keep it professional; Eddie was a shift manager, and while he wasn’t technically your boss, that was a gray area delicate enough that he didn’t plan on rushing into anything risky. The last thing he should be doing was ogling you on the security camera like a fucking creep. So, he made a point to pay attention to literally anything else whenever you started dancing around the store like some sort of coked-up cheerleader.

After a few shifts with Eddie, you started to notice that he was pointedly ignoring your antics- which made forcing him to pay attention all the more entertaining. The job could be boring on slow days, so this was how you entertained yourself- annoying the shit out of Eddie Munson.

Eddie: “If I hear one more show tune, I’m commandeering the aux cord.”

You: Proceeds to belt all three parts of Sincerely Me from Dear Evan Hansen, complete with choreography.

Eddie: “Is there any metal on this playlist? Just one song? I need a breather…”

You: Introduces Eddie to Babymetal.

One day, you even forced Eddie to suffer through Lizzo. That was funny as all hell, if you’d ever seen it.

“I feel like I’m walking through a Forever 21.” He’d grumbled as you cheekily shimmied your shoulders at him and mimed a toss of your hair for good measure.

“First of all,” you laughed, “I’m impressed you know what Forever 21 is.”

“I have been to a mall, you know.”

“Second,” you continued, “You’re starting to come off as a bit of a music elitist.”

Eddie shook his head, shelving new records from the stack of crates on the floor. “It isn’t a crime to know what I like and don’t like, kid.”

You smirked, reaching wordlessly over to the media center behind the counter and turning up the music. It was empty in the store save for you and Eddie, so the change in volume wouldn’t hurt anyone. Lizzo’s Like a Girl rang out through the speakers, and you made a show of losing yourself to the beat just to spite the metalhead before you.

Eddie sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if God himself could save him from this torment; he couldn’t stop the whisper of a smile from creeping into the corners of his lips. “What did I do to deserve this shit?” he groaned.

Your grin was blazing, infectious in the way you wore it with reckless abandon as you danced from shelf to shelf with one of the crates of records. When the crate was empty, each album carefully nestled in its appropriate place, you set the crate down on the floor right as the chorus started and your hips shook in time with the drop of the beat.

Eddie had been looking out the corner of his eye the whole time, but averted his gaze immediately once you were shaking your ass in the air. Unbeknownst to you, he was doing everything in his power not to stare.

Bouncing as you perked back up, you flashed him a sadistic grin and shrugged. “You just make it so much fun to torture you, sorry.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “That was the emptiest apology I’ve ever heard.” To which you laughed and heartily agreed, launching your whole self into shaking all you had to the beat, even going so far as to plant your foot on the edge of the counter.

You looked more silly than sexy, even Eddie could admit that, but it was your reckless abandon and giant fucking smile that made him break in that moment. You were shaking your ass- was that twerking? Eddie didn’t think it was twerking, but then again, he wasn’t an expert- and singing along to the music with so much energy that Eddie’s smile finally won his face over. He nodded his head to the beat, even shimmied his shoulders a little, and watched you make an adorable fool of yourself.

That was when the door opened, sending a chime through the shop as a very confused Steve and Robin walked through the door just in time to see you shaking your ass in their direction.

As far as you knew, these two were customers, so you swiftly tore your foot from the counter and started to apologize before Steve cut you off with a lopsided grin and a midair brush of his hand.

“Please don’t apologize, because that might be the best first impression you could’ve made on me.” He confidently strode forward, already extending a hand which you happily accepted. Steve had a way of putting people at ease, Eddie had noticed, even if they had been the opposite of “at ease” before he’d entered the scene.

He watched straight-faced as Steve struck up a conversation with you about being friends with Eddie and stopping by to say hello, then proceeded to introduce himself and ask you about yourself with the confidence and coolness that came so easily to people like Steve Harrington. Eddie chewed his lip and felt an unwelcome flare of jealousy in his stomach when you gave Steve the same smile that- up until now- you’d been giving him.

“So that’s the new hire you told us about?” Robin asked, voice low enough that only Eddie could hear.

He nodded, eyes trained on Steve as he said some joke that made you laugh. “Yeeeeeuup.” Eddie drew out the word, lacing passive aggression into every extra syllable.

“I see.” Robin looked at Eddie, arching an eyebrow as she wordlessly assessed him, then slowly looked at you and smiled knowingly. “Well, if you’re gonna make a move, better beat Steve to it.”

Eddie sighed and shook his head, murmuring out the corner of his mouth “Stay. Out of it.” before picking up his crate of records and moving to a different shelf. You were out of sight, but your and Steve’s voices still carried to where he worked.

“...a little bit of everything.” Eddie heard you say, picking up on your conversation as he silently shelved new inventory. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Nothing in particular, I just jam to whatever’s on the radio.” Already inwardly cringing at how Steve must be shrugging or tossing his hair or some shit, Eddie eavesdropped inconspicuously. “Compared to a seasoned listener like yourself, I must sound like an idiot. You should make a playlist for me, so I can know what an expert would recommend.”

“Expert?” you snorted, “Oh I’m hardly an expert. Half of what I listen to is garbage, but it’s fun garbage so I’m not ashamed. Eddie’s the expert.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if you knew he was nearby enough to hear you, but he wasn’t about to miss out on whatever you were about to say about him, so he remained silent and out of sight.

Harrington scoffed. “Expert on metal, sure, but unless you’re into headbanging and screaming, I think he’d be pretty lost-”

“Not true.” you interjected. “He likes some classic rock, a bit of old school jazz- you know I played a song by Bob Dylan one day, and he started rattling off all these facts about the guy?”

Eddie remembered that day. He’d almost told you that he knew all those facts because his mom had loved Bob Dylan, but he thought talking about his dead mom might be a little more personal than you were prepared to get with him so early into knowing him.

“When Eddie hears music he thinks is good, it doesn’t matter what genre it is- he respects it whether it’s his taste or not.” Eddie had long since stopped shelving; he stood stock still, listening with wide eyes as you spoke with more admiration in your voice than Eddie had ever expected to belong to him. “I play a crazy wide range of music when I work with him, and every time a song I really love comes on it’s hard for me to not focus on how he’s reacting to it. It’s like every time, I’m in my head like- will he like this one?”

Steve was quiet for a moment before Eddie heard him reply, “Sounds like you’re hoping you’ll impress him.”

Eddie felt his heart start beating a little faster. Were you?

You giggled a little, and for a moment Eddie’s heart fell when he thought you were laughing at the very insinuation that you might want to impress him.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” he heard you say. “I haven’t known Eddie long, but I’ve always thought he’s an impressive person. It’s hard not to want to impress him back.”

Eddie couldn’t suppress his smile even if he’d wanted to. Sneaking around the shelves where you couldn’t see him, he turned a corner to continue his work as he hummed to himself.

After you’d locked the doors at 8, the two of you were closing down the shop alone as your playlist quietly painted the quiet evening air. You were walking through the store doing your final check while Eddie took inventory, and Eddie had been silently nodding his head to the beat of the music as you came into view of the checkout counter.

“What song is this?”

Your eyes widened, and the eagerness in your gaze made Eddie’s heart just about burst.

“Uh, it’s Chicken by Your Neighbors.” you stuttered, “You like it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, softly, “it’s good.”

There was that blinding grin again, contagious in how it fed his until it doubled in size. “Yeah, it is.”

A pause settled between the two of you, song lyrics potent in the evening’s silence.

You ain’t got no time to wait

You don’t get what you don’t ask for

“Hey, uhh…” Eddie was quick to grab your attention, and you watched him wide-eyed and expectant. “...feel like getting pizza after this? Surfer Boy doesn’t close ‘til midnight, and I was gonna stop by to see my buddy Argyle after closing anyway, so-”

“Yes!” you agreed, a little more eagerly than you had originally intended to come across. You cleared your throat, “I mean, if it’s no trouble-”

“No trouble at all, it's just down the street, I’ll walk with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were both grinning like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care. You continued your closing duties, both of you nodding your heads to the beat of the music and enjoying the feelings that, though unspoken and undefined, were currently nestling comfortably into your chest and his.

Taglist: (really just people I have been talking about this to, I hope you like it❤️) @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x gn!reader #grumpy sunshine trope #eddie munson blurb

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bryngmemoney · 3 months

Text

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw: death joke

Writing at the beginning and in btwn messages!!

🪡Chapter Eighteen: Bro

You looked around trying to see where Megumi was, jumping at the sudden arms wrapping around you, but settling down once you realized it was him.

“Found you.” he let go of you as you turned around to face him. “Don’t scare me bro.”

“bro?”

“Heyyy, you ran away so fast? What’s wrong was I getting boring?”

Oh him. He was still looking for you.

“Is this your boyfriend or something?” he asked, staring at Megumi. He pieced two and two together, figuring that this was the man who was bothering you while you texted him. “Yeah, who are you?” he answered, hoping to get him to back off. “You can just call me Mahito, but that’s too bad. Well, you two have fun then, i’ll leave you alone for now.”

You both watched him get lost in the crowd, sighing after finally seeing him gone. “So, boyfriend huh?” Megumi just looked at you, and although he tried his best, it was still obvious to you how he was trying to fight a smile. “Just said that to save your ass, can’t be your boyfriend after you called me ‘bro’ .”

“Oh my god are you for real?” You almost laughed at his expression. “No, let’s go and get something to drink,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him, “and i’m not letting you get lost again, I don’t like weirdos flirting with you.”

“Who are you texting?” Megumi asked, finally recovering from his embarrassment of childhood pictures that you had been showing him from Maki. “Why are you jealous?” you asked. He hummed a little leaning his head into your shoulder. “It’s just a group chat, and Maki of course sending me more photos.” He smushed his face a little more into your clothes, “Doesn’t she have anything better to do? She’s at a party tell her to go do something instead of ruining my life.” You laughed a little.

It was a nice atmosphere, you could hear the music blasting from the main room, but you and Megumi had snuck away into another little foyer room of the house, sitting in the corner on the couch. It wasn’t the most secluded as the rooms around it were still full of people, and there would be others passing by you guys, but a lot less crowded than where you originally had been.

Megumi had gotten you guys something from the kitchen. He wasn’t one much for parties you soon found out by his nature of trying to keep you guys in less public areas. That wasn’t really a problem though, but you were surprised by how much he was attaching himself to you. From what’d you’d previously experienced with him, the only time you remember him being this close was that one time he fell asleep at the movies, and the exception of you helping him into his outfits. You never took him as a big fan of PDA, but maybe this really was moving forward some way.

Author’s Note: thought giving megumi an ex-emo phase would be funny 😊😊😊

made a playlist with songs i think megumi would listen to on spotify lemme know if anyone wants the link

also just wanna thank u guys for all the support you’ve shown this story i really appreciate it :3

hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @renemy @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst @nishii28 @arguendo

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werewolf-witchboy · 11 months

Text

Rodrick Heffley X male reader

You and Rodrick are both emo, dumb, and queer. 💀

This is shorter than what I usually post.

Also, for some reason every time I typed "Rodrick" it always autocorrected to "Rodriguez" lmfao. I tried fixing it every time it did that, so hopefully there aren't any leftover "Rodriguez's" that I didn't catch.

You can't help but find it funny that Rodrick's mom busted him for having a porno mag, you teased him about it for weeks.

However, what you've just found in Rodrick's closet was a lot harder to tease him about. You didn't even think you should mention that you found it, you debated on keeping it a secret forever.

Rodrick had asked you to run up to his room to grab another pair of drumsticks for him, which he said was in his closet.

The drumsticks were nowhere to be found, so you had to dig around a little. Instead you found another porno magazine- which wouldn't have even phased you honestly, only what shocked you is that it's a gay porno magazine.

Rodrick was the type to make jokes about himself being into dudes, but you didn't actually think he was. After all, he has been your best friend ever since you moved to Plainview at the beginning of your Freshmen year.

You've both been through so much together; struggling through all 4 years of highschool as the wild emo outcasts, graduating, and forming the Löaded Diaper! You've even come out to him and told him you like guys, so you didn't think he'd keep something like that from you.

Maybe it's not that big of a deal. He probably didn't even know he had a gay porno mag amongst all of his junk. For all you know, it could have been one of yours that you left at his place.

Then again...why would you bring one of your own porno's to someone else's house?

You must have been taking forever getting the drum sticks that you originally came for, because minutes later Rodrick came through the door.

"You find em'? I know my closet is a mess, but-" Rodrick froze when you bravely showcased the magazine instead of a pair of drumsticks.

"Let me guess...this isn't yours?" You teased, mocking what he told his mom about the other magazine.

Rodrick stood up straight and cleared his throat, then strode over to snatch your find away.

"It is mine. Not like you should be surprised."

Well now your brain is malfunctioning.

"Um I am a little surprised, considering my best friend never told me he also likes dudes!" You try not to sound hurt, but it was kind of hard to hide your frustration considering you told him everything.

Rodrick legitimately looked dumbfounded and you tried not to laugh through your pout.

"What do you think I mean whenever I say shit like 'Kellin Quinn is my dream guy' and 'I'd kiss you if you'd let me'?!"

Your eyeliner smudged eyes are probably buldgeing out of your head right now.

"Um...I thought they were jokes?" Even as those words are coming out of your mouth you felt kinda stupid. For as long as you've known Rodrick, he's always said stuff like that.

Anyone also knows that Rodrick is never subtle when it comes to flirting, so you should have probably known that all of the random pickup lines he's used on you were most likely serious.

Rodrick's mouth hung open. "So you're telling me that I've basically just been hitting on a brick wall for 5 years?"

"i'M sOrRy! You know I have low self esteem! Whenever people like me I never notice because I don't think people will ever like me!!" Words all blended together as you spoke in a fast panicked pace.

Rodrick quite literally facepalmed.

You're lucky your obliviousness is cute or else he'd pumble you for talking down about yourself.

"I don't even know what to say right now." Rodrick was lost for words.

You awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, still sitting on the floor of his room in front of the closet. "If it means anything, I've had a crush on you for almost as long as I've known you." You puffed your cheeks out, feeling them becoming warm, probably turning pink.

Rodrick choked on his own spit. "iF IT MEANS ANYTHING TO ME???? HELL YES IT DOES!! How the heck you have a crush on me of all people?!" You looked down at the floor, kinda shocked that he doesn't understand why you'd like him.

"You're literally a hot emo boy who wasn't mean to me when I moved here. I had nothing before I met you, and you took me on so many adventures and showed me so many new things. I'm glad I met you, and it was hard not to fall for you."

It felt like you ranted a little too much, probably spilled a little to much and made yourself seem like a bit of a lonely loser without Rodrick.

You got a little scared when he wasn't saying anything. Your gaze lifted from the floor to meet his calculating expression.

His reply was simply just "can we makeout?"

aNd oF cOuRse yOu sAid yEs, and he tripped over his own shoes when tried to tackle you on the floor. The two of you ended up tangled together in a heated makout session that felt so satisfying after pining over each other for 5 damn years. You're both so stupid I stfg lol.

#diary of a wimpy kid #doawk #rodrick #rodrick heffley #x reader #x male reader #male reader #sfw #mlm #rodrick x reader #rodrick x y/n #rodrick x male reader #rodrick rules

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nnight-dances · 1 year

Text

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.��

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

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nocreativityfornames · 8 months

Text

Random Obey Me! Headcanons Part 3

Asmo collects plushies, he finds the little things absolutely adorable and has tons of them in his room. And yes, you'll see Asmo's eyes lit up like a kid if you ask him about them and their individual names. He will also be glad to explain each one's little story and how he got them, and you would be endeared to find that a good portion of the plushies were given by the other brothers themselves, who have known about his love for collecting for a long time now.

Belphie is one of those people who when you ask them for something will ALWAYS blatantly say no at first but then proceed to nonchalantly do the exact thing you asked with no ounce of shame whatsoever, maybe even smirk a little as they finish doing whatever it is you asked. It's a little annoying at first, but you eventually get used to it. He's just likes being a brat, really.

Satan had an emo phase as a teenager, he would dye his hair black, only wear dark clothes, paint his nails regularly ( with the help of Asmo ), listen to typical emo music, the whole nine yards. And of course, he was more rebellious than ever, refusing to listen to his brothers and just any authority figures in general. He's ashamed of it now and cringes hard seeing pictures of himself back then. As any good father older brother would though, Lucifer always manages to embarrass him by bringing up that phase and even showing the "cursed pictures" to friends/potencial partners Satan brings home.

Levi likes to hide in small spaces when he's anxious, overwhelmed, or just doesn't wanna deal with something ( social interactions more often than not ). Oh, you're at a party and you can't find Levi anywhere? Check the less crowded room, more specifically under the tables, he's probably there playing games on his phone. Hm, it's lunch break at RAD and the third born is nowhere to be seen? Inside his locker, or maybe the janitor's closet. He doesn't know exactly why he does it, but it's a habit that's been with him ever since he was a small angel. Those places just comfort him, somehow. And don't worry, he's pretty flexible so it works out just fine. I mean, why else would he be okay sleeping in a bathtub?

MC and Mephisto didn't meet for the first during S4. In fact, these two first met only a week into the exchange program, with Mephisto interviewing MC for the RAD Newspaper. Because of course, the public was dying to know more about the newest exchange student who had just entered the academy, and multiple news outlets were covering MC's arrival and curious situation, given that they had been placed with the seven brothers at HoL, and had gotten into a pact with Mammon so quickly. Being aware of all of this, Mephisto knew that an exclusive interview with MC would give everyone in the kingdom something to talk about, and so he sought to be the first one to get his hands on one. ( Also he was very intrigued and eager to known more about MC, but of course he'd never admit that. )

Belphie and Mammon both have piercings around their bodies. Mammon especially likes the golden and grey ones that match his rings, while Belphie prefers them black ( because of course he would ).

For the first 2-3 months of the exchange program, MC genuinely thought Diavolo and Lucifer were a couple. This happened because ever since day 1 they were hearing "funny comments" about the two of them and just assumed they were in an actual relationship. And no one ever bothered to correct them because they found it hilarious, and wanted to see how long it'd take for them to find out the truth. Some of the brothers even went as far as purposely making up stories to lead MC to believe that Lucifer was out on dates with Diavolo when he wasn't at home and they came looking for him ( and the bastards would immediately start laughing the moment MC left the room ). MC only found out the truth when they were talking to Lucifer about Diavolo one day and casually replied to something he said with "But that's not really surprising since he's your boyfriend" and Lucifer just went ???? "Excuse me?? What did you just say?" and proceeded to explain that he and Diavolo were in fact not in a relationship. ( the punishment he gave his brothers after finding out about this "little prank" of theirs was no joke, but none of them regretted it, it was "just too funny", in their own words )

Lucifer's voice changes DRASTICALLY depending on his mood. Like, the more serious/stressed he is, the deeper it goes, and the more relaxed/content he is, the softer it becomes. You can hear it cleary when you compare the way he sounds on a regular basis when lecturing the others, speaking about work, giving speeches as RAD's vice president, etc, to rare occasions when he's talking about music and art, playfully teasing the others, or recalling a nice moment from the past. It's like there are 3 stages to his voice: usual deep, furiously deep ( that iconic "Mammooon" ), and ACTUALLY SOFT. The ones who get to hear his "nice voice" the most are MC, Diavolo, Barbatos, Luke, and Beel.

One that's already been discussed by other players but that I'd like to add on: demons ( and angels as well ) give humans "uncanny valley feeling" and MC could tell there was something ""wrong"" with brothers ( they aren't humans ) the moment they first laid their eyes on them in the council room. And my addition to this is: although the brothers all give off this feeling, it's to varying degrees that depend on how much they can blend in as a human. And Satan is the only who can bypass this "filter" almost completely, because remember when Lucifer first introduced him by saying something along the lines of "He might look nice but don't fall for it because it's an act"? Well, I like to think that Satan also looks the most "normal" out of his brothers when it comes to the "uncanny valley feeling" because of this too, since he has pretty much mastered the art of appearing trusting to deceive humans back in the day and is still the best at disguising himself as human to not to scare people away when visiting the human world and such.

Solomon has a hobby of solving jigsaw puzzles, like, you know those huge ones that take over the entire table or floor? He absolutely loves them and will gladly spend a whole day focused on completing them if needed. And if you offer to solve one with him? Oh, he'll get so excited it's actually kind of adorable. So do it, it's the road to his heart, even if you find it boring.

Lucifer leaves Beel on charge whenever he has a work-related trip, or simply intends on spending more time out of the house than usual. It's easy, as long as the second youngest keeps everything in order, Lucifer promises to take him to any restaurant he wants ( no matter how expensive ), and to let him eat to his heart's content when he comes back. Oh, Mammon is trying to sneak out of the house to gamble all their money away? Nuh-uh, Beel's not letting him leave through that door! Asmo's planning to take advantage of the fact that Lucifer is out to throw a party? Nope, Beel's stopping him. Satan & Belphie are trying to get into Lucifer's room to prank him? Yeah nah, Beel's dragging them back to their own rooms. Really, it works wonders, not only because Beel has the most physical strength out of everyone and can overpower them, but also because none of them have the heart to actually argue with him.

#will I ever stop posting these? who knows #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #omnb #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #☙ no creativity for names ✾

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wonhaebunny · 1 year

Note

bkg as klaus hargreeves. give the boy ghostie powers that the class dont know about THANK YOU

Bakugou's a weird guy.

Most of his classmates realise this pretty quickly upon meeting him. He dresses like a delinquent, clothes hanging crumpled and loose off his frame, and yet consistently gets some of the highest grades in the class. He stomps around yelling like he's overcompensating for something, and then flawlessly demonstrates a level of combat ability to rival most established pro heroes. His total inability to hold a normal, civilised conversation without cursing is baffling, and for all that his voice fills any room that he enters, they remain aware that they don't really... know anything about him.

The weirdest thing about Bakugou, however, has nothing to do with his temper or his grades, or his ridiculous quirk control, or even his deceptively introverted personality.

The weirdest thing about Bakugou is that he talks to himself.

Not loudly, or animatedly in the way that one would see in movies. He doesn't have an imaginary friend or the like, as evidenced by the judgmental glare he levels upon Kirishima when the red-head works up the nerve to ask. "Imaginary friends?" he echoes flatly. "What are you, five?"

Nonetheless, when the class is assigned a particularly challenging worksheet in class and the room settles into silence, Bakugou will start to mumble. It’s never loud enough for the words to be audible, but to his classmates, it almost sounds like he’s having a one-sided conversation. He’ll pause every few moments, maybe nod or huff to himself. It’s unsettling in its accuracy, because they could swear that there’s actually someone there. Ashido has even ‘accidentally’ walked through the space around Bakugou just to make sure, but that had just earned her a vaguely amused look from the blond.

It’s a few months into their first year when Todoroki, who has moved past his brooding-emo-boy phase and is now settling into his arguably worse budding-conspiracy-theorist one, approaches Bakugou in the locker rooms before training. The older boy is muttering to himself again, crimson gaze flickering between his own clothes and an empty space on the bench next to him.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki says, jerking Bakugou out of his distraction.

“What?”

“Who are you talking to.”

“Your mom.”

Todoroki tilts his head at this. “My mother is in the psychiatric ward, and is not due to be discharged in the foreseeable future.”

Bakugou’s vaguely irked expression shifts to one of discomfort. He curls his lip, awkwardness shared by the other boys who are now pretending they’re deaf. Bakugou is not given the same mercy, as evidenced by Todoroki’s unfaltering attention.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re good at making conversation?” he asks dryly.

“No?”

“Exactly.”

Todoroki looks vaguely offended. “You were talking to someone, though,” he insists.

Bakugou sighs, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning on his heel to face the other boy.

“You really wanna know?” he asks, voice low.

Todoroki nods, eyes wide.

Bakugou’s lips curl up at the edges, an entertained glint coming into his eye. He strides forward, leaning in until their chests almost brush.

“I see dead people,” he tells Todoroki solemnly.

Then he shoves past him, snickering his way out of the locker room.

The tension in the locker room dissipates, all the boys relaxing with good-natured grumbles.

“He’s such a dick,” Sero complains, patting Todoroki’s shoulder as he and a cackling Kaminari follow the blond out.

“I don’t understand,” Todoroki says bluntly, still standing where Bakugou had left him. “Why are you all laughing? Does he really see dead people?”

“He’s messing with you,” Ojirou says, a vaguely pitying look in his eyes. “Just ignore him, man.”

Todoroki trails after his exiting classmates quietly, a contemplative frown twisting his expression.

The others know to brush off Bakugou’s bullshit, but Todoroki evidently doesn’t. Days later when the class is on a training excursion out to the woods east of the school, Kaminari perks up at the sight of a rotting cabin on the outskirts of the grounds.

“Oh, sick, my brother told me about this!” he exclaims. “Apparently a groundskeeper died here a couple years back, and, like, haunts the woods now!”

Most of the girls immediately begin to protest at the prospect, but Tokoyami perks up.

“Finally… a worthy opponent of the darkness…” he murmurs seriously.

Aizawa looks like he’s moments from tendering his own resignation.

“No such thing happened,” he says flatly. “Everyone split into the assigned groups.”

He goes ignored.

“What, is this dude’s ghost gonna come and kill us now?” Mineta sniffs, scowling with an exaggeration that suggests he’s trying to look less spooked than he actually is.

“Her ghost,” Katsuki corrects listlessly, scrolling through his phone.

“Huh?”

“It’s a woman. Or—was one.”

Todoroki looks like Christmas has come early.

“You can see her?!”

“Hell yeah I can, she’s ugly as shit.”

“What does she look li—” Todoroki is cut off by the synchronised groans of just about half the class as he’s bodily dragged out of Bakugou’s sight, with the latter receiving several disapproving looks.

“Stop it!” Kirishima tells the older blond, wagging a finger in his face like he’s a dog that just pissed all over the couch. “Todoroki is an impressionable boy!”

“She’s right next to you,” Katsuki calls to Todoroki, flipping Kirishima off in the process.

“Bakugou!” six different people snap at once.

By the time Bakugou’s been wrestled into the opposite end of the group, Todoroki’s already begun trying to communicate with the invisible presence supposedly at his side, eyes wide and hands gesturing wildly.

It takes Bakugou half an hour to stop laughing.

Later that month, Kirishima finds himself bounding towards Bakugou’s table at the cafeteria. The blond always manages to seat himself at an empty table before the others even make it into the hall, but he’s long since stopped trying to question it. Bakugou’s poker face means that no one tries to sit with them, so it’s a guaranteed free table every day. The moment he approaches to slide into his usual seat, Bakugou, who’s been staring intently at his phone, looks up and cocks his head.

“You don’t wanna sit there, Shitty Hair.”

“Huh? Why not? It looks fine to me?”

The blond blinks, before shrugging.

“Suit yourself,” he says placidly.

Kirishima stares at him, and then at the empty spot. He chews his lip, before sitting down anyway. Immediately, he’s springing out of it as an icy chill sears the seat of his pants.

“What the f—” he cries, whirling around to inspect the chair closely for any spilled drinks or ice. He then pats his behind, which also comes out dry. “Dude, what the hell, I swear that seat was freezing cold!”

He turns to Bakugou, only to find him with his nose still buried in his phone, a smirk tugging at his lips faintly.

“Did you plan this?” he asks the blond suspiciously. “Is this a prank?”

At this, finally, Bakugou puts his phone down to pin Kirishima with an unamused look.

“I’ve been sitting here this whole fucking time, dipshit.”

Kirishima pouts, reluctantly sinking into the empty seat next to the first one.

“Sometimes I think Todoroki’s onto something with the ghost theories,” he mumbles sulkily, stuffing a chunk of pork into his mouth.

Bakugou just grins.

It comes to a head during the first weekend of break, after their first year ends. The class decides to go on a karaoke outing, all together at once. This is their first mistake. Approximately fifteen minutes after they meet and begin the walk to the karaoke bar, Shouji complains of a strange smell. Two minutes after that, Mineta passes out. They’re not overly fussed about this, and are in the process of debating whether or not it’s morally permissible to leave his body in an alley to collect on the way back, when Jirou follows. From there, they drop like flies.

They wake up in an empty room with water-stained grey walls, wrists chained to the ground.

“Aw, man,” Kirishima says mildly.

“Shit, they brought Mineta with us,” Jirou mumbles.

“Aw, man,” Kirishima says, less mildly this time as he eyes the boy’s tiny, purple head.

“We should kill him now and then pretend it was the villains who kidnapped us,” Ashido suggests.

Bakugou jolts at the suggestion, looking inordinately horrified.

“Do not fucking kill that shitstain,” he squawks, chains rattling. “Just tie him to a tree in the middle of nowhere or something!”

Ashido hums.

“Enough,” says the man in the black tengu mask.

“Precisely,” Iida says, before whipping his head around. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“He’s been there the whole fucking time,” Bakugou drawls, finally calming down now that the threat of Mineta’s imminent demise has been eliminated. He’s eyeing the stranger with a sharp, calculating look.

“I have,” the masked man confirms helpfully, stepping out of the shadowy corner of the room. In his hand, he twirls a syringe filled with an ominously shimmering brown substance. “For top students of Japan’s finest heroics institution, your observation skills leave much to be desired. Of course, that is the reason I’ve brought you here today… to make a statement to the public. Our taxpayer money—”

“So this is the monologue part,” Sero mutters, tugging his wrists apart until the chains binding them pull taut. He turns to Bakugou. “Was the League this bad?”

“Worse,” the blond mutters, still eyeing the monologuing villain, whose syringe glints in the dim light of the room.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” the man says, sensing that he’s losing his audience. “I am Anzen, and in this syringe, I hold a slow-acting neurotoxin. I’m about to inject it into the lucky student of my choice, and that student will have three hours before the neurotoxin destroys so much of their nervous system that it will permanently impair their brain function, and another hour before they die. I have sent my ransom notice to UA. If they meet my requirements within this time, I’ll administer the antidote. If not…” he trails off, tapping a finger against the body of the syringe demonstratively.

There’s silence.

Anzen wilts a little when his hostages look largely unphased by this development.

“So basically you’re saying we’ve got three hours before anything actually happens,” Kaminari says boredly, clinking his chains against the floor with a dull rhythmic clang.

“So much for karaoke,” Ojiro adds morosely.

“I must object to this detention!” Iida cries, attempting to raise his hand in the air only for the chains to pull tight and stop him mid-way. Even he seems relatively unconcerned by the situation, if not somewhat indignant at the impropriety. “I am sure that there are more diplomatic means to resolve this issue!”

“Resolve?” Anzen echoes bitterly. “My hard-earned taxpayer money goes to your fancy hero school, only for you to graduate and destroy more property, which will inevitably require repairs which are funded by even more taxp—”

“If you require assistance in lodging a tax return or claiming insurance costs on damage to your personal property, I am happy to aid you,” Iida says, looking vaguely judgmental.

Anzen splutters. “I don’t need a kid to help me lodge taxes!” he insists.

“But you require us to die to… prove a point to the government?” Yaoyorozu interjects, looking just as disapproving as her classmate.

The man’s neck is rapidly turning an interesting shade of crimson under the mask. “Forget it,” he snaps, pacing backward. “Forget it. Fucking brats. I’ll just inject you and be done with it. From there, the ball is in UA’s court.”

He spins back on his heel, appraising them with dark eyes. “I don’t even know which of you to pick when you’re all so insufferable. Hell, I wish I’d brought more syringes…”

Somehow, the only student who seems phased by the threat is Bakugou. In fact, in contrast to Anzen, he’s been steadily paling over the span of several minutes.

“Wait,” he says when Anzen nears the group. “You can’t seriously be planning to stick one of us with that.”

Anzen huffs lowly. “Finally,” he rasps. “Someone who’s taking this seriously.”

“Dude, chill,” Kaminari says, nudging the other blond with his foot. “Three hours. Aizawa-sensei will find us by then, no sweat.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou snaps, not taking his eyes from the syringe. For a brief moment, his gaze flickers away to a spot behind Anzen, before returning back to the brown liquid. “Keep that shit away from us, dickhead.”

“No,” Anzen says gleefully. “In fact, I think you’re my lucky student for the night!”

Bakugou, impossibly, pales further.

“Besides,” the man sings as he crouches down by the blond’s side. “It’s like your little pest of a friend said: you have three hours. If your school is as good as you say, then no harm will come upon you.”

He flicks the syringe once with his index finger, holding it upright.

“Yeah, if the fucking antidote works,” Bakugou snaps, leaning away.

Anzen freezes.

“What?”

“I said I don’t trust you and your second-rate Bachelor’s in Biomedical Science. Keep that shit away from my fucking body.”

“It’s a Masters degree,” the man says indignantly, before jolting. “How the fuck—”

“It would be a Masters if you’d graduated,” Bakugou glares. “You dropped out when your supervisor wouldn’t clear your thesis.”

The syringe slips out of Anzen’s hand, clattering in the newly-established silence of the room.

“You,” he breathes. “Who the hell…”

Bakugou eyes the fallen syringe, relaxing imperceptibly. The apprehension in his expression is replaced with his usual smug irritation.

“Must be humiliating,” he hums. “Seven months on a formula, just for the antidote to fail.”

Anzen flinches.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps.

“You thought you had it the second time,” the blond powers on, looking vaguely amused now. “Miwa got better at first, and you thought you’d done it. But she was dead by morning.”

The room falls silent, Anzen’s laboured panting filling the empty space.

“No,” he says tremulously.

“Yes,” Bakugou says ruthlessly. “She trusted you. And you still haven’t got it, have you? The third trial turned out even worse, because you fucked up the neurotoxin so bad that Yoko was dead by the first hour, before you even got to give her the antidote. You still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing.”

He leans forward until his chains rattle, crimson eyes glowing almost amber in the yellowing light.

“Does it keep you up at night?” he asks, voice hushed. “What you’ve done, I mean.”

“No,” Anzen says again, voice cracking.

“It doesn’t?”

“Don’t.”

“It should,” the boy continues, lips curling at the seams to bare glinting teeth. “They haven’t forgiven you. And you haven’t forgiven yourself, have you? That’s why you keep it.”

“I don’t,” Anzen insists childishly, voice sounding wet.

“You do,” Bakugou says gently, a predatory gleam to his eyes. “See?”

And then, precariously, the seams of Anzen’s shirt collars part, and a rusted golden chain lifts from around his neck. The man’s head tilts downward, watching as an empty glass test tube, hanging from the chain by a jump ring through its stopper, raises ominously in the air without any support.

Anzen makes a small, pathetic noise in the back of his throat.

“They haven’t forgiven you, Takeo,” Bakugou whispers softly.

Like the words are a physical blow, Anzen veers backward blindly, before toppling over thin air and sprawling onto the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “I’m sorry, I’m s—sorry. I thought I had it, I swear, I didn’t mean—”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Bakugou says conversationally, smiling kindly at the blubbering man. “You’re going to let us go. Aren’t you?”

“Y—yes.”

“And then you’re going to turn yourself in.”

Anzen sniffles, voice cracking around a wet, gasping inhale.

“You’re going to turn yourself in, Takeo,” Bakugou repeats patiently.

“I’m g—going to. To turn mys—self in,” the man echoes.

The blond nods serenely. “Any day now, buddy.”

Anzen jerks, stumbling to his feet and turning to fumble with a set of keys at his hip.

The room lapses back into silence, punctuated only by Anzen’s pathetic sniffling and the clink of the keys.

“Um,” Kirishima says weakly from behind Bakugou. “So, like.”

“I knew it,” Todoroki whispers. “You really can see them, then.”

Bakugou exhales slowly, before turning to blink at the boy guilelessly. “See what?”

“Dead people!”

Bakugou stares at him for a long moment, before turning his gaze to the rest of his classmates, who are watching him with wide, awed eyes.

Behind him, the air flickers with a shimmering, grey form.

“Stop it, Tsubasa,” the blond snaps without turning back to face the sight. The space flickers once more, before the disturbance settles.

“Tsu—whu? Tsubasa like the kid who died in the fourth grade?! Kacchan—!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Bakugou interrupts Midoriya lightly, returning his attention to Todoroki. “My quirk is explosions. See?”

As if to punctuate his point, he raises the hand that Anzen has just freed, sparking off a small detonation in his palm.

“But—” Todoroki says plaintively.

“Dead people,” Bakugou echoes, snickering to himself. “You really are weird, Todoroki.”

He rises to his feet, brushing off his pants, and ambles out of the room.

#this was. checks doc. 2866 words long #u are welcome anon who is totally not papaya #today we've learned i'm incapable of being serious for longer than maybe thirty seconds #i'm also incapable of writing bkg like anything BUT a little bitch #this was super fun to write!!#bunny's drabbles

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poursomesunaonme · 2 years

Text

savor (sequel to friends, just friends)

pairing: eren x fem!reader

summary: eren struggles to keep his feelings for you under control, but your seemingly new relationship makes it impossible.

wc: 4.3k

cw: nsfw, minors dni (only 18+ allowed to interact, please have age in your bio/easily accessible on your blog), jealous eren misreads a situation of course, incredibly emo simpage coming from an angry jealous man child, heavy sprinkle of angst, a little verbal fight, a foot fetish by accident ?, a little biting, oral (fem receiving), marking, use of “baby,” vaginal fingering, teasing, pussyjob, sex without condom, the L word, creampie, incredibly soft sex <333

a/n: been in the works a little too long, but i hope u lovely people enjoy <33 as always, reblogs/comments/asks are always appreciated. shoutout to my lovely @mitsuyuhhh and @bimboboobafina for being the best betas and making me giggle with ur comments <333

the stream of people push past eren as they exit the classroom. his eyes search the crowd, only focused on finding you despite the bodies winding around him. earlier that day, he had agreed to walk you home since mikasa was home sick and she would usually accompany you back to your shared apartment. just a favor. isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?

the events that occurred earlier in the day quickly made him regret his decision, however. he can’t help but clench his fists as he remembers. since he didn’t have class, eren’s plan was to study in a coffee shop for the morning before meeting you. he had even decided to pick you up a treat before he left. it wasn’t very often that he would do things like that for you, but he had been feeling a bit nicer lately. after all, isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?

maybe you weren’t friends after all; because if anything, that morning, eren came to realize that what friends don’t do is keep secrets from each other. surely, that guy that you had been with in the café when he arrived was just some other friend that you had completely forgotten to tell him about. surely, eren was just overthinking a meeting between two acquaintances.

a meeting between two acquaintances that touch each other so familiarly. he remembers how you spoke with him. how you laughed almost every time his lips moved. how your eyes sparkled like you were in love. it was so obvious, even through the tinted window.

no, it couldn’t have been just a friend. eren tries to swallow past the lump in his throat to no avail.

no matter how hard eren tries to convince himself, it was blatantly obvious that you had acquired some kind of friend, just from what he had see . your touch had lingered on his arm. that sight lingers still in eren’s mind. it was the kind of touch you used to give him.

he refuses to admit it to himself, refuses to accept the reality that your relationship is on the verge of switching into another phase of the cycle, the one where you don’t hook up for a few weeks because you’re seeing other people. the one where you choke down the pill that your meetings are finite, that your feelings aren’t as strong as you want them to be.

however, both of you know that it isn’t true. your feelings are strong enough. it’s the lack of courage that buries those feelings so deep that you suffer as you watch the other find another hookup.

eren thinks that maybe he could text his previous girl, the one that he was seeing before the two of you left the movie night at jean’s to get together. yeah, he could find solace between her legs like he usually does, pretending that some mediocre hookup is as good as something with you that could basically make him cum on the spot just thinking about it.

no.

because eren dwells on how you looked with that other guy. and if he hates to admit that you were seeing him romantically, there’s something about it that he hates to admit infinitely more.

that he wants it to be him.

he hears you call his name and you meet his gaze with a bright smile, jogging up to him. he can’t help the soft smile that rises to his lips when you greet him cheerfully, hair falling from the style you had put it in to keep it out of your face while you paid attention during lecture.

however, when you adjust your bag on your shoulder and mention the fact that you’re craving a treat even though you already had one when you went to the cafe that morning, he can’t stop himself from picturing the scene that boils his blood. he doesn’t want to seem like a dick, but he can’t exactly forget it either. so he turns away and starts to walk briskly towards your apartment, ignoring your teasing about how mad he looks.

he wants to be kind, he really does, but he knows that until he can own up to his feelings, he’s just gonna be a jealous bystander for the rest of his miserable existence.

you seemed so happy with that other guy.

you look miserable when he shifts his gaze over to you.

maybe it’s for the best. but only for you.

because unfortunately for him, you’re on eren’s mind constantly. you’re all he can think and breathe. every night, he’s rolled over on his stomach, scrolling through your social media like he’s absolutely fucking whipped. he knows he is.

every thought has some tie to you, always leads to you. every conversation that he has with anyone else ends up with your name in it. every time he passes a store, he always finds something that he thinks you would like. everything reminds him of you. it’s only a matter of time that he can ignore it, let it go unspoken.

what he braces for more, however, is the next time he sees that guy, maybe even in the pictures on your social media that he’s constantly looking at.

thankfully, for the next two weeks, it doesn’t come.

but the feelings that he has for you stay the same. in fact, they swell up bigger and bigger with each passing day.

you shouldn’t have such a hold on him when he was the one that insisted on staying friends with benefits. he knows that it’s basically impossible for such a relationship to evolve into something more. but he can’t exactly admit to himself that made a home in his heart the second he laid eyes on you.

he knows that trying to prolong a shallow relationship is a mistake. he knows he’s scared.

and that’s exactly why he breaks, why he’s banging on your door, why there’s an outgoing call from his phone to yours in case you’re not home. but you hear him like he’s someone trying to break into your house.

you open the door, eyes wide with fear, but you soften when you see him. “eren, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“i… uh…” his mouth goes dry when the opportunity to confess to you is finally granted. you still, seeing a strange expression on his face, one that you’ve seen before but don’t quite understand. eren shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath before leaning to the side to peer around the door to see if anyone else is around.

his heart falls when he sees that guy sitting in your living room, watching the scene unfold from behind his laptop.

eren’s whole world whirls upside down. his heart shatters.

you watch it happen - watch his face fall, the corners of his mouth turn into a frown, his eyes shimmer.

eren knows that it should be him. he should be the one lounging on your couch, the one that stays in your bed till the morning. it should be eren’s hands holding yours, eren’s lips on yours, eren’s body entangled with yours. it should be eren’s heart in your hands.

“eren, we’re just studying,” you say preemptively, taking a step forward to push him out of the door, to isolate him, before he does something he’ll regret. but he puts a hand on your shoulder, stilling you.

“get out.”

the man on the couch hesitates, closing his laptop in case he needs to defend himself or even you from the crazy man in the doorway.

“get out.” eren’s repetition doesn’t go unanswered this time.

the man gets up, starting to put his laptop in his backpack, ever so slowly as to not incense eren further. “look man, i don’t want any trouble.”

“did you hear me?” eren shoves past you, shoulder hitting you like a brick wall. your mouth is dry and you try to ignore the pounding in your heart as eren towers over your poor friend.

“sorry,” he murmurs, packing the rest of his things and dashing out of the door before eren can utter another syllable.

“who’s that?” eren turns to you. your fists ball at your sides. anger boils up within you. his demeanor had changed so quickly when he had faced you. his entire body had relaxed.

“what’s your fucking problem, eren?” you yell, pushing against his chest with your hands. you barely move him an inch. “he’s a friend from one of my classes. i’ve been falling behind recently and he’s been helping me study to catch up.”

his heart skips a beat, the realization of the misread situation hitting him like a bag of bricks. the adrenaline racing through his veins begins to wane, leaving him embarrassed and ashamed. he lowers his head, avoiding your gaze.

“so…” eren trails off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

you laugh past the frustrated tears that gather in the corners of your eyes. “no, dummy.”

the two of you stand together for a moment, in silence. your gazes find each other easily. he wants to ask if you can feel the industrial grade magnet that draws him to gravitate towards you.

instead, he doesn’t say anything, as usual. you take him by the hand and lead him to the couch. you sit down, patting the seat. eren doesn’t make a move to join you. he tucks his chin to his chest, hiding his face.

“are you okay?” you ask.

no, eren is not okay. he feels so dumb, like he’s never had a thought in his life. he wants to tell you that everything he’s ever wanted has been right in front of him the entire time. he wants to tell you how much of a coward he’s been since he’s known you, ever since mikasa invited you to the friend group from one of her classes. he wants to tell you that it’s always been you, no matter how many times he tried to drown his feelings in between other girls’ legs.

the man who stands so tall suddenly feels smaller than an ant. his knees buckle and he crumbles down in tears at how deplorable he seems. the feelings overwhelm him in too great a number, spurred by something he can’t fathom. if it’s anything, it’s you. he can’t help but soften into a pool of mush when it’s just you. you make him feel so much no matter how hard he tries to stifle those emotions. but even so, it happens often, how he lets his heart get the best of him when he’s ruminating by himself. but here, all that negativity gets beaten away by your soft hands.

it’s not just helplessness and guilt over cowardice - it’s how the fury at that other guy fades at an alarming rate when eren clutches at your thighs to steady himself. he needs something to blame his inactiveness for, but there’s something about you that brings brutal honesty and clarity to his tumultuous emotions. sure, he can be mad on his own, but he can’t ever stay mad when he’s with you. his hands may itch to beat in the face of whatever guy you choose to associate with, but he couldn’t ever think of hurting you. even though that’s all he’s ever done. maybe that would be the next excuse he makes up for not asking to make you his.

seeing him fall apart, you lift yourself off the couch, settling down on the floor next to him. he basically falls into your chest, hands grasping at your arms as you wrap him into a tender embrace. he shakes against you. it’s almost scary to see him like this. so helpless.

eren allows himself to melt into you.

your body is warm. you smell like you always do. he can hear your heartbeat directly in his ear and he wishes with all his might that it beats for him and only him.

he buries his head in your chest, pulling you closer and closer before he gets so intoxicated on the contact that he can’t help the words from spilling out of his mouth.

“i don’t want to see you with anyone else anymore.”

your heart skips a beat. you know he feels it. your hands begin to shake. but you steel your resolve and bite back a laugh when you take his cheeks in your palms and lift his head to face you. “eren, what’re you-”

“i can’t fucking do this anymore!,” he nearly shouts. “i want you. i want to be with you. please.”

you think you might catch flies with how your jaw hangs slack. but there’s a tenderness in which you suddenly feel you need to treat him. you brush a stray strand of hair out of his face, gently trailing a finger down his cheek. he shudders at the contact. “eren, i-”

he holds up a hand to stop you. “just - don’t say anything. it’s okay if you don’t agree. i’ve just felt this way for a while. i - god - it’s been unbearable seeing you around with him and i just-”

your lips cut him off. the kiss is like magic. you’re soft and warm and he smiles when your arms wrap around him again. you pull him closer and closer until your bodies may as well be considered conjoined.

the next thing you know, his arms tangle around you. he lifts you up, stumbling over couches to fumble for the door handle to your room.

the two of you don’t even make it to the bed before a knock rings out.

“a little warning would be nice next time!” mikasa yells through the door. you and eren pull back and share a laugh as you listen to her and armin’s retreating footsteps. you sigh with relief when the front door closes, leaving the two of you alone for some long-awaited privacy.

eren doesn’t hesitate to meet your lips again. the kisses are soft, but you can feel the desperation behind them. you feel the desire that eren has for you, all those emotions that had been pent up for so long that he’s kept bottled down for months and months upon end.

when he undresses you, it’s slow, deliberate. he gently pushes you onto the bed with a sly smile, one that says “i’ve finally got what i want and i’m going to savor it.” his lips trail over your hands, your forearms, your biceps, your shoulders. he takes off your shirt and unclasps your bra. he kisses your neck, your collarbones, your décollatage. he takes off your shorts and kisses down your stomach, your legs, all the way to your feet.

trailing his lips back up your legs, he spreads them, marveling at how the feast is laid out just for him. he presses a long, tender kiss to your clit.

you shudder before pulling yourself away and scrambling over the bed to lay yourself across the pillows, allowing eren to join you on the bed instead of kneeling on the floor. he smiles up at you, tying his hair up into a bun before wrapping his arms around your thighs. his lips ghost along the sensitive skin, pressing soft kisses and gentle nips to it like he owns it.

he takes his sweet time, letting his mouth cover every inch of your inner thighs before marveling at your cunt. he nearly busts in his pants when his tongue trails over your leaking slit, drooling over just how delicious you are. he groans at the taste of you.

your legs close around his head. the bottoms of your feet skim over the muscles of his back. he doesn’t move an inch closer and it drives you insane, his breath is hot and heavy against your pussy.

“i want you, eren,” you whisper, tangling your fingers in his hair. it’s maddening, how the only pressure you feel is hot air when all you want is him. “i want you and only you.”

“say it again.”

“what?” your heart skips a beat.

“my name.”

“er-eren!” the one whispered syllable becomes a desperate plea when his lips close around your clit. he sucks on the throbbing bud, right where you need him. you melt on his tongue like a pad of butter.

while eren gorges himself on the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, you pull him closer by the hair. the smooth locks easily tumble from the elastic and leave you to brush them back out of his face so they don’t get in the way of him pleasuring you.

when they aren’t rounding to accommodate your pulsating bundle of nerves, his lips curl into a sly grin at his name pouring from your lips. as if he was the one receiving, deep, throaty moans rumble through your core and across your sensitive inner thighs.

a few times, he comes up for air. at the sight of you toying with your perky nipples, his green eyes light with a carnal flame of desire. he’s determined to touch, to kiss, to nip every inch of your skin - so by the time he catches his breath before diving face first into your pussy again, your upper thighs are covered in sweet little bite marks and hickeys.

before you can utter another syllable of his name, two fingers slide into your soaking cunt. your thighs thrash around his head, threatening to crush it before you can experience the fulfilling high of being with someone who finally knows how you feel, and vice versa. eren merely laughs, encircling a thigh with a free hand and gently prying it off of him so that he has more free range to ravish your cunt.

his breath is hot, lips sticky, a shimmery sheen adorning the lower half of his face. you can never, ever get accustomed to the sight of him nestled so comfortably between your legs. it’s so natural, it’s like he’s born to do it.

after fumbling around your tongue that had become lead in the approach of climax, you finally whine out his name as those blissful waves of pleasure take over your body. eren groans into your pussy, exponentially increasing your high. your legs tremble against his shoulders, toes curling as you press your feet into his back to bring him closer. he’s mumbling something you can’t quite understand with his mouth full; you can only imagine that it’s the sweetest praise for his sweetest love.

when he finally eats his fill, he flashes you a bright smile before slinking up your body to reach your lips. trailing kisses all the way up your stomach, your breasts, your collarbones, your neck, your jaw, you think you might die before he reaches your mouth. the sweet taste of you is still on his lips when he finally presses them to yours.

you moan against him, at the feeling of him lining himself up with you. he teases you relentlessly, sliding the tip in between your folds to lube him up before he truly makes love to you. your name falls off his lips like a prayer, having him nearly shaking when he hadn’t even pushed in yet.

his hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he beholds your face, your mouth ajar in anticipation of moaning when he sinks into you.

“you ready?” he breathes. you nod, biting your lip before he shifts forward. the stretch of the tight ring of muscles begs your eyes rolling back into your head, but you’re too entranced by eren to obey. his jaw muscles tighten before his mouth hangs open in a shaky breath, eyebrows furrowing. you’re sure that your face mirrors his. you gaze at each other for the first few initial thrusts before your lips collide.

there’s nothing that beats the feeling of him softly groaning into your mouth, his slow, deep strokes reaching places that they previously never had. your legs wrap around him almost immediately, locking him in close proximity so that he won’t leave too soon. something deep in you reminds you that he won’t, however.

every few moments, eren pulls back to take in the sight of you, hair splayed across the pillows, lips throbbing and covered in spit - and he finds that you’re the most beautiful creature that has ever graced the earth. he can’t help but smile back at your gentle grins before diving in to taste you once again.

“tell me…” he starts after hesitating for a moment. one of his hands cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek before it travels down your body, slowly tracing a pattern that draws gooseflesh on your skin. his lustful eyes grow lucid, just for a second. “tell me that nobody touches you like me.”

“‘ren, c’mon,” you tease, but after finding that his serious expression doesn’t fade, you give in. it’s your turn to cup his face, to brush back the strands of hair that fall into it. “nobody touches me like you, eren.”

“now - fuck - now…” his thrusts falter for a moment, but continue. “tell me that nobody fucks you like i do.”

you let out a slight grin, starting to trail your nails over his biceps, his chest. “nobody, not a single person, fucks me like you do, eren.”

as if to emphasize your point, you pull him in, pull him impossibly deeper. sparked by your validation, he picks up the pace faster than he had gone the entire night, hammering into your hips. he doesn’t lean down to your lips, entranced by the way your tits bounce in response to his hips slamming into yours. your moans are music to his ears and have gotten him impossibly hard.

“talk to me,” he whimpers, stooping to close his lips around the soft skin of your neck. you recoil against the low, ticklish vibrations scattering along your nerves.

there are so many things to say, so many events, feelings to process, facts to establish. but if there’s anything that you’re sure of in this moment, in the moment where eren’s thrusts hit deeper and deeper with each rotation, in the moment where there is literally no other place you would rather be, all you can say is

“i want you.” your exhale is just barely enunciated. the infinite thoughts dedicated to the man plowing into your hips are just too much to bear, too much to articulate, besides

“i need you.” it’s deprived, desperate, punctuated by your fingers tangling into his hair, by his twitching in your gushing warmth. it’s lewd, the moans that follow, the ones that he swallows as his lips meet yours, before

“i love you.”

he gasps in the minute pause that he had allowed you before his lips meet yours again. if there’s anything about eren, it’s that he seems so vast to you. he had already surrounded you, was everything you tasted, touched, smelled - and now, he seems to have expanded infinitely. he envelopes your entire heart, your entire being.

it’s as if god himself reached down and touched your heart, igniting it into a brilliant blaze. his fingers laced with yours on either side of your head, effectively pinning you under his love.

the darkness hums around the both of you with an unspoken energy, waiting for eren to acknowledge verbally what you had just unleashed onto him. he doesn’t say anything, at least for a few seconds that drag onto years.

maybe it’s a mistake ruining the relationship that you pursue with him. is it sustainable? absolutely not. will it last forever? as is, no.

could you go on another second without telling him? you prefer death.

in the midst of your dissonance, eren’s kiss on your searing forehead is the cooling rag that breaks your fever.

“i love you.” the whisper is shaky, scared, but you understand. there’s a dark pit of unknown splayed out in front of the two of you, something that you hadn’t been able to come to terms with over the last countless months.

however, as his thrusts change in accord with his expression, becoming more passionate, traveling deeper, as his hands envelop and tighten around your own, your fear dissipates. there’s nothing to worry about, nothing standing in the way of your and eren’s happiness. it’s stupid, really, how long it took for the two of you to swallow your pride and confess. but now that the words have been spoken, there’s no doubt in your minds that you hold each other's hearts.

in the flurry before the sex began, eren didn’t have the brainpower to consider a condom. you had known that he wasn’t wearing one. you find it funny that it seems like an afterthought now. the conversation you had with him at the last hookup rang in your mind.

“cum inside,” you whimper, holding eren’s face in the crook of your shoulder. he moans at the phrase, nearly finishes at the thought of filling you up, the white substance leaking out of you. “make me yours… cum inside. please, ‘ren.”

he fumbles with his words, head so hazy that he can barely think straight. “c’mon baby, be mine. be my girl. love you so much ‘n want you to be mine.”

“‘mkay,” you whisper, smiling at him as he pulls back to kiss you again. each thrust earns a heavy groan as the two of you draw closer and closer to finishing.

when his cock twitches a final time and you begin to feel double the warmth from his climax and your own bliss, those three words leave your mouth only to be immediately devoured by eren’s and returned tenfold.

the exchange of “i love you” continues further and further into the night, past each high, past each rest, past each kiss, touch, breath.

taglist: @princess-jaeger @galactict3a @ob-levi-on @pink-apples001 @missyasma @leiriswhore @killerbananas @sinspookie @aengelren

#eren x reader #eren x you #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren smut #🪐beanie writes!#attack on titan smut

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