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flemingsfreckles · 2 months

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Be a Good Teammate

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader

Words: 3.4k

Preview: After Jessie misses her penalty in the Gold Cup semi final, she’s found practicing kicks by her old friend and college teammate.

Warnings: some cursing, a little angst, but nothing else too crazy.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in maybe 4-5 years. Recently fallen back into reading and then watching the Canada/US game sparked some inspiration and here we are writing again.

You could hear her before you saw her. You had come out of the dressing room well after the rest of your teammates. They hardly showered just throwing on fresh clothes in a rush to begin their celebration for moving on to the finals of the Gold Cup. The stadium had fallen silent with the exception of a faint noise coming from the far end of the tunnel toward the pitch.

It was the repetitive sound of a ball being kicked followed shortly by the swish of the net. One after the next, boot on ball, swish of the net, boot on ball swish of the net. Working like a clock, a perfect machine, that was until the sound of the net was replaced by the ringing of the crossbar and the frustration of the kicker.

“Stupid fucking penalty” a frustrated voice rang out. The sound of the voice halted your steps, you knew that voice. Jessie. You quickly recognize the voice as your former best friend and UCLA teammate. Once you hear her, you quickly realized what was happening.

You’d seen her do this when you played together, anything from missed headers, missed passes, missed shots, and now with missed penalties. Jessie was known for being a hard worker, her focus and determination was admirable by her teammates and led her to earning the right to wear the captain's armband. She pushed herself to be better and while it was that mentality that turned her into one of Canada’s best, it also came with a whole other side.

She was hard on herself, more so than anyone else, and she took it to extremes. You had watched in college as she would spend hours watching film of her mistakes, tearing her performances apart, nitpicking every step she took. Criticizing every mistake to the point of obsession. One bad touch or one missed scoring opportunity would cloud her brain, unable to focus on anything else until she could fix that mistake, that mistake was all that would matter to Jessie.

“Be a good teammate to yourself Jessie.” Those were the words you told her constantly in college when you’d find her overworking herself. Running extra laps after an already grueling practice. Taking extra shots after a game, refusing to stop the repetitions until they were in her eyes, perfect. “Treat yourself how you treat all your other teammates, you support us, you provide positive corrections, you're kind. Talk to yourself the same way you talk with me or anyone else on this team, be a good teammate to yourself.”

And that’s how you knew exactly what Jessie was doing out on that field. She was retaking her penalty from earlier in the game, the one she had kicked into the arms of your team’s goalkeeper, letting the young and your teammates erupt in celebration behind her as she walked with her head down to her team’s bench.

Now you are stuck with your brain telling you to let her be, she’s not going to want to see you, especially on a night like tonight. Just go celebrate with your teammates, you thought.

You and Jessie had been close in college, so close most of your teammates were convinced you two were secretly dating. And to be fair to them, you wish you’d made a move on Jessie but you didn’t. Too worried about losing your friend and still trying to figure out yourself in the process. Now your college days were years behind you and you both moved away after graduation to play professionally, her with Chelsea and now in Portland and you with Bayren Munich and more recently with Seattle.

Your communication with your former best friend had rapidly declined over the years, you both got caught up in your new lives, new clubs, and Jessie had gotten a girlfriend. It wasn’t public information at the time but you were close enough that she shared the news, gushing about the girl over one of your nightly phone call. You knew deep down that girl is what pushed you away. Even though you knew it was never going to work out between you and Jessie, it didn’t make hearing about her new girl any less painful.

So you pulled back, with going from long facetime calls, to short catch ups, to texts. It seemed mutual as Jessie followed suit reaching out less frequently. She figured you were busy and had forgotten about her, seeing you make new friends in your new teams. These days you were lucky if you saw a “nice game” “congrats on the win” or even “happy birthday” come across your phone from the Canadian.

No bad blood stood between you two that she was aware of, except for maybe right now as you stood wearing the crest of the team that had just ended her tournament hopes.

While your brain was telling you to head for the parking lot and leave, forgetting you heard her taking the shots, your heart refused to let your feet move in any direction but toward the pitch. As you turned the corner she came into view. The bright white 17 with FLEMING printed neatly across the back of her red jersey became visible as you watched her set up her next round of shots.

Now you were frozen again, standing just inside the edge of the pitch, only your eyes moving, watching as she placed a ball, moved backward, took a deep breath and took the shot. It sailed into the upper left of the net. You watched as Jessie once again stepped back to ready herself, having already placed the next ball while you were watching her first one go in the net. Again she took a breath and fired into the net. She continued just as you had heard her before, booting the ball into the net. Over and over and over.

The stadium that had previously been filled with fans shouting, coaches calling out, music, liveliness was now eerily silent, just the sound of Jessie methodical work taking place. You weren’t even sure how long you had been standing there watching her, you’d maybe seen her take 10 or 12 shots, all screaming into the back of the net. The systematic movement and sound had lulled you into zoning out, only snapped back into reality when you realized the noise had stopped.

Jessie was moving toward the goal, collecting all the balls she had kicked, only now you could hear her mumbling to herself. Unable to make out what she was saying, you watched as she continued moving all the balls back to start her drill once again. She had turned around, her face more visible to you, eyes still down looking at the balls she was kicking. You could see her cheeks were still bright red and her skin was shiny with sweat, or maybe it was rain. Her mumbling had turned into her regular voice, allowing you to make out every couple of words.

“idiot…if I just made it… don’t deserve this…” You watched her rip the captain's armband from her bicep, throwing it aside.

You felt your chest grow tight, seeing and hearing Jessie so angry at herself was painful. She was the kindest soul, she had been your first friend at school and one of the only ones who stuck around through all 4 years. the only thing she didn’t deserve is to feel this way about her performance.

Maybe i should leave, you thought, let her work through this, she’ll be okay with some time, how much can you really help at this point, it’s over, there’s no point in making her more upset and,

“FUCK” Jessie’s voice intrudes into your thoughts as she punts the last ball with such anger that instead of landing just outside the box like the rest, she sends it sailing, landing only a couple of feet from you. You look at the ball rolling toward your feet, being slowed greatly by the wet grass.

“Sorry,” Jessie hollers with a wave and a different, more polite tone in her voice. She begins jogging over to you, “I didn’t realize they were coming to do pitch maintenance already, I’ll pack up and go-“ she starts to ramble as you realize she hasn’t noticed that it’s you who is standing in front of her.

You move your eyes down at the grass, kicking some up unsure of what to do now while you wait for her to reach you and realize you’re in fact not the maintenance crew.

“What are you doing here?” Her accusatory tone returns and you look up to meet her eyes. Just as you’d seen from across the field her cheeks remained bright red, a layer of sweat making her whole face shine. Her lips are slightly parted and her breathing is quick. Her brown eyes that you used to stare at everyday are now puffy, as though she shed some tears following the game and you can’t help but stare for a second at her black eye. She cocks her head at you and you realize she’s waiting for an answer.

“Um, I just… I heard you. And I just wanted to check on you,” you realize you should’ve spent some of the time you were watching her kick thinking of what to say to her.

“I don’t need your pity party,” Jessie scoffs at you “don’t you have some celebrating to do?”

“I’m not here to pity you,” her change in tone makes you get defensive.

“Then what? You’re here to tell me it’s okay? That it’s fine it’s just a penalty, and maybe it feels that way to you,” she stabs her index finger into your chest, her touch surprises you. Both being midfielders you had contact during the game but that was different.

Before you were just the opponent in the same way she was yours, you were aware of her but in that moment she was just Jessie Fleming, a Canada’s midfielder who you needed to get the ball from. Now she was Jess, the girl you were roommates with, the girl whose shoulder you fell asleep on during a long travel day, the girl who you tutored in calculus while she in return tutored you in physics. Her whole face now just inches from yours. You share a similar height with the midfielder, leaving you eye to eye. You can feel her breath as she continues.

“You made your penalty, and you don’t have to wear the armband, you don’t have to sit with the expectation of never missing a penalty, but I do. And you didn’t let your whole team down, I did. So maybe it seems like not a big deal to you because you’re not the one going home!”

You feel like sinking into one of the puddles on the grass, this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have bothered her. Before you can think of something to say Jessie starts again.

“Nothing? You have nothing to say to me? Then again, why did you come out here? To gloat? Because last time I checked, we’re not even friends anymore and that’s no fault of mine, that was all you, you ignored me, so why even bother? Just leave me alone, go away.”

Her words telling you that she doesn’t even consider you a friend anymore, sting. Sure it was nowhere near like it was before but you still would classify Jessie as a friend. You have every urge to tell her the truth, that you couldn’t stand seeing her with someone else and to protect yourself you took a step back. You wanted to tell her you never meant for it to silence your relationship, you just wanted to respect hers and that meant distancing yourself. Instead, you opted with the easy way out, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” her brown eyes roll as she turns away from you.

“Jess, wait,” the short form of her name falling out of your mouth on accident. Hoping she’ll stay, you reach out grabbing her wrist preventing her from turning all the way away from you.

“I promise I didn’t come here to give you pity, honestly I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” You feel her shake your grasp from her wrist but instead of leaving she turns back facing you. “I just, I heard you and, I,” You try looking into her eyes but she’s staring at her hands that are fidgeting with the hem of her jersey.

“You already said that.” Jessie cuts you off

“I know, I know, I just,” you bring your hands up to cover your eyes rubbing your fingers along your forehead, hoping you’ll be able to squeeze the right words out of your brain. “I think I wanted to see you.” You admit finally, hoping it’s not too much at the moment.

“We just played 120 minutes against each other, you had plenty of chances to see me.” She throws back at you, her brown eyes still avoiding yours.

You begin to feel a tightness in your throat, a feeling all too familiar to you, making it harder to breathe, you start blinking away the tears that are trying to surface. You’re grateful she isn’t looking at your face. you recognize the same emotions that you felt when she had told you she was in a relationship.

Jessie had been so excited to tell you, and you tried your best to act excited for her, you really did. You had forced yourself to ask questions you really didn’t want to know the answers to. Asking about their first date, first kiss, other firsts, what Jessie liked about her, providing the typical best friend interrogation. What Jessie didn’t know was when she had hung up the phone, telling you she had to go as she was going to spend the night at her girlfriend’s, the tightness had taken over and you burst into tears.

In the moment it didn’t make sense to you, you summed it up to missing her and missing spending time with her. It took a couple months to realize your feelings were ones of jealousy. You wanted to be the girl she spent her nights with. You wanted Jessie to call up Janine and gush about you, not some other girl. And that’s when you started to pull away.

“That’s not the same, I, I just wanted to see you,” you let out a shaky breath, trying to relax before tears spill over, “I miss you.” The words come out as a whisper, almost quiet enough that you hope Jessie didn’t hear and you can move on.

A silence falls between the two of you, Jessie’s fingers are still playing with the hem of her shirt, her eyes glued to them. You look up, staring at what would be a starry night had it not been for the rain clouds covering the sky. It feels like time stops, neither of you moving, no one says anything. You stand there, looking up, while Jessie stands, looking down.

“Why now?” Jessie’s voice cracks, you can’t tell for a second if she’s looking for an answer but she continues on, “You could’ve called, or at least texted.”

“It takes you 3 to 5 business days to respond to a text.” A small laugh comes out as you say the sentence, hoping it’ll lighten the mood.

“I know, but for you,” she pauses slightly, “I would’ve answered in a heartbeat.”

Her words catch you off guard and you swing your head down. You unexpectedly meet Jessie's eyes. She’s got one hand running through her damp hair, the other resting by her side. Her stare feels intense, being under her watch gives you a feeling that sits somewhere between comfort and cowardice.

You’re lost for words, racking your brain for the right thing to say. Part of you says fuck it, tell her you love her, that you want her in every way, tell her you were jealous, you couldn’t stand seeing her with another girl, you want her to be yours and only yours.

The other and far more logical part of you says push it down, you don’t want to scare her off, you want your friend back, even if it means hearing about her girlfriend.

You’re saved from having to make a choice between the angel and devil that split your brain as your phone buzzed and a slew of texts from Lynn and Midge came in. You quickly grab your phone from your sweatpant pocket, turning the ringer off to silence the tone from going off again. You quickly skim the texts which consist of variations of ‘where are you’. You catch the time at the top of your screen realizing the game had ended nearly 2 hours ago. Sure, you had done some media, showered, and changed, but you hadn’t realized how late it was and just how long you had been standing around either watching or talking with Jessie.

“You should probably join them.” Jessie says, almost as if she could see your texts from your teammates asking when you were going to be at the bar.

“Yeah I probably should, I didn’t realize the time. The last thing I need is them sending a search party and finding me with the enemy.” You nudge her with your elbow. She gives you a quick tight lipped smile.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you around?” You add in a raise in your voice in hopes she takes that as an invitation.

“I don’t know,” Jessie pauses, eyebrows creasing as she thinks of what to say next. “It’s just, I’m dealing with a lot right now, moving, captain responsibilities, some personal things. I just don’t know if I can add another thing on my plate right now. Maybe give me some time?” Her response isn’t the one you wanted, but you realize it’s better than a complete shutdown on her end. At least some small part of her was open to letting you back in.

“Of course, I understand the moving countries part, I mean. The rest of your stuff I don’t know about, I mean the personal stuff, and then the captain part.” You find yourself rambling at her. “But yeah that’s fine. I’ll be going.” You point your thumb in the direction of the tunnel.

She turns away, this time you let her walk away. You watch her for a moment before turning yourself and heading back to the tunnel toward your car. Just when you reach the start of the tunnel you hear it again. The sound of Jessie’s boot kicking the ball and the sound of the ball hitting the net. You turn around watching as she grabs another ball between her hands, rolls it around and then bends down to place it.

“Hey Fleming,” you call to her as she releases the ball on the ground and starts to map out her steps. You watch as she turns back over her shoulder locking eyes with you, raising her eyebrows nonverbally acknowledging your call, “Be a good teammate to yourself.”

You carry on to the parking lot, picking up your phone and calling Lynn to let her know you were leaving the stadium now. While you were too distracted on the phone, what you didn’t realize was the absence of the sound of Jessie kicking the ball.

Your words had caught her off guard, she hadn’t heard it in a few years, you last said it to her after she had a rough game at Chelsea. The simple phrase brought back feelings surrounding you that she had pushed down for a while now. She stood, staring at the ball she had just placed, taking a deep breath like she did before every penalty. Only this time, instead of stepping toward the ball with force, she simple walked toward it, picked it up and headed to grab the bag and clean up. She realized she had punished herself enough, the loss still hurt, but with your words and the smile on your face as you said it fresh in her mind, it hurt a little less.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #canwnt #portland thorns #canxnt #woso x reader #woso imagine

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

595 notes · View notes

jaylver · 7 months

Text

YOU BELONG WITH ME — Y.JW

synopsis: The boy next door was practically everyone’s dream. Straight As and top of his class, basketball captain, popular kid with a heart of gold, who wouldn’t want him? Yang Jungwon happened to be him, your childhood best friend who you’ve been pining for almost forever. But how could you compete when you were the complete opposite of his girlfriend? Except that you’ve been there in his life all along, the one who understood most. All you could think was: you belong with me.

pairings: non-idol!jungwon x afab!reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, boy next door + athlete jungwon, romance, very very slight angst, fluff

warning(s): profanities, both are kinda idiots xx

wc: 3445

a/n: yes, this is based on tswift's you belong with me song + mv 💓 (please tell me you're not sick of me and tay atp) tbh this was originally a hee fic (idk why he always inspires a lot of fics for me LMAO) but i wanted to change it up! hope you enjoyed it! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah muah!

You were down bad.

That wasn’t a statement, it was a fact.

Nothing could simply hide the fact that you were down bad and feral for your neighbour. Yes, you heard that right, the neighbour. And no, your neighbour doesn’t happen to be someone who was on the edge of deathbed kind of old, but he was, in fact, the same age as you, which didn’t help the ample amount of delusions that you could actually get him.

Yang Jungwon.

He wasn’t just an average boy next door, he was your childhood friend, who you knew since he moved in when you were six. Naturally, his mum and yours became buddies and it was a big factor in pulling you two together. As you grew older, you and him got closer and were practically stuck to the hip. The downside of highschool and Jungwon looking as though he was personally carved by Greek Gods was that he got popular instantly, while you, on the other hand, was regarded as a simpleton.

To be fair, you get it. Jungwon was a smart guy other than his obvious charming features and particularly those dimples. Gosh. He was a perfect straight As student, a student loved by teachers and his peers. What made him even alluring was his athletic abilities as well. Wasn’t it just cruel to others to be absolutely blessed both academically and athletically? Captain of the basketball team who’ve won many championships and tournaments. Right, you finally understand why you’ve got to fight other girls for him.

High School was hell. Being splitted into either the popular kids or the nerdy kids, you happen to be stuck in the middle. Jungwon was off with his popular bunch and you were with Sim Ja Yun, or Yoon, your platonic soulmate that you found equally dying in Maths class. Without her, you were never surviving this hell hole.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hanging out with Jungwon. Now that you were in two different friend groups, you only got to see him after school or during the weekends. But at least there was a fun part to it, considering how his window faced yours and you two ended up creating this new way of communicating where you would write on either a whiteboard or a piece of paper.

There were ‘how are you’s and ‘good’s and some random rants, most of these ended up being something sentimental to look back to, and they were piled up in a small section in your drawer.

“Did you hear? Jungwon’s dating that popular cheerleader,” Yoon nudged your side, whispering quietly as you two made your way to Chemistry.

“Wonyoung?” you exclaimed, a shocked look on your face.

Jang Wonyoung, the cheer captain of the school, an equivalent of Regina George that practically ran the school without saying. She was the total opposite of you: she wore short skirts, you wore t-shirts; she was cheer captain, you were on the bleachers; she wore high heels, you wore sneakers. How cliche could this be? Of course it had to be the cheer captain and the basketball captain that got together.

Yoon nodded. “Out of everyone, it had to be her. She’s literally known to be a serial cheater.”

Jungwon deserved better. That was all you could think during the entirety of Chemistry. Why didn’t he tell me? Was this new? Countless thoughts filled your mind till the point you swore you were seeing stars. At the end of the day, you concluded it was none of your business, seemingly reaching ‘acceptance’ in the five stages of grief. Maybe this was an actual sign for you to finally stop harbouring a small teeny liking towards Jungwon. Just maybe.

Sitting by the window and staring out into the dark skies completely distracted you from the fact that Jungwon had entered his bedroom right opposite your window. He was the phone, face twisted and expressions screaming out the signs that things didn’t seem to be well. He was yelling something back before hanging up with a sigh and a frustrated ruffle of his hair.

It took a few minutes for him to recollect himself before regaining composure completely. You pretended you didn’t see the whole commotion when he sat on his bed, facing towards you and your window, casting you a smile and waving at you, to which you reciprocated. You couldn’t help noticing the disappointment on his face.

You reached over for your notepad, scribbling on it quickly.

‘You okay?’

His face instantly lit up, beaming happily, contrary to the expression from a minute ago.

It was his turn to write something down on his notepad.

‘Tired of drama.’

You then wrote your reply.

‘Sorry :(’

He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. You wished you could do something to help, but simply, there was nothing.

‘I like—’

You found yourself writing those words of confession unknowingly, as if your hands knew what your mind constantly thought of. You didn’t even finish writing it, you couldn’t. By the time you glanced up, Jungwon was gone and a shade of blue covered his window.

Well, there goes another chance.

It might’ve been a typical Tuesday night, but that wasn’t stopping you from staying up and acting insane. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with your headphones plugged in. The late night was calm and peaceful, no schoolwork, no trouble, no crush to mull over about, you were finally alone and at peace. The upbeat songs blasting into your ears had you jumping from your bed and dancing around, feeling as if you were the only one in the world.

But you weren’t the only one.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon was by his window secretly looking at your dancing figure who mimicked a singer, a smile on his face.

If only you knew.

Sitting alone in your own front yard shouldn’t sound as depressing as it was.

You thought the best self healing method was getting in touch with nature like what those magazines had claimed, but it was only making you seem pathetic to people that drove past. Plus, how could you achieve peace when the person who destroyed it countless times was walking in your direction towards you.

“Hey, hey,” Jungwon greeted, dressed in his worn-out jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hi,” you replied, patting the empty spot next to you.

“You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” he wondered as he sat down, catching a glimpse of the book in your hand.

“I’m pretending to read, but I’d like to say that I am,”

Jungwon laughed in amusement, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll pretend to be impressed,” his dimpled smile never leaving, which persisted in tormenting you, because how could anyone look like that.

He’s got a smile that could light up this whole town. Hell, he was the sun that shone over your measly sad town. The light of your life and the happy pill of everyone else’s life.

It was just a shame that you hadn’t seen it in a while ever since his girlfriend has brought him down. Even though he has reassured you that he was fine many times before whenever you asked, you could tell he wasn’t fully truthful, you know him better than that.

Speaking of his girlfriend, Wonyoung soon pulled up by his house, and he had to eventually say goodbye to you too. Staring at the sight of them being close simply had your stomach turning and twisting, especially when she herself probably knew that you were secretly pining after him. Were you that transparent? Who cares?

As they drove off, you felt your grip on your book loosen, your heart equally dropping.

Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?

It was one of the most important times in the school calendar.

No, not exams. The national basketball competition.

You weren’t a big sports fan, but somehow, this tournament would always rope you in every year, mainly because of the influence around you too. Exhibit A, Jungwon. But other than him, your friends were constant supporters of the school’s basketball team, not to mention, the atmosphere every year would go insane.

The game against the rival school was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t miss. Well, you didn’t have a choice either way. Being in the band team meant you were spending most of your time on the bleachers. Sigh.

On game day, you were there at the basketball court earlier than the scheduled time for final preparations, helping your bandmates around and idling boredly. You didn’t realise someone sneaking up on you until you heard your name being called, startling you and almost had you dropping an instrument.

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” he was in his practice gear, basketball trainers in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you. How’s the performance for tonight?”

“I’m hoping it’ll go well,” you said honestly, feeling uneasy under his intense stare. “I’m hoping your game goes good too,”

“Thank you,” he smiled, and there it was, his dimples. One look and it had you lightheaded. You couldn’t believe he had this effect on you still. “Will you finally treat me to some of your signature cupcakes again if we win?”

“I’ll consider it,”

“Great,” he beamed, a pleased and confident smirk replacing that sweet smile. “I’ll make sure to win it for you then,”

How could he say that and casually bid you goodbye after? Has he got no regard for your sanity whatsoever?

His words continuously occupied your head even when your performance ended and the game started, your focus only trained on his running figure. The score was narrow, time was ticking and Jungwon had one target in mind, dashing towards the hoop and shooting the ball into it. That was the winning point and there was no doubt that the home team had won. You and your bandmates got up cheering, yelling and giving each other’s high fives. You were proud.

The cheerleaders by the court were cheering as well and doing their routine. The sight of Wonyoung caught your attention, her gaze was not on her boyfriend, but on another player. What?

Once the game had ended, the team stayed on court celebrating. You were still on the bleachers, so all you could do was observe the scene unfolding below. Jungwon approached Wonyoung, but what you failed to notice was her standing with the player you saw her eyeing earlier. A fight broke out, a sour expression on Jungwon’s face, betrayal evident. It didn’t take long before he stormed away.

Oh no.

Upon returning home, tired and drained, you saw Jungwon in his room by the window, head hung low staring at his phone. At first, you didn’t know whether to get his attention and ‘talk’ or rather stay silent, but how could you when he seemed like a sad sappy kitten. So, you sent him a text, prompting him to stare up.

‘Hope you’re ok’ you wrote on your notepad.

He gave you a small smile, scribbling something down and holding his notepad up after,

‘I think I am? Whatever :/’

‘I’m here if you need to talk.’

‘Thanks :) you’re the best.’

‘I know’

He laughed at your response, but you continued on.

‘Congrats on your win! Super proud.’

‘Thank you! Does that mean I get my cupcakes now?’

You rolled your eyes, feigning an angry look.

‘Fine >:(’

‘Sweeet. Talk tomorrow? We both need a rest.’

You nodded, and with a last wave from him, he closed his curtains and you did the same. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the clear fight from earlier and you didn’t want to push him either, but the sadness in his eyes told you he wasn’t getting over that easily.

Can’t he see that you were the one who understands him?

Prom, the day you dreaded.

You were adamant on not attending initially, but the convincing from Yoon and your other friends had you eventually caving in. Poor you.

It wasn't like there was no one out there who asked you, you were actually just a great friend who agreed to go with them instead. Besides, men scared you, mostly the ones you didn't know. Not Jungwon, he's an exception, or maybe you were biased.

Once you were done getting ready in your bedroom, you opened your window curtains out of reflex and with purpose, gazing out. There was Jungwon, in his sleek black suit and tie, looking like a graceful prince. Abort, abort, abort—

Too late.

Upon seeing him noticing your figure by your window, it was too late to flee or hide. So, you waved at him, taking your notepad along.

'You look great!'

He smiled once he saw your writing, seemingly relieved and less tensed up.

'Thanks! You're beautiful in that dress. I love it on you.'

You're praying he didn't notice the slight tinge of scarlet on your cheeks from a distance away. Well, unless he has great vision.

Shaking your feelings and thoughts away, you wrote your last message since it was time to leave soon.

'I need to leave soon :( see you tonight?'

He nodded, writing swiftly before showing it.

'Yes! Will see you soon. Have fun :)'

Having fun isn't exactly the expression you would precisely describe how you felt at that hour.

Alright, you found it dumb to get slightly jealous over the fact that Jungwon was with his girlfriend tonight, but you couldn't help mulling over it. You just wanted him, but why couldn't he see that?

Or maybe … you didn't know that he does.

Jungwon, on the other hand, was in the men's restroom, washing his face over and over again. He needed to think.

Breaking up with Wonyoung after the whole fiasco at the basketball game had affected him. Although a month and a half seemed like a short time, it was still a relationship anyway, wasn't it? That's besides the point here.

Jungwon realised he liked you.

He found it douchey especially when he had just gotten out of a relationship, he didn't want you to think that you're some rebound, but he ended up realising his true feelings. Gosh, couldn't the timing be any better?

His childhood friend, number one supporter since the start, you were the one he was in love with, and it was ridiculous he had to go through a long while just to find out his actual thoughts and feelings. It seemed unfair to you.

Rather impulsively, he hit the 'send' button on his message app, asking for you to meet him outside the hotel.

Waiting for him to arrive was nerve-wracking for you. Having not seen him almost the entire night and now he had sent an ominous message to top it all off, it simply didn't come off as nonchalant as he intended it to be.

"Hi," you greeted as he made his way towards you.

"Hey," his eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of you in the prettiest dress, one that complimented you to the brim.

"You … wanted to see me?"

"Oh," a gear clicked in Jungwon's mind. Seeing you had completely malfunctioned him and he almost forgot the task at hand. "Right. This is going to sound in–insane but, here me out,"

"Okay?"

"I like you,"

He likes … you?

Were you tripping or was that genuinely what he'd said?

"I'm so stupid for not realising sooner. You were always there for me, since we were kids till now. At my basketball practices and competitions, I can spot you in the crowd easily, you're the shining star. Whenever you're playing by the bleachers, I wish I could just run to you. I like you, Y/N, I do,"

Every word was filled with pent up frustration and love, unaware how much he has been pushing back until now. But what concerned him most was your quietness.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, instead it was your turn to malfunction. "I like you too," those words came out pouring naturally, as if you were built for it, fully ready and prepared. "Wait!"

Your exclamation had him jumping up in shock, startling him and catching him off guard.

"I broke it off with her. A–and before you think I'm trying to replace you with her or anything, I'm not. Just wanted to make it clear," he said quickly, almost slurring, clearly panicked. “We can take it slow, don’t need to rush into anything, all it matters is you knowing,”

“I’d like that,” you fiddled with your fingers, nervousness eating you up from within. “I–uh–can I kiss you?”

Where did that come from?

Jungwon flushed a shade of red, coughing from shock. Your eyes widened in horror at his reaction, waving your arms frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I’m sorry, I don’t know what got over me—”

“I–I do want to kiss you,” he rushed his words out, sounding in a hurry. He was just as whipped as you.

You smiled, and that was all it took before you grabbed his tie, pulling him in to lock your lips with his.

It was magical. The feeling was something you’ve anticipated since forever, living up to those scenes you’ve seen in your favourite rom coms and having you giddy. His kiss was gentle but desperate, palms resting against the back of your neck and cheek, pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

You drove him insane. The cherry chapstick he could taste on his tongue, the touch of your lips against his, never in a million years had he imagined himself in this exact scenario, usually he expected himself to fumble, but he was glad he didn’t. He wished the night would never end, and so did you.

Reluctantly so, you eventually pulled away from him, both of you having your breaths taken away and breathing deeply. Even though it was silent, no words even exchanged for a while, you found yourself basking in his presence and taking in the moment. Then, you broke out into a giddy smile, giggling out of nowhere.

Jungwon couldn’t help but be infected by you, smiling along and laughing. There it was, his smile, his dimples, the crinkles by his eyes. Everything about him was surreal to you, whatever happened tonight seemed surreal as a whole.

“Can I take you home?”

“Of course you can.”

That night, you made sure to have him waiting outside your front yard as you ran in looking like cinderella dashing out of the ball, dashing towards the kitchen to fetch what you had promised. Cupcakes.

“I’ve made them,” you presented the cupcakes in all their glory, each decorated prettily and cutely.

“You remembered!” he stared at them in awe, then looked back at you with the same expression. “Thank you, really,”

“It’s no biggie,”

You passed him a reassuring smile, one that he responded back with a small grin. He glanced at his wrist watch for a second, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s late, I’m sure you’re tired, and I still have to drive the car into the garage,”

“Right,” you laughed at his car parked half-assed by the sidewalk, luckily no passing car was present. “Goodnight, Won,”

“Goodnight, Y/N. I had a lot of fun tonight with you. I’m glad you were there,”

“Me too.”

Back in your room, you were done washing up and getting ready for bed, looking out your window as it has become a habit by now. Surprisingly, Jungwon’s light was still switched on, and you had thought he was sound asleep by now, but guess he wasn’t.

Speaking of him, he came crashing into your sight not even a minute later, notepad in hand and a cheeky smile that told you he had a plan up his sleeve. He stood right in front of the window, directly across your room, then held up the notepad in hand.

‘Be mine?’

This guy …

You grabbed your notepad, writing down the obvious answer, a lovesick smile that he never failed to put on your face.

‘Yes!! Duh!!’

He let out a laugh at your response, but said nothing more, acting out a sleeping gesture to signal you to sleep soon and that he himself was also off to bed. You only nodded, but before bidding one another goodbye, he blew you a kiss.

You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, blowing one back and waving him goodnight, both of you unwilling to close the curtains and go to bed.

Either way, you were going to bed that night with peace and love in your mind, because finally, he belonged to you.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog

636 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 8 months

Note

Ive’s Liz has a surprising lack of m reader nsfw content/smut on here,, would you consider writing something about her? -💙M

Perfection, We Find

Male Reader x Kim Jiwon

Length: 2257 words

Tags: first time, loving sex, body issues, healthy relationship (yes, those exist in my smuts), clit play, fingering, focus on female orgasm, lovey dovey language, slow penetration, making out, girlfriend!Liz

TW: none (yeah, okay, it's a smut, duuuuh)

Inspiration: Liz pretty, thank you @dive-mdcw for reminding me

Credit: @capslocked for proof-reading. Thank you!

(A/N: Something more lovey-dovey for the softies among us >.<)

“Only if you take responsibility.”

This response, a faint whisper from her lips right onto yours, is more than odd. You are used to Liz saying things randomly, out of pocket, a bit weird, but this one actually frightens you a little. It’s the answer to a question you have only asked three times throughout the entirety of your relationship.

“Can we have sex?”

You wanted to be careful to word it properly, but the heat of the moment got to you. Your hands were around her waist, nose deep in her alluring scent, the envy of all roses in the world, while she put her full, red lips on your cheek. It was great, but what really pushed you over the edge was one of her hands tugging at your hair and her breath turning to a tiny moan.

Now she is barely touching you; the only thing you can feel are her eyes piercing you, turning you to a glass panel or at least trying to. She is serious, more serious than the other two times when she rejected your advances and the two of you ended up only kissing and cuddling.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice very low, almost drowned out by the TV in the background.

“I just want my boyfriend to know that I trust him, but I also want to make sure,” Liz answers, then puts her mouth on your jaw, kissing all the way to right below your lips which form a smile.

“Of course I’ll make sure that it doesn’t slip off.”

Suddenly, Liz takes a long step back. Her eyes show confusion, annoyance that she was not able to look right through you. Her arms fold right underneath her heaving, full chest. You can see her desire, her passion for you, for this moment and what is to come, but it’s overshadowed by what seems like a crucial misunderstanding.

“By ‘it’ you mean a condom?” Liz asks, her voice a bit snippy. “I’m not going to lose my virginity to some piece of rubber. I want your real… thing.”

Swallowing this is hard. God, you would lie if you said you didn’t want to have raw, passionate sex with your girlfriend, but it’s just too dangerous. You’re too young to be parents, too financially unstable, too scared of all the responsibilities that come with it. For Liz to have such a reckless request, you struggle to agree to it.

Yet you still nod, you still say ‘okay’ and throw all caution into the wind. It makes Liz smile and blush.

“Stay here, I’ll call you,” she says and disappears into her bedroom. She leaves you hard, incredibly horny, longing for release to forget everything for a moment. Your girlfriend has some weird views. She is not religious, so her outright rejection to the most logical, basic protection cannot be explained by this.

As you are stuck in trying to find the reason for Liz’s behavior, you hear all kinds of sounds coming out of her room. Closets opening and closing, clothing flying through the air, groans, an electric razor, more groans, then a sudden hiss—there is more, but you have no clue what they might be about.

“I’m ready~”

Liz has never sounded so lewd. You’ve never opened a door faster.

Liz has never looked so lewd. She stands before you, nothing but red lingerie on her fully shaven body. A hand twirling her wavy hair, a tongue peeking through her bright crimson lips, a tiny wink—she is taking all the steps to look absolutely irresistible. Suddenly, she turns around, slightly bends over and slowly spreads her smooth ass cheeks. The thin piece of red cotton disappears in between them and you groan like a mindless gooner.

Liz then spins back around, still leaning forward, showing her cleavage and then showing off more by grabbing both her breasts and pressing them together. They look huge, like soft pillows to squeeze forever. That’s when you notice something. It’s all off, a masquerade, a play if you want to go that far. There are tiny scars on Liz’s body, from shaving to quickly. There are rose petals, the biggest cliches ever, spread on her bed. There is padding in her bra to make her perfect, already big boobs seem huge.

Liz is playing a character.

“Liz,” you sigh and wrap your arms around her. “Stop it. This isn’t like these videos, the books, the movies.”

“No,” she quietly interjects. “This is our first time—I couldn’t live with this not being special, not being perfect—”

“That’s not what this is about,” you coo and press her head onto your chest. “This is about us loving each other and showing it. You look insanely hot right now, but you’d also look hot without padding in your bra or—”

“You saw that!?”

Liz tries to free herself out of your embrace, her face hidden behind flustered hands, but you don’t let her go, instead trying to find her gaze through slightly parted, trembling fingers. Her eyes show uncertainty, embarrassment, the hint of tears you cannot allow to run down her gorgeous face.

“I love you, Liz. Don’t think you are not enough or that this has to be flawless. Let’s just enjoy this, okay?”

“O-okay.”

It’s as if she added ‘kiss me and quickly forget this’ afterwards by lunging her mouth onto yours and dominating the kiss with such intensity, you actually forget what might have become a speech about self-worth and porn and—what? The train of your thought has been derailed by Liz’s tongue exploring your mouth fast, lovingly and it all comes crashing down onto her mattress.

“C-can you touch me?” Liz asks shyly, fixated on you. You join her blush.

“S-sure, just tell me how you like it.”

Liz’s fingers wrap around your wrist and she quickly pulls you in between her legs, the sensitive spot covered by red lace. This coverage is rendered useless as she shoves your hand right on her lips, both thick and a hint of wetness on them. Not enough, but you’re here to change this.

“Right there,” she moans when you find the tiny nub, stiff in arousal, its sensitivity ever increasing every time you brush it. Soft curses leave Liz’s lips, the back of her head sinks deeper into the sheets, her hold on your wrist grows tighter—

This is equally thrilling to you. She trusts you, wants your hands all over her body, shame not holding her back anymore. It’s strange, but you grow more certain in her love—more than any crush that got you two together—the wetter her panties get. Crimson lingerie turns to the color of wine, and Liz is drunk on your hand, pressing it down a bit harder.

Liz groans your name, her free hand reaching for your body, tugging at your shirt. You get closer to her face, place sudden, tender kisses on her cheeks without ever closing your eyes. The sight of your girl squirming and grinding in desperate need of your hands' attention is driving you mad. Your own desire is barely containable, you only hold back by, paradoxically, increasing Liz’s stimulation and thereby your own.

“Ouh,” Liz groans, her grip leaving your wrist, “It feels so~ good, I can’t.”

Her voice fades into a whisper, then a moan. Actually, all there is is moans; you have involuntarily joined your girlfriend to create a symphony that has to lead to her orgasm. Wet nectar gently brushes along your fingers as Liz grinds herself to a longer and longer climax on your palm. Soon, your hand will smell of her and you won’t have it any other way.

“I love you, I love you,” you hum as you nibble on her adorable earlobe. Liz’s breath is heavy.

“I—I, me too. I l-love you too.”

“You’re perfect.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Oh, am I?” you say teasingly and without warning slip two of your fingers into Liz. She arches her back and digs the nails of her fingers into your biceps. “Well, if you think so.”

“Wait.” She stops you from getting up from the bed. “We still didn’t do the thing.”

“What thing? Having sex?”

“Yes.”

“Oh Liz.” You laugh and sit down next to her, juice stained fingers rubbing her flawless thighs. “You have a very narrow view of sex. Wasn’t this very intense?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But,” you parrot her and peck her lips for a mere second. “You still want me inside of you. You want to be full. Only then you might accept your perfection.”

Liz plays with the hem of her panties, trying really hard to ignore your lips that are right there, a breath away from hers. She can try all she wants, her eyes betray her and in an irrationally quick sequence of events, clothes fly off. Your pants and underwear find solace in between rose petals, while Liz’s drenched panties still dangle around her right ankle.

“What about the rest?” Liz asks just as you're about to get in position.

“W-well you’re still wearing your bra as well!” you fight back, louder than you wanted to. That’s a sore spot, but instead of sticking her fingers into it, Liz leans towards you and kisses your neck.

“I love you.”

Her voice is so smooth, so beautiful, so loving. No other woman could ever compare to her in any aspects, but you know that is just you. However, when it comes to her voice, you truly believe it is the greatest thing ever heard. God and Mother Nature must have teamed up and through some incredible way of forgiveness, you’re the one hearing it say

I love you.

“You’re also perfect,” she adds. “Even without a six pack.”

“I—I… thank you, Liz.”

“Now take me~”

You roll a condom on your throbbing erection and watch as Liz sinks into the sheets delicately, like a rose petal falling onto the surface of a lake, dazzling in the scorching summer sun. A thumb to spread her labia, then you start to push into her with care and love and even more care when she winces.

“It’s alright,” you tell her. “Am I too fast?”

“T-too big, maybe.”

“Y-you’re just saying that.”

“I-I’m not.” Her stare speaks volumes, her knuckles turning white as she grabs the sheets as well. “Be gentle, please.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

Glide out of her walls. You thought you were careful, but the actual depth of your penetration was deeper than you wanted. Liz isn’t the only one who can still learn a lot when it comes to sex. Most importantly, you have to make her relax, take things easy and not painfully cramp around you.

Kisses on her calves, kisses on her thighs, kisses right under her navel—your fingers try similar soothing motions across her entire body. Liz’s skin becomes your shrine to praise her body, her entire being. Carefully you paint circles that make her moan, blow kisses that evoke laughter and lastly, you grab her covered breasts and she gasps.

No tension, just love and arousal. The young woman relaxes and feels you entering once more. This time you look at her closely, study her reaction. The way her jaw drops, loosely hanging as she breathes; then suddenly a nod. You push further, reach deep into her. She bites her lips.

“I love you,” Liz hums.

“I love you too.”

“I think you can move now.”

Your hips react in an instant. They have developed a mind of their own and were patiently waiting for her to say it. You hold them back through bloody tears, but fighting the pleasure coming from Liz’s hot and pulsating walls is a mission impossible. Grit your teeth when suddenly she seizes control of your hands. Fingers entangled as if they were in a prayer she pulls them above her head and your lips instinctually fall on hers.

At the same time you lose. The war against your hips was short, they are already mindlessly rutting back and forth dragging you out of her tight cavern and back in. Liz moans into the kiss, her eyes tightly shut. Curses upon you for opening your eyes at this moment, but she looks absolutely gorgeous. Every wrinkle on her forehead, every hair sticking to her skin, every shudder from her arms—

I’m sorry, I need to fill you.

You thrust faster, deep into Liz’s pussy, her juice your lubricant. Naturally you go faster the more comes out, so you begin to rub her clit, an age-old trick (and by ‘age-old’ you mean ten minutes ago) that works wonders on her. Liz’s moans turn to screams, her voluptuous thighs begin to tremble and the rest of her body is just a beautiful puddle of sweat.

“I-I, it feels so go—”

“Me too, Liz, I might just—”

“Don’t hold back! We’re s-safe, just…”

With all your trust in the condom, you wipe out your brain and blow the load of your life into it. The stimulation becomes too much to bear, your pistoning stops, What does not stop however is the way you rub Liz clit. Faster and faster, until she gushes and cums around your still inserted cock. Her voice is almost hoarse from her loud moans.

In a final surge of strength you push yourself up just to fall next to Liz. Both of you are out of breath, all senses overstimulated to the point only happiness matters. Happiness and—

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader insert #girl group smut #ive smut #male reader smut #liz smut #kim jiwon smut

626 notes · View notes

writerswall26 · 2 months

Text

My Sweet Cairo (Part 5)

Synopsis: The Ravens' Soccer team Captain fell in love for Cairo Sweet

Warning: Slight cursing, Student-Teacher relations, Anger rage. Other than that, none that I know of (but feel free to correct me)

Words: 1.7k

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: This chapter is a bit of a let down in my opinion, but we finally got something about what happened to Y/N's dad. Happy Reading!

Cairo met up with Y/N before the day of the meeting. Cairo was smiling, walking to her like there was nothing wrong. But Cairo's smile faltered immediately as soon as she saw Y/N's distant face. She was not smiling, she didn't look happy like she usually does, she was not welcoming Cairo in her arms. There was nothing.

"What's wrong, babe?" Cairo finally asked when she got in front of Y/N.

"Drop the charges against Mr. Miller." Y/N went straight to business.

Cairo furrowed her brows. "What? I was just doing what was supposed to be done. He was going to fail me for midterms." Cairo reasoned but Y/N was having none of it.

"He gave you a chance, didn't he? He told you to write another story. Why didn't you?"

"Because! I wanted to write something different, I know I can and I did! If he can't accept that I did way better than he would ever be, then I'm sorry."

"Why are you doing this, Cairo? You're gonna ruin his life, his career, for what? He's a great teacher and you know that, so why?!" Y/N shouted, making Cairo flinch as she saw the anger in Y/N's eyes.

"Baby, please." Cairo tried to hold Y/N's hand but it was swatted away, making Cairo furrow her brows, pain written all over her eyes. "You're supposed to be on my side. I'm your girlfriend, I am the victim here."

Y/N stayed quiet, staring at Cairo who was looking at her with pained, pleading eyes.

"You seduced him, didn't you?" Y/N finally spoke, vindication in her voice. Cairo's eyes widened with the accusation, tears streaming down her face. "You seduced him, because you thought he was an easy target. You seduced him so you could get an inspiration to write on your admission essay. And then you turned to me."

Cairo's head was shaking at this point but Y/N continued on. "You know as well as I do that even if I fail a class, my GPA would still be far ahead of yours. I'm in the way of you being the valedictorian, of you putting something in your portfolio. You used me, just like how you used Mr. Miller and Winnie. Because that's what you do, Cairo, you use people."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Y/N so stop right now." Cairo said, her voice shaking as she stared at Y/N who was standing tall in front of her, her eyes cold and emotionless.

"You know what you are, Cairo? You're a fucking trash in this world. You and your kind, spoiled rich girls who would do anything just to get what they want, to get what they need just because they can. Everyone who loved you... Winnie, Mr. Miller, me, even your fucking parents gave up on you because you're a fucking trash!" Y/N got a slap on the face because of that. But Cairo immediately regretted what she did.

The taller girl turned to face her with a devilish smirk. "Your kind killed my father... and I will not let you do the same to Mr. Miller." Y/N said before she walked away from Cairo who slumped on the wall, tears flowing down her eyes, sobs being heard in the silence of the night.

The meeting started with the directors questioning Mr. Miller and Cairo in the same room. There were certain instances that they would have the same answer but usually, Mr. Miller's answers were on the safe side while Cairo's stuck with her answers during her talk with the Vice Principal.

Everything was falling down bit by bit for Mr. Miller when Y/N was called inside the room to be questioned as well.

"Will you testify against Ms. Sweet?" One of the board members asked Y/N who nodded.

"Yes, sir." She answered, not even giving Cairo a glance.

"How do we know your credibility on the matter?" Another director asked.

"Cairo Sweet is my girlfriend, or rather, was my girlfriend. I know it would seem a little bit off and you might think I'm doing this to get my revenge on her but I'm not. I've been Mr. Miller's student way before she was his student so I can vouch that I know Mr. Miller better than Cairo's ever known him." She spoke with precision and confidence.

The board of directors looked at one another before the head nodded. "Thank you." Y/N said.

"What do you know about Mr. Miller's extracurricular activities outside the class? Did you ever see them leave the school together? Did Mr. Miller give favouritism towards Ms. Sweet? Anything you know." One of the directors asked.

"I might've seen them together once or twice outside of school, but it did not seem anything intimate. I saw them at Vanderbilt once, they were talking, I didn't see anything wrong with it though. It's a poetry parlour, they're both writers." Y/N said, slightly twisting the truth for Mr. Miller's favour.

"And the other instance you saw them together?"

"I was riding my bike on the way home, I'd pass by Cairo's house before I got to mine. I saw Mr. Miller pulled up in front of Cairo's house. I thought it was weird seeing him there but I also saw him giving back her phone. He left after that. She even told me that herself."

"What?! What are you talking about? You weren't there!" Cairo was getting frustrated. If anything, she knows Y/N's stories sounded more credible than hers, but for some reason, she still couldn't find it in her heart to hate this person who's ruining her life.

"Mr. Miller did not deny when he was asked if he entered the house, Y/N, I'm giving you one chance to tell the truth." Vice Principal Manor told Y/N who turned to her with a pointed look.

"Miss, you know as well as I do that the accusation of a student against a teacher for inappropriate relations outside of school is not easily overlooked. Whatever Mr. Miller's gonna say to you, there would always be suspicions in your mind if he was telling the truth or not and yet, you could easily believe a student without proof? Why is that?" Y/N said, slamming her hand on the table, making them jump in their seats.

"Calm down, Ms. Y/L/N. We just want to get to the bottom of this, on why Ms. Sweet passed an inappropriate print of a short story, telling us that Mr. Miller agreed to it." One of the directors said.

"But he didn't. He gave her another chance to change the short story, he did not accept that story. Look, I lost my father, because of a case like this—" she was about to be stopped but she stood her ground. "No, I promise you this is relevant. Please." She said, looking at all of them. And when no one said anything or protested, she continued.

"My father was a professor back in Australia, one semester he had a student who was so wise for her age. He was amazed by her. Like Mr. Miller here, he showed favouritism, gave her special treatment, if you must say. But like Cairo here, she mistaken my father's favouritism for something different, something inappropriate. And when my father told her that it was strictly a student-teacher thing, she blew up. Reported my father, told baseless lies about him until he was gone, his career, his reputation, all gone. No one stood up for him. And then he shot himself in the head."

Y/N could see the uncomfortable fidgets of everyone inside the room. She could hear their thoughts loud and clear. But she was not done yet.

"So why do you think, Ma'ams and sirs, would I lie about something as incriminating as this? You're crucifying this man, who by the way, did nothing wrong. What? Because of a student, whose ego is so bruised by the rejection of her teacher? She was the one who came on to him, not the other way around, I can assure you that much." And she was done.

There was silence inside the room for a couple of moments before the head cleared his throat and straightened himself up. He gave Y/N a small smile before he nodded.

"We'll take your words in heavy consideration with regards to this case, Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you." He said.

Y/N nodded once. "I hope you make the right decision. Thank you for letting me talk." And she was out of the door just like that.

She waited outside of the meeting anxiously, her legs are bouncing and she's even paced back and forth until the door opens and out goes Mr. Miller.

"What did they say? Did you lose your job?" Y/N asked anxiously, staring at her teacher who smiled at her.

"Suspended. For the entire semester so I won't see you be a valedictorian. They took your words for it. Thank you." Mr. Miller said, holding a hand on Y/N's shoulder.

The taller girl smiled widely. "You're not gonna lose your job. But what are they gonna do? Students would speculate and all that. Are they gonna release an announcement?" She asked, her brows furrowed.

Mr. Miller nodded. "To prevent further rumours and speculations from ensuing, they're gonna release an announcement saying that all charges against me are dropped and untrue."

"How about the lady wife?"

"We've already filed for divorce. It's better that way."

"That's too bad. But hey, for what it's worth, maybe you'll find inspiration to write again." Y/N said with a huge smile, slight back handing her teacher's arm which made him laugh.

"And how would you know that?" Mr. Miller asked, looking at her with a knowing smile.

"Because I know that when I get to Harvard and you happen to have it in yourself to finally release a book, that I would brag to my mates that my English teacher back in Tennessee wrote it and would laugh at how unique it would be." Y/N said, a flash of pride seen in her eyes as she said that.

"You talk too much, let's get some coffee."

"You gotta apologize for being a dick to Coach Boris, you know? He's kinda like your only friend in this town." Y/N told her teacher when they got their coffee and finally sat down.

Mr. Miller hummed, looking kind of guilty as well. "I really do need to." He agreed.

"Buy his biscuits." She joked which made him laugh. "No, but seriously, Mr. Miller. Take accountability for what you said to him. He's not actually quite wrong, you know? He wasn't cleaning his own dirt, he knows it's there, but he owns up to it. I'm not saying that what he's doing is right, but you know what I mean."

Mr. Miller nodded, giving her a small smile. "Sometimes I forget that you're still young." He said, smiling proudly like a father.

"People tend to think of me that way, yeah." She smiled before they continued to talk about literature and harvard.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet x reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega #cairo sweet #tara carpenter #wednesday addams #miller's girl

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qprstobin · 9 months

Text

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

#stobin #platonic stobin #st fic rec #mini fic #steve #robin #my writing #writing tag #this was got out of hand #all of the stuff about prom is pulled loosely from my own experiences with prom #both from it being seniors only (juniors at my school had their own dance) to what people did after prom #(i went to two proms and one group went and saw a bad horror movie after prom and i went to a diner with the other group)#also this is barely editted so there is some weird tense switches in here im sorry!#this wasnt meant to be an actual fic i had just meant to throw out the idea of steve asking robin to his prom #and steves voice got away from me quick #this was inspired by the fic i reblogged earlier today about steve taking robin to her prom

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irisintheafterglow · 5 months

Text

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers.

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being.

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile.

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter.

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back.

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon.

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello.

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake.

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper.

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you.

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.”

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine.

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.”

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.”

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.”

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyu x reader #haikyu x y/n

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libraryofloveletters · 11 months

Text

Written In The Photos - Social Media Series

decided to take a little break from writing (I will still be writing after this, don’t worry!) but I didn’t want to leave you guys without content so I present the Written In The Photos series. each driver/player has a song and their post is inspired by said song :) I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed making it <3 // special thank you to my bestie @themandaloriansdiaries for all her help with song choices and all the cracked out convos we had to put it together.

Carlos Sainz Jr - Smooth Operator by Sade

late nights, jet leg and messed up sleep schedules lead to words spoken which would normally be kept to themselves.

Jack Grealish - Hot Girl Summer by Meg Thee Stallion

party after party, Jack seems to be spotted with the same girl over and over again.

Lewis Hamilton - Loveeeeeee Song by Rihanna and Future

he’s sick and tired of seeing you in private, he wants the world to know you’re his.

Sergio Ramos - Way 2 Sexy by Drake

working for a footballer isn’t easy, it’s even harder when everyone thinks you’re dating. ( footballer x pr manager)

Max Verstappen - Can We Still Friends by Tyler, The Creator

even the best of the friends can have falling outs, especially when you’re on opposites side of the track. (teammate/rival!reader)

Andy Robertson - I’m Still In Love With You by Sean Paul ft. Sasha and Jeremy Harding

so many years apart and you’re still in love with the same guy you’ve always been in love with.

Lance Stroll - Stuck With You by Ariana Grande

every relationship goes sour, except for the one you had with a certain brown eyed boy.

Pato O’Ward - Sunday Candy by Nico Segal

snapshots of love and life with the love of your life.

Jude Bellingham - P Power by Gunna ft Drake

young and in love, you two find yourselves making headlines more often than not.

Sebastian Vettel - Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado and Timberland

can’t keep his hands off you and can’t keep the flirty comments away. (redbull seb)

Kylian Mbappe - Hotel Room Service by Pitbull

secrets unravel when you’re caught together in spain.

Jenson Button - Money by Cardi B

diamonds are a girl’s best friend after all (sugar daddy!jenson)

Ruben Dias - Golden Hour by JVKE

you supported him through it all, it only made sense you were the one there in the end.

George Russell - London Boy by Taylor Swift

grey weather is a bit of a downer, unless you have someone by your side.

Bukayo Saka - Star Boy by The Weeknd

proud, proud, proud; you showed everyone just how proud you really were.

Mick Schumacher - Dark Red by Steve Lacy

he only has eyes for one girl and it’s the one girl he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. (vettel!reader)

Neymar Jr - Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny

he promised to change, you were stupid enough to believe him but people never really change do they?

Lando Norris - Young, Dumb and Broke by Khalid

regret makes people do crazy things.

John Stones - I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston

your husband winning the treble calls for celebration and you two finally get the night out you deserve.

Esteban Ocon - Sure Thing by Miguel

attached at the hip; the sunshine to his rain. you were everything to him.

Erling Haaland - Sunday Mornings by Maroon 5

sunday mornings were a bit of a tradition for you, everyone notices when the pattern changes.

Pierre Gasly - Creepin’ by The Weeknd

loyalty runs both ways, until it doesn’t anymore but nothing ever really changes, does it?

Virgil Van Dijk - Let ‘Em Know by Bryson Tiller

some things never change, no matter how much you try.

Fernando Alonso - I’m Still Standing by Elton John

looking up and looking down, it never felt so right.

Jordan Henderson - If I Ain’t Got You by Alicia Keys

with your 10th anniversary around the corner, you both get a bit in your feels.

Charles Leclerc - A Sunday Kind Of Love by Etta James

races, weddings and races again; sundays hold a special place in his heart.

Trent Alexander Arnold - One Kiss by Dua Lipa

all it took was one kiss and the floodgates were opened.

Daniel Ricciardo - Woo by Rihanna

monaco is good to those who are good to it, especially those who win. every winner deserves a prize worthy of a king.

Christian Pulisic - Unforgettable by French Montana and Swae Lee

the star player and the ex girlfriend of his closest teammate are spotted together; you’re too unforgettable.

Kostas Tsimikas - Boyfriend by Ariana Grande and Social House

you were his until you weren't, but then you were again. the two of you tangled in the sheets and in a web of confusion; were you or were you not?

#written in the photos social media series #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #football instagram au #football social media au

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dulcewrites · 2 years

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For You Always

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol)

Summary: you always knew Aemond had a soft spot for you, but you always just assumed it was him wanting to look out for his brother’s wife. Soon you find out that his devotion knows no bounds

Warnings: allusions of sexual assault

A/N: I was inspired by the dynamic between Alicent and Larys (and her and Criston). That dynamic is probably the most interesting to me to watch (plus when Olivia and Matthew are together in scenes it’s like a masterclass in acting. Might be my fav two actors on the show rn). I also just love the idea of Aemond being someone’s guard dog. I plan on writing things from this list. And plan on doing things with a black reader :). But I got inspired and it flowed very easily so I wanted to get it out. I am open to request as well! Please reblog, like, and follow if you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽

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In hindsight, confessing your sadness to Aemond after the incident was a bad idea. But in your defense, it wasn’t intentional. You found yourself crying, trying to make it back to your chambers before anyone spotted you in distress. And there he was.

Whispers was something you had grown used to since arriving in King’s Landing years ago. Whispers about your family back home, whispers about your life now… including whispers about your relationship with Aegon. Most of the time it would roll off your back. Mainly because the rumors themselves were never true. It’s easy to brush it off when there’s no validity.

It wasn’t until one day you overheard two lady’s maids speaking about your husband. Certain words stuck out. Dyana, crying, Aegon, paid off, and moon tea.

You felt sick, physically ill hearing them talk. You had always wondered what happened to Dyana; lamenting on how good she was with Elia, your daughter. When asked if he knew why she was not around anymore, all Aegon gave you was a shrug before changing the subject. But now you understand why. Deep down you knew Aegon was not a good man, but you naively hoped he had changed after the birth of your daughter. His behavior was always questionable, but this was a new low. You wish you could let this roll off your back like the rest. No use in chalking it up to a rumor; you know Aegon too well for that.

You couldn’t help the tears from falling as you turned away. The walk to your chamber felt like forever. Mind racing; you thought about poor Dyana and where she was now, who knew about this, and selfishly you thought about if people thought you knew all along. That you brushed it off because that is what is expected of a lady in your position. Smile and endure. Ignore and push through.

That people thought you were just as cruel as your husband.

It was the tears on your face that made Aemond stop in his tracks. You tried to wipe them away quickly after you spotted him but it was too late. He all but forces you to tell him why you’re in this state. It wasn’t becoming of your station to be crying in the arms of your lord husband’s brother. But there you were in your room, pouring your heart out.

Aemond had always been good to you. His generosity was not something you were expecting when you came into the family. Everyone had responded the way you predicted. Helena was sweet. Queen Alicent seemed indifferent; not exactly warm, but always there if you needed something. The sicker King Viserys grew, the less you saw him. Aegon was doting when he wanted you, awful when he didn’t. Aemond was the odd one out. Completely shocking you with the concern he shows. You had made up in your mind it stemmed from his hatred for Aegon.

That day, Aemond simply rubbed your back and told you he’d handle anything else that happened with Aegon. It must’ve been your frazzled state that led to you taking that comment as sweet rather than ominous.

Silly you.

It felt like the whispers and rumors only got worse after finding out about what happened to Dyana. By the time you had worked up the courage to confront Aegon, another indiscretion made it back to you.

It seems that your husband has an affinity for servants and ladies in waiting. If rumors are true, at least this one is consensual. The name of a servant you know helps Helaena continues to get bandied about.

You can’t help but feel embarrassment and rage flood through your body. He’s one the princes of the storied Targaryen family, a future king if things go the way certain people in the Red Keep want them to. And here he is, not only abusing his power but making a mockery of you in the process.

A part of you wonders if you should go to Alicent. You decide against it; you know how the game is played. No matter how much she may resent his behavior, he will always take precedent over you. Then you think about going to Helaena, but you hated the idea of troubling her with your mess. So there you were, at Aemond’s door with a rant on the tip of your tongue.

It was nice. Getting your feelings out to someone who shared your complicated feelings towards Aegon.

Aemond rarely responds or gives you advice. Just gave you an chance to let it all out, which is something you appreciated. You left his quarters feeling a bit lighter. As light as you could feel with the position you are in.

You spent the rest of the week trying to avoid talking to Aegon, and spend time with Elia and with Helaena.

“A flower can wilt under love, the same way it wilts under detestation.”

Helaena’s cryptic language was something you had learned to just go with. Though, you did get an eerie feeling after she said it to you with a concerned look on her kind face.

You tried to push the hurt feelings away, and almost succeeded. Until your lady in waiting came to you one night with a nervous look on her face. Reluctantly, she told you news that she had heard.

You couldn’t hold it any longer the next time you saw Aegon. When the conversation started, you were surprised to hear him speak so openly about his cheating. You had just always expected him to act like the whole castle isn’t talking about it.

“What do you mean you told her she could be your second wife,” you hiss at him, trying to keep your voice low.

He winced and looks down at his feet.

“I don’t even remember saying it myself,” he says meekly. “But she surely remembers it. Won’t let me forget it.”

You scoff, and take good look at him. You think about how your mother’s vision for you, and your own blind ambition has landed you stuck with the biggest idiot ever.

“So let me get this straight,” you walked towards him. “You spend your days drowning yourself in your cups, and disrespecting half of the women in the Red Keep. And now you tell me you’re whispering sweet nothings into her ears so she keeps stroking your ego.. amongst other things. Some couple you two make. You’re stupid enough to say that, and she’s delusional enough to believe you.”

“My lov-“ you hold up hand to stop him.

“You will fix this,” your finger hits his chest. “I can’t even stand to look at you right now.”

You leave the room in a hurry, ignoring his tries to stop you. Where you are going at this hour? You have no idea, but you can’t be in the same rom as Aegon right now. But then you get an idea… the dragon pit.

Vhagar can’t fit in pit but whenever Aemond wants to ride her, he goes there.

You feel a bit silly, going to him to whine about how awful his brother is. But when you find him walking from the pit, the words and emotions just flowed out. Honestly for someone so outwardly cold, Aemond handles you so gently.

“To do that, and right in front of you is an insult.”

You nod in agreement because it is. It shows how much he doesn’t care. How much you carry your relationship with him.

“And the most frustrating part is that I just have to live with it,” you think about Elia, and the pressure there is to have another baby, a boy. “I have to not only face Aegon, but apparently the woman who he chooses lay with. I have to hear the whispers not about him being a disgrace. But about me being so frigid that of course he’d seek warmth from another.”

You run your hands down your face.

“What has my life become?”

Aemond doesn’t reply, just gives you an inquisitive look before nodding to himself. He walks you back to the room.

“Everything will be fine. Trust me,” his tone is so certain. You want to be ask how does he know, but you guess that’s what any person says when they’re comforting someone else.

You take a deep breath. Everything will be fine.

The day felt different. You don’t know why. You went through you typical schedule, most of which revolves around caring for Elia. Despite the off feeling you couldn’t quite put a finger on, the day was reflectively uneventful… until Queen Alicent comes to visit you.

She smiles as she holds Elia.

“How are you my dear,” her voice is soft and measured. The question is simple but it makes you uneasy. If things have made it back to you, they’ve surely made it back to her.

“I’m doing well your Grace,” you put on your best face. “Just a little tired.”

She hums in response.

“That’s good to hear,” she steps closer to you, lowering her voice. “I’m glad you were able to take care of any problems that may have arose.”

You blink at her. She’s clearly talking about Aegon and the servant. You did tell Aegon to fix it, but the quickness is surprising. Plus you assumed he’d come whining to you about it after he had ended things.

“I’m glad to know you can take care of things on your own.” she continues, and your confusion grows.

Didn’t know you had it in you? Take care of things? You truly do not understand what the Queen is saying. Before you can get into it, Ser Arryk knocks saying the King needs Alicent. After she leaves, you hand Elia to your lady in waiting.

You must go to Helaena.

You find her in her chambers, embroidery hoop in hand. The bright smile she greets you with drops when yo ask about her lady in waiting.

“A flower can wilt under love, the same way it wilts under detestation.”

Her voice is somber, and you let out a deep sigh. Who is the flower? She clearly knows something but you wonder if even she can even figure it out herself. There’s no way you can go one of your girls, you’d be tipping your hand. And Aegon never seems to be around when you need him. Then it hits you.

I’ll handle it

Everything will be ok, trust me

It couldn’t be. You try to talk yourself out of the idea races into your mind as you walk to Aemond’s room. You squeeze your eyes shut as you knock on the door. The aloofness of his demeanor only makes you more anxious.

“I don’t even know how to ask this,” you give him a tight, nervous smile once he lets you in. “Or that you would even know the answer.”

He’s sitting in a chair, and tilts his head to the side. You pause for a moment. Collecting your thought; the last thing you want to do is accuse him of something.

“She’s gone,” he replied after silence passes through the room. He sounds bored of the careful dance you’re trying to play.

It’s vague. Gone could mean a lot of things. It could mean Aegon did something right for once, but then again how would Aemond know that before you. You didn’t want her to lose her job. You just wanted the record set straight, and selfishly you didn’t want people questioning your marriage.

“What did you do,” you whisper, suddenly getting worried.

“I did what Aegon will never have the courage to do,” he stands up, and starts walking towards you. “I protected you.”

“Aemond what do-“

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” he interrupts you. “We took care of it.”

Your stomach sinks. We took care of it. There’s only one person.. no one thing Aemond could be talking about. Aemond on his own is intimating enough

“I didn’t want her dead,” you look at him with wide eyes.

He doesn’t seem phased by your panic. In fact he gives you a smile, or at least closest thing Aemond does to a smile.

“My future queen wanted something done, so I did it,” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

He thinks of you as his future queen, you’ve known that for a while. Everything starts and ends with you in his eyes. Any threat to you is a threat to him. You had grown to understand Aemond’s intensity, but this is a lot even for him. The look in his eye makes you know this won’t be a one time thing. That he’s going to go to these lengths whether you like it or not. Haelena’s words ring in your head.

A flower can wilt under love, the same way it wilts under detestation

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #black!reader

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jucyfruit · 17 days

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Julien Baker Track by Track - An Interview with Apple Music

“Everybody is scared of death or ultimate oblivion, whether you want to admit it or not,” Julien Baker tells Apple Music. “That’s motivated by a fear of uncertainty, of what’s beyond our realm of understanding—whatever it feels like to be dead or before we're born, that liminal space. It's the root of so much escapism.”

On her third full-length, Baker embraces fuller arrangements and a full-band approach, without sacrificing any of the intimacy that galvanised her earlier work. The result is at once a cathartic and unabashedly bleak look at how we distract ourselves from the darkness of voids both large and small, universal and personal.

“It was easier to just write for the means of sifting through personal difficulties,” she says. “There were a lot of paradigm shifts in my understanding of the world in 2019 that were really painful. I think one of the easiest ways to overcome your pain is to assign significance to it. But sometimes, things are awful with no explanation, and to intellectualise them kind of invalidates the realness of the suffering. I just let things be sad.”

Here, the Tennessee singer-songwriter walks us through the album track by track.

Hardline

“It’s more of a confession booth song, which a lot of these are. I feel like whenever I imagine myself in a pulpit, I don't have a lot to say that's honest or useful. And when I imagine myself in a position of disclosing, in order to bring me closer to a person, that's when I have a lot to say.”

Heatwave

“I wrote it about being stuck in traffic and having a full-on panic attack. But what was causing the delay was just this car that had a factory defect and bomb-style exploded. I was like, ‘Man, someone got incinerated. A family maybe.’ The song feels like a fall, but it's born from the second verse where I feel like I'm just walking around with my knees in gravel or whatever the verse in Isaiah happens to be: the willing submission to suffering and then looking around at all these people's suffering, thinking that is a huge obstacle to my faith and my understanding, this insanity and unexplainable hurt that we're trying to heal with ideology instead of action.”

Faith Healer

“I have an addictive personality and I understand it's easy for me to be an escapist with substances because I literally missed being high. That was a real feeling that I felt and a feeling that felt taboo to say outside of conversations with other people in recovery. The more that I looked at the space that was left by substance or compulsion that I've then just filled with something else, the more I realised that this is a recurring problem in my personality. And so many of the things that I thought about myself that were noble or ultimately just my pursuit of knowing God and the nature of God—that craving and obsession is trying to assuage the same pain that alcohol or any prescription medication is.”

Relative Fiction

“The identity that I have worked so hard to cultivate as a good person or a kind person is all basically just my own homespun mythology about myself that I'm trying to use to inspire other people to be kinder to each other. Maybe what's true about me is true about other people, but this song specifically is a ruthless evaluation of myself and what I thought made me principled. It's kind of a fool's errand.”

Crying Wolf

“It's documenting what it feels like to be in a cyclical relationship, particularly with substances. There was a time in my life, for almost a whole year, where it felt like that. I think that is a very real place that a lot of people who struggle with substance use find themselves in, where the resolution of every day is the same and you just can’t seem to make it stick.”

Bloodshot

“The very first line of the song is talking about two intoxicated people—myself being one of them—looking at each other and me having this out-of-body experience, knowing that we are both bringing to our perception of the other what we need the other person to be. That's a really lonely and sad place to be in, the realisation that we're each just kind of sculpting our own mythologies about the world, crafting our narratives.”

Ringside

“I have a few tics that manifest themselves with my anxiety and OCD, and for a long time, I would just straight-up punch myself in the head—and I would do it onstage. It's this extension of physicality from something that's fundamentally compulsive that you can't control. I can't stop myself from doing that, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And for some reason I also can't stop myself from doing other kinds of more complicated self-punishment, like getting into co-dependent relationships and treating each one of those like a lottery ticket. Like, 'Maybe this one will work out.'”

Favor

“I have a friend whose parents live in Jackson, where my parents live. They’re one of my closest friends and they were around for the super dark part of 2019. I'll try to talk to the person who I hurt or I'll try to admit the wrongdoing that I've done. I'll feel so much guilt about it that I'll cry. And then I'll hate that I've cried because now it seems manipulative. I'm self-conscious about looking like I hate myself too much for the wrong things I've done because then I kind of steal the person's right to be angry. I don't want to cry my way out of shit.”

Song in E

“I would rather you shout at me like an equal and allow me to inhabit this imagined persona I have where I'm evil. Because then, if I can confirm that you hate me and that I'm evil and I've failed, then I don't any longer have to deal with the responsibility of trying to be good. I don't any longer have to be saddled with accountability for hurting you as a friend. It’s something not balancing in the arithmetic of my brain, for sin and retribution, for crime and punishment. And it indebts you to a person and ties you to them to be forgiven.”

Repeat

“I tried so hard for so long not to write a tour song, because that's an experience that musicians always write about that's kind of inaccessible to people who don't tour. We were in Germany and I was thinking: Why did I choose this? Why did I choose to rehash the most emotionally loaded parts of my life on a stage in front of people? But that's what rumination is. These are the pains I will continue to experience, on some level, because they're familiar.”

Highlight Reel

“I was in the back of a cab in New York City and I started having a panic attack and I had to get out and walk. The highlight reel that I'm talking about is all of my biggest mistakes, and that part—‘when I die, you can tell me how much is a lie’—is when I retrace things that I have screwed up in my life. I can watch it on an endless loop and I can torture myself that way. Or I can try to extract the lessons, however painful, and just assimilate those into my trying to be better. That sounds kind of corny, but it's really just, what other options do you have except to sit there and stare down all your mistakes every night and every day?”

Ziptie

“I was watching people be restrained with zip ties on the news. It's just such a visceral image of violence to see people put restraints on another human being—on a demonstrator, on a person who is mentally ill, on a person who is just minding their own business, on a person who is being racially profiled. I had a dark, funny thought that's like, what if God could go back and be like, ‘Y'all aren't going to listen.’ Jesus sacrificed himself and everybody in the United States seems to take that as a true fact, and then shoot people in cold blood in the street. I was just like, ‘Why?’ When will you call off the quest to change people that are so horrid to each other?”

(x)

#julien baker #little oblivions #apple music #interview #archival

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littlexscarletxwitch · 10 months

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── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, based on endgame by taylor swift (you don't understand how much i'm loving this song), cute gf flo

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: omg, it's finally here. I'm so sorry it took me sooo long, it just I was super busy. Was this inspire by Ms. Taylor Swift? Yes, yes it was. I really hope you guys like this one. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love you all so much <3

note 2: guys, I'm currently reading 'Delilah Green doesnt' care' and it's giving me so many ideas for fics. So would any of you be interest in more mum!florence? Please let me know. Xoxo, M

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Your eyes were closed, your head was on her chest listening to her steady heartbeats, a soft smile formed on your lips.

“Promise me this is forever,” you whispered.

You knew she was awake, she was doing the same thing as you, enjoying the moment, living in the present.

Your eyes found hers already looking at you.

“I promise,” she said, her smile mirroring yours.

Her lips found yours as if sealing the promise forever, but nothing ever lasts forever. The kiss that was first sweet and soft and filled with love, turned bitter, harsh and cold. You pulled back confusion written all over your face.

You blink once then twice, and suddenly you were waking up on your bed, alone. You cursed yourself at the stupid memory. It was so pathetic to still think about Florence that way. You two were history, long forgotten, just a memory of your adolescence.

You shook your head, trying to wake up your foggy brain from the nap you had taken. And decided to get some work done as a way to clear your head from your silly old fantasies.

You made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed your notebook and put your headphones on. You only had three more months to finish your second album. The deadline wasn’t much of a concern of yours, what bothered you was the lack of inspiration. Every lyric you would write down was just trash, it was as if you were missing something. So far you had only five finished songs, and you needed ten more to have the album finished.

You were humming, moving your head to the beat as you let your brain come up with the right words, but it felt as if you were stuck.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you sang to the beat. “I wanna be, I wanna be your… ” you threw your head back in annoyance, frustration getting the best out of you.

You had been sitting on the floor for the last hour, trying to finish this one song but you were not even close to it. You took a deep breath trying not to lose your shit. Your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a new notification and that took your whole attention.

“Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey spotted out for dinner,” you read out loud and couldn’t help rolling your eyes at the link your manager and best friend had sent you.

According to the news, you were dating both Drew Starkey and Joe Keery. You also almost got engaged the week before to Rudy Pankow, but apparently cheated on him with Maya Hawke. You knew better than to actually pay attention to fake news, but you couldn’t help to. After all that was now your life, the life of a startpop in the making, so much for a boring Oxford kid.

Your reputation precedes you, in rumours you were knee-deep. But there was nothing you could do about it. Exhausted from your social life and the poor lack of motivation to do the one thing you loved the most, you decided to go out on a walk, hoping it would help to clear your thoughts about both the fake news and Florence, who you tried to ignore from thinking of. But ever since that dream you found yourself thinking about her more often.

You knew she was as famous as you were, maybe even more. You had to admit to yourself that some nights you found some kind of comfort in her movies, watching her cute pouty face, the one she was most known for.

She was your first love, she taught you how to love, what it was to be loved. Of course it wasn’t easy to forget about her, even after all these years, some part of you still craved her love. It wasn’t that you didn’t love each other when you both decided to go separate ways, it was because things weren’t so simple anymore. You two weren’t just two teenargs in love, you were slowly becoming adults. She had booked roles and you were making your way into the music industry.

And without the two of you knowing you two just drifted apart, the two of you too caught up in your careers. But you loved her, so you decided to let her go, hoping and praying to the universe that maybe she would come back to you one day.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door to your local cafe and someone bumped into you.

“Sorry, I wasn’t… “ but you stopped cold once you saw the strangers eyes.

“Y/n?” she asked, her voice as soft and raspy as you remembered. “What are you doing here?” a smile formed on her face, as if she was genuinely happy to see you.

You shook your head trying to clear out your mind, was Florence really in front of you? “I, um, I lived here,” you blinked once, twice and she was still there. “Just around the corner,” you added, cursing yourself for being so awkward. “What are you doing here?”

Was this a sign of the universe? Have your prayers been answered?

“Visiting my family,” right her family, you thought. “Well, not just that, I’m also working,” she scratched the back of her neck. “I was actually hoping to see you, too.”

“Really?” that had to mean something, the universe couldn't be messing around with you this cruelly. Right?

“Yeah, I have, um… I have been thinking about you.” she smiled at you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach. “I think we should talk.”

“I, um,” what were you supposed to say? Were you willingly going to agree to spend time with the love of your life as if the two of you were going to be just friends? What was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, sure. When are you free?” you finally agree.

You mentally checked your schedule, you were supposed to finish your songs but taking a break wouldn’t hurt anybody. Plus, you were going to get your coffee and get back to it right away.

“Um, what about now?”

Shit, you thought. She wasn’t going to give you any time to prepare yourself. Well, you better get into it, rip it off like a band aid.

“Okay, I was going to get a coffee and then we can…”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time. I’m going to find us a table.”

You order your coffee while mentally preparing for the conversation the two of you were going to have. What was she on about? Was it really a big coincidence? Did the universe put her in our path for some reason? You shook your head, you needed to stop thinking about the universe’s way of working for a second.

They handed you your coffee and now you had no more excuses to avoid her, not that you wanted to. Some part of you long to be near her, but you were scared of what this whole thing was about.

“So, um, what’s up with Drew?” she tried to pretend she didn’t care but was actually dying to know if you were actually dating him, not that you noticed it.

“Who?”

“Drew? Starkey?”

“Oh, yeah, Drew,” you chuckled, silly you for forgetting your own friend. “He’s just a friend, a really good friend,” was it your imagination or did she just let out a breath of relief. “What about Ashley?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.

She smiled at you, “She’s also a really good friend.”

“So, um…”

“Listen, Y/n…”

The both of you chuckled.

“You go first, Flo”

That nickname. It was stupid because everyone who knew her would call her ‘Flo’, but coming out of your lips felt different. She had missed hearing her name on your lips, she had missed you.

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” you only nodded. “I lied earlier, I’m not here for work or visiting my family. I came here to find you,” your lips parted in disbelief. “Ever since we broke things apart, I had been feeling like something was missing, Y/n. And I recently realised it was you. Well, I saw the article about you getting married and all I could think of was that something wasn’t right.”

“Florence I…”

“No, please let me finish,” she cut you off. “I understand that we are strangers to each other, but I would love to get to know you once again. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, it can be like a fresh start. I just really need you in my life, Y/n. I miss my best friend.”

You took another sip of your coffee, stealing time before giving her an answer. The truth was you already knew what you wanted, you knew it the moment you sat at the table, but you wanted to mess with her just a little bit.

You put your cup down, and finally your eyes found hers, “I would like nothing more.”

[...]

Ever since that day, Florence and you had been spending everyday together. Catching up with each other and going back to old habits.

The more you hang out with her, the more you could feel your old feeling coming back. But you didn’t want to rush things just to ruin them again. But one particular afternoon you couldn't hold back anymore and decided to do something about it.

She had fallen asleep 30 minutes ago, you chuckled as you realised her current state because she had picked out the movie but turns out she was more tired than what she let you see.

You headed to your small studio and decided to get back to the song you were working on before running into Florence. You knew exactly what you wanted to say, having found your new inspiration a few weeks ago.

You pressed play and the music started playing, you already had a few things written down in your notebook you just needed to put all your ideas together.

You were so lost and immersed in finishing the song, going at it back and forth, changing some lyrics, singing some ideas, writing and crossing out some bits, that you didn’t realise someone was watching you just when you were about to finish.

You had already recorded the whole song and were just checking it out when Florence leaned in the frame door.

Florence smiled as she listened to your sweet voice. She wondered who this song was about.

Knew her when I was young, reconnected when we were little bit older

Both sprung, I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders

She didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Reputation precedes me, in rumors, I'm knee-deep

The truth is, it’s easier to ignore it, believe me

She felt her heart shrinking in her chest.

Even when we'd argue, we'd not do it for long

And you understand the good and bad end up in the song

She listened closely to the song as you hummed to it.

For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Her heartbeat and body temperature were rising.

I've made mistakes and made some choices, that's hard to deny

After the storm, something was born on the 4th of July

I've passed days without fun, this end game is the one

With four words on the tip of my tongue, I'll never say it

She couldn't take it any longer.

“I like it,” she said, getting closer to where you were sitting. “It’s catchy,” she said, trying to shake her feeling away. That song could be about anyone.

“I feel like something’s missing,” you scrunch your nose.

“Sing the corus to me, please,” she looked at you with her doe eyes and you swear you could have melted in that moment.

You shook your head with a smile on your face and compiled, “I wanna be your endgame, endgame,” you finished singing the chorus. “And then it goes. Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah,” you sang, trying to not look at Florence.

“You know, it sounds awfully familiar,” she teased, wanting nothing more than for it to be true.

“And you heard about me, ooh. I got some big enemies,” you kept on going.

“What are you trying to say, Y/n?” she kept on pushing you.

“Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation, ah. And I heard about you, ooh. You like the bad ones, too,” you finished, trying to tell her that you were thinking exactly what she was thinking.

She was so close to you now, her knees brushing against yours, sending electricity throughout your body. You could feel her hot breath on your lips.

“I want to…” she didn’t finish her sentence because you were already nodding and she smashed her lips to yours in a second.

You felt as if a wave of cold water was washing over you. Her lips felt both familiar and new at the same time. You felt at home as she wrapped her arm around your waist and her other hand cupped your cheek. You didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, but both you and her needed to breathe so ultimately pulled apart.

She rested her forehead on yours, both of her hands cupping your cheeks, caressing your skin with her fingertips.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you quietly sang to her.

She chuckled before kissing you again and again and again.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #Spotify #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love

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proudahgase-exol · 2 months

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I’m not longer your muse?

Hongjoong x reader

Summary: Overhearing a conversation between Hoonjoong and a girl he was working with, made you to notice a change in their relationship and perhaps the end of yours thinking he likes her more than you.

Your pov:

When I started dating Hongjoong, I knew that he would be busy most of the time, but what I didn’t know was that he would want to be around even when he was busy. As the relationship progressed, he became more comfortable telling me about his problems and insecurities. He also started to share his work with me. When he was working on a song, he would ask for my opinion, wanting to know what I thought.

When he is stuck on a song, he will ask for my advice. When he wasn’t inspired by writing a song, he would ask if I could accompany him. He called me his muse multiple times and told me he would just look at me or talk to me, and he would immediately get inspired.

Now, lately, I have seen that change. Since he began working with this new girl, he rarely calls me or texts me; he also doesn’t call me to ask if I could visit him at the studio.

I guess he was busy with this new project, and you understood. But as the days passed, I didn’t hear from him. The only way I got any updates on him was from Seonghwa, who would tell me what Hongjoong was up to. I didn’t think anything bad about him spending time with this new girl; I understood it was his job.

But when the song came out, I thought everything would go back to normal, but I was wrong. I mean, he did text back, but his replies were short; he would call just to say good night or to apologize for not being able to talk for longer.

It made me sad because, from what Seonghwa told me, he had more free time; he wasn’t that busy, and again, I didn’t think anything of it.

—

A few days ago, I had a talk with the boys, and San asked if I could make him one of my special desserts since it’s been a while since I made them anything, and I agreed. I also made them a meal that I knew they would love.

After spending a few hours preparing the delicious food, I packed everything and made my way to the KQ building. I had found Mingi walking in the lobby, so I ran to him. He told me Hongjoong was in the studio and the rest were in the dance practice, so he walked me to the dance practice so I could give him and the boys their food before going to Hongjoong’s studio.

After I give the boys their food, I make my way down to Hongjoong’s studio. I was so excited to see him. It's been a while since we last talked. When I got near his door, I noticed it was cracked open. I could see him sitting and chatting with this new girl, and as I got closer, I could hear what they were talking about.

I wasn’t trying to spice things up for them, but when I heard my name being mentioned, it got me curious, so I stayed silent and heard what they were talking about.

"Yeah, yeah, it’s alright and all, but she doesn’t really understand the music industry like you. I try to teach her, but she just doesn’t understand." Hongjoong said with a sigh.

"Well, you have me if you ever need someone to understand you. I mean, we have been working for a while now, and we understand each other perfectly,” she said as she rubbed his arm.

"Yeah, since I started working with you, I've had a lot of inspiration. It’s like your personality gives me inspiration, a new kind that Y/N doesn’t give me, and this is what I needed,” he replied, laughing.

“I’m so glad we understand each other since we have been working together. I've seen that you kind of like having me around more than your own girlfriend,” she said in a teasing tone.

"Yeah, that’s kind of true with you. I can talk about things she doesn’t understand, and let’s not mention the fact that we have the same interests. I like hanging out with you." Hongjoong said, smiling.

"Hey, we should go out to have dinner again. The new restaurant you took me to last Friday was amazing,” she said excitedly.

"Yeah, of course, let’s finish this up, and we can go there,” he said, getting back to work.

As I listened to them, it made me realize that, in fact, he hasn’t been spending much time with me, always claiming to work late when in reality he’s gone out with me. I also realize that their relationship has changed from being professional to being weary to friendly.

I was so heartbroken hearing him talk about how much better she was at understanding him than me; it broke me and made me feel stupid.

I understand I might not know much about being a music producer or music in general, but I try to understand him and learn from him. I tried so hard to the point where I had to beg Seonghwa to teach me a few things so I could surprise Hongjoong just by having him say that about me.

As I looked at them one last time, I noticed how close she was to him and how he didn’t push her away from him. It hurt me to see them, so I just left. I placed the lunch bag in front of the door, and I walked away, trying to keep my tears from falling.

As I was walking out of the building, I saw the Ateez manager walk up to me and ask if I was leaving so soon. I just smiled at him and walked away. I just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

—

Once I got one, I broke down crying, thinking about my relationship and whether I was even good enough for Hongjoong. I thought back to our relationship: was I really his muse, like he claimed I was? Is he tired of me? Did he want someone who understood him perfectly? All those questions started to come to mind.

After a few hours of crying, I went to take a shower rather than take a nap. I was tired of crying, and I needed a nap.

The next morning, I got a message from Seonghwa asking if I got to talk to Hongjoong.

Haw💗: Hey, did you get to talk to Hongjoong?

Me: No, he was busy.

Haw💗: Welll you can try again today. We got off early, so you cancome overr.

Me: I don’t think he will be free. I mean, I guess he’s busy with his new friend.

Haw💗: I’ll convince him to hang out with you don’t worry.

Me: No, it’s okay. I just wish he would want to hang out with me instead of her and own his own account, not having to be asked to...

Haw💗: I swear, he’s kind of stupid sometimes he’ll come around. Don't worry.

Me: I hope that when he does, it’s not too late.

Haw💗: hey! have some faith he can be obvious a times, but he’s a good guy.

Me: If you say so, anyway, I’m going out with my friend, so talk to you later.

Haw💗:Okay, have fun.

Right after I was done texting Seonghwa, I called a friend of mine to see if she wanted to do something, and she agreed. I needed to get my head around Hongjoong, and I knew she would keep me busy.

We had agreed to go to the mall, so she had picked me up, and once we arrived, we went to our favorite stores, and we were having a good time. Then we went to get a bubble, and we got our drinks. I heard a voice that I could recognize anywhere, so I looked for it, and then I found it.

It was Hongjoong and his friend; they were here at the mall, laughing and acting way too friendly. What got me confused was that Seonghwa said that they would be off early and that they would be at the dorms, so why was Hongjoong here?

I was standing there, just looking at him with a hurt and betrayed look on my face. I just understood why he was spending so much time with her instead of me, his girlfriend.

Then I saw him turning around with a smile on his face. He looked up to me, and his smile slowly started to disappear once he saw the expression on my face. I saw him walking my way, but I turned around and called for my friend, telling her it was time to go.

After we had left the mall, my friend dropped me off at my house and left, telling me to call her once I was cool off.

Twenty minutes didn’t pass when I heard a knock at the door, and I immediately knew it was Hongjoong. As much as I didn’t want to open the door, I did because I wanted an explanation. I wanted to know if our relationship was over.

Once I opened the door, I moved aside so he could get in rather than close the door. I watched in silence as he took his coat and shoes off and walked into my living room.

He sat down and gestured for me to do the same, and I did, but on the other side of the couch, not wanting to set him up. The room got quiet, but then he started talking.

"Hey, it’s been a long time. I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said nervously.

“Why are you talking nervously? Had you done something wrong? You only talk like that when you know you're in trouble,” I asked, ignoring what he had said.

"Well, I don’t know what I did; I just know that you're upset with me,” he said, looking at me.

“You got to be fucking kidding me,” I said under my breath.

“So why are you mad? By the way, I got your food. The trout was delicious, and I also like it,” he asked, smiling.

“Is it always going to be about her? If so, please save this bullshit and get out of my place,” I reply, pissed.

“What? What are you talking about?” He asked, confused.

“Every time you started to work with her, everything was about her. All the conversations we had were about her. I asked, raising my voice.

"Wow, calm down. Why are you so mad at her? She did nothing wrong,” he said, defending her.

"See, here we go again. Look, let’s save each other time and end this here. I overheard what you told her. I heard when you told her that she was your new muse and how she understood you better than I did, so if you love her so much, please leave and never come back. You are just hurting me." I said I was trying not to show my pain. Through my voice

“You were there? So you went to leave the food? Why didn’t you walk in?” He asked, surprised.

“San had asked if I could make his favorite dessert, and I thought, Why not make you all some food that will give me the excuse to come see you? But you were already busy and talking badly behind my back, so I just left, and now I want you to live. If you're just going to ignore the problem, please go back to her since she seems to understand you.” I said, getting up from the couch and walking to my bedroom.

After a few seconds, I heard the front door open and close, letting me know he had chosen her. I just sat down on my bed and broke down crying, knowing he actually chose her over me. He chose down; he just met over some, and he knew longer.

After crying for an hour or so, I fell asleep. I didn’t have the energy to do anything. I felt miserable. I felt lost and hopeless, so I just fell asleep.

Hongjoong pov:

After I left your place, I walked back to the dorms, and once I walked in, San and Wooyoung came running, asking where I was and if you were with me, but once they saw I was alone, they went back to the living room, and Seonghwa asked if we could talk.

We went to his room, and he closed the door and asked me to sit down, and with a very serious tone, he asked where I was.

“Where were you?" He asked, “Were you with me?" Did you know she wanted to see you for so long?”

“How do you know she did? How much time have you been spending with her?” I asked, annoyed.

“Since you started to ignore her and since she asked me to help her on something,” he answered.

“Why had she wished you to help her? Why can’t she come to me if she needs help?” I asked, pissed.

“She’s been seen that you would rather spend time with your new lady friend instead of her; she also doesn’t have many friends, and she chooses to hang out with me; she also wanted to surprise you, idiot,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“What do you mean surprised me?” I was confused.

“She wanted to show you that she can understand your work and that she can help you when you are stuck on a song. She wanted to show you that she understands the music industry. She came to me for help to surprise you. She came and asked. I said no; I want you to help her, but she needs begging, so I agree." He replied, raising his voice.

“She really begs you to teach her.” I asked in surprise.

"Yes, and right before you got here, she texted me, telling me that she thinks you guys broke up. She told me that she would mess with the boys and me. So tell me, did you really end the relationship with this new girl? Was she worth your relationship? Was she worth hurting? Was she really better than you?" He kept asking as he walked back and forth angrily.

“She thinks we broke up.” I asked Desbelove.

"Yeah, I would too if I were her. You know you could be a better boyfriend if you just paid a little more attention to what she was doing and the effort she tried to put into your relationship. So if you want to fix your relationship, you should go and apologize and tell her how you really feel. And if what you say to your lady friend has any meaning, then just end things with her; she doesn’t deserve all this pain,” Seonghwa said, and he pissed me out of his room.

—

After talking to Seonghwa, I went to my bedroom and sat down on my bed, and I just thought about everything Seonghwa said. I was so upset with myself that I let myself go, and I became someone I didn’t recognize, and it’s costing me my relationship.

I was thinking of ways to apologize to you, but no matter what, I still think about the way I treated her and how I ignored her to spend time with someone else. I was disgusted by my behavior, and I wish I could have done this differently.

After I just sat down thinking about what I should do, I tried to go to sleep, thinking it was best to work things out tomorrow, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t fall asleep. Guilt was eating me up. I couldn’t stop thinking about how you might be feeling, and the thought of it didn’t let me sleep.

The next day, I woke up before the guys and left the dorms. I went for a walk, then I went to buy a

little stuff to make something to eat for y/n.

Once I got into her apartment, I went to her kitchen as quietly as possible and started to cook her something delicious.

After a few minutes, I heard you walking down the hallway. Then I saw her right behind me, and I was kind of scared to face her just to have her kick me out, but then she started talking in a low voice.

“What’s all this? What are you doing here? I thought we ended things,” she asked.

"Well, I thought I could make you something more delicious to eat than we could talk about last night, if that’s okay with you,” I asked nervously.

“You better have a good excuse because I’m so ready to end everything. I’m not going to be anyone’s joke,” she replied as she sat down on the kitchen table.

“I promise I’ll try to fix everything. I’ll do everything I need to fix my mistakes,” I said in a low tone.

After I was done cooking, I placed everything on the table and sat down across from you. As she was eating quietly, I was scared to do or say anything, so I just looked down at my lap.

I was coming up with ways to fix my relationship. I really didn’t want to lose you, and that scared me. She has been the best thing that has happened to me, and I’m afraid to lose her because I know that without her, I’ll be a mess.

Ever since we started dating, she has been there to help me every step of the way. She helps me a lot with so many things, one of them being the boys. They love her so much that they respect her and obey her more than me.

After she was done eating, I cleaned up as she went to sit on the couch. I was so nervous. I hoped she could forgive me. I hoped I didn’t mess it up too much.

Once I was done cleaning, I went to sit on the couch with you. I was nervous still, but I had to get this over with, so I started to talk.

“I’m sorry for how I have been acting. I haven’t been the best boyfriend, and I have been ignoring it. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have acted differently." not looking at her in the eye.

“Am I no longer your muse?” She asked sadly, “I mean, I heard what you told her that she gives you a new kind of inspiration that I don’t give you, and that to me, it seems that I’m no longer your muse, the one you needed.”

“I was stupid to say anything like that at first, but knowing that I might lose you that I might lose the one that made way days better scares me. Your all I need, your all I think about, and you help me when I need help with my music.” I said, finally looking at her.

“But I didn’t understand you the way you would like. I tried my best to do so, but I just failed to understand your world,” she said as some tears fell from her eyes. “You know, ignoring me really hurt me. I thought I was going to lose you to her. I thought you didn't love me any more.”

"No, baby, you are and forever will be my muse. You are the reason why I’m always working. You always encourage me to do my best. I can’t ever replace you with everything I want and need,” I said, smiling softly. “I'm sorry for ignoring you. I was acting stupid, and I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't think I would make you feel this way.”

“Did you ever think of ending our relationship to be with her? Do you actually have more things in common with her than with me?” She asked, unsure.

“Yes and no.” I replied in a chuckle, “We do share the same musical interests and a few other things, but I have more things in common with you, like our sense of humor and stuff we like to do in our free time.”

“I mean, yeah, but is that enough for you? Are you okay with me not understanding you one hundred percent?” she said, smiling.

"Yeah, it doesn't bother me; it actually gives me a reason to teach you new things. Baby, I'm so sorry. I need you. I can’t imagine being without you. I want to go back, like before. Have you in the studio, and be my little helper.” I said, putting y/n into my chest.

“I don't know. Convince me, and I might,” she said, smiling up at me.

“I’m sure I came up with something in the meantime. I heard from some that you beg him to teach you a thing or two about music. Is that true?” I asked, teasing

“I’m going to kill Hwa; he promises not to say anything, but he rats me out to you,” she said, blushing.

“You know, that’s kind of cute and sweet of you to try to surprise me, but don’t go to him or any of the boys; I get jealous, and don’t make food for the boys only for me,” I said, whining.

“How can I say no to the boys, especially Sannie? He looks so cute with his cute puffy cheeks and that cute voice he makes. It’s hard for me to say no to them,” she said, giggling.

"Baby, I promise not to ever ignore you. No for another girl, not for nothing; your all I need and want. I’m sorry for my actions. Because of that, I almost lost you. I can’t afford to lose you, and from now on, I will not talk to her or hang out with her unless I really have to, but I’ll make sure you're there as well." I said, kissing the top of her head.

As we sat on the couch, hugging each other, I couldn’t help but think that I could have lost her. I could have lost the only person who made my bad days good and who was there to support me, my little muse. I can’t believe she forgives me now. I won’t ever make the same mistake again. I can’t afford to lose her, not when she has done so much for me. I will make sure to show her how much I love and appreciate her.

~~~

I hope you guys enjoyed it and sorry if it was bad :(

#ateez imagine #ateez hongjoong #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong #ateez hongjoong x reader #ateez hongjoong imagine #ateez #kpop fanfics #kpop imagines #kpop x female reader

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bluedalahorse · 3 months

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I think I’ll say this once, since I need to say it before I can move on to more excited posting about promos and things:

Obviously Young Royals means a lot to me. It’s become another way for me to connect with my hyphenated-American heritage and to start teaching myself Swedish again. It helped me survive a pretty brutal year of bullying at work. It made me confident enough to start the process of getting formally evaluated for autism and ADHD. I’ve been writing a 200k+ historical AU fanfic for YR—the kind of fic I always read and adored back in fandoms when I was younger, the kind of fic I wanted to write myself. I’m proud of the way that Heart and Homeland has made me a better writer, and I’m glad for the way it’s deepened my friendship with @heliza24. It is Young Royals in part that inspired by thesis on restorative justice in YA literature. When I was in the hospital last fall because I almost had a literal stroke from stress, I was comforted and kept calm by the fact that I was wearing a YR t-shirt and had a plush doll of a YR character sitting in my lap. And all of that is the short list.

As we come close to the release date, I hope that every single member of the fandom gets something they enjoy in the new season. I don’t think every person is going to get everything they want, but I genuinely hope there’s a moment, a scene, a line that brings them joy. We’ve all stuck with this series for a while, and I want us all to have something we can take with us. A little bit of sparkle for the road, if you will.

There’s of course the possibility that some of us get a lot of what we want, and others of us are let down. I know this was the case for season 2, and it feels naive to imagine that everyone in the fandom will be equally satisfied by season 3. I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll enjoy the hell out of it, but I’m also trying to prepare my heart in case it’s not what I wanted. I’m trying to gently talk to myself right now and say that even if the third season leaves me upset and unsatisfied—even if the writing takes a nosedive or it’s good writing but it’s just not what I wanted—that I still learned a lot about crafting stories and being myself and surviving hardship and thinking about systems and whatever else, from this show. That my experience with the first two seasons still matters, that my work on my fic is something to be proud of. If season 3 is a disappointment, Heart and Homeland will be my new canon. I’m sure there are other people out there talking themselves up in this way too. I know we’re all pushing through the pre-season jitters.

The other thing I’m trying to reconcile right now is how I feel about the promotional material that’s come out, and the conversations around that. Like on my own, I actually feel pretty great? It’s fun to see the new stuff come in? But then I think about the ratio of Wilmon to other things and some of the responses I’m seeing to that. And I see people say like “oh the show is back to focusing on what’s actually good about it” and “it’s great that they’re doing this because the audience doesn’t really care about characters who aren’t Wilmon.” And… hello? Aren’t I the audience? Tumblr isn’t too bad (most of the time) but then there’s like, Instagram, where the Netflix Nordic posted whole set of photos of different pairs and friendships from a whole bunch of shows, and there was one (1) picture of Sara and Rousseau and I saw enough comments where people were like “ew! Vomit! Give us Wilmon instead!” that like… y’all. Frida Argento is a human being and a damn good actress, and Lisa is a good writer of female characters, and like. We can celebrate that, once in a while. We can create space for her too. It’s not Frida OR Omar and Edvin. It’s Frida AND Omar AND Edvin AND Nikita AND Malte AND Nathalie AND Mimmi AND Fabian AND Samuel AND… look I could keep on listing but I’m going to get distracted if I do.

Like, man. I love Wilmon. Don’t get me wrong. I love the complexity their relationship can run with. There are lines heliza has written for them in fic that make me swoon and I am giddy about the part where I get to read them first. I love the glowsticks. I love Wilmon’s sense of humor and the part where they cheated at Vincent’s rowing race thing and their utmost commitment to being dumbass teenage boys against the world. The first week I saw the show and came into work (where we have an athletic field) I went and took a selfie on the field after covering my hands in those gross fake dots. Look. I am all in.

And also… I came to the show for Wilmon but I stayed for so much more. I would have watched Young Royals once or twice and said “that was pleasant” without ever getting back into fanfic after a decade away, if the show was only Wilmon. I do like Wilmon, but it wasn’t Wilmon who inspired my thesis on restorative justice or made me a better writer overall. I survived that year of bullying at work because I could come home and write my ensemble fanfic, especially the parts where I focused on the non-Wilmon pairing I was in charge of writing. I finally felt confident enough to be evaluated for AuDHD because of a connection I felt to a character who wasn’t Simon or Wilhelm. It was a plush doll of a non-Wilmon character who sat in my lap and kept me calm while I was hooked up to those scary machines in the hospital this past October.

I guess my one humble request is that people be thoughtful about how they use phrases like “everyone thinks” or “no one wants.” Not every member of the fandom has the same opinion, and not every member wants the same things out of season 3, and there are some of us who are happy about the new Wilmon content but who are still feeling a little hungry for more of our most beloved characters, and hope they’ll get meaningful storylines (and not get ignored) in season 3. I do know we probably won’t all get what we want, and that some of us will probably get more of what we want than others. I hope that whatever happens, we’ll all get something we want, and we can all be gracious about it, and continue to find meaning in the canon.

For the people here on tumblr who are already including me in their everyone… thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you know who you are and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. And I do hope this Little Fandom That Could can keep going into all sorts of new creative places.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals season 3 spoilers #yrs3 spoilers

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seidenbros · 1 year

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It's Written in the Stars

prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist Pairing: Barkeeper!Eddie Munson x Reader (best friends & roommates) Summary: For your birthday, Eddie gives you your own galaxy. A jar filled with fairy lights and origami stars that have messages written on them. At the bottom there is an origami heart where he wrote his feelings for you down, because he doesn't want to ruin the friendship you have with that. He's been in love with you for ages, but never had the courage to say it out loud, especially not since you were always in a relationship, and when you weren't Eddie was just dating someone. It will take you some time to get to the bottom of the jar to find that confession, though, or will ot? Word count: 6985 Warning/Tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friend Eddie, Barkeeper Eddie, petnames (princess, honey etc), bit of sexual tension, idiot boyfriend, AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES, reader gets drunk, Eddie takes care of her (let me know if I missed anything) A/N: I teaed this idea alredy, and it'sfinally here. It's also part of @newlips milestome celebration, so HUGE CONGRATS to you and thank you so, so much for hosting this event. Ever since I stumbled upon it, I couldn't stop thinking of this idea and had to write it down before anything else really. So I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it (cause who doesn't like lovesick Eddie?) 💚 Read on AO3

Living with you was the best and worst thing for Eddie. The best because he got to live with his best friend and had you around most of the time. The worst, because he was so painfully in love with you and still had to see you with someone else. What he wanted most in the world was to see you happy, and as long as you were happy with your boyfriend, he’d accept it. But God forbid, he found out that he wasn’t treating you the way you should be treated. Sure, Eddie was the kind of guy who would worship the hell out of you, but you were already treated like the most precious being as his best friend.

So many times, he’d thought about telling you about his feelings, but he’d chickened out. Or rather told himself that he was just doing what was best for your friendship, because that way he wouldn’t destroy it. After all, you always seemed to be in a relationship when he wasn’t, and the other way around, even though he was always kind of stuck in the dating phase, because his heart already belonged to you. But he tried. Tried to open it up to someone else, but they simply weren’t you.

Of course, he’d talked to Steve about it, not just once, but that wasn’t enough. He had to tell you somehow, and so he came up with an idea. He wrote it down. Sure, he’d already written his feelings down in a song, but that was more… universal. But for your birthday, he’d made something for you. A little jar that had fairy lights in it, so you could turn them on and make your own galaxy. Galaxy? Yes, because it was filled with little origami stars.

Eddie had spent a lot of time on them, and every star had a special message in it. There were jokes or tiny drawings, memories that made him smile and were bound to make you smile as well. He even made you little vouchers that you could cash in whenever you felt like it, either for a movie night, a home cooked meal, a massage… He just wanted you to take out one of those stars whenever you needed a little pick-me-up.

At the bottom of the jar, he’d placed the origami heart, made out of pale rose coloured paper that had a whole love confession written on it. He’d needed to get it out, write it down, so he’d done just that. In his mind, he’d told you about his feelings, he just didn’t know when you were going to read it.

Today was your birthday, and Eddie hadn’t been able to be there last night, because he had to work, and when he’d gotten home around four in the morning, you’d already been fast asleep. Tonight, you’d celebrate your birthday at the bar Eddie worked at. He wouldn’t exactly work, but he’d take care of your drinks, so you’d get them a bit cheaper, since none of the other barkeepers would have to tend to you.

He was nervous when he heard your door open, not sure whether you’d come out alone or with your current boyfriend Miles. You’d spent the evening with him and another couple you were friends with, but apparently, you’d come home alone, much to Eddie’s surprise - but it made him happy, because that meant that he had you to himself at least this morning.

“Good morning, princess, and the happiest of birthdays!” Eddie got up from his chair, revealing the kitchen table behind him, which was filled with pancakes, eggs and bacon. When he opened his arms for you, you all but flung yourself into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him, poking your nose into his chest and taking a deep breath. Eddie always felt like home, always calmed you down, and it was the same right now. He was your anchor when everything else was swirling around you.

“You okay?” he asked carefully, knowing by the way you clung onto him that something was up. By now, he knew you well enough. Instead of answering straight away, you hugged him a little tighter, huffing against his chest.

“Alright, no need to answer, but it’s your birthday.” Eddie smoothed a hand over your head as you slowly pulled back, looking into his eyes. “And that means, I’m gonna turn that frown upside down. Wanna see you happy today!”

That was enough already to make you soften, to make your lips curl up slightly.

“How do you do that?” you eventually say with a laugh, disbelief making you shake your head.

“How do I do what?” A smile pushed Eddie’s lips up, making his eyes crinkle.

“Make me forget what a douchebag my boyfriend is and put a smile on my face.”

“Ah, honey, it’s because I’ve known you long enough.” And because I love you so fucking much it hurts.

“Mhm… thank you.” You squeezed him once more, before you looked at the table. “All that for me?”

“Well, I was hoping you'd share that with me, but if you’re that hungry, I guess, I’ll just have some coffee.” You raised your hand to slap his upper arm, and Eddie being Eddie, tumbles back slightly, immediately covering the spot with his own hand. “Oww! The pain! I really don’t think I can serve you drinks tonight. I’ve only got one working arm.”

“Jesus, you’re a drama king.”

“You know me.” Eddie chuckled, and when you’d sat down at the table, he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head before he sat down as well. He poured you some coffee, then filled your plate with a bit of everything. “Eat up, you’re gonna need it if you wanna celebrate tonight.”

“What, you trying to get me drunk or what?” you asked with a chuckle, before you started eating, a moan leaving your lips at the delicious taste. You didn’t realise that Eddie’s eyes were lingering a little longer on your lips and that he seemed a little flustered, because he quickly answered you.

“Then I wouldn’t give you that much food.” Eddie tilted his head to the side, chuckling to himself. “Just trying to watch out for you so that you’ll have a good evening, love.”

“Mhm…” You knew he meant it, knew that he’d always watch out for you, and it made your heart swell. Eddie was the one person you trusted with everything, trusted the most out of all the people you knew - even more than Miles. And that was one of the reasons you’d had that argument the night before.

“We’re one person less tonight anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna see Miles there.” You avoided eye-contact, concentrated on your food instead.

“Alright.” Oh, Eddie was dying to ask what had happened, what that idiot had done this time, but he bit his tongue instead. It was up to you whether you wanted to tell him or not.

“Yeah he made a huge fuss about something yesterday and there was a lot of yelling and…” You shrugged your shoulders not wanting to think about it anymore. Yes, he’d frightened you a little bit, but you knew that he’d never lay a hand on you. But the loud yelling wasn’t exactly something you were good with. “So I told him to stay away today.”

“It’s your birthday, and you choose how to celebrate it. So we won’t see him tonight.” Eddie gave you a smile, tried his hardest not to show how happy he was about this, because it meant that he didn’t have to see Miles sucking on your throat again half the evening or anything like that.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile before your fingers traced over the glass jar next to your plate. “What’s that?”

“Your present!”

“Really? It looks amazing!” Ever so gently, you picked up the jar and turned it around in your hands, making Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

“It’s not just something to look at, though,” Eddie said with a twinkle in his eye, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest. “All of them have a little note in them.”

“What?” Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at that and you quickly undid the lid of the jar and pulled one of the stars out to carefully unfold it. “All of them? That was a lot of work, Eddie!”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. You were definitely worth it in his eyes. “It’s just something for… whenever you need something to lift your spirits, you know? When you’re having a bad day, you can take one of these stars out of there and read that note. Wish upon a star and everything.”

“Don’t let anyone dim your light. You’re the brightest star in your own galaxy.” You pressed your lips together, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to spill out of your eyes.

“Hey! No crying! It’s your birthday after all!”

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled, taking a deep breath before you quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anything for you!” And he meant it. He would move heaven and hell for you. “And now eat up, you got a long day ahead of you.

“Harrington! Come over here and help me!” Eddie called over to his other best friend, while you were lost in conversation with Robin. You looked so happy, so relaxed, that Eddie was relieved. There was so far no sign of Miles and that made you a lot calmer. By now, you were on your third drink, and everyone was enjoying this evening. No bad conversations, just friends enjoying their drinks, the music, dancing here and there.

“Where’s her idiot boyfriend?” Steve asked, taking one of the trays with drinks from Eddie.

“They had an argument yesterday so she told him to stay away.”

“Your chance then!” Steve meant well, because he knew that the two of you would make the best couple, but he also knew that Eddie was unbelievably shy when it came to telling you about his feelings. Hence the idea with the jar, because he’d never know when you’d read it or if you would read it at all - and he didn’t really have a way of pulling out of it, since the jar was yours now.

“Steve, she didn’t dump him, so…” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, taking the other tray. “They’ve been there before.” No, he really didn’t want to get his hopes up. And even if you separated from Miles, that didn’t mean that Eddie would suddenly tell you about his feelings. You were still his best friend after all, and more than anything, he didn’t want to lose you.

“Yeah I know.”

As the two of them put the trays down on the table where the whole group was sitting, Eddie saw you tense up and followed your line of sight.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled as he saw Miles stalk over to your table, the look on his face telling everyone that he wasn’t exactly happy. But before he could get to you, Eddie stepped up to him, holding up his hand. “Miles, this is not a good idea. She doesn’t want to see you here.”

“That’s none of your business, Munson. I’m her boyfriend, and I want to talk to her!” Miles looked past him towards you, but then quickly focused on Eddie again.

Miles was about Eddie’s height, but he had broader shoulders, looked a bit more intimidating than Eddie did even with his tattoos. But Eddie would never back down when it was about you. Now, he wasn’t exactly someone who went looking for a fight, and if anything was going to happen, he knew that Steve would get him out of there and knock Miles out. After all, he’d started playing hockey a few years back and definitely knew how to fight. Still, that wasn’t what Eddie wanted to happen tonight, he just wanted Miles to leave so you could enjoy the rest of the evening.

“And I’m her best friend, so I’m looking out for her.”

“Best friend my ass. I know what you want, Munson so back off!” He took a step more towards Eddie, going toe to toe with him, and that prompted you to get up.

“It’s alright, Eddie.” You pushed your body between the two of them so they both had to take a step back. “I’ll handle that.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie studied your face, concern written all over his own, because he didn’t want you to have to deal with that, maybe even ruin the evening for you.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

You gave Eddie a smile before you turned around and pretty much pushed Miles out of the bar ahead of you. Eddie took a deep breath, watching you leave. This evening was supposed to be about you, that you were enjoying yourself and then MIles managed to make it about himself. At least that was Eddie’s opinion as he sat back down. Maybe, because he didn’t really like Miles for obvious reasons.

“You look like you need a drink,” Steve said with a sympathetic smile and pushed one of the cocktails over to Eddie.

“No thanks, I’ll stick to water.” As much as he wanted to drink right now to calm his nerves, he’d stay sober. A promise was a promise, and even though you’d told him that he could drink, that you’d find the way home together either way, he’d promised to take care of you tonight. That he’d take care of the drinks, and that wouldn’t work if he started drinking himself. Because if he started now, he’d drown his worries and feelings in alcohol.

“I’d rather have a cigarette now,” he added with a sigh, knowing that he couldn’t go outside now, because Miles and you were there. So, instead he tried to listen to the conversations around him, his left leg bouncing up and down, his eyes darting to the door again and again, until he felt a hand on his thigh.

“She’ll be alright. You know she’s tough.” Robin gave his thigh a squeeze before she straightened again.

“Yeah I know…” Eddie rubbed both hands over his face, taking a deep breath. “Just want her to have a good birthday.”

“Yeah I know. And Miles really doesn’t add to that.” Robin rolled her eyes, because she’d never been a fan of him. She just didn’t know what you saw in a guy like him when you had someone as loving and caring like Eddie right in front of you. One evening when the two of you and Nancy had had a lot of wine while watching movies, you’d told them that you’d always had a thing for Eddie, but you were apparently destined to be best friends. Wrong timing and all that.

“No, apparently not.” Eddie heaved a sigh, because he didn’t want to say too much. And he didn’t have to, because the next moment he looked up at the door, you came storming back inside. Immediately, Eddie stood up only to have you in his arms a second later, your face pressed against his chest. He felt the tears sink into his Dio shirt, the one you’d given him years ago, felt your body shake slightly. This wasn’t good, not at all, and he hated seeing you like this.

“We’ll be right back,” he mouthed to Steve over your head, before he managed to manoeuvre you into one of the backrooms. Carefully, he sat you down on the couch and crouched down in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, putting his hands on your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles into the skin exposed on your knees.

“Yeah, I…” you sniffled, lifting your hands to brush the tears away. “He’s an asshole.” A deep breath, before you shook your head. “A fucking moron really.”

“Yet… he made you cry.” It was just a fact that he stated, a fact he hated, because he didn’t want to see you cry, especially not because of Miles.

“Yeah.” Ever so slowly, you lifted your head to look at Eddie again. “Because he said stuff about you.” You quickly shook your head again, getting up from the couch. “I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

Eddie followed you, straightening as well, his eyes on you all the time. What the hell had Miles said that had made you cry? Because of him?

“So I dumped him.”

Eddie froze. That was the last thing he’d expected at all, and he shouldn’t be happy, but his heart still did a little tumble upon the news.

“Shit, y/n… I’m sorry.” Not really, because he’d never liked Miles, but he still wanted you to be happy.

“Don’t be,” you said with a sigh, stepping up to the mirror on the wall to look at yourself and clean the streaks of mascara from your cheeks. “Miles never really… satisfied me, you know? Not a big loss.”

“Oh okay.” Eddie nodded, trying to follow your thoughts and when he finally did, his eyes widened. “Ohhh! Shit now I’m sorry you spent so much time with him. A vibrator might have made a better boyfriend then.”

You laughed, and it was the best sound Eddie had heard all day. It warmed his heart, because he’d wanted to lift your mood with his comment - even though he was half serious.

“Thank you, really, Eddie.” You stepped up to him again to give him a hug. “Do I look presentable?”

“You always look fucking gorgeous!”

“Ahh, now you’re just flattering me!”

He wasn’t, but you didn’t know. To him, you’d always be the most beautiful woman in the room, but he couldn’t tell you that right now. Not when you’d just dumped your boyfriend.

“God, I need a drink. Or a couple.”

“Drink all you want. I already told you, I’ll take care of you and make sure you get home safely.”

“Yeah… Guess I really need that now.”

Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you back to the table. He took care that you always had drinks at your table, and in turn he was rewarded with your warm laugh, with a smile on your lips, and even with your singing after you’d had a couple more drinks. Especially after Miles’ appearance, he was glad that you were still able to enjoy this evening - maybe even a bit too much, because when everyone went home, you were hardly able to stand on your own two feet.

Your purse was slung over Eddie’s shoulder, and he had the other arms wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you upright. He’d actually wanted to carry you home, but you hadn’t allowed him to do that, telling him that you were too heavy for that. Bullshit in his opinion, because he was stronger than he looked, but he didn’t want to start a discussion with a drunk birthday girl. Well technically it wasn’t your birthday anymore, but none of you cared.

Eddie managed to bring you up the stairs without any injuries. While he unlocked the door, you were trying to take off your shoes, but failed miserably, because you couldn’t stand on one foot without toppling over.

“Just… wait a second, I’ll help you.” Eddie heaved a sigh, slowly guiding you inside and locking the door from the inside. He walked you over to the living room to sit you down on the sofa.

“So… so sorry Eds… just… ugh!” you mumbled, closing your eyes against the light that Eddie had just turned on.

“Hey, you don’t have to apologise. I told you to let loose tonight and that I’d take care of you.”

“I knooooow… still!” You leaned back on the sofa, head falling against the headrest, your eyes still closed. Eddie quickly walked to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. He handed it to you before he crouched down to take off your shoes.

“Did you have fun, princess?”

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, a smile spreading on your lips. Slowly, you lifted your head again and leaned forward. Your right hand found its place on Eddie’s cheek, and he stiffened a little, leaning into your touch, because it felt so good. But he knew that it was a fleeting moment, that it would be over any moment, because this was just happening because you were drunk.

“Ready to go to bed?”

“Ya know…” you started, squinting at him as your thumb brushed over his bottom lip. “I’ve to tell you some… something.” You leaned forward a bit more. “Dumped Milo-”

“Miles,” Eddie corrected, not able to suppress a smile, because you were absolutely adorable right now.

“Yeah… that one! I dumped his ass… ‘Cause I’m in lov-” your words were cut off when you nearly fell off the sofa and spilled the water over Eddie. He reacted quickly, catching you mid fall to steady you, the glass abandoned on the floor. He hadn’t even completely realised what you’d just said, because he was too concerned about your well-being.

“Feeling better now?” he quietly asked, and when you nodded, he slowly got up, helped you up as well and led you to the bathroom, so you could wash your face and brush your teeth.

While you were busy at the sink, Eddie made quick work of his shoes, shirt and jeans and just put all of that in the bathtub, so he could put that in the washing the next morning.

“Your clothes!” You pointed at his naked chest and looked up at him.

“Yeah, I had to take them off, because they’re wet.” “‘M sorry!”

“No, no, it’s okay, love! It’s just water.” He took your hand in his to reassure you, but then let go again. “Come on, sit down.” As careful as possible, he sat you down on the toilet lid and grabbed your favourite brush. In silence, he started brushing your hair, careful not to rip too many hairs out of hurt you in any way.

“You’re so sweet to me.” Your words were whispered, your eyes nearly completely shut, because sleep was threatening to pull you in. “You don’t have… have to…”

“Shh, it’s okay, alright? I told you, I’d take care of you and I am. Just let me do this and then I’ll get you to bed, alright?”

You gave the faintest nod, but it was enough for Eddie to keep going. When he was done with your hair, he took off your makeup, then put your night cream on your face, before he took your hand in his again to lead you towards your bedroom.

“Can you stand for a moment?” he asked you again, just to make sure that you were okay, and you nodded. Carefully, his fingers traced down your back to the zipper of your skirt and he slowly pulled it down. “That okay?”

“Mhm…” Right now, you just wanted to sleep, but taking off your clothes first was a good idea. You didn’t really care anymore, but you knew you were safe in Eddie’s hands, so you let him help you.

Eddie stepped around you so that you could hold onto his shoulders while he pulled down your skirt and helped you step out of it.

“Lift your arms for me please.” After you did that, Eddie gripped the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it up over your head, trying not to concentrate on the way your soft skin felt against his knuckles. Or the way your breasts pushed up because of your raised arms. Or the way the black lace left little to the imagination, because it was partly see-through. No, it wasn’t appropriate to stare or even think about you like that, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Alright, time to get some sleep.” You were too drunk to pick up on the rasp in his voice, his teeth that bore into his bottom lip. Nothing of that registered for you as you turned around and pretty much flopped down on your bed, just reaching out one hand to pull the covers up over your body.

“Thanks, Eds,” you managed to mumble before you drifted off to sleep. Eddie stood there for a moment longer and just watched you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Good night, princess.”

You woke up the next morning or rather midday with a groan. The pounding in your head only became worse when you sat up. Looking down your body you realised that you were only wearing your underwear. A really sexy set that you loved but you tried to remember when you took your clothes off, wracked your brain for that memory. And then it hit you.

“Oh fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, rubbing both hands over your face and through your hair. Eddie. Eddie had taken care of you, had even helped you wash your face and take off your clothes - all that after you’d spilled water over him. This realisation mortified you even more than the fact that he’d seen you in your see-through underwear.

He was such a good friend that he’d never do anything you didn’t want. And that was the problem, he was a friend and nothing more, when your heart and body were aching for more. You’d blurted out that you were in love with Eddie last night, hadn’t you? You were pretty sure you had, but you couldn’t be sure. It was all such a blur.

Slowly, you got up and quickly grabbed one of your oversized sweaters and a pair of leggings to pull them on before you headed to the kitchen. The smell of coffee tickled in your nose and made you quicken your pace only to find Eddie sitting at the kitchen table. At your spot, there was already a cup of coffee and two pills for your headache.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile as he looked up from the book he was reading. He had the day off today as well, but Steve was going to pick him up any minute now. “How’re you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but I guess this will help.” You sat down opposite him and washed the pills down with some coffee.

“Oh, they will. You should just get something to eat, take a long hot bath and then watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah I will.” Nodding your head wasn’t such a good idea, because you regretted that straight away. “Look about what I said yesterday…” Better get it over now than wait till Eddie asked you about it.

“What do you mean?” Eddie squinted at you as he closed the book. “You were drunk, honey, you only told me that I was sweet for taking care of you or something.”

“Really?” You scrunched up your nose, trying to remember exactly what you’d said and when you realised that you hadn’t finished your love confession because you’d spilled water on him you were suddenly mortified, not sure if that had been better than blurting out that you were in love with him. “Oh God and then I…” You hid your face in your hands, groaning at the memory.

“It’s okay, really.” Eddie chuckled, getting up from his chair. Carefully, he pried your hand away to reveal your face to him. “I’m just glad you enjoyed your evening after everything.”

“I did!” It was the truth, even though you could have done without the throwing up part.

“That’s Steve,” Eddie said when the doorbell rang, taking his hands off your and heading towards the door. “I’ll see you later. Get some rest!”

“Yeah…” You would try that at least, but you’d also think about the previous night again and again.

Two weeks passed and everything was going well. To be honest, you hadn’t missed Miles at all. Sure, some nights you were longing for some company, but just the thought of Miles being there made you shiver. There was someone else whose company you wanted. Someone else whose strong hands you wanted to feel on your back holding you close, whose curls you wanted to tickle your cheeks as he leaned over you to kiss you.

Ever since the night of your birthday, those feelings were more present than ever before. For once, you were single and Eddie wasn’t actively dating anyone as far as you knew, but still, it wasn’t that simple. What were you supposed to do, just walk up to him and tell him how you felt? Thinking back to that night, you were still mortified that you’d nearly blurted it out.

“You happy now? Have you finally fucked your so-called best friend?”

You froze when you heard Miles' voice behind you. You’d just bought a couple of groceries, had left the house just for that, and you had to meet him.

“He’s not my so-called best friend. Eddie is my best friend. Something you never understood.” You turned around to look at him, fire in your eyes, because he was aggravating you so much.

“Yeah sure,” Miles scoffed, rolling his eyes at you.

“What is your problem, Miles?”

“He is. If it weren’t for him, we’d still be together!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” You turned around again to keep walking, not wanting to indulge in this conversation, but Miles grabbed a hold of your wrist, stopping you in your movements.

“He won’t be able to satisfy you the way I did, baby!”

“You never satisfied me, now let me go!” You turned towards him only to glare at him. “And you’ll never satisfy anyone until you learn what and where the clitoris is!” You spat the words at him, leaving him completely stunned. Your chance to walk home, your steps getting quicker and quicker. Your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest when you closed the door behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered to yourself and put the bag down in the kitchen and took off your shoes. Quick steps led you to your room, because you needed one of the stars Eddie had made for you. Something to ground you, lift your mood, because they’d managed to do that every day since you’d gotten that little gift from him. It was such a sweet gift, something so thoughtful, whereas Miles had gotten you some red roses, when you didn’t even like roses.

You practically kicked the door open, because you were still so aggravated that it hit the wall and the shelf behind it. The shelf that held the jar Eddie had given you. It happened faster than you were able to react, and it toppled over the edge of the shelf, hitting the floor and shattering into tiny pieces.

“Shit!” you cursed under your breath, immediately walking over and bending down to inspect the damage, but there really was no saving the jar anymore, but you could at least pick up the stars and save them, because you wanted to keep them. When you crouched down to pick some of them up, you managed to cut your hand on one of the glass shards.

“Of course,” you mumbled to yourself, quickly reaching for an abandoned shirt to wrap that around your hand to stop the bleeding. Just before you wanted to stand up again to go to the bathroom, your eyes landed on a bigger piece of paper among the stars. When you pushed the stars aside to pick it up, you realised that it was an origami heart, a pale rose coloured paper that made you smile immediately. Eddie had put that in the jar as well, and now, you were curious what this one said.

Carefully, and as best as you could with one injured hand, you unfolded the paper and started reading, but your eyes already teared up at the first couple of words.

My dearest y/n…

I don’t even know how to start this, because I’ve been carrying it with me for so long, but I feel like my heart will burst if I don’t get the words out to you. Sure, this might seem like the easy way, and maybe it is, but I just don’t want to lose you. I’ve been in love with you for so long, have seen you with other guys, always hoping that they would make you happy, when in reality, I longed to be them, to be the man by your side, the one to make you smile, the one to hold you at night and fall asleep with my nose in your hair. To wake up with you on top of me, because you toss and turn in your sleep. All the love songs I’ve written since I’ve known you were about you. About the way your eyes light up when you see something that makes you happy. About the way you try to hide your tears when we watch a sad movie and tell me that you are not crying. About the way the sun catches in your hair when you do a little twirl out of happiness. About the way your nose crinkles when you’re deep in thought. It’s the little things that always stick with me, the little things I miss the most. I’ve always wanted you to be happy, secretly hoping that you’d be happiest with me. But just being a part of your life, to be your best friend, is something that I do not want to miss, and that’s why I never told you. But I am doing that now. I love you. And not just like a friend. I love you from the bottom of my heart and you make me so happy every single day. And that’s why I want to see you happy, no matter who is by your side.

Yours, always, Eddie

When Eddie came home and walked into the kitchen, he was confused to find your bag filled with groceries abandoned on a chair. He called out to you, but didn’t get an answer. After taking off his shoes and jacket, he walked to your room to check if you were there, but when he found you, his alarm bells went off.

“Shit! Are you okay?” His eyes scanned the floor, and he saw the broken jar, the shards of glass lying around. Then, his eyes landed on the fabric wrapped around your hand, already stained with your blood. “Y/N?”

When you turned your head towards Eddie, he could see the tears brimming in your eyes. You hadn’t even heard him come in because you were so lost in the words he’d written down.

“Come on, it’s not that bad, let me just… clear that wound, okay?” Carefully, Eddie took your injured hand in his, not realising that you were holding his love confession in the other hand, because he was too concerned with the blood he was seeing.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he nearly whispered as he guided you out of your room and into the bathroom, where he carefully unwrapped your hand and tossed the shirt aside.

“That’s gonna sting a little bit, okay?” Eddie was under the impression that you were in some sort of shock because of the injury, but that was definitely not the case. It was more what you’d discovered, but so far, Eddie still hadn’t picked up on that.

“Mhm,” you answered him, wincing slightly when he poured some warm water over your hand to clean the wound.

“Doesn’t look that bad,” Eddie said with a smile, looking up at you for a moment, before he took a clean towel to put that on your hand and pressed it against the cut slightly. Meanwhile, he reached with his other hand into the cupboard to take out a bandaid.

“You’ve been a really good patient, and I’m happy to tell you that you won’t need stitches.” Eddie took the towel off your hand again, before he softly placed the bandaid on the cut. “Kisses help as well, you know?” With a smile on his lips, he lifted your hand to kiss your palm, right above the bandaid. The gesture made you shiver.

“What if my lips hurt as well?” You spoke the words before you could think better of it. “You gonna kiss them as well?”

“What?” Eddie looked at you, eyes wide with surprise. You’d obviously flustered him with that, but he wasn’t pulling back. You eyes scanned his face, the wide-blown pupils, the parted lips, the way his breathing increased, and his hand held yours a little tighter. “Did you lose too much blood? You feel light-headed?”

Eddie couldn’t believe what you’d just said, it was ridiculous. Had he even heard you correctly? Of course, he knew that you hadn’t lost that much blood, but right now, it seemed like the only logical thing in the world to him.

“I’m fine Eddie… never been better actually, because of this.”

You held up the piece of paper and when Eddie saw what it was, recognised his own handwriting, all the colour drained from his face. God, he really wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He’d thought he’d have a lot more time before you found this.

“Did you mean all of that?” You had to make sure, had to know if he really meant it or had intended it for someone else, even if your name was at the top.

“I-” Eddie started, raising his hands to run both of them through his hair, his tongue darting out to wet his lips that suddenly felt way too fucking dry. “Yes.”

A simple question, a simple answer. What Eddie didn’t expect, though, were your lips on his. Your lips crashed together, and it wasn’t at all enjoyable for either of you, so you quickly pulled back again, absolutely horrified about what had just happened.

“I’m… fuck sorry, Eddie,” you started babbling, shaking your head, while you took a step back. “I’ve just… God, I’ve been carrying that around with me and haven’t said a word, because I didn’t think you’d feel the same way and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!” Eddie placed both hands on your upper arms, heart racing in his chest. Had he heard you correctly? “You… feel the same way?”

“YES! And I’d thought that I had blurted that out to you on my birthday, before I…” You motioned with your hands to make him realise what you were talking about, because you didn’t want to say that out loud again. The memory was still embarrassing.

After a moment, Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah, that… but you didn’t. I didn’t hear it at least.” He lifted one hand from your arm to put his pointer finger beneath your chin and lift your head so you had to look at him.

“I love you, Eddie. I’ve been in love with you for so long!” You blurted the words out faster than you could think, your heart beating so fast and hard that you were sure Eddie could hear it.

“And I love you, y/n… Can’t even remember a time when I didn’t.” It felt like a weight had been lifted off him, now that he’d finally said the words to you, now that you knew how he felt. All that was made infinitely better by the fact that you were feeling the same way.

“Now, how about we try that again, hm?” Eddie whispered, his fingers caressing your cheek, cupping it so he could tilt your head a bit to his liking, before his lips softly pressed against yours.

You felt that kiss everywhere, from your lips down to the tips of your toes, your fingertips started tingling as you dug them into his shirt for a moment. Eddie fingers moved from your cheek to your neck, the other arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest. Close wasn’t close enough right now. Your own hands moved up his chest, delved into his locks, and when you tugged slightly on them, Eddie moaned into your mouth.

“Now, that was much better,” he mumbled against your lips, chuckling slightly, as he wrapped both arms around your. Eddie leaned his head against yours, taking a deep breath, as he cherished the moment.

“How long?” you quietly asked, making him open his eyes again and pull back slightly so that he could look at you. You twisted one of his curls around your finger, the other hand slowly stroking over his cheek and down to his chest again.

“Way too long.” Eddie shook his head with a sigh. “I just didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“Mhm… So, we could have had that years ago?”

“Pretty much.”

“Mhm.” You nodded your head, thought for a moment, before you looked up at him again. “Guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then.”

With a smile on your lips, you kissed him again, pressing your body against his, but you had to pull back when you moved your hand wrong and realised how much the cut actually hurt.

“Yeah, we do. But for now, I think we could just cuddle up on the sofa, hm? Watch a movie and keep doing some more of this stuff in between.” Eddie stole another kiss from your lips, grinning to himself. “How’s that sound?”

“Perfect!”

And it was. It was the perfect start to a new chapter for both of you. Your galaxy in the jar might have been destroyed, but with Eddie, you were making your own galaxy, and you both were right at the centre of it, having orbited around each other for so long, but now, you’d finally collided and were shining brighter than ever together.

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