#I’ll start living my best life when it’s convenient to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlinos · 5 months

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Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat.

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.”

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable.

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day.

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch. When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless.

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

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vampykween · 6 months

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real love

simon ghost riley x f!reader this is just porn tiny bit of plot tbh apologies for the abrupt end, but i could not for the life of me finish this all the way through ugh

You're not sure if your husband is trying to kill you; he looks devilishly handsome in the black button-up he's wearing - which he's conveniently left three buttons open on - and the woodsy notes of his cologne have you feeling inappropriately hot for the lively restaurant you two are in.

Simon’s lips are on yours as soon as you two cross the threshold. He his large palms roaming the expanse of your back until he cups your ass and squeezes the round flesh. You moan into his mouth which is hastily swallowed up when Simon sweeps his tongue into your mouth, sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Simon always kisses you like he's trying to simultaneously devour you and convey all the love he has for you.

He unexpectedly pulls away from you and shakes his head, “don’t wanna get too carried away love, I have a surprise for you. But trust, any other day and I’d rip this fuckin’ dress off and have my way with you right here. You look fuckin’ sinful.”

You blush at your husband’s words, somehow you think you’ll never get used to the way he talks about you, like you truly are the greatest gift he’s ever received. You remember that he said he had a surprise for you, but before you have time to question any further, he’s taking your hand and leading you towards your shared bedroom. He stops in front of the closed door and has on, what you perceive to be, a sheepish look on his face. What could possibly have your normally cocky and confident husband feeling insecure?

“Baby, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it. I love anything you do for me, you know that,” you try and ease Simon’s nerves if only momentarily. He nods curtly and opens the bedroom door, and you gasp, raising your hand to cover your mouth. Tears began to pool in your eyes, “Simon- I- What’s all this for?” you can believe the sight in front of you. There are a multitude of light candles spread out on the surfaces in the room, creating a romantic aura that’s coupled with the vase of your favorite flowers on your nightstand.

You turn towards him in disbelief, not that Simon being romantic was completely out of the ordinary, but you simply weren’t expecting him to do all this. He pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head lovingly, “Been a year since the best day of my life, I say that’s something worth going all out for.” Now it was your turn to shake your head at him, you both had agreed that you didn’t need to do anything crazy for your anniversary, just being with each other every day when that wasn’t guaranteed was a gift in and of itself. He had already taken you out to dinner at the fancy place downtown you had been wanting to eat for forever, even bought you a luxurious dress for the occasion.

“You’re too good to me Simon Riley,” you convey your sentiment with another kiss and lead him towards the bed. Simon takes him time peeling your clothes off and kisses ever bare inch of skin revealed to him.

“You’re so beautiful love, I can’t believe I get to spend my life loving you.” He trails down until he’s kneeling eye level with your pussy. You run your finger through his blonde strands, which were starting to get rather shaggy something you loved. You’ve never met a guy like Simon before, a man who was content with simply pleasing and worshipping you. You’re brought out of your reverie by hid tongue circling your clit delicately and your grip in his hair tightens. Your husband alternates between lapping at your clit and sweeping his tongue through your wet folds and prodding at your tight hole. His fingers join soon after and he’s thrusting his thick digits into you slowly but deep enough that is has you seeing stars.

“Okay, Si, I’m good. Baby I need you to fuck me,” you whine desperately. You normally can’t resist Simon, but when he’s looking angelic between your legs with warm candlelight flickering across his face; you’ve never felt so riled up in your life.

Simon groans into your slick cunt, clearly in disagreement with what you said. He pulls away swiftly, “You can be patient, my love. Let me take my time with you. I want you to cum on my face, before I fuck you with my cock, yeah.”

You concede simply because he's making you feel so good you can’t really even complain. Your husband was clearly on a mission now though, the pace of his fingers picking up and he sucks your clit into his mouth so fervently that when you come it hits you like a freight train. You cry out as your legs shake and Simon doesn’t let up, continuing his ministrations until you pat the side of his face, your signal for when you can’t take anymore when takes you apart like this.

"Can't tap out now, love. I'm not finished with you yet." God, even after all these Simon Riley was proving to be the death of you.

#mic writes #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #fem reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #this not edited im sorry #i wrote this forever ago tbh #if it's terrible pls don't tell me i'll cry

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catmiemy · 5 days

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Another Chance to Live Part 4 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you finally start dating.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N: Look at me sticking to my upload schedule. Although I might be able to publish the final two parts earlier since I had more time to write because I had to cancel some plans thanks to conjunctivitis.

I hope you enjoy these two finally getting together. As always, happy to hear what you think :)

After your conversation with Jenni you continued to sit on the couch, staring at your phone as if the device would be any help in figuring out how to ask Ana out.

As it turned out, it actually did. While you were still contemplating, weighing the pros and cons of every option, your phone buzzed with an incoming message. Your heart skipped a bit when you saw it was from Ana, just like it always did. And your heart definitely skipped more than one beat once you read the message.

You read the words over and over again, finding it impossible to believe this was actually happening. For so long you had told yourself there would never be anything more than friendship between you and Ana, and now all of the sudden your whole world had been turned upside down in the best way possible.

A little birdie just told me about the conversation you had.

Hope you don’t mind she told me.

Jenni said you didn’t tell her not to tell me, so she thought it was fair game.

Anyway, what do you say about changing our hangout tomorrow to an official date?

You know as a date, as more than friends.

Ana’s reply was almost instant.

Of course I don’t mind, it makes my life a lot easier!

I really owe that birdie, but don’t tell her that.

And yes, I’d love to do that!

You quickly texted back that you were excited about it as well, before putting away your phone grinning like a fool. You felt like you were floating on a cloud of happiness, something that you hadn’t experience in a long, long time, maybe never to this degree.

Great, I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow.

Already looking forward to it.

---

The next day you got more and more nervous the closer the time for Ana to pick you up came. However, whenever the anxiety threatened to become overwhelming, you just thought about the Swiss woman; how happy you always were in her presence and how at ease she made you feel, as if you were perfect just the way you were. Every time you did that you immediately felt much calmer; less anxious nervous and much more joyful excited.

Still, it took you forever to pick out an outfit, mentally thanking Ana that she had texted you earlier in the day to at least let you know what style of clothes you should be wearing, elegant but not overly fancy. In the end you settled on a black dress because you could never go wrong with that, and it did show off your body in the best way possible.

Even with all the internal debating about your outfit you ended up being ready almost 30 minutes before the pickup time, because you had started so early. Therefore you settled down on the couch, trying and failing to distract yourself with your phone.

Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. With a frown you went to open it, hoping it wasn’t your parents with some sort of request to help them out. You definitely didn’t have time to do that right now.

However, when you opened the door and laid eyes on Ana your frowned turned into a big smile. You were always happy to see her, but tonight even more so. Finally you got to be with her in the way you wanted, no more pretending to be just friends.

“Hi,” you greeted her, too distracted by the blonde’s mere presence to wonder why she was here so early.

“Hi,” Ana echoed, stepping forward to hug you. You melted into the embrace and turned your face inwards against her neck, relishing in the fact that you didn’t have to suppress gestures like this any longer.

“Ready to go?” The Swiss woman asked you after a bit.

You nodded, grabbing the bag you had conveniently placed next to the door. When you turned back towards Ana, she reached out offering you her hand. You instantly laced your fingers through hers, the small contact filling you with warmth and an overwhelming sense of belonging right there in this moment.

When you were getting into the car you heard the church bells ring and suddenly realized how early the Swiss woman had been. It wasn’t like she was known for being unpunctual, but also she wasn’t usually this early.

“How come you were here this early? Did I have the time wrong?”

That seemed like the most logical explanation, even though you had checked the time in Ana’s text about at dozen times.

“Well, I knew you’d be ready early and I didn’t want to make you wait unnecessarily and maybe get anxious.”

Your heart melted at this. It was so thoughtful of Ana and it showed how well she already knew you. This fact put you even more at ease. There was no need to pretend or try to show yourself in the most favorable light, this woman already knew you and somehow she still liked you.

“Plus I was excited to go out with my friend,” the blonde continued.

For a second your stomach dropped at the last word, but when you looked over and saw the humor in Ana’s eyes you recognized that she was just teasing you.

“I guess I deserve that,” you conceded, “And for the record I never wanted you to be just my friend.”

You were a little surprised by your own boldness. However, Ana made you feel like it was not only okay to say what you were thinking, but that it was in fact exactly what the Swiss woman wanted.

“That’s good to know,” Ana stated, sounding much more serious all of the sudden as if she still hadn’t been totally sure about your feelings.

Suddenly you felt a little silly for not taking into account that other people got insecure as well. You had been so focused on yourself, that you had never considered how it must have been for the Swiss woman to constantly hear you emphasize that you were merely friends.

“I’m sorry about that, I just didn’t think there was any possibility you’d ever like me too,” you apologized.

Ana looked over at you sadly. “I know, but we’ll work on that,” she promised.

“On what?”

“On the way you see yourself! Don’t think I missed how you didn’t believe me when I told you that everyone I know on the Spanish national team likes you and is always looking forward to seeing you,” the blonde elaborated.

You didn’t quite know how to react to such blatant flattery. Most likely this was just Ana being sweet, but you couldn’t lie, it was still nice to hear.

“See, you’re doing it again. You don’t believe me,“ the blonde accused you softly.

You whipped your head around to look at Ana, shocked that she could read you so easily. Up until now you had always prided yourself on having a good poker face, but apparently the Swiss woman saw right through it.

She didn’t say anything else though, merely smiling at you gently. The silence gave you the time you needed to gather your thoughts. Once again you found yourself being surprisingly honest.

“It’s just because I’m nothing special, I’m just me. I’m too quiet and not very interesting. It’s not like I think everyone hates more or anything. But why would anyone particularly like me?”

In your opinion you had made a good point, but Ana’s eyes were filled with disapproval and sadness on your behalf.

“Because you’re a great person! You always have an open ear for everyone. If there’s anything you can do to help someone, you do it without hesitation. You have such a good heart and you’re so mindful of everyone around you, doing your best to make everyone feel seen and heard.”

“Sure you don’t talk everyone’s ears off as soon as you meet them, but once you’re more comfortable? You tell great stories that always make me feel as if I’m right there with you and I love hearing what you think about things because I can tell that you took your time to form opinions. And to see you speak passionately about the things you care, that’s just something else!”

“Also, I love how much you appreciate the beauty around you. Going somewhere with you is such a treat because you will always point out the pretty flowers, the interesting cloud constellation or the cute dog you see with so much joy and reverence.”

“And let’s not forget that you’re gorgeous. You have the most beautiful and kindest eyes I have ever seen and don’t even get me started about your smile!”

You were overwhelmed by how easily, without even thinking about it first, the Swiss woman managed to list all of these nice qualities. It made you more inclined to believe her. At the very least Ana had you convinced that she meant every word she had said, and that in itself was a good feeling, even if you weren’t convinced all of this was actually, objectively true.

“I could keep talking all night long about all the reasons why I like you so much, but I guess you wouldn’t really appreciate that. So instead I’ll keep bringing it up for as long as you’ll let me be a part of your life, which I’m hoping will be a very long time,” Ana concluded.

“That’s probably a good idea, otherwise you’ll spend the rest of the evening with a tomato head,” you joked.

You had always hated how easily you turned red, your frustration usually only making it worse.

“I wouldn’t complain about that for a second, I find your blushing adorable,” Ana commented, which of course only made you blush even more, but for once you didn’t mind as much.

You arrived at your destination soon after, and you immediately recognized the place from pictures you had seen of Lola and her girlfriend. So the mystery of how the blonde had chosen where to take you was solved. You had never actually been to the restaurant yourself since it was very romantic and mostly frequented by couples, but you had heard good things about it.

By the end of the evening you could definitely confirm that all the praise you had been told about the restaurant was justified. Although in all honesty every place would have felt like heaven to you when it was the location of your first date with Ana.

The conversation stayed mostly light and happy for the first half and hour, both of you enjoying each other’s company and this new and exciting situation. In a lot of ways it wasn’t all that different, you talked as easily as before, the conversation flowing effortlessly. So once again you realized that you had gotten into your heard for nothing. Things weren’t awkward or weird at all, like you had been concerned about.

Sure, there were some differences, all of them positive though; the way you kept slipping from normal conversation into light flirting, how you just gazed deep into each other eyes a few of times, and the way Ana placed her hand onto yours and left it there as long as she possibly could, sighing when she had to retract it because you both needed your hands to eat.

“So do you want to talk about the national team?” You asked, once the last of your nervousness had settled.

Ana shrugged her shoulders unsurely, smile dropping from her face. You had to fight the urge to take it back and apologize for probing; reminding yourself about the conversation you had had after the game against Barcelona. It was okay to ask, and if the Swiss woman actually didn’t want to talk about it, she would tell you. Still, this went entirely against your instinct.

“It’s just such a frustrating situation. Inka is a horrible coach! At least for us, maybe it’s just not a good fit, I don’t know, but for us it doesn’t work. We’re playing badly and the atmosphere at camp isn’t how it used to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing like what I heard about Spain, but everyone was kind of in a state of constant annoyance and was so happy when we could leave.”

“And the worst thing is that the home Euros is coming closer everyday and I wanted that to be the crowning moment of my career. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know, but now? Now I think it’s going to be nightmare, if I even get to go at all,” Ana finished her rant that had began passionate and angry, but fizzled out into something more like helplessness.

Exactly like after the game against Barcelona the Swiss woman looked drained, her shoulders slumped and her smile no longer reaching her eyes. It made you simultaneously want to give her the longest hug in the world and go and punch Inka in the face.

However, since you were still sitting in the restaurant you settled on reaching over and giving her hand a good squeeze, before doing your best to come up with a good response.

“I’m so sorry things are like that and I’m always here to listen if you need to rant about it or hold you if you need to cry. Trying to keep in your emotions isn’t healthy.”

That was probably one of the most hypocritical things you had ever said, you who always held your emotions in until you felt like imploding. However, theoretically you knew that wasn’t a helpful thing to do, so you weren’t going to advise someone else to do that.

“And I can help you figure out if there’s anything you and the girls can do. I did a lot of reading and looking things up when everything was going down with Spain. Of course it’s a totally different system, but I’m still happy to help out,” you offered.

A soft smile, a real smile, one that made Ana’s eyes shine, returned to the blonde’s face.

“I appreciate how much you care. That means more than I can ever express with words. To be honest we’ve already started looking into what our options are and have been talking with the Swiss federation. So maybe it’s not quite as hopeless as it feels right now. The next few weeks should give us an answer to that,” Ana told you.

You felt some relief at that. Surely there was no way the Swiss federation would be as difficult and idiotic as the Spanish one. Right? Therefore things would hopefully be sorted out before too long and Ana would get the home Euros she deserved.

“That’s good. I’m confident things will turn out okay,” you said with more confidence than you actually felt. But Ana didn’t need to know that. If you were wrong in the end you would deal with it then, right now the best thing you could do was strengthen her hope.

“Yeah?” The Swiss woman double-checked, confirming to you that this was actually the right thing to do.

“Definitely,” you assured her, praying to a god you didn’t believe in that you wouldn’t be proven wrong.

“I think so too,” Ana admitted quietly, as if she was scared to say it too loudly out of fear of jinxing it.

“Now let’s talk about other things. I don’t want Inka to ruin the mood on my date as well, she has done enough of that during camp. How about we focus on your national camp instead? I heard you almost made Jenni rip out her own hair with your cluelessness,” the Swiss woman teased with a big grin.

Your first instinct was to tell Ana that it was totally fine to keep talking about the situation with her national team, that it wouldn’t ruin anything. But then she mentioned Jenni and all the teasing you had endured, and all of the sudden you wanted to beg her to continue talking about the Swiss team. Anything to avoid speaking about how oblivious you had been.

“Come on, let’s be honest Jenni would never rip out her precious hair or do anything else to ruin her looks,” you deflected, basking in the sound of Ana’s laughter. You would never get tired of making the blonde laugh.

You kept up the banter for a bit, before you remembered a specific thing you had been fretting about for the last 24 hours. It probably wasn’t something you should bring up on the first date, or maybe it was exactly the kind of thing you had to mention on the first date. You still hadn’t made up your mind about that.

All you knew was that in that moment, feeling happy and secure in Ana’s presence, you wanted to talk about it. And maybe it was time to do what you wanted more often and worry less about whether it was the ‘normal’ thing to do. What was normal anyway?

“There’s something I need to tell you”, you blurted out, kicking yourself for making it sound so ominous. No one ever said ‘I need to tell you something’ about unimportant stuff.

“Of course, I’m all ears,” Ana replied, smiling at you encouragingly.

“Okay, so…” You swallowed, trying to gather yourself. „I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. I mean I’ve dated and had flings and such, but never a serious long term relationship. And I don’t know it that’s a problem for you. I would totally understand if it was. And maybe I shouldn’t even have brought it up tonight, so I’m sorry if I’m making this awkward. Although if it is a problem then it was probably good I told you today. I…”

“Schatz,” Ana interrupted you. You didn’t really know any German, let alone Swiss German, but you were fairly certain you remembered this one. The use of a sweet pet name relaxed you significantly; she wouldn’t do that if this was in fact a deal breaker.

“I don’t care about that in the slightest. I’ve never been in a relationship with you either, so that will be brand new for me too. We’ll figure it out together,” the Swiss woman promised.

“Together,” you echoed. You loved the sound of that.

---

As time passed and more dates followed it became clear that Ana had been right. Things between the two of you just progressed naturally and not once did you feel out of your depth because of your lack of experience with relationships.

You shared a magical first kiss on a walk through the city after your second date. Ana’s lips felt pleasantly warm on yours in the chilly night air. After that all dams were broken and you spent a lot of time kissing like two hormonal teenagers, slowly or more precisely pretty rapidly moving on to other activities.

After the first time you slept together, the two of you lay in Ana’s bed facing each other. The Swiss woman gently traced her thumb over your forehead and your cheek, looking at you lovingly. Although you did your best to avoid using this word for anything to do with Ana just yet. It was too early to even think about love.

“Are you okay? Was this okay?” The blonde whispered, her eyes serious and for some reason slightly worried.

You stared at her in surprise. Could she not see how happy and satisfied you were, how cherished and lo- adored you felt?

“This was perfect and I feel amazing. You know I had sex before, right?”

Suddenly you weren’t sure if you had been clear about that. Maybe you had given Ana the impression that you weren’t just a relationship virgin, but an all around virgin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but still this is a big step and I just wanted to check in. It’s different when feelings are involved,” Ana elaborated.

For a moment you just grinned at her like an idiot. If you thought you had been feeling lo-, adored before, it was nothing to how you felt now.

“You’re just the absolute sweetest, tesoro. And you’re totally right, it is different. So much better! I can’t wait to go again, but right now I need some sleep. Someone wore me out.“

You looked at her pointedly, but that quickly changed into a smile when you saw how proud of herself Ana looked.

“In that case, sleep, mi Schatz. Because I definitely need you to be ready for another round soon,” Ana said, pulling you against her and kissing your forehead.

It took you all of five seconds before you fell into a peaceful slumber, your face buried in Ana’s neck.

---

However, you were right too, about everything sorting itself out with the Swiss national team. You were eating lunch at Real’s training ground when you heard, willing the time to move faster because tonight you would finally see Ana again. The two of you hadn’t been able to meet up the last few days because of insanely busy and conflicting schedules.

So when your phone buzzed with a message from Ana your heart fluttered happily. Hearing from her was always the highlight of your day. Things at Real were still less than ideal. You didn’t feel connected to the team, most of them still seeing you as ‘that Altético player’.

You were well aware that you were to blame for that as much as anyone, maybe even more so. Your efforts to integrate into the team had been minimal to say the least. And you felt a fair bit of anger at yourself for being so unprofessional, but somehow that still wasn’t enough to change anything. You just didn’t want to be there. It was as simple as that. And you could pretend, but you couldn’t change your actual feeling.

Day after day you forced yourself to be perfectly punctual, train hard, listen to the game plans and analyses, but there was no joy to any of it. Not even when you played games, something that you had always loved before. You were simply going through the motions.

At least you were having a pretty good season; otherwise your disappointment with yourself would have been through the roof.

When you checked your phone you saw that it was a screenshot announcing Inka’s departure from the Swiss national team. A happy squeal escaped you, everyone turning to look at you. It wasn’t like you to be loud, especially not in a cheerful way.

“What is it?” Misa asked curiously.

You simply showed her your phone, a smile appearing on the goalkeeper’s face.

“This is great news,” she agreed.

“Amazing news,” you corrected.

Now you were even more excited to see Ana later that night and celebrate this special occasion.

You were happy that you had decided to meet up at your place; this gave you the opportunity to prepare something special. However, you didn’t have much time, so you found yourself standing in the store after training looking around frantically and blanking on what to do.

The first idea that came to mind was to get a cake with a message like ‘She’s gone!’ on it. But you seriously doubted that you would get one on such short notice. Also a whole cake for just the two of you didn’t sound like a good plan.

So maybe just a card? What kind of card though? You had some strong suspicions that there wasn’t anything like an ‘I’m so happy you got rid of your stupid national coach’-card.

You could practically feel the seconds ticking by, getting more and more anxious by the minute. Time was running out and you still didn’t have the slightest idea what to do.

Noticing how tense you had become you forced yourself to exhale slowly and relax your body, starting with your jaw and slowly progressing downwards. There was no reason to get so stressed about this. Ana wouldn’t expect any grand gestures; you wouldn’t disappoint here no matter what you did or didn’t do.

As you calmed down the fog in your brain lifted and you regained the ability to make decisions. After having a swift look around you settled on buying the ingredients for Ana’s favorite meal, as well as two caramel cupcakes. As a last minute decision you added two candles to put on the cupcakes, one an I and one a G. This way you could literally get the satisfaction of seeing Inka Gring’s legacy go up in smoke.

Later that evening Ana arrived at your apartment with a bright smile on her face and some extra pep in her steps. She immediately pulled you into a tight hug, rocking the both of you excitedly from side to side.

“I’m so happy for you,” you told her, leaning back slightly to beam at her, before getting closer again and peppering her face with light kisses.

This made Ana giggle. “And you know what makes me happy?” She gasped.

You stopped your kisses and tilted your head, unsure of where the Swiss woman was going this. It didn’t seem like the kind of question she would ask if the answer was the obvious one; Inka leaving.

“That you are so happy for me. It means the world to me that you care so deeply, about both the good and the bad things happening in my life,” Ana clarified.

A blush cropped up on your face and you moved to hide your face in Ana’s neck, but the Swiss woman gently stopped you

“Don’t. You know I love your blush,” she murmured, placing her hands on your slightly pink cheeks and taking in every inch of your face. “So beautiful.”

Of course that only made you blush more. Ana winked at you, but didn’t stop you when you once again stepped forward to bury your face in her shoulder.

The two of you spent a nice evening together; spirits were high all around thanks to the good news. Ana showered you in compliments for your cooking and when you brought out the cupcakes she burst into laughter.

“I love this! Like a cleansing from Inka,” she said in between laughing.

“Shhh, this is a serious matter,” you chastised her playfully.

“Oh sorry,” the blonde replied, forcing a solemn expression onto her face.

However, it only lasted for all of five seconds before the huge smile that had been on her face all night long returned. You wouldn’t be complaining about that though. A happy Ana made you happy.

“To the end of the unfortunate Inka-area and to a better future for your national team,” you announced, lighting the two candles on fire. “Make a wish!”

Ana leaned forward and blew out the candles with closed eyes. Then she turned to you. “Do you want to know what I wished for?”

You shook your head firmly. “No! Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Ana smirked. “Too bad because it involves you.”

“Wait really? Then I change my mind and want to know,” you backtracked, mentally running through everything she could have wished for.

“Nope, too late,” the Swiss woman informed you.

“Meeeeeaaaaan,” you complained.

Ana just grinned at you, shrugged her shoulders and took a big bite of her cupcake.

When you continued to pout at her, she offered you a compromise, “Fine, I’ll tell you when it comes true, okay? And now enough with the puppy dog eyes. Otherwise I might crack and tell you right now and then we’ll both be at fault when it doesn’t come true.”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, biting into your own cupcake with gusto.

And honestly just knowing that Ana had made a wish that included you warmed you heart. It was nice to be such a big part of someone else’s life, someone other than your parents that was. But you wouldn’t think about them right now, nothing was allowed to taint this moment.

Instead of dwelling on your thoughts you looked up at Ana happily chewing the last bite of her cupcake.

“I love you,” you blurted out without thinking about it.

Once the words had left your mouth you instantly regretted them. Not that they weren’t true, they absolutely were, but you hadn’t said them to each other yet. So what if Ana didn’t feel the same and you just ruined this perfect moment? Or even worse, everything!

At least Ana was still smiling at you, that was probably a good sign. If she was going to leave right then and there she wouldn’t smile. Right?

“I love you too,” the Swiss woman simply said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Ana got up and came over to your side of the table. She grabbed your hands, softly pulling you up so you were on eye level.

“Of course I love you. How could I not? I guess we still have some work to do until you see yourself the way I see you, as such an amazing, good-hearted, beautiful person,” she told you earnestly.

“I really love you.” It was the only thing that came to mind, Ana’s compliments once again overwhelming you.

“That’s good because I really love you too,” the blonde replied with a chuckle, gathering you into her arms. “And I won’t rest until you love yourself too , exactly the way that you deserve.”

You just snuggled even closer into Ana, a deep calmness filling you up from head to toe. It wasn’t something you were used to, usually there was always some anxiety running in the background. However, the blonde brought you so much peace.

It was something you had never expected before you experienced it yourself. You had always thought love would be all excited butterflies and exuberance. There was some of that of course, but also this all-encompassing calmness, that was in many ways even better than all of the excitement.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

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roses-for-rosalyn · 1 year

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The Old Church Parking Lot

Look, I had an idea for a fic and all the sudden it was 4:00 am. I promise one day I'll write a fic where reader isn't a goddamn pillow princess, but today is not that day. Enjoy my darlings.

word count: 3k

minors dni pretty please 🔞

content warnings: Dealer! Ellie, innocent reader, friends to lovers, drug use 🍃, kissing, teasing, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), reader being a pillow princess

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“You’re joking.” Ellie raises her eyebrows at you like she actually expects you to take it back. “You have been on this earth for 19 years and you haven’t smoked weed?” You shake your head. “Ever?” You can’t help but laugh, her stunned expression doesn’t leave her face. She won’t take her eyes off you despite the fact that she’s literally driving.

“Eyes on the fucking road Els Jesus.” She nods and hesitantly turns back to look at the street. “I just never had the chance I guess.” You shrug your shoulders. “Grew up in a small town, not many friends. We mostly just got drunk. It was easier, and less illegal.” You have no idea why this information shocks Ellie to her core, but there’s something else there, an excitement maybe?

“We’re gonna fix that. Tonight. I’ll pick you up after work.” She was definitely excited and extremely eager. She pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park.

“Oh yeah? And where are you gonna get it from, not exactly like there’s a store we can stop at.”

Ellie looks straight ahead and tales a beat before she answers “I kind of…deal the stuff.” She still won’t look at you. “It’s a side gig type thing, helps me stay afloat.” You can’t say you're shocked. You haven’t known Ellie long, she was one of those friends that you kind of just started spending a shit ton of time with out of nowhere. She was still new to you even though it felt like you’d known her your whole life, you were still learning about each other slowly.

“Ok that’s…incredibly convenient, but where do we go?” You were both home from college for the summer, hence living with your parents. Ellie turns to face you, she brings her hand up to her mouth and starts biting her nail in concentration. It was an incredibly cute little habit, you could see her brain working to find a solution.

“We’ll sit in the old church parking lot, I can drive us home after.”

“Works for me.” You shrug. “See you later I guess.” You smile at Ellie and she has this devilish smirk on her face like she knows something you don’t.

“God I can’t wait.” Her voice was breathy and low, something you hadn’t heard before, but it was incredibly…attractive. You go to open the car door and step out onto your driveway.

“See ya.”

“Bye.” You shut the door and head inside, having no idea what you have just agreed to.

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You have tried on your entire closet at this point. You usually weren’t like this with Ellie, normally you couldn’t care less what you looked like, but something felt different between you two lately. The type of different where you felt like you needed to look good when you saw her. You’re not gonna dwell on it though, that would just make everything worse.

You finally settle on just an old, cropped graphic tee and jeans. It’s something you wore all the time, unfortunately your whole wardrobe was strewn about your floor, so this was the best option.

Jesus why were you nervous? Probably because you were about to do drugs for the first time. Definitely no other reason.

You pass the time by doing your makeup. It always helps you relax, makes you feel good inside and out. Before you knew it Ellie was texting you she was on her way. She pulls into the driveway, her headlights lighting up your living room. You begin the trek out your front door to her car. It feels like it takes forever, you go through each motion as if you're moving through water. You finally get to her small car and open the passenger door.

“Hey princess.” Ellie is smiling ear to ear, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her this elated.

“Hey.” You can’t help but laugh at her exaggerated expression.

“You ready? You excited?” She’s still smiling, she looks fucking adorable, it’s ridiculous.

“Definitely not as excited as you clearly are.” You can’t help but be a little nervous trying something new, but you were trying it with someone you trusted.

“We’re gonna have fun. Promise.” With that she turns up the music and pulls out of your driveway.

On the way to the parking lot you and Ellie belt out 90s hits at the top of your lungs. The windows are down, the wind blowing on your face and through your hair. It almost completely gets rid of any nerves you had. You look over at Ellie, watching her exaggerated expressions and hand movements. She acts out the words in the song like she’s performing. You can’t help but smile at her ridiculousness.

You pull into the parking lot and Ellie turns the radio down. Her arm reaches over your lap to the glove box. Her arm faintly brushes your thighs as she opens it. She pulls out a little baggie with what you would assume are blunts in it.

“These are pre-rolls. Normally you would have someone else test them out first. This shit could easily be laced with fentanyl, which can kill you. You don’t know where it comes from, you never touch it first.” She looks at you with a serious expression on her face. “Got it?” You nod vigorously, she is obviously in her element here, trying to teach you everything she knows to keep you safe. “Words princess, that’s the most important thing I’ll teach you tonight.”

“Yup, got it.” Why is this so incredibly hot? The way she wants to make sure you’re safe, she’s acting like a stern teacher and it's severely throwing you off.

She smiles and then continues “But, since you’re getting it from me, and I know where this has been and where it’s from, we’re safe.” You smile and nod, appreciating the reassurance. She takes the preroll from the baggie and grabs a lighter from the console.

“So you’ve never smoked anything before?” You shake your head “Ok so I’m gonna light this end,” She taps the tapered end of the roll, “You’re going to put your lips around it like a straw and inhale once to get it into your mouth, and then a second time to get it to your lungs.”

“That made absolutely zero sense to me.” Ellie laughs, shaking her head.

“You want me to go first, so you can watch?” Oh god yes.

“Yeah, that might make it easier.” Ellie nods and brings the preroll to her lips. She lights it with her green gas station lighter and you watch her inhale as she puts the lighter back down. She exhales a cloud of smoke towards you and you are immediately turned on. Why did she have to make exhaling seductive?

“Your turn.” She hands you the roll and you take it between two fingers. You bring it to your lips like Ellie said. Inhale once, twice. Fuck.

You immediately feel the smoke tickle your lungs and throat. You cough out the smoke rather than elegantly exhaling as Ellie did. God, it fucking burns.

“Try to breathe through your nose babe, here I brought a water bottle for ya.” You immediately grab the water bottle, trading Ellie for the blunt, you eagerly gulp it down. The water sort of soothes the burn, your violent coughing turning into heavy breathing.

“You didn’t warn me I’d have a fucking asthma attack.” You cough again while Ellie giggles at your pain.

“I forgot. But I knew you wouldn’t die, plus the surprise on your face was kind of funny.” She takes another hit and passes it back to you. You try again, but a smaller breath this time. It doesn’t burn as much this time.

“I also forgot to mention, like how this shit makes you feel. It’s different for everyone really.” You pass the preroll back to Ellie. “Mostly it just makes you relax, but some people get talkative, some get sleepy, and most people get incredibly hungry.” She pauses like she’s thinking of saying something but is holding back.

“What?” Ellie shakers her head.

“Nothing… I didn’t even know if I wanted to bring it up, but like it also can make everything feel incredibly good.”

“What do you mean?” This seems like it’s going in a direction you and Ellie have never really gone before. Ellie would talk about her sexual ventures with other women on occasion, but you never really discussed anything in detail about yourselves. It’s not like you would have much to add with the sex stories anyways, you just listened to Ellie and nodded. You definitely did not have the experience she had.

“Like it makes people touching you feel 100 times better.” She sighs and laughs “It basically makes most people horny.” She looks at you with a kind of sheepish look. You wouldn’t expect someone with as much experience as her being shy talking about this stuff. Was she… Blushing? It was hard to tell in the dark, you could have definitely imagined it.

You start to feel a smile tug at your lips and a warmth slowly floods your body. “I think...it’s hitting.” You giggle at literally nothing, which makes Ellie giggle. “Feels really good.” You breathe out. You caress your own arm, testing Ellie’s knowledge. “Woah.”

“What?” Ellie’s smiling at you, she decided she likes how you act high. It’s probably one of the more adorable things she’s ever seen.

“Touching does feel weird.” You continue to caress your own arm, you can feel the warmth of your own hands grazing across the small hairs of your forearm and it tickles.

“It’s usually other people touching you that feels weird, but whatever works for you over there.” You look at her and back at your arm.

“You touch me then.” You reach your arm out, eagerly inviting Ellie to come closer.

“I can’t.” She looks down, taking the last hit from the blunt. She won’t meet your eyes.

“Why?”

“If I start touching you I can’t guarantee I can stop.” She stops herself abruptly like the sentence was forced out of her. She puts out the blunt before finally looking up at you, her confession lingering in the air between you. She’s searching your eyes for any disgust or rejection. She finds none.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Ellie just looks at you, eyes wide with disbelief. You’re suddenly aware of how desperately your body is craving her touch. Your entire body ignites with a type of electricity, it courses through you causing your skin to become tingly.

Using your sudden desperation as a sort of courage you climb over to straddle Ellie’s lap. You hold onto her shoulders to steady yourself and Ellie backs the seat as far away from the steering wheel as she can. She keeps looking at you with those wide eyes. She moves her hands to cup your face gently, like she’s convinced you'll disappear. She keeps searching your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation and all she finds is pure hunger.

She kisses you, her lips are so soft and warm you immediately relax. You move your hands from her shoulders and thread them into her hair and she kisses you harder. She uses her tongue to open up your mouth and you groan at the sensation. She moves her hands down under the hem of your shirt. She grabs your breasts and starts roughly massaging the soft skin. She pulls down one of the cups of your bra and starts teasing your nipple. She pinches it between her fingers and you moan into her mouth at the feeling. She stops the kiss to pull your shirt over your head and immediately continues as she throws your shirt into the passenger's seat. She moves her mouth down and encloses it around your nipple, you gasp at the feeling of her warm tongue sucking and circling your sensitive bud. The ache between your legs has become more noticeable, it’s demanding attention. You start grinding a bit on Ellies lap. The seam of your jeans is barely teasing your clit through your underwear. It was heavenly, but not enough.

Ellie is trying to devour you. She moves her mouth from your breasts to your neck. Exploring with gentle kisses until she finds just the right spot. She nips and sucks until you're squirming on her lap uncontrollably.

“Back seat.” She breathes out. You nod vigorously and climb off her lap and awkwardly maneuver your way to the back seat. You lean up against the car door while Ellie adjusts her seat again to make room. It gives you a moment to breathe before she moves to straddle your waist and continues where she left off. She kisses between your breasts down your stomach, gently making a trail down your body with her lips. She’s so gentle and slow, the feeling of her soft lips on your body is driving you insane.

She gets to the hem of your jeans and unbuttons them. This is where you start to realize you’re entering uncharted territory. You’re trying not to panic, but suddenly a breathy “Ellie,” Escapes from your swollen lips. She immediately pauses and looks up at you. She sees the slight nervousness in your expression and immediately understands.

“No one’s ever-” You don’t even know how to finish that sentence without embarrassing yourself.

“I know,” Her face softens “We’ll go nice and slow, tell me when I need to stop okay?”

“Okay.” You nod and Ellie continues unbuttoning your jeans. Nervous butterflies invade your stomach, despite your altered state. Ellie pulls the jeans off and throws them on the floor. She then takes off her flannel leaving her in a black tank top. Her biceps and veins are enhanced by the moonlight, You can see her muscles flex and move as she does. She moves down kissing along the hem of your panties before placing a kiss on your clit. The sight of her head between your thighs is enough to push the ache in your cunt to an unbearable level. She teases you over the fabric, rubbing her fingers up and down your slit slowly. She brushes her finger over your clit repeatedly and a desperate whine escapes from your mouth.

“I know princess, just a little longer.” Ellie is savoring you like you’re the last thing she’ll ever see. She places light kisses on your inner thighs as she continues to tease you.

Finally she moves your panties to the side. She runs a finger from your entrance to your clit collecting the wetness that pooled between your legs. You can’t help but whimper, your clit feels ten times more sensitive than usual. Every time Ellie is near it the feeling reverberates through your entire body. She blows out a breath on your cunt and the feeling is heavenly.

“Doing ok, pretty girl?” She looks up from between your legs and you have to resist squeezing them together at the sound of her voice. It was low and raspy, and every word sounded like honey.

“Yes.” You nod, your eyes squeeze shut in frustration.

“Look at me.” Her voice was lower, demanding. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise.” And with that she lowers her mouth onto your bare cunt. She laps at your clit lightly, she moves her tongue in circles around it, continuing her teasing. She licks from your entrance up to your sensitive bud and begins sucking on it. Your hips immediately buck up towards Ellie’s mouth at the foreign feeling. You are moaning loudly and uncontrollably, you had no idea anything could ever feel this way. It’s almost too much.

Ellie moves her finger to circle your wet hole, once you relax a little she starts to slowly push her finger into you. She makes sure to be slow and careful.

“Ellie.” You whine out once curls her finger and hits just the right spot inside you. She continues sucking on your clit and slowly curling her finger inside of you.

“God you're so tight, you gotta relax for me princess.” You try to focus on relaxing around her finger, once you do Ellie adds a second finger. Your cunt swallows it greedily and you whimper at the pressure of two of her slender fingers inside of you. She sucks at your clit even harder and you gasp out “Ellie please ‘s too much.”

Ellie pauses for a moment “I know baby, you just have to breathe for me. Here, hold onto me.” She places one of your hands on her arm which is wrapped around your thigh. You do what she says and relax under her. You try to let your body melt into her. “That’s it, you’re doing so well for me.”

She starts sucking lightly on your clit again. You impulsively use your other had to grab at her hair at the feeling. The pleasure in your stomach is starting to come to a high point, you’ve never felt this before. It was all consuming. Ellie is making little groaning sounds which vibrate through your body. You can feel her start fucking you harder, her fingers hitting that spongey spot inside of you at every thrust. Your back starts to arch while the pressure in your belly grows. Nothing has ever felt like this, it's building to a point so intense you almost start to worry.

“Els, what-” You barely get your question out before blinding pleasure takes over your body. You moan out Ellie's name loudly over and over as she continues to fuck you. It moves in waves, crashing through you causing you to buck your hip into Ellie's mouth and fingers over and over. You whimper and whine each time her fingers move in and out of you. She fucks you through the whole thing until you start squirming away.

She pulls her fingers out of you and sucks them clean. You stare in disbelief, you didn’t even know someone could do that. Your arousal was covering her lips and chin, glistening. She crawls on top of you to kiss you and you can taste yourself on her tongue. If your limbs weren’t jelly that alone would be enough to make you want to do all of that again.

“I am so glad you chose to get high with me, you have no idea.” Ellie’s smile is contagious. It has just registered you’ve never seen it like this, laying below her, it felt right.

“Yea let’s do that again sometime soon.” You both laugh a little. Ellie lays her head on your chest and sighs.

“Very soon.”

#ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us ellie #modern au #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #dealer!ellie #dealer!ellie smut

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topperscumslut · 2 years

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My Idiot (Jay Kelso x Reader)

Summary: Reader is Hyde’s daughter and staying with the Formans while he’s in jail, the new generation has a sleepover at the Forman’s house and there’s only one bed for Jay and (Y/N)… Note: Jaya (JayxLeia) does not exist in this imagine

Word count: 1k

“Okay you guys,” Leia said with a deep breath, “Grandma and grandpa actually said you guys can stay the night, so we can’t screw this up. I’m staying in my dad’s old room and (Y/N) is staying in Aunt Laurie’s old room, as usual. Can you guys all find somewhere to sleep in the basement?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ozzie popped up.

“Nikki and I can take the couch,” Nate said.

“Yeah, that should work,” Gwen added, “it just sucks that Jay isn’t here.”

You nodded half heartedly. Your best friend - and crush - Jay Kelso was working a long night shift at the video store, and you were bummed that he was missing your first (and probably only, considering how Red Forman was) sleepover with the gang.

Almost like clockwork, the basement door opened.

“Hey guys!” A familiar voice spoke up. Jay’s voice. “They let me off early,” he said as his eyes briefly floated to where you were sitting on the floor, then shyly finding their way back to the rest of the group.

“Well shit,” Leia sighed, “I mean, we’re glad you’re here! But Red let us have a sleepover for once, and I don’t think there will be enough room in the basement for you…”

“Well that’s not convenient,” Jay said with a flat face, sheepishly sitting down next to you.

“Hold on you guys, I’ll be right back. I don’t imagine in a thousand years my grandpa would let you stay in my room, but I have a couch and (Y/N) doesn’t, and I don’t want to make her offer her bed to you if she isn’t okay with it.”

You shifted awkwardly, silently hoping you could share your bed with Jay. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if we have to…” you trailed on quietly, Jay looking at you shyly, his cheeks noticeably heating up.

The rest of the group hadn’t heard you but Jay had sitting so close to you. “You sure?” he asked and you nodded, lacking the courage to look at him.

Leia ran upstairs and it only took a few seconds before you heard the booming sound of Red yelling.

“If that boy goes even close to your bedroom, my foot is going even closer to up his ass! Absolutely not!”

Leia hurried down the stairs with a defeated look on her face. “So that’s a no go. (Y/N), are you sure you’re ok with sharing a bed with Jay?”

You shrugged, now bright red. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind.”

The seven of you spent the rest of the night together, laughing, watching My So Called Life, and getting high, before finally around midnight you all started to crash.

“Should we call it a night, you guys?” you asked through a yawn, anxious to spend the night with Jay.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Yep.”

“I’m tired.”

“Well, goodnight you guys,” Leia spoke, “see you all in the morning.” With that you, Leia, and Jay stumbled your way upstairs while the others stayed in the basement getting comfy.

You quickly brushed your teeth and got cleaned up for bed, putting on your favorite lacy nightgown, your heart beating out of your chest before you heard your name called from downstairs.

“Y/N! I need to talk to you!”

Shit. It was Red.

You made your way down the stairs, feigning sobriety, into the Forman living room.

“Yes Mr. Forman?”

“Sit down.”

“You know (Y/N), I remember your father sitting on this exact same couch when he was your age. He was a good kid, even with all the dope he did. He was nice to people.” Red sighed, “I remember that boy’s father too, and how he used to fool around with young girls like you, even my own daughter.”

“But Jay isn’t like-“

“I know, I know, that kid hardly knows his own father. But as you’ve been staying with Kitty and I, you’ve become like another grandkid to us. I always feared I’d be raising Steven’s kids…” he grumbled. “No funny business in there, okay? You’re better than to be screwing a Kelso. I know you think no one’s caught onto your little crush on this boy, but I’ve seen these things before. And if he so much as lays a finger on you, my foot will go so far up his ass he won’t even be able to feel his fingers!”

“We’ll be good,” you smiled, rolling your eyes. “Now goodnight.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

You hurried back up the stairs to find Jay already all cozied up in your bed.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

His eyes scanned your body in awe and he hid a smile as you made your way into bed.

You both squirmed awkwardly for a little while, not talking, not looking at each other, and especially not touching.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I’ll try to let you sleep. I know you didn’t really want me in here…”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I could tell you were uncomfortable in the basement and just trying to be nice. I can sleep in the living room if you wa-“

You shut him up by kissing him, to his surprise. Jay closed his eyes and let himself melt into the kiss. It was slow and sweet, innocent, loving.

“Of course I want you here. I was nervous because I have a crush on you, doofus.”

“Well you could’ve just said that,” he laughed. “But, uh, I’m glad you didn’t. I have a crush on you too. Have for a while,” he smirked, kissing you again.

You laughed as the kiss ended, rubbing noses together. “Go to bed, idiot.”

He cuddled his way into you, pulling you in by your waist and spooning you, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.”

You smiled, cheeks turning a baby pink, still not sure if this was all really happening. “Yeah, Jay, you’re my idiot.”

#that 90s show #jay kelso #jay kelso x reader #fluff #reader indent #x reader #y/n #that 70s show #mace coronel #that 90s show jay #leia forman #red forman #kitty forman #michael kelso #steven hyde #jackie burkhart

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daemour · 3 months

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Promise - Hongjoong

Part of Anthology

Every two weeks, I will post a drabble (and sometimes longer) alongside a prompt that went with it. The prompts may be songs, scenarios, or more.

M: Hongjoong

Wc: 1874

Warnings: Cursing, arguments

Genre: angst, some fluff, hurt/minimal comfort, e for everyone, established relationship

Summary: An argument with your boyfriend turns into something worse, and you're not sure how to come back from it

Hongjoong works hard, it’s not hard to see. He spends all his time in the studio whenever there’s a comeback, a tour, or an event. It’s commendable, and you love him for it, but it also wears down on your relationship. It’s the fifth time he’s come home late this week, and the other two days he just didn’t show up, sleeping on the work couch. You tried to bring up your worries as peacefully as possible, honest you did. But sleep-deprived and stressed-out Hongjoongs are not known for their patience.

“Hongjoong, I’m just trying to make sure you take care of yourself.” You’re done with this argument, but it appears your boyfriend is not.

“I don’t need you to do that, (Y/N),” Hongjoong bites back. “I’m a grown adult and I can make my own decisions.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I didn’t imply you were anything else, but why don’t you try acting like a grown adult then?” You’re definitely not helping the argument end, but at this point, you’re quite annoyed at him. “You can’t not take care of yourself and then get mad at me for worrying. I’m not your parent, so stop making me baby you.”

“Then fucking leave,” Hongjoong’s voice comes out cold and you recoil. The two of you have had your fair share of fights, as all couples do, but never before had Hongjoong used that tone on you. No matter how angry he was at you, he wouldn’t ever speak to you like a pest in his life, nor has he ever cursed at you in a serious manner.

“Fine. Fuck you too, then,” you hiss, tears filling your eyes. Without another word, you spin on your heel and leave him standing in the middle of the living room by himself.

As you head down the street with nothing but your phone, you start to regret your decision. It would’ve been more safe and just as impactful if you locked yourself in the bedroom for a few hours. It’s windy and the fall air has a chill to it, and as if to prove your point, you feel drops of rain on the top of your head. As soon as you duck under the roof of a nearby convenience store, it starts to pour and you roll your eyes angrily, the bad weather not helping your anger at all.

After letting the anger stew in your gut for a minute, you pull out your phone with a sigh. You debate calling Hongjoong, but you’re still sore from the fight and would much rather eat grated cardboard than be stuck in a car with him. Your friends are not an option because they’d immediately notice your anger and you can’t tell them about your relationship with Hongjoong, nor do they know you’re even in a relationship in general. So you call the next best option.

“(Y/N)?” What’s up?” Understandably, Wooyoung's voice is full of confusion. You have all of the Ateez members’ numbers in case of emergency, but you’ve never needed to call them aside from Seonghwa once. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue, but I got caught in the rain after an argument with Hongjoong and I don’t really want to be in a car with him right now.”

Wooyoung sighs. “I told Seonghwa it was a bad idea to let Hongjoong go home all pissed,” he mutters to himself or another member, you don’t know. “I’ll be right there, okay? Send me your location.”

“Yeah. Thank you,” you sniff and end the call, not wanting to seem even more pitiful than you already feel. One text from Hongjoong glares at your face. ‘This is Yunho. Come back when the storm ends.’ With a scoff, you delete the notification and huffily enter the convenience store.

One iced tea later, Wooyoung walks in, San tagging behind him to no one's surprise. “(Y/N),” San greets you with a smile and it hits you that Hongjoong hadn’t smiled once at you the entire time he was home that day. “Are you doing all right?”

At the kindness you miss seeing from Hongjoong, you break down. San and Wooyoung immediately surround you, wrapping you in their arms and ushering you to the car where you can cry in peace. Once you’ve calmed down enough, you explain everything with the occasional hiccup and sniffle. “I shouldn’t have pushed him, but he’s never said that to me before,” you end with a groan and let your head fall on the back of the passenger seat.

“No, yeah, that was out of line for him to say,” Wooyoung says and San makes a noise of agreement. “I get being tired, we all are and he has worked extra hard, but he shouldn’t take it out on you. He knew he was frustrated, and he should’ve taken some space or even asked you for some space more politely.”

“It wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). You weren’t looking to argue, it only escalated because he snapped,” San reassures you.

You sigh, nodding miserably when your phone dings. This time, Yunho texts you from his own phone. ‘Come back soon…he’s worried and so he’s angrier’ and it’s followed by a couple of emojis. You frown. “Should I go back? Yunho is with him and says he’s angrier cus he’s worried.”

San and Wooyoung exchange a look before Wooyoung speaks up, turning the key in the ignition. “Tell you what, we’ll go with you and if Hongjoong acts out of pocket again, we’ll bring him back to the dorm and get a manager noona to stay the night with you.” And as much as you don’t want to inconvenience one of their staff, you also don’t want to be left alone in the apartment and you begrudgingly agree.

When you walk back in the door, you see Hongjoong pacing the floor with Yunho on the couch attempting to placate him. “Hey guys,” he waves and you smile back and mouth a ‘thank you’ just as Hongjoong registers Yunho’s words.

“Where were you?” Hongjoong whirls around and glares.

“I left, just like you told me to, Joong. Are you ready to to talk like adults now?”

“Don’t lecture me when you went gallivanting into the rain with your holier-than-thou attitude,” Hongjoong starts to argue again but San’s low, dangerous voice interrupts.

“Finish that thought and you’ll have more pressing things to worry about, hyung. You’re coming back to the dorm. Now.”

Hongjoong scoffs. “You can’t kick me out of my own apartment,” he glowers, crossing his arms.

You’ve had quite enough. “They can’t but I can. Get out, Hongjoong. You’ve relentlessly insulted me and I do not deserve the attitude you think I do. Go to the dorms and cool down and don’t come back until you’re ready to act your age. The lease is in my name, I can and will kick you out right now, Kim Hongjoong.”

You’re tired, and you exit the room without another word, slamming the bedroom door behind you. You hear murmurs in the hallway and the faint noise of footsteps fades. A knock sounds on your door and you recognise Yunho’s voice. “I’m sorry about him, (Y/N). He’s been testy for the past few weeks. I called our manager to come and I’ll leave once she gets here. Take care of yourself and I beg of you, please don’t hate him.”

His voice fades and you can’t bring yourself to say anything. Your thoughts swirl in your head, confusion, hurt, all of the above. And once you hear the quiet mumblings of Yunho and the manager silence, you let the tears spill out of your eyes and you fall asleep soon after.

When you awaken the sun is up and you can hear the manager talking with someone in quiet tones. You’re somewhat sure of who it is, but you’re not sure you want to deal with that. It appears you’re going to have to, however, as the door closes and you hear familiar footsteps walking down the hall. Grumpily, you cover yourself with the blanket and do your best to pretend to sleep.

“(Y/N)? Can we talk?” You don’t grace him with a response but he’s known you for too long to fall for your acting. “I know you’re awake.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” you mumble under your breath but he hears you anyway and the bed dips as he sits beside your body.

"There's a lot to talk about, (Y/N)," Hongjoong's voice is quiet. "Let me lead with this—I'm sorry."

You tighten your grip on the covers. "Are you sorry or are you just trying to suck up to me? This isn't something we can just gloss over."

Hongjoong laughs sullenly. "Yes, Seonghwa made sure I understood that clearly," he sighs and you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of Seonghwa reprimanding his leader. "You know, Jongho threatened me?"

You manage a chuckle. "That I can believe."

A hand rests on where he guessed your head to be and you don't shake off the touch. "But aside from that, I really am sorry. I had no right to take my anger out on you or lash out, especially like that. You didn't deserve that." Hongjoong still speaks softly, solemnly. "I know I hurt you and I promise to do all I can to remedy that."

You pull the covers down a little to peek at him. "My anger waned a while ago, Joong. I'm more hurt than anything and I hope for your sake and mine that you never do it again."

Hongjoong nods and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "I promise you, I'll hold you tight always."

Bonus:

"Hongjoong, I hope you know how immensely disappointed I am in you. " Seonghwa's glare and his crossed arms are what greet Hongjoong at the entrance into the dorm. Hongjoong groans but Seonghwa just shakes his head and the leader silences. "For someone chosen to be a leader, you do a shit job under stress."

"I know you're mad, but you will give me respect," Hongjoong hisses at the sound of Seonghwa cursing, but the oldest member tsks.

"Well, now you know exactly what you put poor (Y/N) through, and she handled it a hell of a lot better than you did." The rest of the members' heads peek around the corner to stare at the rare sight of Hongjoong getting scolded and the leader has half a mind to tell them off but Seonghwa's having none of that. "I want you to ruminate on the damage you caused to your relationship, and apologise first thing in the morning. (Y/N) loves you, Hongjoong, and you better work hard to prove you deserve it."

At Seonghwa's tone, Hongjoong finally slips out of the daze he's been in all day and his eyes widen. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Seonghwa nods. "You did. Fix it the best you can and I'm sure she will forgive you."

"I peomise I will," Hongjoong declares and Seonghwa smiles but his arms remain crossed.

"You tell her that. I don't need to hear it."

#pirateeznet #kvanity #wkcnet #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fanfiction

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seulgist · 2 months

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saw spy x family: code white yesterday and i have a lot of (very positive) thoughts about loid forger and the forger family in general.

!!! spoilers beneath the cut !!!

OUHHH the trailer/clips posted before the movie was released worldwide did loid so dirty. that scene of him caressing that women’s leg and “”kissing”” fiona. like woah where was his PR team. he was getting dragged left and right.

just had to get that out of my system bc i will be loid forger’s lawyer in the rest of this post.

i think the most notable moment of the movie was when sylvia told loid that someone else would be taking over operation strix. instead of him being relieved, he was upset.

mind you, operation strix is a long-term mission and is extremely stressful for him. being tasked to appear as a perfect family man when he grew up without one? almost impossible. on top of that, he has a ton of side missions he has to take on during operation strix. so, you would think being told that operation strix has ended would relieve a lot of his stress, but it added more.

i think the best part (different from the most notable) of the movie is that the reason why twilight didn’t want operation strix to end is never directly answered.

sure, it could be that he was finally in a (somewhat) stable place with a semi-permanent home he could come back to everyday which made his job a lot more convenient, but the movie never shows that. in fact, it shows the opposite; that he wanted to continue operation strix to keep his pretend family for selfish reasons.

for once in probably decades, twilight did not worry about anyone but himself (and his family). he was more focused on prolonging operation strix because he hadn’t lived a happy & stable life in so long. twilight doing something for his own happiness is unheard of ,, so i love seeing the subtle growth he’s experienced since creating the forger family.

OH and don’t even get me STARTED on the ferris wheel scene with him and yor. you can tell when he goes into ‘agent twilight mode’ to smooth things over with yor, but that moment in the ferris wheel was genuine.

he was already afraid that sylvia would take him away from his “”pretend”” family, so hearing yor doubt her skills as a wife/mother then finding out that she thought he was seeing someone else was what broke him. i believe that entire scene was not twilight talking, but was loid forger. maybe he believed that if he could smooth things over with yor and go back to presenting as a normal & loving family, that operation strix could countinue. at the least, maybe him, yor, anya, and bond could stay together.

AND when anya ended up not even getting a stella and he had to rework his WHOLEEEE plan in order to appeal to the vice principal’s taste instead of the principal’s, he didn’t even feel upset.

he had spent so much time and energy to make sure they had all the ingredients for the perfect meremere and went through so much trouble to make sure she had even the slightest chance of receiving that stella. yet, when anya came home without a stella and the plans for who would judge the pastries changed, he didn’t even budge. he just looked forward to spending another day with his family. if the old loid forger was put in this same situation, he would’ve passed out or had a heart attack.

(i have so many other things i could talk about like the way in a few scene, an object divides loid from yor + anya but at the end of the movie that divide is broken but i’ll save that for another day)

so today, i proclaim that loid forger will no longer be referred to as loid “for the mission” forger, but shall henceforth be referred to as loid “the official family-man” forger.

#spy x family #sxf #spy x family: code white #this is just a think piece #and a character analysis #i love analyzing media i’m obsessed with #and i’m so obsessed with sxf #i’m normal about yor forger….. i swear…..#but the movie was 10/10 #twiyor #have to throw in the twiyor tag cause i love them

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tkwrites · 8 months

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Worth the Wait - Quinn Hughes x ofc

photos from pinterest

Title: Worth the Wait

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mentions of a dead mother. Mostly, it’s fluff.

Summary: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on their second date.

Word count: 5,500

Comments: This one is a little long, but I felt like all the parts were needed to flesh out the characters the way I wanted. I hope you enjoy!

Part 2 is being planned as we speak!

Worth the Wait

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Hey Sarah, I just wanted to let you know we’re headed out on the road, so I’ll be out of town for the next week.

Quinn sent this message before boarding the plane. He’d never done something like this before - tell someone he was interested in that he wouldn’t be home. He didn’t want Sarah to think he was ignoring her, or putting off their next date.

Can I see you when you get back?

Definitely, he sent, a giddy, effervescent feeling in his stomach.

The following evening, for the first time in her life, Sarah sat down to watch a hockey game.

Eunice was in their living room, anxiously awaiting the start of the game. Currently watching people talk about betting odds in her Canucks t-shirt, a stuffed orca on the cushion next to her.

Sarah had lived with Eunice for a little over a year. They were friends in the way two people coming together for convenience could be friends. She was nice and sweet, and made the best mac & cheese Sarah had ever eaten. She was also dramatic and had a borderline obsessive love for many things, including the Canucks. Sarah had never paid much attention to that particular obsession, as it didn’t cross over into her life, until now.

“You okay?” Eunice asked when Sarah sat down.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never watch hockey with me, I thought maybe you were sad or something.”

“Oh, no, my project is done, so I’m free for the night and thought I’d join.”

Eunice squealed and threw her arms around Sarah, “I’m so excited to introduce you to the best sport in the world!”

Feeling instantly overwhelmed, Sarah put on a brave face, and watched as the national anthem began to play. The camera scanned over the players, 5 stood separate from the others in a line, and her heart jumped into her throat when Quinn’s face came across the screen. He looked impassively at the camera. He seemed so different than when they had met, determined and competitive, not so quiet and interested. It was strange to reconcile the two as the same person.

“What does the C mean?”

“It means he’s the captain. That’s Quinn Hughes. He’s like, the best defenseman in the league.”

"Isn't he a little small to play defense?" Sarah asked, surprised.

Eunice looked personally affronted. "Hughes is an amazing skater, which is the most important thing in being a good defenseman. Defense in Hockey is more tactical than super physical."

When the game finally began, Sarah was instantly overwhelmed. They moved so quickly, and it was damn near impossible for her to keep track of the puck. There were terms being thrown around by the commentators that were so niche, she didn’t even know where to begin figuring them out.

“What’s icing?” she asked when there was a commercial break.

“So, it’s when a team shoots the puck to the other end of the rink, but no one is there to receive it.”

She knew that wasn’t quite right. There were plenty of times before the break when that very thing happened, but no icing was called, and couldn’t the goalie receive it and negate that altogether?

“And there’s no out of bounds?”

“Nope. Just the rink. You can get penalized for shooting the puck over the glass though.”

The game continued, and after a scuffle, Quinn skated off to sit by himself.

“Why is he there?”

“He got a penalty. High sticking,” Eunice said without any additional explanation.

The announcers replayed the offense in slower motion, showing how in the midst of a play, Quinn had accidentally hit another player in the jaw with his stick.

“That doesn’t seem like it should be a penalty when it was an accident,” Sarah said. The other guy wasn’t even bleeding.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s part of the game. Keep control of your stick all the time.”

The camera moved back to Quinn in the little cell. He removed his helmet and rubbed a towel over his face and hair before replacing it.

Eunice sighed dramatically, “God, he’s so hot.”

Sarah had to agree. He did look hot - supremely so. Flushed and sweaty, it was difficult to keep her mind off imagining him in her bed like that.

“Wait, why is it 4 against 5?” Sarah asked as the game began again.

“Cause Hughes got a penalty,” Eunice said, as if this was all the explanation Sarah should need.

Sarah stopped asking questions. Every time Eunice had tried to explain something in the past, she would get so excited, she would leave out key points, or assume Sarah had background knowledge she didn’t, and Sarah would end up even more confused. She often had to look up whatever they were talking about after their conversation anyway.

The period ended, and Eunice left the living room.

Sarah continued reading the article about the basics of hockey she had pulled up on her phone at the last commercial break. She wished she could watch with someone who would patiently explain each rule as it passed in the game. She had learned Football from her dad that way. Maybe Quinn could explain it to her.

“Okay, so what’s really up?” Eunice asked when she returned, plopping back down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of caramels.

“What do you mean?”

Holding up one finger, she said, “you’re watching hockey with me,” she held up a second, “you’re trying to understand it,” a third finger went up, “and you’re, like, actually interested in sports?”

“I’m interested in sports,” Sarah defended. “We’re a football family. My uncle coached.”

“Whatever,” she waved her hand dismissively, “it’s a dumb American sport anyway.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but didn’t take the bait.

“All I’m saying is that we’ve lived together for over a year, and you have never, not once, expressed any kind of interest in Hockey and I want to know what changed.”

The commercials ended and the camera cut to someone interviewing Quinn, who was in his full kit sans helmet. He answered questions in the same quiet, methodical way he had answered her on their date. Only this time, he said a lot of words without actually saying much of anything.

Sarah chewed on her lip.

“Did you finally discover how hot hockey players are?” Eunice teased.

“I don’t -” Sarah cut off, pushing a breath out her nose in frustration.

She was about to tell Eunice that hot guys were not the only reason she watched sports, only to realize that that’s precisely what she was doing.

“I met him,” she finally admitted.

“You met who?”

“Quinn,” Sarah said, gesturing to the TV.

“Met? You MET Quinn Hughes?” Eunice asked, turning in slow motion to look at Sarah. “When?!”

Sarah started, “on Monday.”

“Where? What? How?” Eunice demanded, her voice getting progressively louder with each word.

“He came into the aquarium, asked some questions after one of my talks, and then asked if I wanted to get lunch.”

“He asked you to lunch?” Eunice repeated.

“Yeah, we went to get bao.”

“Like on a date?”

“I think so. I mean, he paid, and he got my phone number aft-”

“Quinn Hughes asked you for your phone number,” Eunice thundered, “and you didn’t think to tell me about it?”

It probably wasn’t the right time for Sarah to point out that she and Eunice really didn’t have that kind of a relationship. In fact, Sarah hadn’t told anyone but Beth, her best friend from back home, who had been thrilled Sarah had finally met a good guy.

“Sorry,” Eunice said, settling on the couch like a proper lady in a period drama, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip out.”

Sarah wasn’t sure how she should react. She hadn’t intended on telling Eunice at all, worried - justly, it turned out - that she would freak.

“But oh my fucking God,” Eunice yelled, throwing her hands up and breaking her posture to flop dramatically into a slouch.

“What’s going on?” Jane asked, leaning in the door frame, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Quinn Hughes asked Sarah for her phone number,” Eunice declared, gesturing to Sarah as if she were the reason Jane was up early before her graveyard shift, not her own yelling.

Jane perked awake, “really?”

“Yeah,” Eunice said, sounding like a petulant teenager.

“Oh my God. I didn’t think this was a big deal,” Sarah said, putting her head in her hands.

“That the most eligible bachelor in the whole city of Vancouver asked you for your number? I’d say that’s a pretty big fuckin deal.”

“He’s just a guy, Eunice.”

“I’d beg to differ," Jane cut in. “It is a pretty big deal.”

“So he’s not a guy?”

Both women rolled their eyes at her.

“Of course he’s a guy,” Eunice said, exasperated.

“But he’s not ‘just’ a guy,” Jane said, air quotes and all. “He’s a little more than that, I think.”

“Why? Because he’s a professional athlete?”

“Yeah. And millions of women across the world want to marry him.”

“He’s handsome and all, but I can’t believe that’s true,” Sarah said. “Do millions of women even watch hockey?”

At the fierce glares she received from both of her Canadian roommates, Sarah held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. Maybe millions of women watch hockey, and some of them find him attractive. But for my purposes, he’s just a guy. He was just a guy on our date.”

“It's not about you,” Jane said.

Sarah raised her eyebrows in a challenge.

“What we mean is that it’s a big freaking deal that Quinn asked for your number.”

She reeled back, “Is it so hard to believe that he would be attracted to me?”

“No!” they both shouted, Eunice exasperated while Jane was horrified.

“Of course he’s attracted to you. Look at you.”

“I think what Eunice means is that Quinn Hughes has celebrity status in this city, and so him asking for your number means that he saw something really special in you. Women throw themselves at him every day.”

Sarah wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“It’s like, a major, major compliment,” Eunice said.

Biting her tongue, Sarah resisted the urge to tell her that it was a major compliment if anyone asked for her number, celebrity status or not.

“So, are you going out again?” Eunice asked, sitting back down on the couch.

“I mean, we said we would, but he’s out of town until next week, so I guess we will when he gets back?”

“Oh man,” Eunice said, leaning back in her seat. “You are living such a fanfiction right now.”

Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes.

Jane yawned. “I’m going back to bed. I have to be at the hospital at 2 in the morning.”

“I’m sorry we woke you up,” Sarah said.

Shaking her head, Jane smiled. “I’m glad Quinn saw the same things the rest of us do. If anyone deserves a fanfiction love story, it’s you.”

Heat raced into her cheeks, and Sarah smiled, turning back to the TV as the game began again.

“I cannot believe this,” Eunice said, picking up the stuffed whale to clutch in her hands. “You’ve got to introduce me to Kuzmenko.”

“Who?”

A few nights later, Quinn was slipping into a dinner booth in St. Louis when his phone pinged with a message.

Hey, I don't know what your schedule is next week, but The Electric is showing the Star Wars movies starting Sunday if you want to catch one together?

His heart jumped into his throat so fast, he made a sort of gasping choking nose that had Elias clapping him on the back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, clearing his throat.

“Who is that from?” Petey asked quietly.

Quinn was suddenly overwhelmingly thankful that he wasn’t sitting next to anyone else, who surely would have made a big scene of announcing that he got a text about a date to everyone in the near vicinity. Petey knew he preferred his privacy, and always respected that.

“Remember that girl I was telling you about last week? The one from the aquarium?”

His eyebrows shot up, “that’s her?” he asked, nodding at the phone.

Quinn nodded.

As Elias watched, Quinn pulled up their practice and game schedules.

Sounds awesome. I’m back in town Wednesday and free on Thursday or Saturday nights.

Almost immediately, the icon of her typing appeared. His heart began to hammer a little harder, pulsing in his throat in that nervous, I-can’t-wait-to-talk-to-her way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Thursday is The Empire Strikes Back, so I’m guessing that’s our choice. Unless you’d rather see the Force Awakens on Saturday?

Thursday is great.

Cool. I’ll get us tickets. Showtime is at 7 and they have a special menu for dinner and drinks at 6.

Sounds great.

It was as simple as that. Quinn had never had a date planned so smoothly.

Her text bubble popped up again, before going away. He gulped some of his nervousness down.

When he clicked off the screen and looked at Elias, he found the other man smiling at him knowingly.

“What?”

“I didn’t think she existed.”

“Sarah? You thought I was making her up?”

Petey rolled his eyes, “No. I didn’t think the girl you always talk about wanting to date existed. But she’s right there,” he gestured to Quinn’s phone.

Feeling his cheeks flush, Quinn shrugged to deflect the wave of sincere agreement that washed over him by busing himself with the menu.

Leaving her last class, Sarah was beyond thankful to leave campus and go home. She was exhausted to the bone. It had been a hard week of studying and midterms. On top of that, nervous, excited energy was buzzing under her skin in anticipation of her date with Quinn that evening.

When she got home and finally pulled her phone from her bag, she found a missed call from him. Stomach dropping, worry billowed into her thoughts like smoke. He was probably calling to say he couldn’t come. Why else would he call when they’d only texted so far?

Rapid fire, her thoughts rifled through friends that might want to come to the movie before she snapped back to herself. This was her anxiety talking. It wasn’t the truth.

Taking the time to pull in a few deep breaths, she told herself he could be calling about something other than canceling. It took eight breaths before she felt calm enough to call him back.

The phone rang three times before he answered. “Hey.”

“Hi, sorry I missed you earlier, I was in my last midterm.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing. That was one thing he didn’t miss about college. There wasn’t a lot, but the pressure of midterms and finals were something he was happy to live the rest of his life without.

“Well, it’s done now, so I’m just excited to take a nap.”

He laughed.

“So what’s up?” she asked, trying, and failing, to not sound nervous.

“I wondered where I should pick you up tonight,” he said.

Relief sighed through her legs and she sunk onto the bed. “I was planning to meet you there.”

“I can come pick you up,” he offered. There was no need for her to take the train when he could drive them.

This was always an awkward conversation, but one she’d constructed with her therapist to ease her anxiety. If someone didn’t respect this, it was a sure sign she didn’t want to date them. “Quinn, you seem like a great guy, but I don’t want you to pick me up. I don’t know you very well.”

A long pause passed over the phone. She wondered if she was going to have to explain this concept to him.

Honestly, Quinn hadn’t heard that line in a long time. He knew from friends that women often did this to protect themselves, but something about his presence in the media made women trust him implicitly. He hadn’t taken advantage of that - he would never - but it had infiltrated his thoughts before, how easy it would be.

She stood up for herself, and kept herself safe, and he respected her for that. “That makes sense,” he said.

It was so much easier than she’d been expecting, that Sarah had a hard time coming up with words.

“So I’ll meet you there?” he said when she didn’t say anything.

“Great.”

“What time?”

“Dinner starts at 6, so I figured like 6:15?”

“Great. I’ll meet you out front?”

“Sounds great.”

They said some pleasant goodbyes and she flopped back on the bed. Karma was really seeing this one though. Nice, interested, a bit nerdy, and respectful, not to mention handsome, Sarah had hardly allowed herself to dream up a guy like Quinn. And now, here he was, suddenly in her life. A feeling like she’d just drunk champagne began to fizz in her stomach. A smile spread over her face as she hugged her pillow and set an alarm.

Walking up to the theater, Quinn wiped his hands on his jeans, hoping he wasn’t about to revert back into a teenage boy with sweaty palms. He had to pee again. Nerves always shrunk his bladder. It hadn't happened in a game since he was ten, but other places - getting on a stage, press conferences, dates - always made him nervous.

The theater was an old fashioned, stand alone cement building. A ticket booth complete with marquee lights sat between two sets of French doors. Sarah was already there, leaning against the wall, looking up at the building across the street. It surprised him she wasn't on her phone.

“Hey,” he said as he got closer.

“Hi,” she said, meeting his eyes with a smile that made his stomach ache. Her lips were darker, making them stand out a little more. His eyes were drawn to them like a magnet.

She slipped her arms around his neck for a hug. It felt so natural this time as he pulled her into his chest.

As she broke away, she asked, “ready?”

He nodded, and she walked over to the ticket window, “I have a reservation for two under Roberts.”

The teenager working looked up from his phone. His gaze drifted past her. “You’re Quinn Hughes,” he said, mouth falling open.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up man?” Quinn said as if someone hadn’t just told him who he was.

The employee - who couldn’t have been more than sixteen - was still staring at Quinn, even when he didn’t say anything else.

“You’re coming to the show tonight?” he finally asked.

Sarah had never felt so looked over in her life. It wasn’t that she was jealous. She would never want that kind of attention, but there was common decency not being met here.

“We’re trying to,” she said, not unkindly, nudging him back to her reservation.

The boy started. He blinked a few times before he said, “sorry, what was the name?”

“Sarah Roberts.”

As they walked into the foyer. The ticket clerk slipped out of the booth, and came up to them, “hey man, I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I get an autograph? My girlfriend is a huge fan.”

Quinn nodded, and reached for the paper and pen he held out.

“Thanks so much, enjoy your show!”

As soon as they turned around, a harried looking woman with flyaway strawberry blonde hair came rushing up to them. “Mr. Hughes, we’re so glad you can be with us tonight.” Apparently, Mr. “you’re Quinn Hughes” had spread the news.

He gave her a polite smile.

“I just wanted to let you know, we upgraded your reservations to one of our more private love seats in the back.”

“That’s very nice, but it’s not necessary,” he said, feeling embarrassed. Sarah was never going to go out with him again if their first date was under this much of a microscope.

“Oh, no,” she said with a strained smile, “I insist.”

Sarah looked up at him, wondering what was going to happen here.

“Well, thank you,” he said, knowing that arguing would only draw more attention. So far, the other patrons were ignoring them, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Let me show you to your new seats.” She led them to a plush couch tucked into the back of the theater. No neighbors and a perfect view of the screen. No one would even need to walk in front of them to get to the bar or the bathroom.

“Thanks so much,” Sarah said.

The woman walked away, and she turned to Quinn with wide eyes, “that was wild.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, his hand going to the back of his neck.

“Does that happen a lot?”

He shrugged, “sometimes. Most people are pretty cool, though.”

“I actually thought about reserving this, but it was like triple the price, and I’m on a grad school budget, so…” she trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she clasped her hands together.

“The seats we had before would have been great,” he said, “people make a fuss.” He knew this woman was probably hoping he would share the theater on his social media, but finding a place like this was hard enough. He didn’t want to ruin that by announcing it to the world.

Desperate to change the subject, he said, “Thanks for finding this. I didn’t know it was even here.”

“I didn’t either,” Sarah admitted, deciding they may as well enjoy the upgrade and sat down on the sofa. It was plush microfiber - incredibly soft to the touch - and very comfortable. It wasn’t like she was going to demand they go back to the standard seats she’d booked.

“How did you find it, then?” he asked, sitting next to her.

“I overheard someone talking about it on the train and looked it up. It looked cool, so here we are.”

He smiled at her, and her heart did a karate kick into her lungs. She sucked in a deep breath.

They made their way to the bar to order dinner and drinks. Everything was on theme, including Sarah’s cocktail that came out glowing bright blue with smoke billowing off the surface. She laughed, looking truly delighted with it. It made Quinn want to kiss her. Not that he hadn’t been thinking about that since they’d met, but something about the pure joy in her face when the bartender handed it over made the impulse even stronger.

The problem, she soon discovered, with the couch arrangement was the fact that their food and drinks ended up on the end tables - on opposite sides of the couch, making it nearly impossible to eat and have a conversation the way she wanted to.

After turning around for her drink for the third time, she let out a frustrated sigh. “Here, will you hold this?” she asked, handing him her glass.

Quinn accepted it and watched as she put her plate on the table, and moved it in front of the couch. She then tucked herself around it, and sat facing him, with one of her legs bent at the knee between them.

“At least for now,” she said, taking her drink back and setting it on the relocated table.

Quinn smiled. He never would have moved that table - too afraid to upset someone. He admired Sarah’s willingness to solve the issue at hand.

Her drink was still smoking when he set his beer bottle next to it. She'd let out the most adorable giggle with the first sip, scrunching her nose at the feel of the smoke.

“So, what made you choose Vancouver?” he asked, “I’m sure there are places in the States where you can study Marine Zoology.”

She was instantly impressed that he remembered her degree. Most people got the marine part right, but assumed she was a biologist.

“That’s kind of a long, complicated story, but basically, my mom died a year and a half years ago and -”

He cut in, “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a sad smile.

“Anyway, there’s a little more to it, but I ended up here because my uncle lives here. I wanted to study the ocean, but I had to be close to family, and the only family I had close to the ocean was here, so that kind of made my decision for me.”

Bracing herself for sympathy, she looked into his eyes, only to find a more open, understanding expression on his handsome face. “That sucks about your mom. My dad lost his mom when I was like two, and he still talks about how hard it was. I know it was really devastating for him. I can't imagine how it felt for you."

She was so young - too young. She’d been his age. Even considering how long he'd been living away from his parents, it would be awful to lose his mom. She was the person he called for almost everything.

Tears pricked at her lower lashes. She blinked them away, busying herself with her drink to shut down that topic of conversation.

He laughed when her nose scrunched up again.

“I promise it’s really good,” she said, giggling, “the smoke just tickles.”

“Sure,” he teased, then added, "it's actually really cute."

Her gaze caught on the amused set of his mouth, and lingered there for a beat too long. Tearing her eyes away, she asked, “what about you? Why Vancouver?”

“Well, I was drafted here,” he said after swallowing his bite of salad.

“So you didn’t have a choice?”

“Yes and no. I toured and interviewed with a lot of clubs, and I liked it here along with a few other places. They knew how I felt, so they knew it would probably be a good fit. But the draft is always kind of a gamble. My brothers both went to New Jersey, which is pretty unheard of.”

“Your brothers play hockey too?”

He nodded.

“How many of you are there?”

“Just the three of us,” he said, “and a whole mess of cousins. What about you?”

“I have an older sister and an older brother. They still live in Nevada, and they both have a bunch of kids. My brother married my sister's best friend, so they’re all really, really close.”

She said it with a kind of sadness that Quinn knew well: a specific feeling that stemmed from your siblings being together while you were apart. Even though everyone was doing good things, it was still lonely to be the odd man out.

“I get that,” he said. “My brothers live together in Jersey, and my grandad’s there too, so I feel pretty separate sometimes.”

It was strange to Sarah how much they had in common. Both from families of three siblings, both in Vancouver because of a mix of circumstance and choice, both understood familial loss to at least some extent. She had never met a man like him.

The bartender announced the movie would start in 5 minutes.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” she said. “Do you need anything on my way back?”

He shook his head.

When she came back to their little corner of the theater, she found a refreshed drink on the end table.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course.”

The movie started and it was instantly calming to her. Being there with Quinn felt like a special treat, like something out of a daydream.

When she lay her hand, palm up, in the small bit of love seat between them, Quinn was quick to pick it up, entwining their fingers. It felt a bit like he was fourteen again, just excited to hold a girl’s hand. He wanted to touch her all the time, but knew they weren’t there yet. He couldn’t wait to get to the point in the relationship when he could rest his hand on her thigh, or put an arm around her shoulders without it being a big deal. It felt so close, he could almost taste it.

Leaning progressively closer throughout the movie, Quinn finally put his arm around her. He had to stop himself from celebrating when she rested her head on his shoulder.

When the movie started winding down, Quinn began to wonder how exactly the end of the night was going to go. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he didn’t want to do that in the theater or the foyer, where prying eyes and cell phone cameras were in abundance. Maybe he could ask her if they could walk to his car so he could kiss her there? Or maybe he could take her to her building's parking garage? Every way he thought about asking her sounded fucking creepy.

He was still caught in that internal debate when the movie ended and the house lights went up. How was he going to do this? He could just come out and tell her, but it made him sound paranoid and more than a little full of himself.

“Could you walk me to the train station?” she asked, effectively ending his internal argument.

He bit back the suggestion that he could just drive her home. “Yeah. Sure, of course,” he said. Maybe there would be a dim corner he could tuck them into and kiss her.

The night air was cool, and humid when they stepped outside. Heart pounding, Sarah hoped he couldn’t feel it through their clasped hands.

“You’ll have to lead the way,” he said. “I don’t really take the train.”

“No?”

“Too many people.”

While holding his hand was nice, Sarah’s mouth had felt empty with yearning all night. A deep longing to kiss him had been purring in her chest for over a week now, and seeing him made it rumble even louder. From the way she caught him glancing at her mouth throughout the night, it seemed like he felt the same way.

There was a small, clean alleyway she’d spotted on her walk to the theater. As they passed it, she tugged him off the sidewalk, turned around so she could slide one hand over the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

Quinn sucked in a sort of shocked breath at her forwardness.

She pulled away just as he was registering what was happening and sinking into the kiss.

Taking her hands back, a blush searing her cheeks, she said, “I’m sorry, that was really presumptuous of me.” Hoping she hadn't just ruined everything, She tried to not feel rejected. Had she been reading the signs wrong?

“No,” Quinn said, his voice a little too loud.

It was so strange to him that their physical connection, which had always been the easiest part of his past relationships, seemed to be the only thing they fumbled over.

He cleared his throat, and slipped his hand up to cup her jaw, "no. I was just a little surprised.”

Seeing the longing in his face when she looked into his eyes kicked hers back into gear, ready to squeal off the pavement.

Leaning in closer, his breath caressed her lips as he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about this all week.”

A shiver raced down her spine at his confession. “Me too."

Pulling back just slightly, he looked into her face. It felt like he was standing at the edge of the most beautiful view he'd ever seen. He couldn't wait to jump over it.

She tipped up, and he leaned down, and when their lips met, a gentle sigh passed between them.

There was no awkwardness, no questioning of who would tip which way, or if it was too soon for tongue. No, Sarah just took advantage between kisses, and swept her tongue into his open mouth. He responded in kind, sliding his tongue along hers.

Her hands found their way into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer. The soft noise he gasped into her mouth made her fingertips tingle with a heady sense of satisfaction. Molten desire dripped into her veins.

Quinn let all his other thoughts fall away in favor of savoring this moment. He wanted to commit every second of it to memory. She tasted like the tart syrup used in her cocktail, and the smooth sweetness of the rum. Coupled with the vanilla, woodsy scent of her perfume, and her soft, skilled tongue, it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever experienced. He never wanted to stop.

The world fell away.

Then, it came crashing back.

"Get a room!" someone yelled from the group of teenagers walking by.

He pulled away, just enough that he could feel her panting breaths rushing over his lips. He didn't want to let the moment slip away. Not when it had been so perfect.

"Can I make you dinner on Saturday?" he asked, still feeling a little breathless.

She paused, and he realized what he'd just implied. God, he wasn't thinking straight.

Pulling back, he rushed to explain, "I can bring it with me to a park or something. I just want to see you again."

A smile broke over her face, "I want to see you again, too."

Simple, straight to the point. Quinn felt some of his anxiety drop away.

"I'll think about where, but definitely yes to dinner."

He beamed.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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#Quinn & Sarah Snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fan fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey romance #quinn hughes fanfiction

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rubyreduji · 1 year

Text

weave your little webs of opacity — hvc

summary: vernon hates keeping secrets from you, but it's kind of inevitable when he's leading a double life

tags: fluff, spiderman!au, roommate!au, gn!reader wc: 3.4k an: yall can’t tell me this man doesn’t have spiderman energy like his the spiderboy

“Shit, shit, shit,” Vernon curses as he glides through the skies of New York. This is the third time this week he’s going to be late to dinner and his roommate is going to absolutely annihilate him for it. Even though it’s not his fault that some guy tried to start a fight in the street.

Vernon loves helping people, he loves being Spiderman, but he does not love the consequences it comes with. The thing is it’s not even the consequences of leading a second life or constantly being in a state of beat and bruised, no its the consequences of his roommate. If he was being honest Vernon is more afraid of you beating him up than any New York thug or random villain he comes in contact with.

A sigh of relief escapes Vernon’s lips as his apartment comes into view. He lands on the fire escape before quickly slipping into his open window. You guys live in a pretty discrete area of town which Vernon is thankful for.

Vernon doesn’t get a moment of peace though because before he can even change out of his suit you’re banging on his door, loud enough to disturb the neighbors. “HANSOL VERNON CHWE IF YOU DON’T COME OUT AND EAT DINNER RIGHT NOW I’M BUSTING THIS DOOR DOWN AND DRAGGING YOU OUT HERE BY YOUR HAIR!”

Strangely enough you seem to be in a good mood.

Another thing Vernon is lucky for is the fact he’s a frequent fire escape user. It’s rare for him to use the front door to enter the apartment, so it’s never strange for him to emerge from his room without you even hearing him come in. It’s another way he can pretend he’s been home for longer than he actually has, as well.

“Give me a minute!” He shouts back as he quickly changes clothes. He grabs a couple of wet wipes off his desk and does his best to clean up without having to walk out of his room to the bathroom.

Right as Vernon opens his door your fist is about to connect with it again, nearly hitting Vernon in his nose. He quickly grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his face.

“Took you long enough,” you scoff before pulling away and walking to the kitchen table. “What have you even been doing in there?”

“I have a lot of classwork and I had my headphones on, I’m sorry, I’ll be more considerate next time,” Vernon promises as he sits down at the table.

“You better be. The pasta is getting cold.”

You two eat in relative silence, more focused on stuffing your faces than making conversation. You have the TV playing in the background, a habit you picked up from your dad, and Vernon glances over to see the local news.

“Oh fuck,” he curses, fork dropping onto his plate.

“What?” You turn in your seat to look at the TV.

Playing on the screen is a clip of Spiderman, of him, from earlier today after he stopped a robbery in a convenience store.

“S-sorry, I just wasn’t uhm, wasn’t expecting to see a robbery so close to our apartment. People these days huh.”

“Yeah…we’ll have to start locking our windows, and by we, I mean you. You know I don’t like when you come in through the fire escape,” you chide. Okay Vernon can admit he walked into that one. “You know for all the popularity he’s gained, that Spiderman guy is still quite a mess.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true! He’s kind of sloppy, and look at his supposed supersuit, it’s weak. Not to mention with such mixed opinions on him it’s created conflict in the city.”

“Well what are…your opinions on Spiderman?”

“He’s…fine. He cleans up the minor crime in the streets which is nice, but he also seems to be making more problems. First off he’s so showy, everyone knows who he is, it’s like he’s planting a target on his own back. Then there’s the news coverage, you can’t watch the daily news without some kind of Spiderman issue. Don’t you think he’s a little bit cocky as well? Doing all those flashy tricks and thinking he can save the whole city by himself. It’s a little pretentious.”

If Vernon was being honest he was expecting you to be neutral on the situation, not negative. His roommate, his best friend, thinks he’s pretentious. You also made fun of his costume which like hey he knows it’s not great but he made it himself and he’s proud of it.

“I don’t think he’s that bad,” Vernon defends, “he’s just doing his best to do his part. If you had super powers would you not use them for good?”

“Didn’t know you were such a Spiderman fan there Nonie. Sorry for talking about your guy crush like that,” you tease. “Anyways, I don’t think I could have any superpower that would be more helpful than the one I have up here.” You tap at your skull. Of course. You’re hands down the smartest person Vernon knows, skilled with technology and science and math and everything Vernon is not.

The rest of your dinner goes by without any more talk of Spiderman, to the relief of Vernon. The previous conversation sticks with Vernon though, your words floating around in his brain as he lays down to sleep. He wonders if you would like Spiderman if you knew it was him, or if you would still like him if you knew he was Spiderman.

“Help! Someone please help!”

Vernon zips through the buildings as he follows the faint screams. His day has been fairly tame, not much crime to stop, until now that is. He comes upon the alley the screaming is coming from.

A girl is being backed into a corner by two men as another one is being held down by a big burly guy. The men have knives on them, it seems like they’re trying to mug the girls. Of course, typical day in New York.

“Hey! Why don’t you try and pick on someone your own size.” He shoots a web out at the biggest guy, pulling him off the girl he has pinned down. He throws him across the alley, slamming him into the wall.

“Aw look, the little spidey boy came to save the girl. How sweet,” one of the guys drawls, venom seeping from his tone. “We’d like to see you try.”

“Oh I’ll do more than just try,” Vernon says before shooting around another web. It hits short of the guy and he laughs, staring at it up above his head. Unfortunately for him, while distracted, he doesn’t notice the way Vernon is swinging in to kick him right into the wall. He hits the brick with a loud thud and a groan.

Two down, one more to go.

The final guy takes a swing at him with his knife, but Vernon’s senses are too good as he jumps out of the way. That doesn’t stop him though, and he lunges at Vernon, this time catching him by the arm. Vernon’s senses may be good, but he’s still a bit new to this superhero thing.

The two struggle on the ground, throwing punches at each other. At one point the man’s knife nicks Vernon across the face and he hisses. Over all of the tussling and playing around, Vernon grabs the man by his neck and squeezes a bit before using all his strength to throw the man into the wall. He too hits with a grunt. He staggers to his feet before calling to the other men. The three take off claiming it’s not worth it anymore.

“Thank you Spiderman! Wow you really are special!” The two girls run up to his side, grabbing at his arms.

“Nothing too special ladies, just doing my job. Allow me to walk you two home as well, as it’s getting dark.”

“You’re such a gentleman!” The two squeal.

“Anything to keep the city safe.”

Vernon walks with the two down the streets, catching a few glances. The two girls seem giddy, giggling a bit to themselves. During the walk he learns their names are Cherry and Samantha and they’re both his age. Finally the three come up to an apartment building and they stop outside.

“Once again thank you Spiderman, you really saved us.”

“No problem ladies. Now if you ever have a problem again, just call.” With a wink Vernon shoots a web and swings off, leaving the two to squeal to themselves.

A sense of accomplishment sits in Vernon’s chest as he climbs through his window. It’s not that late either. He quickly changes into his day clothes before heading into the living room.

“Y/N? You home?”

“Yeah I’m in here!” You call from your own room, the door cracked.

Vernon heads in that direction, opening the door fully. “Whatcha up to?”

You look up from your desk only to gasp. “Vernon, what happened to your face.” You quickly stand to greet Vernon, your thumb reaching up to brush against his cheek. He hisses a bit and pulls back, your thumb coming away red with blood.

Right. The muggar’s knife.

“Oh I uh, fell skateboarding earlier. Forgot about it, but a rock must have cut me up. You know me, clumsy as ever.”

You look a bit skeptical but don’t mention it. “Well let me help patch you up. Go sit.”

Vernon, not one to disobey you, goes to take his seat at the kitchen table. You come back with the first aid kit before sitting down yourself. You take the time to alcohol wipe the cut before applying some ointment and then placing the bandage. Vernon ignores the way his heart speeds up.

Okay, here’s the deal, Vernon wouldn’t say he a crush on you…but there is some kind of attraction. You’re smart and kind and talented and know how to make the best home cooked meals ever so of course he may harbor some less than platonic feelings for you. BUT he’s not going to do anything about it. You guys are best friends and roommates and he’s not going to ruin that just because you patch up his boo-boos every once in a while.

When you finish up you start to pack everything back away in the first aid kit. “Hey skater boy it’s your turn to make dinner. Let’s watch a movie while he eat today, yeah?”

Yeah, there’s no way Vernon is going to ruin this just because of his stupid feelings.

Vernon really needs to work on his time management. He’s late for dinner, again. How does this keep happening? It’s even worse because it’s his night to make dinner too.

The thing is he’s not even late because of Spiderman things today. He’s late because he was studying at the library for his next test and now he’s going to have to deal with not knowing the material and not having a fed roommate.

He’s quickly crawls into his window, out of breath. He turns on his desk lamp only to jump out of his shoes. You’re sitting on his bed, bouncing your leg.

“Jesus Y/N what are you doing?”

“What am I doing? I should be asking you what you’re doing…Spiderman.”

Vernon stops in his tracks. “W-what?” Curse his voice crack.

“I’m not an idiot Vernon, you should know that.” Of course he should. You’re the smartest person he knows. “Coming home late. Random cuts and bruises. Being gone whenever Spiderman is in action. Having the same mannerisms and voice. Spiderman wearing the same sneakers you do. Not to mention I saw part of your costume in your laundry when I was switching it over so I could use the washer.”

How did Vernon ever think he could fool you? Of course you figured him out. You’re Y/N L/N. Who was he to think he could even fool you.

Vernon just sighs and pushes his hair back. “So…what now?”

“I should be asking you that. You’re Spiderman.”

“You think I’m pretentious and sloppy,” Vernon blurts out. It’s been on his mind since the conversation that night. He doesn’t get why it bothers him so much, maybe because it’s you.

“Yes I did. I had a suspicion you were Spiderman at the time, I wanted to see how you reacted. Not to mention I do think Spiderman is a bit pretentious and sloppy. You’re new to the hero thing, I get it, but you could use some major upgrades,” you tell Vernon.

“Oh I could? And…you could make that happen?”

“Of course. You underestimate me Chwe.” You stand and leave Vernon’s room, giving him no choice but to follow you. “I wasn’t lying when I said I found Spiderman sloppy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t take an interest. You know me, you know I love to use my mind when I can.”

You lead Vernon to your room where you boot up your large PC and monitor setup. You click through a couple of files until you give one final tap and a few windows pop up on your screen. The foremost one is a design. A spidersuit design.

The design is a lot more advanced than what he’s wearing now. Well what he’s wearing now is just a pair of joggers, a long sleeve compression shirt, and his homemade mask so yeah it’s not great. The design is cohesive. It looks to be made out of spandex or some kind of tight stretchy material. It’s an all black suit with thin white spindles on it, resembling spider legs. A big red spider sits at the center of the chest part and red accents surround the large white eye pieces and the feet and fingers of the suit, almost like they’re spray painted on.

“You made this?” Vernon looks between you and the screen.

“Of course. It’s only a prototype.”

That’s something that will never not amaze Vernon. You’re so intelligent and you don’t even bat an eye at it. You don’t stay on the spidersuit though, you keep talking about technology and spreadsheets and lots of things Vernon would only somewhat understand if you had half the brain you do.

Vernon doesn’t know how to respond to any of it other than, “You…you wanna be my computer guy?”

“When you- what?”

“You wanna be my computer guy? I thought you…didn’t like Spiderman.”

“I don’t like Spiderman, but I like you.” You stand up from your desk. “So if you’re Spiderman…I think I can make an exception.”

“You really care about me that much?”

“Are you stupid? Of course. You’re my best friend and I care about you and if you are committed to this superhero thing then I want to make sure you’re gonna be at your best. So, will you let me help?”

“Of course! I- I’m going to be the best superhero ever.”

“Hey and even if you’re doing this superhero thing…you still gotta make dinner.”

Vernon grins. He’s glad that no matter what, you won’t change. “Deal.” He sticks his hand out and you grab it and shake his hand.

“Speaking of which…that’s your job tonight.” You wink at him and he can’t even complain, making his way to the kitchen to make dinner.

It’s been a few weeks since you discovered Vernon’s secret and if he was being honest, things couldn’t be better. The supersuit has not only proved to be useful in many ways but it’s also upped his credibility with the authorities.

You’ve also proven to be more than amazing as his tech guy. You not only update Vernon on the crime in the area but you also keep him safer than he could on his own. You also keep him company through your communication device when he’s got nothing to do on patrol.

“There seems to be a disruption a few blocks away from you. A girl seems to be getting harassed by a couple of drunk guys.”

“On it.” Vernon jumps off the roof he’s on and starts to swing in the direction you tell him.

On the street two drunk guys seem to be harassing a girl who’s trying to fight them off, pushing past them and telling them to leave her alone. Vernon flies in and quickly binds the two together by his webs. An easy fix for a minor problem.

When the two men are under control Vernon looks to check on the girl, only to see its the same girl from a few weeks ago.

“Oh Spiderman! You saved me again! Thank you so much!”

“Well you seem to be an everyday damsel in distress. Cherry, right?”

“Uhm yes. Wow, I can't believe Spiderman remembered my name.” Vernon notices the light blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Here, lemme walk you home again.”

Cherry is quick to grab onto Vernon’s arm as he guides her back to her apartment. She makes idle chatter with him, even complimenting his new spidersuit. Once again when they get to her apartment they stop outside.

“Thank you so much for saving me. And walking me home.”

“Of course. Just doing my job, keeping the city safe.”

“You know…this is kind of embarrassing to admit but you’re kind of my celebrity crush.”

“O-oh!”

“I know it’s silly but c’mon you’re Spiderman! You’re cool and nice and you’ve saved me twice now. So just know that if you’re ever free on a Friday night, I will be too. You know where to find me. Have a good night Spiderman!” With that Cherry presses a quick kiss on Vernon’s cheek before running into her apartment building.

Vernon’s not sure how to react. Sure he’s aware that people have crushes on Spiderman but no one’s ever been bold enough to make a move. The kiss and Cherry’s words stick in Vernon’s mind as he heads back home.

It’s quiet when he climbs in his window and he wonders what you’re up to, no word from you since the tip about Cherry. Vernon changes and cleans up before heading into the kitchen. There’s still no sight of you and Vernon frowns, heading towards your room.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He gently pushes the door open to see you sitting at your desk, staring at the surveillance cams. “Y/N?”

“What?” You spit out.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“If you’re going to mess around and flirt with girls and whatever you want to do, maybe you shouldn’t be Spiderman. When you decided to help the city you took on a responsibility but if you’re not going to take it seriously and use it as a way to pick up girls then forget me trying to help,” you tell him.

“W-what? Is this about Cherry?”

“‘Oh Spiderman you’re so strong and handsome. You saved me. Please go out with me.’ Don’t act like you weren’t loving it.”

“Where is this coming from? I was just being nice, it’s not my fault she decided to confess to me.”

“She doesn’t even know you! She just cares that you’re Spiderman, she doesn’t know you. You’re Vernon, you like Avril Lavigne and skate boarding and cheeseburgers and for some reason you love Star Wars in the most geeky way ever. You’re allergic to peanuts and like cool shoes and everyone who likes you just because you’re Spiderman are superficial and lame because I like you just for being Vernon Chwe.”

It takes Vernon a second to process what you’re saying. It’s nothing near what he was expecting but it still makes his insides warm nonetheless. “You- you like me?”

“Shut up! Yes!” You shout in frustration. “I don’t put in this much effort for everyone, stupid. And I get you don’t like me back but I’m just saying don’t settle for people who like you just because you’re Spiderman because you’re a lot more than that.”

“Woah, woah, wait. Y/N, hey.” Vernon grabs your shoulders to get your attention. “It’s your turn to shut up now. Who said I didn’t like you back. Dude I’ve liked you for like…over a year now.” You stare at him a bit incredulously.

“Why didn’t you say anything asshole!” You shove his shoulder.

“I wasn’t going to mess up our friendship!” Vernon defends himself.

You scoff, “Like I would let that happen. Be real Vernon.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He goes quiet for a moment before continuing, “So…is this when we kiss or?”

“Oh my god you’re so lame!” You laugh. “Who knew Spiderman had zero game.”

“What happened to I’m more than just Spiderman?”

“Oh my god just come here,” you mutter before you pull Vernon into you. Vernon smiles against your lips and feels you smile back as well. He thinks that if this is his superhero story, you’re the best ending he could get.

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ranhaitanisgf · 8 months

Note

Congrats on 2k followers 🎉🎉🎉 may i pls request "boy next door" & "in another life" with baji. ty for ur hard work and if u do accept this ask ^^

— baji keisuke // boy next door // in another life

[𖤐] hey anon!! what is wrong with you !!! it's so sad !! omg !!! lawl jk, im sry im getting to this sooooooosososo late! i hope you enjoy all the same my lovely ! <3

wc: 1.4k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

it all seemed like yesterday.

you had been behind the apartment complex you live in, plastic bags in hand as you kneeled down and took out multiple cans of cat food. the five cats in front of you meowed with glee, eager for you to open the tins. some of the younger one’s paws went up onto your knees, though it wasn’t enough to sway your balance from where you were kneeling.

“yes yes, i know! just give me oneee second, and i’ll have these open and you guys can gobble them all up!” you giggled, pulling open the tabs on the cans and setting them down on the ground. as soon as you set one down, the cats would immediately flock to it, eating ferociously and almost fighting each other.

“woahhh, let’s calm down guys…” as soon as they started fighting, you pulled some away to their own can of food, and once they were all eating, it was smooth sailing from there.

sitting on the ground, you smiled as you watched the cats gobbling up the food. you obviously couldn’t take them all in, especially since the apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, so this was the most you could do. it hurt your heart that you couldn’t give them a place to live, but the best you could do was give them a nice meal. you had even picked up a second part-time job so that you could afford to buy the expensive cat food.

“peke j! where are ya?!” you heard a deep voice call out. looking up, you noticed a boy with long black hair walk into the quiet area, a look of worry on his face.

the black cat who had been happily eating suddenly looked up from his food, then immediately started bounding towards the boy, jumping into his arms with a happy meow.

“this is where you’ve been? jeez, you had me worried…” if the boy saw you, he didn’t say anything. you smiled a bit at the situation; you supposed that the black cat had just been looking for an extra meal, which you guessed was understandable.

“oi, i’m talkin’ to you.” looking up, you saw the black haired boy standing above you, his cat purring softly in his arms. “do you feed these cats?” he asked. the question caught you a bit off guard; you weren’t sure what you were expecting him to ask, but you’d expected him to be mad given his tone of voice.

“yep.”

“every day?”

“mhm.”

“i see…cool! i’m baji keisuke, and this little troublemaker right here is peke j. he acts like i don’t feed him, but i swear i do.” baji grinned at you, kneeling next to you to watch the cats, a goofy grin on his face. you were very surprised now, since you had expected him to be a bit standoffish. you suppose that’s what you got for judging based on a cover.

“what’s your name?”

“(y/n).”

from then on, you and baji just got closer and closer. you eventually learned that the two of you lived in the same complex, and you actually lived right next door to each other. because of this, you both began to hang out a lot; you would go feed the cats behind the building together, you would walk to the convenience store together, and baji would even come to pick you up from your part-time job if it got out late.

“i can’t have you walking home at night, (y/n).” he would say.

it had been a little bit scary when he first picked you up on his motorcycle, but you learned to love it. it was exhilarating, and it was even more so when you were with baji.

you would hold on tight around his waist as he sped down empty streets, yelling his head off about who knows what. despite the fact he was going fast, you trusted him and knew it would be alright if you were with him.

the two of you would also walk to and from school, sharing the umbrella you would bring when it rained, (he was always woefully prepared for the weather) and stopping by convenience stores to get snacks for the walk home. when he started slicking back his hair and wearing thick glasses, you made fun of him non-stop, but also offered to tutor him in his studies. you two would spend hours in his room; he was usually halfway asleep until you woke him up with a flick to the forehead. in return for the help, he would bake something for you, (“i told you, it’s from my mom! i didn’t make them!!!”).

then, he introduced you to his new friend, chifuyu, and the three of you became your own trio. you eventually met the rest of his friends; they were all in a gang called the tokyo manji gang, which sounded a little scary to you at first, but when you met them all, any worries you had before were washed away. you weren’t officially part of it, (baji refused to let you join, since he would say, “how would i be able to face your family if something happened to you?”) but you would attend a lot of meetings, showing up with baji and joking around with him.

it was all perfect, until it wasn’t.

you had noticed that he didn’t talk to you as much, and that he seemed to be avoiding you, which was a pretty hard task considering the two of you lived right next to each other. you would show up at his door, and he would tell you to go away. for weeks, this went on, until you finally listened.

had he gotten tired of you?

the last time you had even spoken with him was three weeks ago when you had found peke j. lurking around in the back on the complex again. the conversation had been short and curt.

“hey, i found peke j-”

“thanks.”

“wait, keisuke, can we just talk-?” slam!

it wasn’t until chifuyu showed up at your door that you were able to see him again.

“(y/n)-chan…i’m so sorry…”

you didn’t even want to think about the worst conclusion when you had seen his red-rimmed eyes, but when he brought you to the morgue in the hospital, you knew what had happened. you saw baji’s mother sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, an empty look in her eyes as she stared at the table in the middle of the room.

when the doctor pulled the sheet down, chifuyu had to hold you up to keep you from collapsing.

“i wish you were here again, keisuke.” you whispered into the wind, the tears on your cheeks being dried by the cold wind. you opened two cans of soda, putting one in front of you and putting one of the grave in front of you.

you hadn’t opened the paper in your hands yet; you were too scared to read it. what if he’d said how much he hated you? you don’t think you could handle that.

it was something that chifuyu had given you, telling you that keisuke had wanted you to read it.

after a few silent minutes, you put down the can of soda. with shaky fingers, you opened the small notes, your eyes already welling up with tears.

(y/n)--

i’m sorry that i’ve been ignoring you the past couple of weeks. trust me when i say that it hasn’t been easy for me to do, but it was necessary. i guess if you’re reading this then it means i’m gone, which kinda sucks ‘cause that means i can’t confess to you in person like i wanted to. i like you, a lot. i love you. ever since that day i saw you with the cats, i think you put a spell on me or something. jesus, this is corny. my chest feels weird when i’m around you, but in a good way. i don’t really know what else to say, but i hope you can forgive me. i’m sorry. will you keep feeding the cats behind the complex? i’ll be watching.

-keisuke

“yeah, i will…” you spoke in between sobs. it felt like your heart had been broken into a million little pieces, if it hadn’t been ripped apart enough already.

“please come back, keisuke…i don’t want to have to wait until the next life…”

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strangerquinns · 1 year

Text

Deadly Reunion|Chapter 9

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count:

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

A week.

It had been a week since Eddie watched you walk away from him.

And you still weren’t talking to him.

Not like he hadn’t been trying. It seemed that any time he went looking for you, he’d just missed you.

The first couple of days the fear gripped Eddie’s heart like a vice and grew tighter when he couldn’t find you anywhere in the Camp. When he stopped by the room you shared with Robin, conveniently, you were gone. But the third day when he walked in with Gareth to the cafeteria for breakfast – he instantly found you.

You were sitting at a table with Robin but looked to be within your own mind as you pushed around the food on your tray. Your head was downcast as everyone else at the table around you talked lively. Eddie stood there frozen for a moment. But another part thought he was hallucinating since no one else seemed to interact with you.

Like his fear of losing you had manifested you in front of him.

Your head turned up slightly before your eyes stayed on him. They widened for a quick second before that deep seated rage returned to your eyes. The spark within them made him flinch back slightly. No matter how much Eddie wanted to go to you. He didn’t.

“Damn,” Gareth spoke from beside him, “She’s really fuckin’ pissed at you.”

Eddie sighed deeply at his friend's words, before turning and heading toward the queue to grab some breakfast. The line moved quickly and soon he was sitting at his usual table with Gareth and a few others.

But here is now, days after that, and still hating that you weren’t talking to him.

A part of him was pissed at Gareth for telling you the truth. For beating him in informing you about him and Sarah. It was a topic he wasn’t ready to talk about with you – yet. Her death was still too fresh in his mind. The guilt over it still gnawing away at his heart so much that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He might not’ve be in love with Sarah, but he still cared deeply. She was also his friend. Someone he’d known nearly his entire life. And like everyone else in his life. She was taken away from him.

Just like you had been all those years ago. The only difference was that he was the one to push you out of his life.

But he got a second chance and it seemed that it was already ruined.

Eddie still thought of that night on your birthday. As you lay with your head in his lap mumbling sweet nothings of love. Finally saying the words, he ached to hear.

But Eddie knew there was no one else to blame but himself for hurting you.

“Chief says we need to head out for another run,” Steve spoke, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts and back to the present.

Eddie sighed deeply and rubbed at the scuff along his jaw that had been growing over the last few days. “We just did a run, what do we need now?”

“Medical supplies,” Steve spoke, resting his hands on his hips. The black you’d given him was starting to fade, only soft yellows and greens around his eye and nose left behind. “Also, we gotta start prepping for the colder months when we’re not gonna go out as much.”

Eddie nodded his head, “Alright, I’ll meet you upfront. Let me grab my gear.”

Eddie’s body already felt tired at the thought of leaving the camp again. Hopper had them going out more and more for supplies that he could’ve sworn they had enough of. Trips were becoming longer, and they were venturing out farther. Hawkins was nearly tapped clean of any valuable supplies for them, so the surrounding towns were their only source. But that was depleting.

But how much longer do we have to keep living like this? Eddie asked himself.

Eddie didn’t take long to grab his pack and a few supplies. He wasn’t sure how long they would be gone, so he over-packed slightly. He grabbed his leather jacket knowing the nights would be cold, along with his bandana. The last thing he grabbed was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that he slipped into his back pocket.

One of the things Eddie wasn’t expecting as he walked into the front lobby…was you.

You stood toward the outer side of the group when he walked through the doors. You were back in the clothes that he’d found you in. Your eyes met the moment he walked upon the group and that flare of anger was still there. But Eddie couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie spoke, his dark brows pulling tightly together as his eyes glared down toward you.

Your back straightened as you turned to him more, “Excuse me?”

Your tone was tight with a slight hiss to it. Eddie recognized that tone. But even knowing he was pushing himself down a deeper hole with you – he didn’t stop.

“What are you doing here?” He asked again, looking around to see everyone was looking toward the two of you in confusion. “You’re not coming with us.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t realize that I need your permission.”

“Hopper assigned her to her tasks, Munson,” Robin spoke, stepping up to stand beside you. Her arms crossed at her chest as she glared at him. "She's part of the supply run crew now."

It took three seconds and observing your body language with Robin to quickly see you two have become closer. It was really a shock since Robin was your roommate. But that only pissed Eddie off more.

“I don’t fuckin’ care what Hopper assigned her, go, and tell him to change it.” Eddie stepped toward you, his frame looming over you. “You’re not coming with us.”

Eddie’s voice dropped as he spoke that last part, a slight pleading coming into his eyes. You had to remind yourself not to give in, that you were still mad at him. That those large, dark eyes weren’t going to crack the hardened shell you placed around yourself.

“I didn’t ask, nor want, your permission of what I can and can do, Eddie.” You stepped closer to him, looking directly into his eyes and speaking next so only he could hear. “You lose that when you decided to lie to me.”

A part of you could've sworn that a deep flash of pain moved through Eddie’s eyes. But you didn’t give yourself too much time to see, as you pushed around him and moved to stand on the other side. Eddie stood standing in his spot, unmoving, as tension moved through the lobby. It was Steve who cut the tension, clearing his throat to pull everyone back to him.

“We’re going on a supply run for the medical wing. We’re heading out farther towards Redding, a spot we have hit before, and didn’t clear. It’s gonna take a few days so we need to move quickly, we need to move fast.” Steve spoke with clear authority and leadership in his tone. “Now let’s head out, we don’t want to lose light before get to the first camp point.”

One by one the group started to file out of the building and toward the front gate. Steve walked to the front of the group leading the way with someone else close behind him. You learned his name was Mike and he was Nancy’s older brother. He was far from the little kid that you knew from running around the neighborhood. You walked more toward the middle with Robin, Nancy, and Nancy’s boyfriend Jonathan. Another person you met in the week you’d been at the camp.

But behind you, you felt him. His eyes are at the back of your head causing your spine to straighten. You fought with yourself to not look back toward him. To not acknowledge him any more than you already have.

Instead, you kept your eyes forward as you prepared yourself to head out into the world you just found safety from.

-x-x-x-x-

“So, what is going on with you and Munson?” Robin asked, the two of you walking side by side as the group moved through the overgrown woods surrounding Hawkins.

“We’re supposed to be sweeping the area,” You spoke, your gun raised slightly, ready if needed, as your eyes moved through the area looking for a sign of anything.

Have it be a Flayed.

Have it been human.

Either was dangerous.

“I can multitask,” Robin spoke with a soft laugh, “Come on…it’s like suffocatingly tense between you two,”

You sighed deeply, “I found out he lied...kept something from me, and that’s all I’m really going to say about it.”

“Does it have anything to do with your reaction to knowing you’re in Sarah’s old bed?”

You stopped for a moment and shot her a look, before shaking your head and moving further through the area Steve wanted you to sweep.

But Robin took your silence as a sign to continue.

“I know you said the two of you were friends and stuff, but your reaction to finding her stuff tells a little more. Which, ya know, I get if you don’t want to share. You barely know me, and we are only starting to become friends…but I am here…if you wanna talk.”

You stopped for a moment, lowering your gun slightly, “Thank you, I appreciate that, Robin.”

Robin smirked, “What are roomies for?”

There was no denying that over the last few days, Robin had greatly grown on you.

“I don’t see anything, do you?” a voice spoke as they walked upon the two of you, Nancy coming into view as she walked closer.

“Nothing.” You answered quickly, moving to holster your gun into the back of your jeans. “Anyone else?”

“No.” Nancy sighed sweeping her curls from her face, “The others found an abandoned home, thinking of camping out there? Catch some shelter since night is dropping.”

You nodded your head and quickly followed behind Nancy and Robin to head toward the shelter for the night. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes aware looking out for any danger. Your body didn’t relax till you came upon the small home that was tucked within the woods.

When you approached the small home, you quickly noticed how the forest around it was quickly reclaiming it. Moss grew along the sides giving the white siding more of a dirtied look. Mud caked along siding and windows. The front door was surprisingly still attacked but a few of the windows were blown out. It would do for the night. Steve and Eddie were securing the perimeter with Jonathan when you and the others approached.

You didn’t miss the quick glance Eddie sent your way as you walked past him. It was a mix of a few emotions, the one you caught quickly in the depth of his brown eyes was fear and sorrow. But with your emotionless mask still, in place, you walked by and said not a word.

“Night’s falling quickly, let’s get settled inside, get something to eat, and rest. Munson and Buckley, you have the first watch.” Steve spoke, strapping his rifle back across his back. “Not sigh of flayed, think we’re deep enough for cover.”

Eddie nodded his head slightly and moved his glace quickly back over to you. You were standing with Nancy and Robin right outside the home. Your face brightened slightly as you laughed at something Robin said. Again, that flare of anger and jealousy came back up, simply causing your attention as on someone else and not him. Steve caught the tension between the two of you, it was hard to miss especially with how you two were before the group left. And he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Eddie.

“She’ll come around, man,” Steve spoke, so that only Eddie would hear, digging through his bag in search of some jerky he’d packed earlier. “Whatever fight you’ve got going on will be resolved and you’ll be best friends again.”

“I don’t know. I…I fucked up, and…I don’t know how to make it better. It’s like I know her, but I don’t at the same time.” Eddie spoke, shaking his head slightly and rubbing his tired eyes.

“You’ll figure it out,” Steve spoke with more confidence than Eddie was feeling at the moment.

Everyone quickly began to fall into the roles and routine of a campout. You unrolled your sleeping bag and settled in the living room along with Nancy and the others. But even as you tried to lay down and catch some sleep, your mind wasn’t allowing you.

Instead, it was too focused on the fact Eddie was outside on the lookout with Robin at the moment. You stared up at the peeling paint on the ceiling hoping for sleep to take over. It wasn’t long till you cursed under your breath and stepped out into the front of the home again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Robin’s voice came from above. You turned quickly to see her on the roof, gun in hand.

“Why are you on the roof? And second, is that even safe?”

“Most likely not, but I get a better vantage point. Plus I’m lighter weight than Munson.” She spoke with a smirk, “Now why are you up?”

“Can’t sleep. Thought I could be useful.”

“Munson in circling the perimeter, sure he could use the company and a second eye.” Robin’s lips turned up slightly with a mischievous grin before turning and continuing her pace on the roof.

“Fuck,” You whispered, before grabbing your gun from your back, checking your ammo, and then sliding it into the back of your pants. Tucked between your back and the waist of your pants. You also made sure to check your cargo pockets for your knife, before moving to find Eddie.

Didn’t take long to find his tall, lean frame moving between the shadows of the trees. The moon bleeds through the tops of the trees and creating a silver glow. Your footsteps were light, Eddie not noticing you till you were nearly on top of him.

“Jesus…” He cursed the moment he turned to head back in the opposite direction, only to see you. “…what the fuck,”

“Isn’t the whole purpose of patrolling being, to be aware of your surroundings?” You spoke, deep sarcasm in your tone.

Eddie sighed deeply, “I didn’t hear you.”

Your brows shot up, “No shit. Good thing I wasn’t a bad guy.”

“My mind been a little all over the place, wasn’t…paying attention.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to head back in the other direction, grabbing your gun in case anything was to happen. In a few passing seconds, Eddie was soon in pace beside you. The silence was thick and uncomfortable as the two of you walked side by side.

Eddie was the first to talk.

“Can we talk about the other night, please?” He asked, his voice soft and timid. The complete opposite of earlier in the day.

“There is nothing to talk about.”

Eddie flinched slightly, internally, from the harsh finality of your tone.

“There is a lot to talk about, a lot that you don’t know.”

“I know enough.” You looked at him slightly, before turning quickly back to scan the forest. “You kept it from me, Eddie. Purposefully. And don’t lie to me and say you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t,” Eddie spoke quickly.

You stopped for a moment and looked at him. Even with just the moon for light, you could see his face. He was being sincere. That remorsefulness was back in his eyes and causing his brow to pinch together slightly.

“I really don’t want to talk about this. You and Sarah were allowed to do whatever you wanted,” You spoke, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. “It’s not like you were mine and you cheated on me. I just…just…”

Your mouth opened a few times but no words could form. Eddie moved toward you, till something behind you caught his attention. His back straightened as goosebumps rolled over his flesh. Eddie quickly recognized the staggered, gaunt walk as it moved through the trees severely feet from the two of you. You caught on quickly to the change in Eddie’s body language and knew something was wrong.

“Ed-.”

“Shh,” He interrupted you, keeping his eyes just over your shoulder. “When I tell you to, I want you to head back toward the house, as quietly as you can.” He whispered, his words barely heard.

Your words stopped and choked you as you looked up at him, your grip tightening around your gun. The deep, guttural groan of a flayed soon cut through the tension and instantly made bile rise in your throat. Eddie moved slowly to grab his rifle, cursing any time a noise was made.

It would only take one sound, and the Flayed would know of your location.

It was far away enough to where you had a small chance to get away.

“I’m not leaving you.” You whispered.

“I’m gonna be right behind you, sweetheart.” Eddie spoke, his eyes moving toward you, “Now run.”

You hesitated for only a moment before your instincts kicked in and you were off, running back in the direction of the home. It wasn’t till you were running that you noticed how far you and Eddie had walked from the shelter.

But it hadn’t even been five seconds before the scream erupted from the monster. It had heard you and it was now on the hunt. You couldn’t help the whimper that came from you as the echoing of more screams moved through the forest.

“Run! Fuckin’ run!” Eddie shouted from behind you, the house coming into view. Robin is still perched on the roof.

“It’s a pack! Fuckin’ Flayed” You screamed, pure terror in your tone.

It wasn’t long till gunshots joined in with the screams.

Sooo...that was chapter Nine. please leave a review on your thoughts, predictions of the next, and anything else! I love seeing everyone's comments about how the story is going. Thank you for all your support it means the world to me.

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goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

feel again (e.m.)

pairing: eddie munson x best friend! fwb! reader

summary: sleeping with your best friend was never a good idea, and though he’s confessed his feelings to you, they were feelings he felt for an entirely different girl.

warnings: a shit ton of angst, of swearing, lots of hurt but yanno what follows hurt! comfort! fluff! resolution! i had to adapt the season’s events for my plot and tbfh, i’m worried it’s a little slow in the build-up and i can’t write action to save my life -- but i think the ending makes it worth it!!!

wc: 6.1k+

note: i’m in tears! i can’t believe its done, i wrote a fic! a series! i’ll admit, not sure if it’s my best writing but i can genuinely say i had so much fun writing it; i have people asking me about eddie and whether he’ll end up alright and honestly, everyone’s love and support has kept me going when i was about ready to give up and call it a day, so please, please, enjoy! reblog! leave a comment! i love you all <3

read part one - part two

Eddie had been missing for two days, and you were starting to lose it.

What a fucking jerk. To have sought you out that night at the party, showered you in kisses and apologises and conveniently left out the fact that he was on the run from the police and Chrissy was–

You couldn’t think about her. That burning in your throat, the bitter taste of bile, intensified when you thought about her. Hadn’t it been just last week when you’d imagined, or rather fantasised, of her hurting? It was an irrational, intrusive thought – one you were sure you hadn’t actually meant to come true.

But you were unbelievably petty and emotional and so fucking lonely without your best friend, and she was a living, breathing, annoyingly cheerful reminder of everything you no longer had.

Was.

Because now she’s gone. And as much as you hated her guts only days earlier, you couldn’t help but wallow in the sorrow you felt now, knowing the gruesome end she had met.

She was gone, sure, but so was Eddie. He hadn’t reached out to you since the bathroom incident, when Nancy had found you frozen to the spot an hour later. She was speaking to you, words muffled and unintelligible against the ringing in your ears.

You remember odd bits and pieces, like a puzzle missing some of its pieces – Chrissy. Dead. Trailer. Eddie.

You’d come to when you heard his name, brows furrowed in worry and confusion as she explained what everyone in town was now talking about, what everyone now believed about Eddie.

Eddie Munson had corrupted Chrissy – made her a satan-loving, drug addict, just like him. He lured her back to his trailer, a quiet, almost desolate part of town, where he brutally murdered her.

It was all a fucking lie, you knew it.

There was something else going on here, but the devastation you felt, a never-ending cycle of fear and concern, had you bedridden since you’d found out. Your parents had hounded the police to station officers at your house, convinced Eddie would try to get in contact.

They worried you’d meet the same fate, and no matter how much you argued that it was all bullshit, they’d confined you to your room, no visitors allowed – not even Nancy, Steve and Robin.

That didn’t stop them from sneaking in, though. Hawkin’s finest weren’t actually all that great, and come 9 o’clock, the two officers stationed outside would be snoring so loud from their ‘tactically’ placed police cars that your friends would easily climb up the side of your house where you’d greet them through the window.

You told them they could use the front door, your parents weren’t home and not even a pack of demadogs could wake the two snoozing officers. But it was ‘about the principal’ as Steve put it.

So every night since, you’d leave your window open for them to update you on what they’d learned, and most importantly, whether anyone had found Eddie.

“We found him!” you heard Robin call from outside your window.

You wasted no time, shoving your feet into your sneakers, grabbing your flashlight and a pocket knife because the town was really taking paranoid to a whole new level since Eddie had been accused of murder and reported missing.

You shimmied down the drainpipe, landing with a hard thud on the ground. Pain shot up your calves but you ignored it, instead focusing your attention on your friends in front of you.

“And?” you prompted impatiently, unable to stand still and wishing to whatever God or all-powerful being watching you now that Eddie was fine, that he hadn’t been found or met the same fucked-up end as Chrissy.

“Well, Max said she saw him running from his trailer, th– that night. It was suspicious because he looked afraid and why would a murderer run like a little girl from their intended murdered victim. And then Steve and I, well it was a fluke, really, can’t believe we caught it–”

“Robin! Get to the point, where is he?”

“Right, right. Reefer Rick’s place. It’s abandoned, he’s in jail, I think. On Lover’s Lake,” she managed to explain eventually. You knew you shouldn’t be mad at them, felt that sting of regret after scolding Robin, but they didn’t know about the guilt coursing through your veins every day since he’d disappeared.

It was your fault, and no matter what anyone said, your mind couldn’t explain the thoughts away. You had pushed him into Chrissy’s arms. And when she died, he’d wasted precious time – time he could have spent getting away – to find you.

So you excused your temper, promising yourself to apologise to Robin later. “Okay, then what are we waiting for? Let’s go,” you announced, taking all of one step before Steve stepped into your path, stopping you from walking to his car.

“About that…” he trailed off. He looked afraid, like he was certain you’d start swinging any moment. “You’re not coming.” He was right to look afraid, you decided.

“Move, Steve,” you insisted, attempting to push past him but he held his grown, all crossed arms and stern stare. The others mimicked his stance, and you knew they were in agreement.

“Why?” was all you asked.

“Because last time something like this happened, you almost didn’t make it,” Nancy interjected before anyone else could speak. She was the only person you trusted as much as you had Eddie, having known her since the two of you were in diapers.

While you weren’t a ‘trouble’ child per se, it had always been Nancy’s voice of reason that had prevented you from getting caught countless times.

And it was Nancy you had blatantly ignored when you’d jumped in front of the Mind Flayer to save Max.

You’d never spoken about it with her since then, having brushed it under a carpet in your mind, locked the door and tossed the key. You didn’t like thinking about what would have happened if Billy hadn’t intervened, but it was instinct and you didn’t regret any of it. You couldn’t.

“Well that’s not an excuse, Eleven’s always throwing herself in front of the–”

“She has super powers! Don’t be stupid! You don’t!” Nance scolded, pushing in front of Steve to speak directly to you, face to face where you couldn’t hide. “We can’t let you come, not this time. We all discussed it and you’re just too much of a liability. The cops are still watching you, the whole town is because–”

“What? Because they know I was fucking the freak they’re hunting?” you stated crudely, eyes glued to the floor. Your head was shouting at you to shut up but your heart was aching too much to care. You felt that surge of senseless anger and, unfortunately for your friends, they were the only ones around to aim it at.

“You’re all acting like you wouldn’t sacrifice yourself for anyone else here. You’ve all done it countless times. Fended off the Demogorgon, Demadogs, the Mind Flayer – how is this any different?”

“Because you love him, sweets. You love Eddie so much that we’re afraid you’ll give up everything for him.” Robin’s words did little to soothe you, and though you knew she was right (they all were, really), you couldn’t be stopped.

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll wake up those cops and send them straight to him. To Lover’s Lake.”

Silence.

You were as shocked as they were, mouth agape at what you had just threatened. But you needed it to work because if you didn’t see Eddie soon, scold him a little for acting like such a fucking idiot, then have him explain what actually happened – fuck, you were driving yourself crazy.

“You wouldn’t do that,” Nancy called you out, not taking the bait. She could see through your facade, like a cat scrambling for safety in a pool too big, biting, scratching its way out – anything to escape the dread creeping in. “We’re going, you're staying.”

You watched them leave, gaze unforgiving.

It was only when they backed out of your driveway that you collapsed, sobs clawing their way out of your mouth as you held yourself tight, squeezing once, twice, three times like Eddie would.

The legs of your jeans were caked in dirt but all you could focus on was the fact that they were right, if you went, if Eddie was in any kind of danger, you’d throw yourself in, head first, to save him. You’d jump in front of whatever it was that had murdered Chrissy, would let yourself meet the same fate in under a heartbeat if it meant Eddie would be alright.

If this was what love felt like, you thought, you didn’t want it.

Radio silence for three days.

You felt like a patient under quarantine, what with the limited access to the outside world you had. For three days, you sat by your window, all day and late into the night, waiting for someone to tap on the glass and tell you everything was alright.

Anytime a branch brushed against the side of the house, or the wind was just a little too loud, your head snapped towards the window, expecting to see someone, anyone, Eddie, perched on the ledge.

But for the past three days, you waited, waited, waited, and no one ever came.

It was entirely your own fault, you could admit that. Your dwindling emotional stability did nothing to assure your friends that you were fine, could be trusted to find Eddie and figure out what had happened that night in his trailer.

Your parents tried to pry you from your room, knocking politely (something they never did before) on your door every house, asking if you wanted a scoop of your favourite ice cream, or to watch a movie downstairs.

But you couldn’t look them in the eye knowing they believed what everyone was saying. You’d spent the first few days locked inside trying to convince them, but eventually even that seemed futile.

You’d never felt this completely, utterly, helpless. Your world was falling apart around you and because of your paranoid parents, a prejudice town, and two idiotic police officers watching your every move, you could do nothing to stop it. Just stand and watch as slowly but surely, everything and everyone you loved dropped like flies around you.

It happened on the fourth day.

You’d been granted permission to go on a walk, finally going stir-crazy and your Mum was desperate to clean your room after you’d been holed up in there. The cop car followed a few feet behind, never letting you get too far ahead.

The streets were eerily empty, though. It was a pleasant day outside and you’d expected the pavement to be filled with kids on their bikes or doodling on the concrete with chalk. Yet there it was, deserted. Even the constant chirp of birds had disappeared, so you slipped on your headphones and walked alone.

You didn’t realise something was happening at first, too preoccupied with calculating how fast you’d have to run to lose the two imbeciles following you.

But then you looked up and the blue of the sky had been replaced by swirling black ash that suffocated the midday light.

You stopped. Music blaring even as you pushed your headphones off. People rushed outside, startled by the sudden disappearance of the sun. They looked up at the darkness, panic erupting amongst families and children. In the distance, you could see where the smoke came from – a black column of spiralling ash that emptied into the sky, coating the world in shadow.

This time, you didn’t bother to calculate, you just ran.

Behind you, you heard the screeching voices of the officers, commanding you to stop. Ignoring them was about as easy as breathing as you ran faster, sneakers pounding against the pavement. You were the odd one out, running towards the danger, unlike everyone else who tripped over themselves to get as far away from it as possible.

You didn’t know what exactly it was you were running to, figured you’d know it when you saw it.

And Jesus Christ, were you right.

The ground had split open, fire erupting from the gaping cavern that had been made, like someone had carved a knife into the Earth and crushed everything in its path. That pesky thought that had been tapping against your skull for the past few days, the one that warned you this might all be Upside Down related, it returned, only pounding, screaming, smashing, not tapping.

“Holy shit,” you whispered for no one to hear, taking a few cautious steps forward to peek into the encroaching flames. They raged and flared, barking at you like a watchdog sensing danger. And though your head told you to run the other way, go home, check on your parents, call Nancy’s house, or Steve’s, do anything but continue on the road you were on, a road you weren’t sure had a very pleasant ending.

But you couldn’t do that, not when your friends, your best friends, your family, were out there, somewhere. Probably in the eye of this flaming storm and fighting off some sort of monster not even your nightmares could conjure up.

So you ignored your mind, the pounding, screaming, smashing against your skull. You ignored the rational thoughts still pleading relentlessly with you, and started running again.

Something told you that if this all started with Eddie, in his trailer, that was where it would end.

It took longer than you expected due to the obvious obstacle of a 10-foot wall of flames, but you made it in the end. Despite the chaos of the town, the trailer park looked mostly the same. Dead leaves crunched under your feet, each step leaving your heart racing that much more than it already was.

Nancy was right to have been mad when you’d thrown yourself in front of the Mind Flayer. And as unfeeling and unafraid as you tried to act around your friends, the churning in your stomach said otherwise.

You were terrified.

Not for whatever was waiting for you on the other side of wherever it was you thought you were going. Or even the perpetual question of ‘were they alive?’. For once, you weren’t even afraid for Eddie, not in that moment, anyway.

No, you were terrified for entirely selfish reasons. Because the last time you’d done this, you’d almost died, and the thought of leaving your parents, your friends, Hawkins, behind, without a proper goodbye and tampered death certificate – it didn’t seem right.

But you persisted, you had to.

Screw fear and its ability to control you in times of need. Screw the Upside Down and its seemingly never ending supply of monsters it kept throwing at you and your friends. Screw Eddie Munson for not loving you when you needed him. And screw the whole fucking world, galaxy, universe, for messing with you, time and time again.

You wouldn’t let it mess up this storyline, though, you deserved more than that.

Wrenching Eddie’s trailer door open, you peered inside, eyes darting to the make-shift rope dangling from a hole in the ceiling – a hole in the universe? You stepped towards it, craning your head to get a better look at what looked like a reflection of the room you were in, only bathed in darkness and decay.

With a steadying breath, you looked around, looking for anything that could be turned into a weapon. It was only when you were rummaging through Eddie’s room that you found a possibility. You’d hidden your favourite lighter in a shoebox under his bed, away from your parent’s prying eyes. In his grimy bathroom, you found rubbing alcohol in the first aid kit, and behind his bedroom door, a stick (Eddie liked to pretend it was a staff for D&D campaigns) large enough to be turned into a torch,

Soaking the end with the clear liquid, you held it under your arm as you stared at the descending piece of cloth. You knew if you thought about it too much, you’d never be able to make it up, so you took a few steps back, and ran towards it, jumping at the last second and hoisting yourself through the hole.

You landed in a tangled heap on a deflated mattress, groaning as your shoulder took the brunt of the fall. On shaking legs, you rolled off the ground, rushing to the window to look for any sign of your friends.

It didn’t take long. His short frame was hobbling towards a swarm of something, chasing after a fleeing figure.

Dustin.

You ran outside, catching up with him in no time. It was only when you got closer that you heard it. Even over the roaring in your ears, you could hear him sobbing. “Dustin– hey! Dustin! Wait!” you called out, sighing in relief as he turned towards your voice. He was shaking worse than you, covered in dirt, sweat, and someone’s blood.

“Are you hurt? Hey, hey, hey, what happened? Where are the others?”

He couldn’t get the words out, and you grew antsier by the second. “Dustin, please, tell me,” you pleaded, hugging him tight and praying he’d calm down soon enough to speak to you.

The urgency in your voice must have done it because the moment you pulled him in, he stuttered out a name you didn’t want to hear, not here. “E–Eddie. It’s Eddie. He went–” he pointed towards the moving black cloud.

You didn’t wait to hear the rest of his sentence, already sprinting down the familiar street, using screeches of what could have been bats as a beacon to follow. You were panting, hard and fast, when you saw him. Completely surrounded, flailing a makeshift sword and shield at the flapping beasts.

“Eddie!” you shouted, but he couldn’t hear you. So you took out your lighter, wrapped in neon pink tape so you wouldn’t confuse it with Eddies, and lit the end of the staff-slash-stick.

Then you ran to him.

You’d always run to him.

You woke up in bed, at home, convinced you’d hallucinated the whole thing. Hawkins erupting into flames, climbing through the trailer ceiling, a distraught Dustin, Eddie fighting for his life… you remember all of it, like a project playing it on loop in your mind.

But you were in the warm embrace of your sheets, new clothes on your body, clean hair fanned around you on the pillow. How could you have been in the Upside Down one moment, and back in Hawkins the next?

Your body protested as you stumbled out of bed, slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers as you padded down the stairs, searching for someone to explain what the hell had happened. The house was empty, and when you walked past the windows facing the front yard, even the police car wasn’t there.

You were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice when the phone rang. Your stiff muscles groaned as you scrambled towards the ringing, picking it up immediately. “Hello?” you questioned into the static.

“You’re awake! Guys, she’s awake!” Dustin. He didn’t sound upset anymore, rather, he sounded brighter, more cheery than you’d heard him in weeks.

“Dustin – what happened?” Already disoriented by the conversation as a dull throbbing in your head alerted you to an oncoming headache.

“Don’t worry about–”

“If you finish that sentence, I’m going to reach through this phone and give you the most unbelievable–”

“Okay! Okay! What I was going to say before you threatened me–” you snorted into the receiver, “--was that we’re coming over, all of us, and we’ll explain everything in person.

You nodded and it took you a few seconds to realise he couldn’t see you. “Okay. Okay. Sounds good.”

You paused, voice hesitating as you asked yourself whether you wanted the answer to the question you were about to ask. “And– Uhm– Eddie? Is he– Is he–?”

“He’s fine,” he assured you. “Pretty beaten up but you made sure it didn’t get too bad. He’s in the hospital still, was acquitted of all charges while you were asleep – God, you sleep a lot, don’t ya?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you scolded, but the bite wasn’t there as you laughed at Dustin’s crazy antics. You hadn’t smiled, let alone laughed, in over a week, but it seemed fitting that Dustin – probably the only other person that cared for Eddie as much as you did – would be the one to pry one out of you.

“I’ll see you all soon.” You hung up, wobbling up the stairs to change, eager for fog in your mind to be lifted.

“So, that’s it,” Nancy finished, leaning back in the arm chair. Everyone was sat in your living room, huddled on the sofa or the carpet with discarded napkins and half-eaten pizza crusts littering the table.

“Huh. That’s it,” you agreed, chewing thoughtfully at the slice of pizza in your hand. “Well shit,” was all you managed in the end, not knowing what words could truly encompass or resolve the events of the past few days.

“Yeah, and apparently Victor Creel confessed to the murders. Not sure how or why–” Robin stared pointedly at Nancy who simply shrugged and leaned into Jonathan’s embrace, “-- so the whole town is sort of backtracking on calling Eddie a murderer.”

“They do still think he’s a bit of a freak, but anything is better than murderer,” Steve added as an afterthought. You couldn’t help but agree. No one could be arrested for being a freak, so you were grateful for the (albeit, reluctant) change of heart.

“So when does he come home? I mean– when can he leave the hospital?” You didn’t know where he would stay. Definitely not with you, your parents would throw a fit, but he sure as hell couldn’t go back to the trailer.

“I think Wayne got a new place– a new trailer? I don’t know, so probably back with him.”

Nancy was staring at you again, the worry unobscured and evident in her gaze. You looked anywhere but at her, instead nodding along to what everyone was saying. She’d said he was asking for you everyday she’d gone to visit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him, not yet.

You were afraid of what he’d say. It felt like years ago, though you think it was only a few weeks earlier, when he’d confessed his feelings for you, cornered in Steve’s upstairs bathroom. But that was then, and he’d almost died in the meantime, so you weren’t sure if those feelings remained. Were too afraid to find out if they had.

So, yes, you were actively avoiding someone who was literally incapacitated in the hospital. You weren’t proud of it, but you’d do anything to delay whatever end was headed your way. In your head, you thought back to that night, pressed up against Eddie with his lips whispering all the things you’d dreamt of hearing. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the ghost of his breath against your skin, against your neck, against your–

If you confronted him, those dreams and fantasies would cease to exist. You weren’t ready for that, weren’t sure if you ever would be.

Eddie came home on an ordinary Sunday afternoon.

He’d been in the hospital under strict observation for almost two weeks. The inexplicable bites and missing chunks of flesh all along his torso had left the doctors perplexed by what he’d actually been through, but after blaming everything on a wild bear (you weren’t even sure there were any in Hawkins), he was finally given the okay to be discharged.

It was an ordinary Sunday afternoon, but it was also his birthday. The big ‘two-oh’ as Steve had called it while he hung streamers and fairy lights in Wayne’s new kitchen. It was a very modest one bedroom, not necessarily in the best neighbourhood, but it offered enough stability for Eddie while some of his wounds still healed.

You didn’t know what he planned to do after high school, knew he still needed to boost a few of his grades in order to graduate, but you didn’t doubt his ability to do so.

Where he planned to go, what he planned to do in the future – it was all a mystery to you. You’d heard back from all of your top choices, never having really worried about college or university, any of it, so you knew you could go anywhere, do anything. And while you were grateful for your parents and the opportunity presented before you, you still wondered if you’d be doing it all alone.

The gang was crouched behind the chairs and table when Wayne stepped through, a battered but smiling Eddie on crutches following close behind. Everyone shouted ‘Surprise!’ and he beamed at all of the faces gathered in his honour. It only took a few seconds before his eyes landed on you, and you flushed under the intensity of his gaze.

But it was his day, and you weren’t about to ruin it because of how that pesky heart of yours ached at the sight of him. Instead, you offered him what you hoped was a sincere smile, and blew the party horn perched between your lips.

“You guys,” he cooed at everyone, hopping on his crutches to Steve who he hugged, whispering something in his ears that hid him cackling. Dustin pulled a chair out for him, and he sat in front of his cake, admiring the wonky letters scrawled in pink and green icing.

Happy Birthday Munson, it read.

“Happy birthday, Eddie,” Robin called out, bringing a knife over and setting out the paper plates. No one awkwardly sang to him, Wayne had warned that Eddie hated ‘Happy Birthday’ and would probably drag himself across the floor to escape the traditional tune. It seemed like an appropriately dramatic, entirely Eddie threat to make so you’d all obliged happily.

“How you feeling, Eds,” Lucas asked around a mouthful of cake as he sat across from him on the table.

“Oh, I’m much better than before. Got a few scars, need some help with the ointment, by the way, in case anyone wants to volunteer, and this ankle of mine has to stay off the floor for another week. But hey– I’m not dead and I’m not going to jail so I call that a win,” he pointed out, raising a spoonful of cake into the air as a toast.

Everyone copied his movements, hollering and cheering before the scattered conversations and arguments continued, drowning out the seriousness that had lingered for a moment.

You were perched on the kitchen counter, struggling to lift your head enough to meet Eddie’s stare that you could feel burning holes into your head. It took a quick mental pep talk and a grounding pinch to your thigh before you finally looked up, eyes immediately locking with his.

You knew what he wanted immediately as he nodded towards the door that led to his bedroom. You’d managed to salvage some of his things from the trailer but had otherwise been rummaging through thrift stores in town to fill it with anything that could make the room feel like him for Eddie.

It meant you were forced to spend a lot more time with Wayne, who you had come to realise was more of a Father figure than Uncle to Eddie. The two of you had talked about him for hours while he was still in the hospital, and he’d driven the furniture for his room from the shops back to his house once you’d managed to snag yourself a deal.

You shook your head at Eddie, mouthing ‘later’. You knew it would be a long and undeniably difficult conversation. And for now, you just wanted him to enjoy the company of his friends, and the cake you’d baked with El and Max earlier that morning.

He glared at you teasingly before he was pulled into a heated debate between Mike and Will on who the superior member of the Fellowship of the Ring truly was. You didn’t need to pay attention to know his answer. Sam. He’d explained it to you countless times before.

Sam, because he was the hero no one expected.

And looking at him now, bandaged and scarred but grinning all the same, you couldn’t help but think he looked a lot like a hero as well.

It was close to midnight when everyone finally made their way out. Steve offered to drive the (his?) kids home, while Nancy, Robin and Jon left in Nancy’s car, going on about a new conspiracy theory they wanted to run by Murray.

Wayne had left two hours earlier for his night shift, and so you were left collecting the garbage off of the tables and the floor, Eddie watching you, quiet and intent.

“Want to sit in my room?” he asked eventually as you washed your hand. You turned to face him, nodding but not saying anything. You weren’t entirely sure where this conversation was headed, so you opted to stay quiet, not wanting to say the wrong thing and spook him into leaving you again.

Eddie limped into his room, collapsing back into his bed that was tucked neatly into the corner of the room against the wall. You’d found a cassette player that was in pretty good condition, had organised his own tapes according to genre, and had spent a whole day taping posters to the wall. He took in your handiwork as you shut the door behind you, joining him on the bed.

This was the closest you’d been in weeks, sat next to each other, arms and knees pressed close. But he felt out of reach, emotionally distant in a way he hadn’t been before. You were dreading this, already convinced you’d be running out in tears very soon.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. Your head snapped to him, bewildered by the confession.

“What?” you asked dumbly, not quite believing the words he was saying.

“I said, I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking at you now with those doe-eyes of his. You fought the urge to soothe the creases of his frown lines, to kiss the worries away.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I don’t know. Everything? For Chrissy, the party, how you had to run in and rescue me – you could’ve died.” His words were horse, choked up with the sheer amount of emotion coursing through him. “I won’t ever be able to properly apologise, I don’t think there are words for it, but you have to know – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop, Eddie,” you were shaking your head at him, and he looked so utterly defeated.

“No– please, I have to– I’m–”

“Eddie--” you interrupted before he could dig himself any deeper into that hole of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry for, you fucking moron! And even if you did, even if, in some screwed up sense of logic, you were by any means at fault, so am I.”

You weren’t sure if you meant to berate him like you were, but you couldn’t listen to him ramble on any longer – it made it all so much harder. “I pushed you away when I shouldn’t have. Even if you didn’t feel the same and our relationship had become a messy, tangled heap of– fuck, I don’t know. But you were my best friend, you are my best friend.”

It was your turn to talk yourself into the ground as you spoke with no end in sight. All of the pent up emotions of the past few weeks were finally ready to burst out of you, and poor, still recovering Eddie was about to face the brunt of it.

“And then you showed up at Steve’s and I thought I was going to fucking combust or something, because you said exactly what I wanted to hear and I would have given you everything, Eddie. Everything. But then you were gone and no one would let me help and I felt so useless because there you were, running for your life, and I was sleeping the days away.

So when I thought I could do something, anything, I came after you and then I woke up and you were in the hospital and I just– I couldn’t– It was too much– You were–” You stumbled over your words as every worry, anxiety, ill feeling rushed at you, all at once.

Eddie couldn’t just sit and watch you fall to pieces in front of him, no. So he shut you up the only way he knew how. His hand slid easily across your cheek, and your babbled words came to an abrupt halt as his mouth covered yours in the most agonising kiss the two of you had ever shared.

Agonising because so much had happened and so much would happen and as much as the uncertainty scared you shitless, the heat blazing between the two of you had you feeling safe – safer than you had felt in ages.

Your chest splintered, cracked, then shattered open. You could do nothing but give in as you disintegrated into his arms, scooting as close as you dared with his cast and injuries still gnawing at the back of your mind.

But you kept going, kept kissing him hard and desperate and like you’d wanted to since the day you’d first met him, first day of junior year outside the cafeteria.

He’d just come from the principal’s office, grumbling under his breath about how ‘fighting an evil warlock and saving the world’ should be a good enough excuse for not handing in his English paper. You’d found him endearingly sweet almost immediately, and though he was a brooding, leather-clad stranger to you, the moment he noticed you staring, the biggest smile you’d ever seen lit up his face.

How could you not have fallen for him?

“Eddie,” you tried to speak between the frantic kisses, forcing your hands on either side of his face to reign him back. He let out a whine that had you seeing black but you knew the two of you needed to talk a few things out. “I know– fuck, I know, Eds. But listen to me,” you began, breathless and mentally cursing yourself out for interrupting such a deliciously perfect kiss.

“I’m listening,” he said offhandedly, still fixated on your lips as you spoke.

“Eddie!” you scolded, pitching his chin up so he’d look at you, not your mouth.

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly, that cheeky smile plastered to his face that told you he wasn’t sorry at all. “I’m listening now.”

“I can’t be your friend,” you said plainly, and you knew the minute the words left your mouth that you needed to explain further because Eddie was recoiling like he’d been slapped in the face and kicked in the gut.

“What– I– What?” He looked about ready to argue with you but you held up your hand to stop him.

“I can’t be your friend,” you repeated, then continued. “--because I am so disgustingly in love with you, Eddie Munson. I’ve been driving myself crazy, trying to find the right words, so much so that I basically hid from you ever since you’ve been in the hospital.”

You let out a shaky breath but your voice never wavered as you confessed what you’d been wanting to for what seemed like months now. The last time you’d come close to these words, it had ended in tears and sobs and a piercing melancholy you were sure would kill you. But you weren’t in denial, not anymore.

You could see it in the way he looked at you, spoke to you, kissed you.

The words you were looking for, you realised, didn’t have to be complicated, profound, or even poetic. They could be simple, like a fact, a truth, a certainty. “I love you,” you said again, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

He couldn’t hold back, had to say it before it burst out of his chest and hit you square in the face. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you,” he admitted easily, grinning down at you like you were his world, his galaxy, his whole damn universe. He kissed you slow, savouring every second of his lips against yours “You make me feel again, sweetheart.”

Other people might believe in a God, a philosophical question, a certain moral ruling or even nothing at all. Everyone has their own unique reasoning for their actions, their words, their life. And while you’d never treaded down such an existential road, had never considered why, what or who, one thing you could close your eyes and believe in, without hesitation, was love.

And Eddie Munson sure gave you a whole lot of it.

screaming. crying. throwing up and throwing hands. reblogs appreciated x

tag list:

@julehack @zucchinimalfoy @tomhollandisabae @fujiihime @authorlovers @munsonzzgf @earthtokace

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #false god #my writing

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kdramacrybaby · 10 months

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My favorite drama couples

In no particular order and some minor SPOILER warning!) → Feel free to add your own favorite couples to the post, so we can share the love.

Sh**ting Stars (Oh Han-byul / Gong Tae-sung):

They are one of my absolute favorite couples in any drama I’ve watched so far. I don’t know what it is about them, but they are just so good together! (And it doesn’t hurt that the actors have an amazing chemistry). Enemies to lovers is a guilty pleasure trope for me, and this does it perfectly – they bicker so much in the beginning, but slowly realize that they actually make a great team, and they come to rely on each other a lot. They actually communicate properly, sharing their worries without being judged, and the drama never relies on something as silly as miscommunication as a point of drama for them. It’s not often a drama makes me actually smile like a complete lovesick idiot when watching, but this just goes straight to my heart. The drama might not be my fave overall, as it has its own issues, but I’ll watch it 100 times over for them.

Hidden Love (Sang Zhi / Duan Jiaxu):

At first, I didn’t think I was going to like this drama too much as I was unsure about the whole age gap thing, but oh my word. This drama had me giggling like a teenager with a crush, and I was unable to stop smiling for most of it. They are so stinking cute together, and the fact that they actually communicate their thoughts and feelings with each other throughout it all is so important – especially with how their relationship started. I feel like I’m just repeating myself from what I said about Sh**ting Stars, but both of these couples just make me happy to watch. This relationship in particular has raised my standards so high, I’m probably going to end up single for the rest of my life. This drama really is all it’s hyped up to be and more.

Happiness (Yoon Sae-bom / Jung Yi-hyun):

A fake marriage of convenience between two best friends, who both secretly have feelings for each other ?- sign me the fuck up. Two strong people who support each other through everything (in this case, an outbreak of zombies in their complex) – what more could you ask for? They just get each other, and both are willing to walk through hell and back for the other. We sadly don’t actually get to see them together all that much after they’ve finally confessed, but they acted like a couple anyway, so I’m not too sad about it.

Fight For My Way (Ko Dong-man / Choi Ae-ra):

They have known each other for so long and, though they bicker, they are always the first to defend the other no matter what. They support each other’s dreams the best they can (though Ae-ra does have a problem with the fighting, and she tries to make him quit by making him choose between her and fighting, which I am not about, but I do get she’s just scared he’ll get hurt again). Either way, there is just something so pure about their love and the way they both slowly realize just what their feelings have evolved into as they grew up together.

Doom at your service (Doom / Tak Dong-kyung):

These two had a rocky start, but I also feel like it only made them work better as a couple. The iconic lines: “So my plan is to love you, then I'll be able to live without losing anything.” / “Then let's do it right, love me to the point that you want to destroy the world for me.” are forever ingrained in my mind. It’s about both of them learning what life could actually be if you let yourself feel and live for yourself instead of living for everyone else. They help each other through it all until they both realize they deserve love, and I find that really beautiful.

#drama ranking #kdrama review #cdrama review #kdrama #sh**tings stars #hidden love #happiness #fight for my way #doom at your service

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artyandink · 4 months

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we could be more | dean winchester | 2

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

EVERYBODY LOVES A CLOWN

NOW PLAYING: TEARS OF A CLOWN - IRON MAIDEN

I walked up to Sam and Dean, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry ‘bout your dad. I’ve got my clothes in here, so I’ll change quickly.”

“Alright.” Dean opened the door to my car, giving me a wink. “Sam and I’ll block the windows.” I climbed into it, putting on a black dress and heels before getting out.

Dean whistled. “Lookin’ pretty, Beanie.”

“Beanie?” I raised an eyebrow, and so did Sam.

“She wears a beanie. Beanies are adorable and so is she. So I’m callin’ her Beanie.”

“I can’t win.” I groaned. “Let’s just go, you don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, we don’t.” Sam scowled at Dean as we got back into the car, Dean punished by sitting in the backseat while I rode shotgun.

“I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. Like I’m some bad omen.” I frowned, but was waved off by Sam.

“No, no. If anything, you helped.”

“You saved my life, Beanie, I owe you a lot for that.” Dean piped up.

“Will you stop calling me Beanie?” I asked, hopeful.

“No chance.”

“Worth a shot.” We spent the rest of the road in silence until we pulled up at a location with everyone dressed in black, and there was a funeral pyre. This was John Winchester’s funeral. I, at first, insisted on not going, but Sam and Dean insisted that I’d come along. I stood in silence, thanking the stars that the second funeral I’d been to had been without my empathic abilities. I couldn’t feel anything, and it was bliss.

“Before he.. before, did he say anything to you? About anything?” Sam asked Dean, who looked down.

“No.. no. Nothing.” He replied monotonously, and I looked between the two before enjoying the absence of overwhelming emotions.

Sam nudged me, taking me out of my thoughts. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just in thought.” I replied quietly, watching the pyre burn.

“I-I can’t take much more of this.” Dean groaned, walking off. We followed him to the Impala, where he handed me my clothes, so I went to the nearest bathroom and changed, coming back out while fixing my scarf.

“Alright, what now?” I asked, fixing my hair.

“Home?” Dean shrugged. “Though I need to get my Impala.”

“Let’s take my car, then, and spend a bit at my place before we get your car.” I offered. “Then we can tow the Impala out to my house. I’ve got quite a few tools there you can use.”

“Sounds like a privilege, Beanie.” Dean grinned to Sam, going shotgun. “See? I knew we should’ve kept her with us.”

“Thanks, Ivonne.” Sam whispered in my ear, and I patted his shoulder.

“Please.” I scoffed. “You two are helping me live. Lunch is an understatement.” I opened my car door, getting in. “There’s a good cafe where I can get us lunch. Wanna make a pit stop there?”

“That would be good, yeah.” Sam nodded. I put my foot down on the pedal, playing music while I drove.

“Got some water?” Dean asked, so I gave him a fresh bottle from the side pocket. He sipped it intently. “I love a girl who can drive-“

”Drink your water.” I laughed, turning the wheel while Sam snickered in the back.

“Tell him, Ivonne.” He grinned. “He needs it.”

“Sammy, be nice.” Dean chastised playfully, then turned to me. “When did you start hunting?”

”As soon as I developed magic abilities, which was at 19.” I replied. “Roommate of mine had a vengeful spirit after them. Conveniently, they showed up so I could destroy it.”

“Sounds like a ride.” Sam commented.

“You have no idea.” I laughed. I pulled up at a cafe, parking quickly. I checked myself in the mirror quickly, arranging my hair to look, well, better.

“Who’re you preening for?” Dean scoffed, re-popping his collar and sorting out his hair.

“Who’re you preening for?” I retorted.

“I asked first. Is there a guy in there?”

“Hot barista.” I grinned, taking out a lip gloss and applying it. “He went to my high school.” I opened the car door, getting out and both of them following suit.

“So you’re taken?” Dean joked.

“Dean.” Sam groaned.

“It’s a serious question!”

“Hopefully I will be.” I teased. “Maybe then you’ll get off my back.”

“Kind of hard to do, sweetheart.” Dean winked, giving me the fifth once-over of the day. We went into the cafe, and the barista at the counter smirked once he saw me. His name was Alex, and he had messy brown hair with startling blue eyes, and he was visibly well-built. I walked over to the counter, and he chuckled.

“Ivonne… Hazel… Rainer.” He laughed. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Alex Wilde.” I smiled. “I could say the same for you.”

I heard some movement behind me, and Alex’s eyes flickered to Dean and Sam. “Who’re these two? Bodyguards?”

He hit the nail on the head. I giggled, shaking my head. “I wish I was famous enough for bodyguards. This is Sam and Dean.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sam shook Alex’s hand. “I’m Sam.”

“And I’m Dean.” Dean also shook Alex’s hand, a small smirk on his face.

“Alex.” Alex grinned, then turned to me. “Your usual?”

“You know it.” I smiled.

“And you guys?”

“I’ll take a latte.” Sam spoke up.

“I’ll have what the lady’s having.” Dean nodded to me, flashing his signature smirk again.

“Alright, I’ll get that to y’all.” Alex nodded, and we sat down. Dean raised an eyebrow, scoffing as he nodded towards Alex.

“Him? Really?”

“Yes, him.” I shot back.

“He seems nice.” Sam contradicted.

“Exactly!”

“Seems like a wimp.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean, be nice.” Sam chastised.

“I’m saying that Beanie can do better than a barista.”

“A hot barista.” I retorted.

“You can’t argue with that logic.” Sam whistled.

Dean just shook his head.

I opened the door to my house, letting the boys in and taking off my shoes.

“Sweet joint.” Dean praised while Sam picked up salt from the edge of the room.

“This is where you got your powers taken from you, right?” He deduced, and I nodded, then turned to Dean, who was about to head to the kitchen. I snapped my fingers.

“Hey, ay, ay!” I called, getting his attention. “Shoes off past that point.”

“Really?” He groaned, turning to me.

“Shoes. Off.” I glared at him for a moment, then he conceded, taking his shoes off. Sam did too for good measure, both of them lining it up neatly. I took a piece of paper, writing on it then sticking it above the doorway.

SHOES OFF PAST THIS POINT IF YOU WANNA LIVE :)

- Ivy

”Really, Beanie?” Dean grimaced. “It’s that necessary?”

“My house, my rules.”

“My shoes, my rules.”

“My house is bigger and more expensive.” I mimicked a mic drop, “I’ve got two spare bedrooms so you boys don’t have to suffer sharing the same bed. Settle down, and after a week we’ll go to the impound.”

“Who put you in charge?” Dean argued.

“Common sense did.” I replied smoothly as I walked into the kitchen.

”I gotta say,” Sam quipped, “I agree with common sense.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Which side are you on?!”

We were forward a week, and we’d reached the impound where Dean’s car was stationed. It looked, well, better than before, and Sam was awkwardly standing over him. I think that the prospect of John’s death really hit Dean like a bullet train, because he got grumpier and grumpier as the week went. I guess the momentary laughs were just denial.

“How's the car coming along?” Sam asked, looking down on Dean’s legs, which were the only thing you could see with his torso under the car.

“Slow.” Dean replied coldly. Ouch.

”Yeah? Need any help?”

“What?” He laughed. “You, under a hood? I’ll pass.”

“Need anything else, then?”

“Stop it, Sam.” Dean pushed himself out from under the car, looking agitated. Something seemed to pull a nerve there.

”Stop what?” Sam asked, looking confused.

“Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise.”

“All right, Dean, it's just... We've been at Ivonne’s for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once.”

”You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” Dean scoffed. I frowned, folding my arms.

“Don't patronise me, Dean, Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.” Sam pleaded.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”

“Revenge, huh?” Dean nodded sceptically, jaw ticking.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car-“

“Just shut the hell up!” I burst out, slapping my forehead. “I’ve had enough of this, I really have. The tension here is thick enough for me to take a knife and stab right through it. Sam, reflect. Dean, we need to talk.” I took Dean by the collar, dragging him away from Sam while he feebly protested.

“Hey, hey, watch the collar!” He finally swatted my hand away, popping his collar again and then folding his arms. “What?”

“You need to cut the attitude, cause you’re acting like a douche.” I frowned, folding my own. “Your dad died-“

“Yeah, my dad died. What about it?”

“You’re acting strong, Dean.” I sighed. “You’re a stubborn person, I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re hurting. But so is your brother.”

Dean scoffed, “I’m not hurting-“

“Yes, you are.” I insisted, raising my eyebrows. “It’s so obvious and I know it’s hard to deal, but you can’t shut Sam out like that. He needs your help, even if you don’t realise it.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” Dean’s eyes narrowed and suddenly I had no voice. I looked down, remaining silent, and he gently took my shoulders, bending down and trying to get me to look at him. “Who died, Ivonne? Talk to me.”

“It’s not important.” I muttered, then turned and walked over to Sam. “He’s gonna be better, I think.”

“Thanks, Ivonne, I…” Sam paused for a moment, “I’ve just never seen him like this and it’s scaring me a bit.”

“I don’t blame you.” I sighed. “He’s acting up and it’s not okay, but he’s visibly hurt by this. I’m gonna try and be there for him and so should you. Even if he doesn’t let you.”

“Makes sense.”

“So,” I spread my arms, “bring it in.” He hugged me tightly, and I patted his back. “It’s gonna be ok, Sam.” We detached, “Now show me whatcha got.”

“This is one of dad's old phones.” He took out a battered phone. “Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this.”

“Wait-“ I turned, “DEAN! GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!” Dean walked over, and Sam played the voicemail.

‘John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.’

“That message is four months old.” Sam frowned.

“Dad saved that chick's message for four months?” Dean blinked.

“Yeah.”

”Well, who's Ellen, for starters?” I asked. “Any mention of her in John’s journal?”

“No. But I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address.”

“Let’s take my car.” I offered, holding up my keys.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean agreed.

We approached the Roadhouse Saloon, with Dean at the wheel this time, and he smoothly parked in front. We got out, looking around cautiously.

“Hello?” Sam called, “Anybody here?”

”They will be here soon.” I hissed.

“Just checking!”

“Hey. You bring the, uh…” Dean held out his hand, and Sam searched his pockets.

“Yeah.” He tossed a pickpocketing tool to Dean, who quickly opened the door to the saloon. We crept in, eyes darting around. A light bulb blew out, and there was a man passed out at the bar.

“Hey, buddy?” Sam whispered, and I chuckled.

“I’m guessing that’s not Ellen.” I quipped with a smirk. I went behind the bar, searching for someone. Then I heard a click, a smack and Dean calling out for help.

“Sam! Sammy! I need some help!”

“My hands are tied too.” Sam replied, and I pulled out my gun, flicking down the safety pin. I raised it, moving into the room behind the woman holding a gun to Sam’s head.

“Mine aren’t.” I growled, alerting both the attackers. “Drop your guns and let them go or you’ll both be on the floor faster than you can say ‘hands up’.”

“Wait…” Dean’s attacker popped out from behind him, her eyes widening when she saw me. She had long blonde hair, brown eyes and the most recognisable style I have ever seen. Nobody wears a green tank top and mom jeans and pulls it off that well. “Ivvy?”

“Jo?” I half-laughed, half-exhaled as we both realised who we were dealing with. We stored our guns in our pockets, hugging each other tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

”I’m so glad I’m here, trust me.”

“I’m confused.” Dean whispered.

“They know each other, Dean.” Sam hissed.

”Should have done a degree in stating the obvious, Sammy.”

”Sam? Dean? Winchester?” Ellen questioned, looking between the two.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded.

“Son of a…”

“Mom, do you know these guys?” Jo asked, detaching herself from me.

“I think these are John Winchester’s boys.”

“They are.” I nodded.

Ellen laughed, lowing her handgun. “Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”

Dean flashed his signature smirk at Jo, who smiled back. “Hey.” He grinned.

“Hey.” She replied, looking bashful.

“You’re not gonna hit me again, are you?”

”Here you go.” Ellen offered Dean a towel with ice, which he accepted.

“Thanks.”

“Good one. I’ve been waiting to do that.” I whispered to Jo, who giggled.

”You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?”

“Well, the demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it.” Ellen said candidly.

“What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?” Dean scoffed. “I mean, who-who are you? How do you know about all this?”

”Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once.”

“Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you?”

“You’d have to ask him that.”

“So why exactly do we need your help?”

“Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your butt on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if...” She trailed off, eyes widening, “he didn’t send you. He's all right, isn't he?“

“No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think.” Sam stammered. “It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. We’re ok.” Dean coughed.

“No, he is not.” I muttered.

”Really? I know how close you and your dad were.”

“Really, lady, we’re fine.” Dean growled through gritted teeth.

“‘Course you are.” I tutted.

“Ivonne.”

“So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get.” Sam pleaded.

“Well, we can't.” Ellen stated. “But Ash will.”

“Who’s Ash?” I blinked.

“ASH!” The sleeping man at the bar woke up, flailing his arms.

“I’m up, I’m up! Is it closing time?” Ash slurred.

“That’s Ash?” Sam coughed.

“Delightful.” I grimaced.

”Mhmm. He’s a genius.” Jo convinced, but I wasn’t as much as she was. She started pouring glasses of water, while Ellen slapped a folder on the table. Sam sat down, leaving Dean and I to stand.

“You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius.” Dean groaned. “He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie.”

“Shut your pie hole.” I snapped.

“I like you.” Ash chuckled, pointing to me.

”Thanks.”

“Just give him a chance.” Jo sighed. Dean resigned, sitting down.

“All right.” Dean cleared his throat. “This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it.”

“Come on. This stuff ain't real.” Ash scoffed. “There ain't nobody can track a demon like this.”

“Their dad could.” I retorted.

“There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean.. damn!” Ash exclaimed. “They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms... You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam groaned.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me…” Ash clicked his tongue, “fifty one hours.” He then got up to leave.

”Hey, man?” Dean piped up.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, dig the haircut.” It was an odd haircut, I’ll give him that.

“All business up front, party in the back.” He left, and I turned to Ellen.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ivvy.” Ellen smiled, passing me a beer.

“Same to you, El.” I grinned. “Haven’t felt this at home in ages.”

“How’re you feeling after Danny?” She asked, and I kissed my teeth, thinking.

“Better than I was. Until the Devil took my powers.”

“He did what?!” She slammed the table. “Evil little son of a-“

“Ok, ok!” I chuckled, “It’s fine. I’m survivin’.”

“He shouldn’t.” Ellen growled. “I remember when you were just a girl. Sweetest thing I’ve ever met. These powers corrupted you, but that demon’s going to do worse.”

“Yeah, I get that.” I sighed, looking down.

“I think Jo’s free from Dean, go catch up.” I immediately got up, going over to Jo and hugging her again.

“What’s this about your powers gone?” She asked, and I showed her the rune.

“Gone until the demon dies or I find a ‘drop of love’.” I scoffed.

“What’s that?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“I’m sure you will.” She patted my shoulder. “By the way, this Dean pal of yours was flirting with me.”

“Pay no attention to him.” I laughed. “He does that with me too. He puts on a Jerry Maguire act for nothing.”

“He’s that kind of guy, got it.” She giggled.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you.” I joked.

”Hey, Beanie!” Dean called, and I whipped around.

“What?” I snapped back.

“Beanie?” Jo whisper-giggled.

”Short story.”

“C’mere!” Dean yelled again, and I walked over to the two.

“Whaddya want from me?” I groaned, sitting down.

“Very courteous, Beanie.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” I drawled. “Sammy, what’re we doing?”

“Murders, not far from here.” Sam replied, showing me the file.

“Well, we should probably check that out.” I clicked my tongue.

“That’s what I told Ellen we’d do.”

“You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?” Dean groaned as he drove my Chevrolet Corvette, Sam in the back with me with the case.

“Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually.” Sam exhaled sharply.

“And this family was at some carnival that night?”

“Right, right. Uh, the Cooper Carnivals.”

“So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?”

“Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop.” I explained, looking through sheafs of evidence. “Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course.”

“Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam.” Dean smirked. “Why did it have to be clowns?”

”Oh, give me a break.” Sam groaned.

“You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still burst out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television.”

“At least I’m not afraid of flying.”

“Planes crash!”

“And apparently clowns kill!”

“And so will I in a second!” I cut in, silencing them both.

“I’d rather take the plane.” Dean gulped.

“And me the clown.” Sam whispered.

“Thank you.” I smiled briefly. “So these types of murders, did they ever happen before?”

“Uh, a-according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales.” Sam stammered.

“It's weird, though, I'm mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town.” Dean frowned, so I pulled a book out of my satchel, flicking through.

“So how’s this one travelling?”

“Cursed object, perhaps.” I shrugged, “Spirit attaches itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them. Unlikely, but plausible.”

”Great, paranormal scavenger hunt.” Sam grimaced.

“Well, this case was your idea.” Dean retorted. “By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job.”

”So?”

“It's just... not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt.”

”I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“What Dad would’ve wanted?”

“Yeah? So?” Sam sassed.

“Nothin’.”

Geez.

We pulled up at the carnival, where the police already were.

“Watch out.” Dean whistled. “Five-o’s.”

”You’ll be fine.” I assured. “Don’t make a scene, keep your head down and keep walking.”

”Knowing Dean, that’s not gonna happen.” Sam grimaced as we all got out of the car.

“Ever since she came, you two have been ganging up on me.” Dean grumped.

“That’s cause I finally get to have a conversation with someone who has common sense.”

”I’m proud not to have common sense, Sammy. I own my flaws.”

”Never say that again.” I laughed.

“Try me, Beanie.” Dean smirked, whipping my beanie off my head and jamming it onto his own. Sam ran his fingers through my hair a bit, tidying it up, and I gave him a small smile, combing my fingers in the same direction. A three-foot tall clown went by, and Sam stared at it, nervous, and she stared back as well before walking into the distance. “Did you get her number?”

Sam scowled, looking like a six year old. “More murders?”

“Twice recently.” I explained. “Ripped to shreds, and a little boy survived, and he was with them.”

“Who fingered a clown.” Sam finished, getting a weird look from Dean. “What?”

“So, a clown who just apparently vanished into thin air.” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Dean, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything.”

“It’s going to give off EMF.” I mused.

“So we’ll just scan everything.” Dean added optimistically.

“Oh, good, that's nice and... inconspicuous.” Sam sighed.

“We can blend in.” I smirked, gesturing to the ‘Help Wanted’ sign conveniently placed near us. We ventured inside, spotting a man with sunglasses throwing knives on a target, but they didn’t quite hit bullseye.

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?” Dean asked him, and the man turned around.

“Is that some kinda joke?” He took off his sunglasses, and his eyes had cataracts. Oh damn, he was blind.

”Oh. God, I'm-I'm sorry.”

“You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?” The blind man growled.

“Wanna give me some help here?” Dean whispered to Sam.

“No, not really.” Sam whispered back.

“Hey man, is there a problem?” A short guy appeared, looking up at Dean with a suspicious expression.

Trouble’s coming.

I draped my hair over one shoulder, undid a few of my top buttons, took a tube of lip gloss and touched up my makeup. I dumped my scarf on Sam, who gave me a questioning look.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people.” The blind man grumbled.

”Do you have a problem?” The man asked Dean.

Dean chuckled nervously. “No, it’s just a little misunderstanding.”

“Little?! Son of a-“

“Come on, boys, let’s not fight.” I interrupted, gaining the three men’s attention.

“Who’s she?” Blind man barked. “She sounds pretty.”

“She is pretty.” Short man replied with a smirk.

“I’m flattered.” I laughed, faking it. God, this was demeaning. “Now, my friends and I don’t want any trouble. We’re just looking for Mr Cooper. D’you know where to find him?”

“Follow me, sweetheart.” We followed the short man, and Dean regrouped with Sam and I.

“What the hell?” Dean whispered. “I’m trying to make amends for accidentally offending someone and you just pout your lips?”

“Perks of being a woman.” I smirked, patting Dean’s shoulder. “It’s easy to charm a man who hasn’t known a woman’s touch in ages.”

“That was genius.” Sam chuckled.

“I know.” We reached the door to Mr Cooper’s office, and we were let in.

“Mr Cooper?” The short man asked. “You got three new recruits.” We walked in and saw Mr Cooper at his desk. There were three chairs, and one with a clown painted on it. Sam sat down gingerly, while Dean sat looking smug.

“You boys, and lady, picked a hell of a time to join up.” Cooper grunted. “We've got all kinds of local trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Dean frowned.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered.” He waved his hand. “Cops always seem to start here first. So, you two ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas.”

“Doing what? Ride jockies? Butcher? ANS men?”

“Just a little bit of everything, I guess.” Sam shrugged.

“You lot have never done a show in your lives, have you?”

“No, we have not, sir.” I admitted. “But my brothers and I do need the money.” I saw a twitch of surprise in Dean’s face, but he masked it pretty well.

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” Cooper pointed to a picture.

“You look just like him, Mr Cooper.”

“He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress. I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular.” Cooper turned to me, “And you, little lady, should build a life of your own. You three’re no outcasts.”

“You’d be surprised.” I laughed.

Sam leaned forward, serious. “Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.”

“You got assistant manager?” Dean scoffed, picking up rubbish. “How?”

“Perks of being a woman. And downsides of being a man who hasn’t known a woman’s touch in many decades.” I winked. We both got a phone call, so we picked up. “Hello?”

‘Hey, guys.’

“What’s up, Sammy? You sound like you saw a clown.” Dean frowned.

‘Very funny. Skeleton, actually.’

“Are we talking real human bones?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

‘In the funhouse. Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object -- what if it's attached to its own remains?’

”Does it give off EMF?” Dean and I asked at the same time.

‘Well, no, but-’

“We’ll check it out anyway.” I nodded.

“We’re coming to you, Sammy.” Dean said before cutting the call. “Did you have to say that at the same time?”

“Not my fault we think the same way.” I grinned, taking my beanie off Dean and ruffling his hair before pulling it over my head.

“Bug off.”

“Make me.” I teased before walking off. I reached Sam, tapping him on the shoulder. “Whatcha got?”

”Nothing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nothing gives off EMF yet.”

“It will.” I assured. “Just gotta keep your patience.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Hey! It’s hard work, being hit on by a short man!”

“Fine, fine.” Dean approached us, looking grumpy. “What took you so long?”

“Long story.”

”Mommy, look at the clown!” We heard a little girl giggle, pointing to nowhere.

“What clown?” Her mother asked, looking around, then she took the girl’s hand. “Come on, sweetie.”

We exchanged a look; something was up.

”What I want to know,” I whispered angrily, “is why you told Papazian about the killer ghost clown.” We were on a stakeout at the girl’s house, just waiting.

“I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real.” Dean shrugged. He cocked a gun, but Sam slapped it down.

”Keep that down!” Sam hissed.

“Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what.”

“What?”

“Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager.”

“So Cooper brought the spirit with him?” I mused.

”Something like that.” Dean shook his head, sighing. “I can't believe we keep talking about clowns.”

“Nobody can.” I grimaced. “Alright, let’s keep watch. Nobody close their eyes.”

Dean fell asleep.

At around midnight, we saw the girl go over to the door, opening it. “Wanna come and play?” The clown entered with her, and we jolted Dean awake, dragging him with us. We broke in, waiting in the hallway. “Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs.” As soon as the clown and the girl came in sight, I rushed forward, taking her out of the clown’s grip. She started screaming, but I loosened my grip.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I whispered. She quietened down, but then Dean shot the clown and she hugged me, crying.

“Dean, watch out!” Sam yelled, and the clown escaped.

“I’ve got you.” I murmured, stroking the girl’s back. “Don’t worry.”

”What's going on here?” The father ran down the stairs, his eyes widening when he saw his daughter hugging me. “Get away from my-“

Her mother ran down too, gasping. “Oh my god, what are you doing to my daughter?!”

“Who the hell are you? Get out! Get out of my house!” Sam and Dean fled, but I breathed shakily, frozen for a moment.

“Mommy, Daddy, the man shot my clown!” The girl cried, then pointed to me. “She saved me!”

“You saved my daughter.” The mother sobbed, hugging me. “Thank you.”

“How can we repay you?” The dad asked, picking his daughter up.

“I- you don’t n-need to.” I stammered. “I know what it’s like to not be protected when you need it. My parents weren’t exactly there, so she’s lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky that you were there.” The mother smiled.

And that’s how I ended up leaving with food.

I trudged over to the car, where Dean and Sam were waiting.

“Where were you?” Sam sighed in relief upon seeing me, unfolding his arms.

“We couldn’t get in cause you have the keys!” Dean grumped.

“Can I console you with food?” I held up the food, and they stared at me.

“Uh… how? Why?”

“The little girl told her parents that I saved her from you two.” I chuckled nervously. “They asked me how they could repay me and I told them they didn’t have to, but they sent me with food and a large flask of cocoa.”

“Beanie, I’ve never appreciated you so much until this day.” Dean grinned.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think they got the plate?” Dean asked while munching on a sandwich.

“Nope.” I smirked. “Covered the plate when we got here. Then I whipped it off before we left, so it’s unlikely they saw anything. But I’ve been thinking. One thing's for sure.”

“What is?” Sam asked, also eating a sandwich.

”We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid.”

“Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?”

“Yeah, and dresses up like a clown for kicks?” Dean scoffed. “Did it say anything in Dad's journal?”

Sam flicked through it, eyebrows furrowed. “Nope.”

I pulled out my phone, dialling a number and holding it to my ear.

“Who’re you callin’?” Dean asked.

“Jo.” I replied, getting out of the car, then she picked the call up.

‘Hello?’

“Hey, Jo, it’s Ivvy.”

‘Oh, hey! Whatcha need?’

”The boys and I just finished a stakeout at a girl’s house because she came into contact with the clown. Dean shot it, but it was solid. Is Ash back with his evidence?”

‘Yeah. Lemme pass the phone to him.’

’Hey, pretty lady.’

’Ash!’

’I’m kidding! Anyway, I think what you’re lookin’ for is called a Rakshasa. An ancient demon from Hindu mythology. It takes on a human form, feeds on human flesh and can’t enter a home unless invited. They sleep on a bed of dead insects and wake up around every twenty to thirty years. Sounds accurate.’

“How do you kill it?”

‘Blade made of pure brass. That’s our best guess.’ Ellen cut in. ‘If it’s right, you’re welcome; if it’s wrong, see you on the other side.’

“I’ll make sure to tell you if it worked.” I laughed. “Alright, see you guys.”

‘Bye!’ I cut the call, climbing back in. Dean and Sam looked grumpier, and I raised my eyebrow.

“Did you two fight again?”

“No.” Dean grumbled, and I turned to Sam.

“Sammy?”

“No.” He replied a lot more civilly.

“The moment I leave.” I grimaced.

”What did Ellen say?” Sam asked.

“What we’re looking for, they said, might be a Rakshasa. Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited.“

“So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in.” Dean mused.

“Pretty much sums it up.”

“Why don't they just munch on the kids?”

“Not enough meat on the bones?” Sam theorised.

“What else did you find out?”

“A Rakshasa sleeps on a bed of dead insects and wakes up to feed every twenty to thirty years.”

“Well, that makes sense.” Dean nodded. “I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81.”

“Probably more before that.” Sam breathed.

“Who do we know that worked both shows, boys?” I smirked.

“Cooper.”

“Cooper.” Dean added.

“You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him.”

“What if it is him?”

“Can’t rule it out.” I shrugged. “Who knows how old he is?”

“Ellen say how to kill him?”

“Legend says a dagger made of pure brass.”

“I know where to get one of those.”

”Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him.” Sam frowned.

“You’re such a stickler for details, Sammy.” Dean teased, making Sam smile. “All right, I'll round up the blade, Beanie, you’ll keep watch and you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I grinned, patting them on the shoulders.

“Let’s do this.”

I waited outside, one hand on the gun in my jacket, maybe as reassurance that it was still there.

“Look, Mommy, it’s her!” I heard, and the little girl ran up to me, paired with her parents.

“Hey, uh, didn’t expect to see you guys again.” I chuckled nervously, raising my hand.

“And we never got your name.” Her mother smiled while I shook her father’s hand.

“My name’s, um, Lily.” I lied, thinking quickly. “Lily Carter.”

“I’m Audrey Teyman.” She introduced. “This is my husband James, and this little girl is also Lily.” My breath caught in my throat, but I stomached it, bending down to Lily.

“You’re a Lily too, huh?” I smiled.

”Yeah!” She giggled. “You’re just like me.”

“Yeah, I’m just like you.” I heard some yelling, so I had to think quickly again. “Tell you what?” I pulled out some money and gave it to her. “Spend it on anything you want. But not too much sweets, you get me?”

“Yeah!”

“Pinky promise?” I held out my little finger and she wrapped hers around mine before giving me a hug. I stood up to face her parents.

“You’re too generous.” James smiled.

“It’s nothin’.” I shook my head. “Now you go, Lily, and spend that money right, okay?”

“Okay!” Lily gave me a toothy grin.

“We’d better get going. It was lovely meeting you again, Miss Carter.” They left, and I immediately ran to the source of the commotion.

“Dean!” I yelled, trying the door handle.

“Beanie, thank god!” Dean shouted from the inside, and I shot the door handle, opening it just in time for Dean to tumble out.

“Are you ok?!”

“I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t stepped in.” He leaned his forehead against mine, a relieved grin on his face, but his eyes were closed.

“Dean! Ivonne!” Sam ran up to us, and we both got up, walking over.

“Sammy!”

”So, Cooper thinks I'm a Peeping Tom, but it's not him.”

“We’ve figured that part out. It’s the blind guy. He's here somewhere.”

“Did you get the brass blades?”

“No, no, it’s been one of those days.”

“We can’t have one of those days.” I grimaced. “We’re probably now on the Rakshasa’s most wanted list. We have to kill it.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Sam nodded, “Follow me.” We ran to the funhouse, and when we were there I pulled out my gun. “Dean, Ivonne, find the maze, now!” We ran in, my gun held up while I heard every single sound around me.

“Can you stop walking so loud?!” I whispered to Dean, who stopped.

“I’m heavy footed!” He argued quietly.

“Our lives are on the line here!”

“Fine!” We found the maze and came back to Sam.

“Where is it?” Sam asked frantically.

“I don’t know.” Dean fretted. “Will we see its clothes when it’s walking around, or..?”

“Probably not.” I frowned, then a knife flew past Dean, pinning his sleeve to the wall. Another pinned his wrist to the wall.

“Sam!” Sam pulled the pipe off the wall, stalking around slowly. Then a knife almost chipped him in the head, but he dodged in time.

“Dean, where is it?” Sam called.

“I don’t know!” A knife flew through the air, and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, followed by my body reacting to absorb the shock. I held my hand to my stomach, and when I drew it back, I saw blood.

A knife was in my stomach.

“Beanie!” Dean yelled, then pulled a lever, making steam gush out of the organ and show the outline of the body.

“Over here!” I held up my hand and caught the pipe, sticking it as far as I could into the Rakshasa. It bled, and slowly disappeared, while I collapsed onto the floor and sat against the wall, leaning my head against it. Dean got the knives off his sleeves and rushed over to me, both brothers kneeling down.

“Don’t you close your eyes, Ivonne.” Dean ordered, tilting my head up to face him. “Don’t you dare.”

”We’ll get you an ambulance.” Sam fretted, trying to assess the wound.

“I’m not closing my eyes anytime soon.” I coughed, wincing a little at the pain. “I’ll be damned and given a one way ticket to hell if I do.”

“You’re not going there.” Dean assured. “I ain’t gonna let you.”

”So considerate.” I smirked.

“So mouthy, even with a knife in you.”

”Knife wounds won’t stop me from getting a dig in.”

”I was kind of hopin’ that you’d stay back.” Jo smiled giving me a once over. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Of course.” I chuckled. “I’ve got these two knuckleheads.”

“Those two knuckleheads couldn’t save you from a flying knife.”

“One was trapped by one, the other dodging one. I can only blame my reflexes.”

“Just be careful out there.” Ellen chastised, handing me some bandages. “I wouldn’t want a knife to hit your heart next time.”

“I guarantee you, Ellen, there’s no way in hell I’d let that happen.”

“But we’re not in hell.” She frowned. “I’ve known you since you were a newborn, Ivonne. What happened to your family was terrible, and it could happen again.”

“I think this time is different.” I smiled. “If not, I know who to call.”

“You better.” Jo hugged me. “I’ll be waiting everyday. If you won’t call me for a while, I’m busting down your door and I’m gonna kill those two myself.”

“Jo, that’s my job.” I joked, inciting a laugh. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I’ve got something to give you.” Ellen hurried to her drawer, taking out a necklace. “It was your father’s gift to your mother when they didn’t start becoming so… distant. I think it’d look wonderful on you.” I took it, admiring the shimmering green stone.

“It would. Thanks, Ellen.”

”No problem.”

A day later, I was told that I’d be fine, so we were back at my house. Dean and Sam insisted that I stayed in bed while they brought me food and breakfast, but I did have to get in some walking.

“Knock knock.” Sam grinned.

“Hey, Sammy.” I smiled, sitting up a bit. “C’mon in.”

Sam sat down next to me, looking intently. “How have you been?”

”I could be worse.” I chuckled. “Dude was good at his craft.”

”He was.” Pause. “But there’s something else.”

“What is it?” I frowned.

”What you said to Dean stuck with me. I’m not closing my eyes anytime soon. I’ll be damned and given a one-way ticket to hell if I do.” He repeated. “It seemed so genuine. Did something happen to you or someone in your family?”

”That’s a story for another day.” I refused politely. “For now, all I can say is that it’s my fault.”

”I don’t think it was.” Sam smiled, then kissed me on the forehead. “G’night, Ivonne.”

”Call me Ivy, Sammy.” I offered.

”G’night, Ivy.”

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