#jett is my lover still

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 7.5k

chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name

There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.

This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.

Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.

This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.

As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.

“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.

“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.

“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.

“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.

“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.

Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.

If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.

They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.

And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.

Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.

He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.

Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.

“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.

Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.

Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.

“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”

“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”

“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”

Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”

“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”

“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”

“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”

“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”

“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”

You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.

Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.

“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”

“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”

“Fine, I—”

“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.

“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.

In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.

There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.

“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”

You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.

“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”

Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”

“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.

“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”

“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.

Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.

It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”

It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.

You and Jungkook had been broken up for almost two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was over two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.

You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.

And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).

You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.

“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”

Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.

You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.

“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.

Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”

The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.

“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”

“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”

“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”

He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”

“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”

“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”

“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And, depending on flight time, maybe two nights in London,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”

None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.

Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.

You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).

Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.

“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”

“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”

You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.

“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”

Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.

You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.

Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.

When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.

He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.

The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.

He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.

“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”

Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.

The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.

It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.

Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”

He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.

He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.

Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.

Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.

“Look who—”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”

“I don’t hear running water.”

He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I can drive myself—”

“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”

He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”

“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”

“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”

“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”

“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”

“Hanging up now.”

Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.

Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.

His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.

He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.

“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”

Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.

As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.

He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.

He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.

“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”

“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”

“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.

“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”

Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”

You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.

By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.

And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.

Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.

Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.

Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.

However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.

And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.

You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.

Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.

“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.

“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”

You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.

“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.

His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.

“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”

His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”

“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”

He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”

You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”

“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”

“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”

You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.

Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.

“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”

He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.

“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”

He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.

You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.

Maybe he really would be fine tonight.

And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.

“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.

“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”

“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”

Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.

And there was nothing he’d tell them now.

It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.

“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”

Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.

“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”

Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.

“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.

“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”

Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.

Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”

“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”

Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.

“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”

“I don’t have a crush—”

Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”

Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation.  “Why—why would I even—why—”

“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”

“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”

“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.

“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.

“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.

“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”

“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.

“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”

“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”

“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”

Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.

“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”

“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.

Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.

He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.

“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”

That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.

“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”

“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”

There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.

This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”

Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”

He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.

“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.

“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”

Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.

“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”

“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”

In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.

“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”

Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.

Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.

“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”

chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”

special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts rockstar au #bts scenarios #jungkook rockstar au #jungkook reaction #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic

[undead-supernova]

I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

It's a Delicate Need

Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

18+ minors DNI

Masterlist

plot: you've never met eddie munson before...and even if your reputation's never been worse, desire is the sound of the whiskey and you're prepared for the risk. but are you willing to let it go to waste?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: drinking, mention of weed, there's genuine smut in here so sorry for the length, mention of body shaming

easter egg count: 32

wc: 6.9k

This chapter is inspired by the sound and lyrics of “Delicate” and her unreleased Lover track “Need” that I haven’t stopped thinking about since it leaked. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written and I can't believe I get to share it! Okay, have fun! I love these two so much! (special thanks to @munsonsbtch for helping chill out my frantic screaming about writing smut)

Late April, 2024

You met him in those weird ways celebrities do. Usually, it’s an award show or some house party thrown by mutual famous friends. For you, it was the Grammy after party.

Corroded Coffin won Best Rock Album for “Fire Shroud” and Best Metal Performance for the title track. (Ozzy Osborne presented their award and you couldn’t believe how jealous you were.) 

You’d won Song of the Year for “Cradle Me”. The night was electric, one that would go down in history for you and your ever-growing career. 

Because you’d done it. You won a Grammy. 

And that was the only reason you decided to even go to the after party, really. You rode the high of your adrenaline, your tears. The squealing and stomping of victory as you basked in a kind of pride you’d never felt before. A kind of pride that you didn’t even know existed.

The room boomed with music, everyone seemingly on the same wave as you. You’d been practically shredding up the dance floor all on your own, taking time to close your eyes and feel a release for what seemed like the first time since you’d started your career. You were on top of your game, on top of the world. Nothing could derail you now. 

As a remix of Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” came to a close, you remembered where you were. Opened your eyes to look around you as another song sounded, the bass pulsating in your ears.

And despite the noise, everyone noticed when Corroded Coffin walked in.

Even you.

Here they were, all five members decked out in lavish outfits, all five shimmying their way through the parting crowd with drinks held high in the air. If it was anyone else, they’d look obnoxious and lame. But each one of the members of Corroded Coffin acted like real people. They were in sequins, dark makeup, designer suits and dresses…and they were normal. Just laughing their way through the crowd and dancing like idiots.

And that’s when you saw him.

About an hour after their arrival, Eddie Munson snuck away from the rest of the group. He was at the bar, nursing some whiskey, a smile on his face as he chatted with the bartender. Leaning sideways against the counter with his legs crossed, just lounging as he socialized.

And maybe it kind of seemed a little stalkerish that you were watching him across the room, sipping on your third Shirley Temple—with, yes, copious amounts of vodka—but you were merely observing. 

You weren’t his biggest fan or anything, but you were still fascinated by him. By his effortless charm, the sheer effect he seemed to have on everyone. Some had called him the New It Guy, others had called him a Soon To Be Has Been. But, for the most part, he was considered the man of everyone’s dreams. 

Not only that, but he was genuinely talented. Corroded Coffin was killing it, having reached newer heights. Those Grammys they won? Yeah, they’d already received two the year prior. In the last two years, they’d collaborated with Post Malone, Joan Jett, Bring Me The Horizon, Nova Twins, Amy Lee, Poppy… The list was starting to get rather full from how desirable it was to work with them, especially smaller artists they’d been bringing into the limelight. 

Plus, they were bringing metal to new heights. Tearing down the walls of what it meant to listen to metal and defying how it was “supposed” to sound. And you could go on and on about their lyricism, the way that they wrote about more than just testosterone-driven rage. They talked about mental health, about heartache. Addiction. Loneliness and the way isolation stung. Even the intense weight of fear that comes with falling in love.

They were raw. They were real.

And you kinda wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

He was alone, for God’s sake. Just a sitting duck by himself, clad in that outfit. The sequins on his blazer casted light over his cheek, reflecting off of the LED lights. His blazer was a deep eggplant, all velvet and cool and fitting perfectly tight against his toned muscles. There were patterns of small black roses strategically placed throughout. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to give the drama. 

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

No. Shirt. 

Just his lean stomach with an attention-grabbing happy trail that led to his incredibly tight leather pants. The color even matched his blazer. Combat boots. Rings adorning his fingers and some black nail polish. Layers of diamond bracelets and chains resting against the dark ink of his tattoos. A guitar pick at the center of a black velvet choker around his neck.

Yeah, you really wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

For a second, you stared down at yourself. You had a momentary lapse in confidence, wondering if what you were wearing was acceptable for a metal lead. Because you were clad in a silk knee-length dress, blush pink. One that hugged your curves and twirled around you wherever you moved. It was Old Hollywood. It was graceful. It was you.

Fuck it.

You approached, handing the bartender your empty glass and kindly asking for a refill. When you glanced over at Eddie in your peripheral, you knew he was being respectful, looking down at his drink rather than you.

It was up to you to deliver the opening line.

“You know,” you started, catching his attention immediately. “you’d kinda look like Lord Farquad if you got a bob.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, trying to stifle a chuckle. “Yeah? You think so?” You nodded and watched as he tried to tuck in the bottom half of his hair to create the illusion of a bob. “‘Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’”

You were right. He kinda looked like Lord Farquad’s taller, hotter, more glamorous brother. 

“That is perfect,” you said, slow clapping. “Brilliant.”

He laughed, moving his whisky as a subtle invite to stand next to him. “I’m glad you think so. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You smiled, telling him your name, watching as he nodded. He was wearing some eye shadow, all deep purple and bruise-y. He seemed to have had a coat of lipgloss on that was now lining the rim of his glass, with only a slight residue remaining. It was still effortlessly beautiful. He was effortlessly beautiful.

“Yeah, I actually know who you are.”

Your eyes widened. He knew you? 

“I didn’t think it was your genre,” you said honestly.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah. Come on, give yourself a little credit. ‘Tetris’ had a bit of a rock vibe to it.”

“Yeah, true,” you agreed, rolling your eyes. That was a single from your last album, one that hadn’t even gotten much traction from audiences. “But it’s nothing like A Rush of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up again. “You heard our first album?”

Confusion flooded your features. “Well, yeah. Hasn’t everyone?”

“No one talks about it anymore,” he responded, shrugging as he scratched the top of his head. “You a fan?”

“Not, like, a diehard fan or anything, you know? It’s fun to work out to. Or scream in the car. You did that remix with Post Malone. ‘Something Real’, right?” He smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I can’t get enough of it. The original is heavenly, but you guys put a spin on it that made it transcend the meaning and give it an extra boost of emotion that didn’t even seem possible. And your added verse? I mean, it was just so raw and…” 

You stopped yourself, starting to feel embarrassed from practically fangirling about this guy’s music to his face. He may have been actively listening, or was pretending to, but you had to stop before it got to be too much.

“Anyways,” you finished. “I really like it.”

His smile grew and it was like something flutter-y-ish was rushing to your heart. What was that about? 

“I’m flattered,” he said. “Unexpected, but flattered nonetheless.”

“Why unexpected?”

“Well, I mean. Well, your music—I just assumed—”

You laughed at that. “I like way more than just pop. That’s just the music I make, you know?” He gave you another silent nod, making you feel a little self-conscious. “So, I’m guessing you’re not really into my stuff?”

“No, I really like it. I just don’t want you to think I’m a diehard fan or anything. Actually, it’s kinda funny. I saw your cover of ‘Lolita’ by…” he trailed, waving his fingers around in thought until he pointed at you with a smirk. “Lana Del Rey, that’s it. Saw it a few weeks ago. Very cool. I liked the way you changed the sound. It seemed a little sadder than the OG, even with the synth.”

You smiled. You’d done that cover in the BBC Live Lounge to make fun of the way the media portrayed you. A player on both sides, leading everyone on and leaving them high and dry. Being a temptress of some sort, always on your best misbehavior. It was a common story, something that was far from realistic. But the media circus wasn’t about reality. It was about the fantasy.

And a lot of people misinterpreted the song choice as a confirmation of your reputation. It was mortifying. And annoying. Mostly fucking annoying.

And as the bartender handed you your drink, you prayed to whatever God was out there that Eddie didn’t think the same about you.

“I did it as a joke,” you defended sheepishly. “You’ve probably heard about me, but I’m not actually like that.”

And you knew that there was no reason for you to justify yourself to him, especially someone rumored to be a player himself. Eddie was known to the public as someone who collected  groupies like a goddamn claw machine, but it was seen as something desirable. He was hailed as some kind of Metal Prince of Darkness. (Though, you’d never come into contact with anyone who’d actually been involved with him…)

So why were you nervous all of a sudden?

You studied his reaction, the way he barely had one. He just kept smiling like that, this kind of half-smile as if you were the most interesting person he’d ever met. You were sure he smiled at everyone like that.

And if it was a trick, well fuck, it was working.

“I definitely got the joke,” he said, chuckling as your eyes widened. “What, did no one else?”

You shrugged. “Not a lot of them, no.”

“Well, I guess the world is as dense as I thought.” 

You couldn’t stifle your giggle as you lifted your drink to your lips, nearly spilling it on yourself. 

And maybe Eddie thought he was being smooth, but he took a small step forward, closer than he’d been before. “Just letting you know,” he said. “as someone who is also not like that, I thought it was amazing.”

You could smell the tobacco wafting off of his jacket, mixed with something like amber or bergamot. His pinky finger was dangerously close to yours, seemingly inching forward. The closer he got, the easier it was to decode the exact shade of his eyes. Brown had been wrong. No, they were hickory. They were umber. And these hickory, umber eyes were looking at you.

It wasn’t fair in the slightest.

Something in you wanted to call him out because there was something definitely happening between you. Maybe it was a game he was playing, taking shots at your weak spots to lower your defenses. Or maybe it was genuine chemistry, luring you in with a dangerous kind of desire that you’d never felt before. 

It was something you couldn’t even explain to yourself. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, Eddie asked, “Beatles or Stones?”

You snorted. “Easy. Beatles. You clearly haven’t listened to my album.”

“Oh, I’ve heard��Acacia My Dear. How could I not?” Your eyes widened. “But I thought you were sane. Guess I was wrong.” He sighed, waving you away. “This has been fun but get out of my sight.”

“Okay, wow. How does it feel to be a loser?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“How does it feel to be wrong?”

“The Stones do not have half of the amount of hits that The Beatles had. Name any Beatles album, which I bet you can’t, and I can tell you the plethora of well-known songs from each one. You can’t fight me on the factual evidence—”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly, cutting you off.

You froze, confusion and intrigue colliding inside you. 

“Didn’t you just tell me to go away?”

“As a joke.”

“Are you going to continue to insult my preferences?”

He leaned in just a bit further. “Is that something you’d want?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath as he took it. “As a treat.”

“I’d be honored.”

Eddie took you to the floor like a gentleman in a ballroom, one arm pressed against his back with the other holding your hand up. As if he was wearing a luxurious tux and you were in a ballgown. As if this was something serious, something more than it should’ve been.

And, god, whatever he was doing was fucking with your head.

Because the two of you started dancing to one of the popular hits of the year, a song you hadn’t cared to listen to. But it didn’t seem to matter to either of you, going back and forth with each other as you moved through the dance floor. Eddie shimmied his shoulders and rolled his hips. You gladly followed his lead.

As the song hit its bridge, he leaned in. “By the way, I don’t know this song.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I don’t either. I’ve been religiously listening to Maisie Peters for the last year.”

He nodded before looking at you with a bit of a sheepish expression. “I don’t know who that is either, I’m afraid.”

“That’s more offensive than your Beatles comments,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes before taking your hands and spinning you around. Laughter fell from your lips easily, finding the sensation quite dizzying.

God, how was his energy so infectious?

He tried to bring you back up, to let go. But you were done for, wobbling in his arms from the dizzy spell coming over you. One of your held hands was placed against his chest, the drumming of his heart nearly matching the beat of the song.

“Woah there,” he teased.

You sighed, your grasp on his hand tightening. “Don’t blame me,” you said. “That was all you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right.” When you were stable enough to stand properly and the room stopped spinning, he asked, “Favorite Beatles song?”

You scoffed. “Why should I tell you if you’re just going to make fun of it?”

“You wound me.”

“I have evidence. Exhibit A, five minutes ago you told me my opinion was wrong. Twice.”

“I’ll behave myself.” You raised an eyebrow. “Scout’s honor.”

You decided to answer truthfully. “It changes every day, I think.”

“So, what’s todays?” he pressed. When you gave him a quizzical look, he shook his head. “Don’t leave me hanging over here.”

Your smile returned. “Today, it’s ‘Sun King’.”

“Ah, a highly underrated track from Abbey Road. Mine’s either ‘I Want You (She’s So Heavy)’ or ‘Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?’ from the White Album.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You know their discography and yet you disrespect them.”

He wagged a finger at you. “You’re mistaken, young maiden. I never said The Beatles were bad. I said they weren’t as good as The Rolling Stones.”

“I think I hate you,” you said without thinking. Without even knowing how he was going to take that.

But then Eddie’s small smile grew into a grin. “Oh, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Mhm.”

“Does that mean we’ll never speak again?”

“No,” you admitted, showing him your cards. 

Eddie smirked. “Good.”

Apparently, he was showing his, too.

Another drink and a round of bickering later, you and Eddie were promptly interrupted by a rumbling of voices calling out to you.

Well, not you.

“Ed!”

The two of you turned and watched as the rest of Corroded Coffin rushed over. Well, Ronnie was trailing behind, still in her heels. And you commended her for not running like the rest.

Eddie let out a chuckle and you watched a grin stretch across his face, lighting him up more than anything else seemingly did tonight. It was a look of love, of appreciation. Friendship.

And when he looked at you, you swore that it intensified.

God, he was something else.

“This is Grant, Gareth, Ronnie, and Jeff,” he introduced, gesturing to the group.

As if you didn’t already know.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, giving each one a handshake and a smile.

“Jesus, you’re prettier in person,” Ronnie said, giving you a look over. “Love the dress.”

You could help but smile, especially with how beautiful she was. Ronnie Ecker. A legendary fucking female drummer standing in front of you. Her satin dress hugged her hips, a slit running up her thigh as the tips of her fingers rested against the opening. And, sure, Eddie was standing next to you, and you were extremely interested in him. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel heat rising to your cheeks at the sight of one of the hottest women alive.

“Right back at you,” you replied, trying to stop sounding so nervous. “You’re incredible at the drums. It’s such an honor—"

“We’re heading out, actually,” Gareth said loudly, catching your attention.

“To do what? Go to bed?” Eddie asked, snorting. “Did you grind the indica by mistake?”

Grant shrugged. “We came to see if you wanted to go back and do a one-shot…” he trailed, eyes flickering over to you. “But then we saw you over here and, well…”

Jeff pointed at you. “We decided we wanted to meet you,” he said plainly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Gareth confirmed.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m really not that interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eddie said, catching your gaze. “Not to us or anyone else.”

There was something about the way he said it that made you wonder exactly what he was thinking about you. Because there was that hint of a smirk again, one that you couldn’t help but interpret as: You should see yourself the way I do in this moment.

And even though the others fell headfirst into their own tangent, you decided to lean over to Jeff. 

“A one-shot, you say?” you asked. “Like for D and D?”

A grin spread across his face. “Precisely.”

“You guys play a lot?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, Eddie’s, like, the best DM I’ve ever seen.”

“Better than Brennan Lee Mulligan?” you questioned.

“Close enough,” he admitted.

Eddie tapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Did someone just mention Brennan?”

“She did,” Jeff said as he patted your shoulder. “Wanna get super jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow as Eddie gave you a shit-eating grin. “I’m guest starring in his upcoming campaign.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you exclaimed. Stomping your foot, you shook your head. Your lips twisted into a smile, all jealous and playful. Because you were extremely envious, having watched D&D for years but never playing it yourself. And here Eddie was, getting the opportunity to work with one of the best DMs there were. What a cool fucking asshole.

“Well, if you ever wanted to plaaaaaay,” Gareth exaggerated, clasping his hands together and grinning. “We could always head back and get you a character sheet.”

Eddie flicked his forehead, giving him a hard stare that you couldn’t understand. “Gareth, we are not doing a one-shot tonight.” When both men’s eyes flickered over to you for a moment, you began to pick up the meaning. “So you better scram.”

And then it was its own conversation, one that started with goodbyes but led into another whirlwind of comments. You tried to follow along, tried to understand what they were even talking about in their shared campaign. There was something about a powerful wizard, another realm underneath the one you called your own. A world that seemed upside down, a world that you were glad you didn’t live in.

And as soon as it began to descend into chaos, Eddie sighed and held up his hand. “Alright, I’m cutting us off. Go to bed, you lovely dumbasses.”

“I like you,” Jeff said as the others hugged and bumped fists. Your eyes widened. “I like you a lot.”

Without a chance to ask him what he meant by that, Jeff was filing behind Grant and Gareth, all three sneaking glances back at you as they walked away.

Ronnie gave you another look over before leaning in. “Some advice? Don’t break his heart,” she said, patting your shoulder before she hustled to catch up with the others.

Shock ran through you at the sheer idea of feelings being involved between you and Eddie Munson of all people. As if he would ever actually want something like that. The idea was so absurd that you almost had to scoff.

“Did you want to keep talking?”

You turned to Eddie whose stare was becoming almost too magnetic, having to look away every few seconds. If you didn’t, the eye contact was going to send you into cardiac arrest. 

“Talking?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

He played innocent, shrugging. “Well, we could always talk. We could do other things, too. If you’d like.”

“You want me to go home with you?”

“To my hotel room, maybe?” Eddie paused, clearly trying to interpret your expression and failing. “Uh, unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

“You’re not,” you said.

Without breaking eye contact, his fingers found your palm before lifting it and pressing his lips against the back of your hand. You could only hope the music would mask your sharp breath. 

“I have fewer scarlet letters than people think.” 

Another kiss. Another lodge in your throat.

“So, don’t think I’m doing this because I’m a whore.”

You could only nod. “Likewise.”

“I just…” he paused, a hint of something covering his features. “I think you’re really cool.”

“Likewise,” you concluded, disconnecting your hands before his touch could electrocute you further. “See you at the hotel.”

“How many scarlet letters do you have?” you asked Eddie.

How the hell you’d managed to be alone in the elevator was beyond you. In fact, it was a miracle on its own that the two of you were able to leave separately, arrive at the hotel without paparazzi standing out front, and casually make it to the elevator without anyone taking notice. It was a rather close call.

Or maybe it was a sign.

You nearly rolled your eyes at the thought before Eddie’s laugh brought your attention back. 

“Ah, man,” he said. “Three, the first two being in high school. What about you?”

“Four,” you said plainly. “All post high school. I wasn’t very popular back then.”

“Neither was I.”

You looked over at him, curious about what else was there.

“Really?”

Eddie snorted. “Are you kidding me? Of course not. Look at me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”  

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Those first two? They used me to get back at their boyfriends. Thought the local freak would, I don’t know, make them jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I was also the freak.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And there that stare was again, burning a hole in your chest that you weren’t sure how to make go away. But did you really even want it to?

No words were exchanged as you made your way down the hallway. You looked back, always alert at the potential of a camera or wandering eyes. And when you made your way inside his hotel room, thick with the scent of him, you felt the prickles on your neck that always came when you feared danger.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but look at the door, making sure it was locked. Making sure that the shadows underneath the door were passing by quickly. Muffled voices came and went, but your guard never wavered.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us,” Eddie said. You turned slowly, watching him unlace his boots. “This floor is all booked for the band. No need to risk anything. That’s probably just my guy, James. He’s a hardass, but he loves a good party.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “It’s not that I’m scared to be seen with you,” you explained. “It’s just a nasty habit.”

“I don’t blame you. Las Vegas can drive people crazy.”

You took the moment to undo your heels, finally able to let your feet breathe after a long, long night of discomfort. There was a stinging pain the moment your bare feet hit the carpet.

But you couldn’t wait, taking tentative steps towards him. Like you were assessing him, assessing the risk. Watching as he watched you, standing like you’d made a silent request that he couldn’t say no to.

“I won’t bite,” he said, hands reaching out to yours. Taking your fingertips and pulling you towards him. Like you were still on that dance floor, like he was as lost in the moment as you were. 

As you drew near, you caught a glimpse of his smudged eye shadow, the way it was starting to smear. His eyes, darker than before in the low light of the lamp, only on you.

Yeah, you weren’t thinking about consequences anymore.

“I have to be up early in the morning,” you whispered, nearly chasing his lips with yours.

He nodded. “You can leave whenever you want,” he said softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. “I do want you to know that I want to kiss you so bad it’s going to kill me.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say—”

Eddie kissed you fiercely, nearly knocking you over. 

It was like he was chasing after you. Wherever you moved, he moved. Whenever you gasped, he gasped. Your hand met the back of his neck, so his moved to yours. 

It was the kindling of a fire.

If you dared to utter it, you would call it passion. 

You slowly made your way to his neck, scratching against the choker as you went. Eddie inhaled sharply, trembling as you made your way down his chest. Desperate to feel all of it. Desperate to understand where he started and where he ended. Wondering if you’d truly be granted full access.

But it was his fingers that flipped a switch. Eddie carefully moved the tips along your jaw—gently, like he was trying to learn exactly what you felt like. And before you could register it, Eddie pulled your head to the side and latched his lips to your throat. 

There was a release of a moan, the high pitch shocking you. 

Because here you were, feeling a lightning strike against your neck, rumbling like chills down your back. Before you knew it, you were limp in his arms.

You were giving in.

Slowly, Eddie helped you out of your dress, trying to take his time. But you were a little more fast-paced, nearly ripping off your own underwear before reaching towards him. Mainly because he only had a jacket on, but you were also extremely close to losing your mind if you didn’t have him inside you in the next ten minutes.

“Now, why’re you going so fast?” Eddie asked, voice hushed in the silent room. His lips met yours again, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it?”

Dumbfounded. That’s the only way you could describe yourself. Eddie was standing in front of you, offering you the chance to experience not just sex, but pleasure.

“Can I?” you asked him, desperate to be told again. 

He kissed your forehead.

“Yes.”

Eddie gently lowered you to the bed, helping you scoot up to rest your head on the pillow. He paused, peering down at you as he unhooked his choker. It was the tucking of his lip into his mouth that captivated you, beckoned you to reach up to his lips.

You couldn’t remember wanting anyone else’s mouth this much.

And amongst the kissing and the harsh breaths, Eddie had his pants off, quickly kicking them aside to focus on you. You immediately clocked how he had not worn any underwear.

Fuck.

You had no time to look down at his length, instead feeling it as he rocked his hips against your mound. With lips against skin and a fever building, you hardly formed a thought as you tried to push his hand towards your pussy.

“Eddie,” you whined. “Please.”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured. “Promise.”

His fingers danced around your entrance, the calloused tips stroking your clit as he went along. Your hips bucked, but it was nothing against his grip on you. Instinctively, you moved your face to the side, wanting to hide your face in the pillow. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to your nose. “Let yourself go.”

Before you had any time to respond, Eddie was inside you. His fingers pumped in and out, the squelching sound of your wetness filling the near silence.

Eddie wasn’t done annihilating your neck, leaving more and more marks as he went. There your sounds returned, nearly choking on your breath as you whimpered. 

It went on like this for a while, Eddie taking his time to bring you to the brink of an orgasm. Once. Twice. Unable to edge you a third time when you came uncontrollably and suddenly. You’d come down only to find his fingers on your clit again, beckoning you.

“Can you do it for me again?” he asked.

Feverish nods, hushed confirmations.

Another orgasm. Another bout of emotions that were ripping through you.

When you finally came down from your third orgasm, you knew you needed more. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. Eddie hadn’t touched himself, hadn’t given in to his own pleasure. It was all you.

All you.

“Can you, um,” you tried to start, breath still heavy. 

“What is it?” he asked.

With shaky fingers, you reached down between you, lightly stroking his cock. Eddie let out a hiss, arms struggling to hold him up. It was his turn to quiver.

“Ah,” he finally said, a nervous chuckle eliciting from him. “I, uh, would really like that.”

Without another word, he ran his tip over your clit, a groan leaving your lips before you came back to reality.

“Wait," you sighed, pausing. "What about you?” Gently, you pressed a hand against his chest. “Don’t you want me to, uh…”

You were too embarrassed to ask him point blank if he wanted his dick (cock? Big Ben? Woodpecker?) sucked. Because you knew that if you were to say it out loud, you would be a fumbling mess of Do you want me to suck your cockbenpecker? And then you’d have to leave and kill yourself out of sheer embarrassment.

But Eddie didn’t laugh at you. Instead, his lips found your shoulder. “No, I’m alright. Thank you for the offer, though.” He slowly trailed his tongue to the other side. “Rain check for that?”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, absolutely.”

He carefully slid in, eliciting strained moans from both of you. You watched his eyes widen; mouth agape as he looked at you. Took your silent nod as confirmation to rock into you. He didn’t go too quick, seemingly taking his time to feel you. 

And as he built his momentum, you couldn’t help but find yourself becoming a a mumbling mess.

His cock was filling you, completing you. Aching as though you’d been missing each other your entire lives and you were finally colliding.

He lifted your leg over his shoulder, seemingly desperate to go deeper. You felt as he shivered, like he was unable to control himself while trying to maintain the control he already had. It drove you wild, moving with him to get him to keep going. Getting as close to him as you could to keep him vibrating above you. 

It was addicting, keeping your eyes connected as you tried to give back what he was giving to you. There was a silent connection forming, one where you were desperate to make him feel the way you did. Craved the ability to make him bend at your will, a carnal desire to make him fall apart at your hands.

Eddie smiled, nearly laughing as you grabbed his ass and pushed him deeper into you. And even though you were close to cracking a smile, it was quickly taken away. He thrusted again, harder, intensifying the wave of ecstasy washing over you. You cried out, unable to hold it in anymore. 

“That’s it,” he said. “You sound so pretty, you know that?”

A fourth orgasm ripped through you at his praise, cum coating his cock as he continued to rock into you. He slowed, only for a moment, just enough to help you down before he picked you right back up again. Cradled your face in one hand, his other lightly running up and down your calf. For the first time, you weren’t thrown into overstimulation.

For the first time, you experienced true pleasure from sex.

As you continued to writhe in his arms, trembling as he left you in wave after wave of euphoria, you felt something shift in your chest. You couldn’t see it then, but there was a part of you that would want him the moment he was gone. Because when he finally came, pulling out and spilling onto your stomach, you were disappointed that he hadn’t cum inside you.

It was in the way he took his time with you, treating you like a lady, praising you with each orgasm. Instead of whatever you imagined, something fast and filthy and rough, you were… Well, you were worshiped.

It was much more than whatever a one-night stand between strangers was supposed to look like. And you’d never had a one-night stand, but you were ninety-nine percent sure it was not this. Strangely, you were very, very okay with that.

When you two were officially finished, he pulled you into his chest, your head resting above his thrumming heart. And you stayed there. Without any thought of the future, without any thought of your hotel room or your manager or the flight you had to take tomorrow. No, you were somewhere else. Somewhere lovely. Somewhere safe.

“Tell me something true,” you whispered in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

“Something you probably haven’t talked about to the press or whatever. However personal you’d like to get.”

“I have two cats,” he said. “And I’m actually considering getting a third.”

“That’s really cool,” you responded. “But I’m curious.”

“Hm?”

“How do you have cats when you’re always away from home? I’ve always wanted to adopt one, but I’m scared we’ll have separation anxiety.”

“Easy. I bring them with me.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I have special bags for them and everything. They fucking love traveling if you can believe it. Goddamn angels on airplanes.”

You couldn’t help your jealousy. It had always been a dream to have a cat. A companion, a friend to curl up next to at night. But your parents despised animals and then, well, you were suddenly never home. You wondered what it would feel like to be able to bring a piece of home with you wherever you went.

“What about you?’

You peered up at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said with a smile. “Tell me something true.”

“It’s so stereotypical, but…” You took a deep breath, contemplating if it was okay to be so vulnerable so soon after meeting him. “I get really sad when people talk about my body.” You watched his eyebrows furrow. “I like myself, but it’s hard to be, like, not skinny and still be the artist I am as if my body determines whether I’m good enough at my job.

“Sometimes I wish I could just be a person who happens to have this body and that was that. I’m healthy…what more do people want out of me?”

Eddie’s arms tightened around your waist, fingers brushing against your tummy. “People are fucked up. Genuinely.” 

“I agree. It’s like… Either I’m too big for someone to love me but my reputation is that I’m fucking everyone within a ten mile radius at any given time. Like a fucking fuck radar.” Eddie laughed. “Like which is it? ‘Cause I clearly can’t be both and I can’t be neither.”

“You know what I say to that?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

He raised his fist. “Fuck ‘em.”

You gave him a fist bump, nodding. “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

“Also, if I may add, you’re fucking beautiful.” You shook your head. “No, I’m serious. I saw you walk up to accept your award tonight, which you totally had in the bag by the way, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘Wow, she’s more stunning in person.’ And I was at one of the tables in the back.”

 “You really thought that?”

“Please, I think Jeff was getting annoyed at how much I was staring. Said Radiohead wrote ‘Creep’ about me.”

A laugh fell from your lips but you still shook your head.

“I genuinely like you for you,” he whispered, lightly lifting your chin up. “It’s something true.”

“I think…I believe you.”

“Please do.”

But when you finally fell asleep, you were thrown into something ferocious. The sky turned black, with crows and ravens circling the trees. You ran along a path, trying desperately to find shelter. In the distance, you saw Eddie, walking with some other girl. One arm behind his back, his other hand holding hers. Just like he did with you.

And then it occurred to you: Now that you’d gotten a taste of Eddie Munson, you didn’t want to share.

It was supposed to be a random hookup. Just a fleeting glance at the unusual mixture of metal and pop, leather and lace. But when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, having to get on a plane as soon as possible to do promo in Chicago, you decided to wake him up.

“Hey,” you said. “Wake up, sleepy.”

He opened his eyes slightly, taking in your already dressed appearance. “Where are you going?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shrugged. “Chicago. I have a podcast to go on to talk about the Grammys and bullshit about having anything written for the next album and do promo and all that.” You looked down at the white duvet, all wrinkly from the long night (with a hint of his smeared eye shadow.) “I just wanted to thank you for last night and tell you that I had fun.”

“Yeah?” You nodded. “I did, too.” 

For a moment, you were quiet. Watching as he bit his lip, noticing how you were chewing on yours. Wondered what to say. What to think. How to end an interaction you really didn’t want to end.

“Favorite Beatles song this morning?” he asked.

You tried not to smile, but you couldn’t help it as you looked up at his cheeky expression. 

“‘I’ve Just Seen A Face’.”

“Help!” he nearly shouted in a fake scared voice, clasping onto his face. 

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you said, “If I didn’t know better, you know every album they’ve ever done.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you the answer next time I see you.”

You chuckled, telling yourself that this was just something people say. Next time this. Next time that. And there’s no follow up. Just a glance here and there at events. No one calls. No one cares.

You tried to get up, but Eddie gently grabbed your hand, rubbing his fingers along your knuckles. “Actually, in all seriousness…I wouldn’t mind seeing you again sometime.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Without a word, you disconnected your hand from his and started towards the door. Started towards what was ultimately going to be a long day with endless naps and replacing the water in your body with coffee. 

And as you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, Eddie said his last words.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You glanced over at him, your armor starting to come loose. 

But it tightened as soon as the weakness was identified. Because there was no way to make any promises, no way to guarantee anything more than what this moment in time had provided. 

“I’ll see you soon, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it.”

After that, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he was just so honest. Upfront. Wanting you close.

He told you he was going to miss you. He told you that he liked you for the person you were, not the person that everyone expected you to be. And he was the same, his reputation being nothing more than a façade for the lovely human being underneath.

The rest of that day, that week, you could only think of him.

Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it? his voice echoed. 

It’s alright. 

Just let go.

Early October, 2024

His makeup smeared down his face as he held your eyes. You’d never seen him so soft, so gentle. Full of emotions reserved just for you. Desperate for the one thing he ever wanted. 

You.

And in that moment, it all froze mid-air. The laughter and gasps of the crowd. The sound of the photographers shouting his name, shouting yours. The videos and the comments that felt like sticks and stones. Ronnie’s hurling words that felt like daggers.

It dissipates as you remember the start, as you remember why you were there in the first place. Why it mattered.

“Okay,” you murmured.

Eddie's eyes widened.

“I’ll stay.”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!Eddie x popstar!reader

[zaewriteshere]

Let me show the world how much I adore you

AO3 Link

You were never a big fan of PDA, struggling greatly with reciprocating or even accepting it.

It didn’t seem to deter Sova though, who was just head over heels for you, especially since your relationship just blossomed into a romantic one.

This man was going to be the death of you, wasn’t he ?

---

Despite having known Sova for a year – and having a crush on him for months – you were still getting used to the new status of your relationship, and most importantly…

You were still getting used to being the subject of PDA. 

You were way too shy to reciprocate the attention, always turning into a blushing mess whenever he held your hand, kissed your cheeks…

Especially when he would just surprise you and kiss you lovingly.

In your own private area, you were more at ease, however.

But the hunter was very eager to show everyone that you and him were dating, and didn’t want to leave room for interpretation.

The development of your relationship had ruffled some feathers, but since Killjoy and Raze were already dating, it was easier for Brimstone to accept it.

You were glad that Viper couldn’t care less.

You were brought back to reality when you felt a kiss on your temple, which made you freeze.

You heard a light chuckle next to you, and when you turned your head to your boyfriend, he just looked at you with a lovingly amused expression.

It only made your blush deepen. 

“Sasha…” You whined, burying your face in your hands.

“Yes, my love ?” He replied innocently.

You were about to say something to him, when Cypher interrupted you.

Your lover’s features immediately fell to a neutral stare.

“Good morning, you lovebirds. I’m sorry for interrupting, but I was wondering if you wanted any warm beverages ? I’m about to make some tea,” The agent explained, his tone light.

You took a moment to consider, but your thoughts scrambled once again when Sova put a hand on your thigh and scooted even closer to you.

“No, thank you,” He refused in your stance, still inching closer, not tearing his beautiful eyes away from the sentinel.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Cypher replied, leaving you two to be.

You were about to say something to him, to lightly berate him on his temperament towards the tea lover, but you stopped yourself.

He probably already knew, and you already were aware of his reasons.

You also knew that if you asked him to stop his gestures, he would.

… But you did like it.

You were pretty sure Sova knew that, too.

Which was why he did it so often, probably.

“What are you thinking about ?” He whispered into your ear after kissing your cheek.

A chill ran down your spine.

“You,” You replied, honestly.

He smiled gently at you, his features softening.

You knew he loved your honesty and bluntness. 

He did admit that it was the main reason he fell for you in the first place.

“May I know what specifically ?” He enquired, rubbing his hand gently on your thigh.

You tried your best to not get distracted by the touch.

You failed.

It took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to give this simple answer : 

“I… Forgot…” You admitted, sheepishly.

He chuckled, clearly amused by how flustered you were by him and his actions.

“I didn’t know I had such a big influence on you, my love,” He said lovingly, bringing his free hand to caress your other cheek.

You almost leaned into the touch, forgetting you were in the lounge area.

You were quickly reminded by Jett’s voice.

“Shee, get a room,” She said, clearly not meaning anything bad.

It still made you tense up and jerk away from the touch, and you panicked internally.

Oh no.

Did you offend Sova by doing this ?

You didn’t mean for it to be mean, it was just your knee jerk reaction

Shyly glancing at your lover, you saw no hurt, only amusement and love in his eyes and expression.

The duelist giggled, not saying anything else, and going to the kitchen.

After making sure that she was out of earshot, your partner asked, a slight worry in his eyes : 

“Do you want to go to our room ?” 

You thought about it.

Finally, you shrugged. 

“Do you ?” You replied, tilting your head. 

He didn’t say anything, and instead got up from the couch.

You were about to do the same, but he scooped you into a bridal carry, which made you shriek in surprise.

“H-Hey !” You stuttered. “I can walk-”

He shut you up by lightly kissing your lips, already starting to walk towards your common room.

You fell quiet, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Should you wrap your arms around his neck ?

Should you just remain in this position ?

You didn’t have the time to even answer your own questions that you were already in your twin sized bed, Sova already cuddling you and kissing you everywhere he could reach. 

Checking with a glance if the door was closed, you relaxed when you realised that it was.

Finally feeling comfortable to reciprocate the gestures, you turned around to face him and giggled when he grew more insistent with his kisses.

You kissed him back when he finally landed on your lips, scooting ever so closer to him, his hands nesting themselves on your waist.

You both continued to cuddle and kiss each other lovingly, before your stomach grumbled rather loudly, making him smile through the kiss.

“Let’s get something to eat,” He announced, finally separating himself from your body, but not making any movement to leave the room.

He was just admiring you, and your probably dishevelled look after so much cuddling and kissing.

You nodded, slowly getting up to fix your appearance in the mirror.

“What are you doing ?” He questioned, looking at you.

You could feel his eyes roaming your body, before landing on your face’s reflection.

“Fixing my looks a bit,” You replied.

It was his turn to join you, wrapping his arms around your stomach.

“But you look stunning no matter what,” He whispered to you, his lips right at your ear.

You froze mid movement, feeling your face heat up. 

“C’mon,” You answered after a while. “They’re gonna think we were doing something else entirely…” You continued, somehow blushing harder.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” He stated, still whispering, moving his hands between your torso and belly.

Despite having been together for a week, you still didn’t do anything like that.

Touches like this was where it was at.

You wanted to take it one step at a time.

And you especially wanted to be able to reciprocate his PDA before making love with him.

You knew he was patient, and willing to wait until you were ready.

You were very lucky to have him as your lover.

Once you deemed you were presentable, you turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes locking onto his lips.

Sova didn’t make any movement to close the gap between the two of you, only smirking slightly.

He knew what you wanted.

Even though you were more comfortable behind closed doors, initiating was always a struggle for you.

Taking a deep breath, you closed the gap yourself, bringing him instinctively closer to you.

You could tell he was surprised, but with how he deepened the kiss, turning it to a more passionate one, you knew he was appreciative.

You stayed like this for a little bit, enjoying the kiss and the touch, before your stomach growled again, even louder this time.

Parting away, he chuckled.

“I know someone’s impatient to eat,” He stated, lightly poking at your belly.

You shrieked in surprise and pulled away slightly, which made him laugh.

You pouted, just a bit.

“Alright alright, let’s go,” He announced, letting go of you and going for the door.

Following his steps, he opened the door for you, gesturing you to go out.

Chuckling, you did as told, and he closed the door behind you, immediately choosing to hold your hand.

You blushed furiously, glancing at him.

He only held your gaze and smiled, proud of himself.

You sighed as you both started walking towards the kitchen, trying to control your expressions.

One thing you knew your lover adored was how easy it was to read you. 

It made everyday life easier, but your job was way harder than it needed to be.

Good thing your job wasn’t to be a spy.

Entering the cooking area, you noticed that only Jett was present, focused on cooking her own meal.

She noticed your entrance, and her eyes immediately darted to the joined hands.

“Oh my god, you’re holding hands,” She gasped dramatically. “So dirty, so explicit ! Get a room before I see your ankles !” She continued, gesturing wildly.

She looked further down, and since you were just wearing some shorts, she shrieked.

“Oh my goodness gracious, you did not !” 

Sova only chuckled, while you smiled a bit, still blushing.

You knew she was trying to help you – you did confess to her your want to have an easier time reciprocating his gestures, after all – and it did help you feel more at ease.

You just wished she could be a bit quieter…

Everyone was now either chuckling or smiling at you both, and you had to admit that you hated the attention.

Your partner – bless his soul – noticed your discomfort and physically shielded you away from the prying eyes.

You smiled at him, thankful, and he only squeezed your hand as an answer, looking around to make sure that by the time he stepped away, those same glances wouldn’t be on you.

After a couple of minutes, he kissed your forehead, and stepped away as he was letting you go, opening the fridge.

It took you a moment to join him in looking for something to eat.

“Anything catches your eye, my love ?” He questioned.

“How about I cook something ? What do you want to eat ?”

“How about Grenki ?” He replied after thinking for a moment, not before closing the fridge.

You nodded, familiar with the Russian breakfast.

He did teach you how to make some of his favourite meals, after all.

You opened the fridge again, taking what you needed from it, and since your lover refused to let go of your hand, he helped you carry what you couldn't with only one limb available.

As he let go of your hand, you started to prepare the food.

You weren’t really as surprised when he went behind you and hugged you as he looked at your actions over your shoulder. 

You still stopped mid-movement, trying to control the creeping heat of your face.

Once you judged you had it enough under control, you resumed your actions, and Sova was wise to not distract you any further when you started to heat up the pan.

He didn’t let go of you however, but his touch was comforting, reassuring.

You realised that the more exposed you were to his PDA, the easier it became for you to just…

Accept it, you guessed ?

A week ago you couldn’t even let him touch you for longer than a couple of seconds, always jerking away.

Now, you were comfortably cooking while he was hugging you from behind.

You were proud of yourself, and you were also pretty sure that he noticed the changes, too.

Soon enough, you were done cooking the meal for the both of you, and he lightly kissed your neck, making you shiver and blush.

“Thank you, my love,” He said, before looking at the plate. “Looks delicious,” He continued, detaching one of his hands to grab one plate.

“Thanks,” You replied. 

You hadn’t really found a nickname that suited him, or that you were comfortable using.

You weren’t big on them to begin with, but since he was so adamant on using them, you couldn’t really say no to that.

It did feel nice when he used it, though.

Sitting at the table next to each other, you started eating, sighing pleasantly when you swallowed your first bite.

You were quick to finish your portion, feeling filled.

You glanced at your partner, watching him slowly eating his meal.

“Do you like it ?” You questioned.

“It’s delicious, good job,” He praised, beaming at you.

You smiled at that, and waited patiently for him to finish his portion.

Once done, you took care of the plates, and he went to lay down on the couch.

You were about to sit at his feet, but thought about it for a bit longer.

Suddenly feeling very shy, you could feel your face heat up with embarrassment.

“Can I… Uh…” You started, fidgeting.

He snapped his attention to you, waiting patiently for you to form your words.

“Can I lay on top of you ?...” You finally asked, tearing your gaze away from his own.

He didn’t answer immediately, and you saw out of the corner of your eyes the pure surprise he was displaying.

“I- Of course you can, my love,” He stuttered, still recovering from the shock.

Nodding, you slowly climbed on top of him, chest against chest, and for the first time all week, it seemed like Sova didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Are-are you okay ?” You questioned, looking up at him.

His cheeks were slightly red as he looked down on you, but he smiled warmly.

“I am more than okay, my love,” He reassured, bringing one of his hands to cup your cheek and caress your cheekbone. “I just didn’t expect you to be so forward, or at least, this soon,” He continued, chuckling a bit.

You smiled, relieved.

You could feel your heartbeat fasten as you thought about kissing him like this, in the middle of the lounge, where anyone could walk in on you two.

He arched an eyebrow as he studied your face, clearly seeing that something was going on in your mind.

As you felt your heart pump through your chest, you slowly closed the gap between your face.

You stopped only a few centimetres away from his lips, and you stared into his slightly widened eyes.

Before you got cold feet, you closed your eyes and went in for a kiss, ignoring the footsteps closing in on you.

Your boyfriend’s surprise didn’t last very long as he parted lips to deepen the kiss, his hands roaming your body, not leaving one place untouched, not one he could reach at least.

Once you parted, you were both breathless, and he was looking at you with a newfound love.

He whispered your name, as if said any louder, it’ll break whatever bubble was around you.

“Yes ?” You answered in the same tone.

“I love you so much,” He said, which made your heart flutter and gave you butterflies in your stomach.

“I love you too, Sasha,” You barely had time to say his name that he was kissing you again.

For the rest of the day, Sova didn’t let go of you for one second, and if he couldn’t kiss your lips, he would kiss somewhere else until he could.

You weren’t complaining at all.

#ao3 fanfic #x reader #gender neutral reader #valorant #sova valorant #sova x reader #fluff #one shot

[hurricaneonanesthesia]

heywo happy monday!

may i request enemies to lovers where gn!reader gets an agent as a bodyguard assigned because they got captured as a strong radiant (Fade typa beat) (Yoru, Phoenix and Chamber)

excuse my bad english i hope it's readable 😔

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

Pairing(s): Yoru x GN!Reader, Phoenix x GN!Reader, Chamber x GN!Reader

Authors Notes: hey there! your english is great, so not to worry ^^ ALSO IM ALIVE YOU GUYS I SWEAR, I DIDN’T DISAPPEAR OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH 

this was kinda all over the place so i apologize 😭

_______________

Yoru

I’m gonna be honest, he’s an asshole to you. But I mean he’s an asshole to everyone around him a hot one at that though

So there you are, sitting in the interrogation room at what you presume is their headquarters and their leader walks in with someone else, a man who had a seemingly permanent scowl on his face.

You're informed that although you'd be joining the VP, you'll have someone to watch over you for the first few months of your stay there(you're fairly sure it's just to make sure you don't cause any unnecessary trouble.)

You come to find out that the man assigned to you is none other than Yoru himself, somewhat infamous for working alone even if he had over team members to work with him.

the two of you didn't really get along at first, the sound of your bickering could be heard echoing throughout the halls.

but also because of your capabilities, Yoru was also constantly trying to one up you and prove that he was the better radiant, and ultimately it just devolved into a big competition between the two of you

and in all of the time you spent together, its only natural that you guys would end up developing feelings for one another

yoru is a denier and he firmly denies that he has any sort of attraction to you when in actuality it's very, very obvious and jett and phoenix clown on him for it all the time

but nothing can hide the way that he stares at you fondly while watching you do your own thing

Phoenix

you didn't know what to think of him when you first met the man who said he would be keeping an eye on you, he was friendly to you and could keep a conversation which made you want to lower your guard, until you realized thats probably what the protocol wanted you to do.

phoenix is easy to talk to, he cracks jokes and overall lightens the mood as a whole. You wonder how someone like him ended up at a place like the VP, and how he manages to stay lighthearted despite the line of work he's in.

even with all of the walls that you’ve put up, he still somehow manages to worm his way into your heart. Every action he makes suddenly seems endearing to you, and you find yourself looking forward to hanging out with him

what really cemented and confirmed to yourself that you had fallen for him was a fairly precarious situation that happened on one of your missions together. 

You guys had gotten separated from each other and the rapid spraying of gunfire from every direction was definitely not helping. You did eventually manage to get out by utilizing your abilities but by the time you got to Phoenix, you found him sitting in a pool of his fire trying to heal up but he was fairly beaten up

After you secured the area, you spent the rest of the time you had before you guys were rescued holding his face in your hands and talking to him in a quiet voice, mainly about random things, but you were mostly doing it to make sure he would stay with you.

It scared you to admit it out loud but you genuinely had come to care for the man, and almost losing him made you realize it.

Chamber

the sussy man is your bodyguard?? I mean hey, he’s loaded, both in cash and in weapons

he’s very eloquent in the way that he speaks to you, holding you in high regard, you’re unsure of if it’s because he’s wary of your abilities so that’s the only reason why he’s acting genial with you.

and of course he’s a flirt, he manages to find ways to drop the fanciest pick up lines towards you. It’s not surprise that any person would probably end up falling for him

which is what you did

and you question yourself on whether or not a normal sane person would try to find ways to unfall for him LMAO

But alas you’re stuck battling your conflicting feelings for him

he likes to tease you a lot though, seeing you get all riled up is one of his favorite pastimes /hj

you might find it annoying but while you’re turned away, he can’t seem to hide the way his expression softens as he talks and banters with you

_______________

Want more of my writing? Be sure to check out my masterlist.

Wanna know what else I’ll write for? Here you go!

Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!

#admin hurricane #Valorant #valorant x you #valorant x reader #Valorant x Y/N #valorant x reader fic #valorant x reader headcanons #valorant yoru #valorant phoenix #valorant chamber #valorant yoru x reader #valorant phoenix x reader #valorant chamber x reader #ryo kiritani #jamie adeyemi #vincent fabron #IM ALIVE #I LIVE #IM NOT DEAD ANYMORE WOOHOO

[thedeepstate69]

Valorant sexuality nd gender hc’s

I’ve have so many thoughts abt val characters gender istg

(also maybe don’t take this too seriously)

Astra:

Straight but the biggest ally you’ll ever meet

(She/Her)

Breach:

Angry gay

Very cis

Kind of the cool gay uncle

Raze came out to him and he just sat there like??

Breach: Lesbian? I thought you were Portuguese 

Raze: ...Breach I’m Brazilian 

Brimstone:

KJ came out to him and it went smth like:

KJ: Brim i’m gay

Brimstone: Hi gay im brimstone

Straight but he’s for the gays

His pronouns are U/S/A (eagle screech plays in background)

Chamber:

Queer and homophobic in a way only Europeans can be

Cypher:

Bisexual perhaps with a side of genderqueer

Deadlock:

Women lover

A she/they

Would cry over beautiful women

Fade:

They are so nonbinary 

They/She/He Fade is so real to me

Also a women enjoyer just isn’t a fan of labels

Ace spec fr

Gekko:

Green hair nd pronouns

Bisexual

Harbor:

No one really knows???

He’s either very supportive of his bros or is somewhat fruity

Him nd Astra kinda goals ngl

Jett:

Bisexual

Women?

Kay/o:

My boy is made of 1′s nd 0′s i do not think he could care less

Killjoy:

Lesbian

Her gender is science

Neon:

Pansexual

Blue hair nd pronouns fr

My little silly

Omen:

The voices

Phoenix:

I told a friend of mine (who doesnt play val) that phoenix has two mums and she just looked at him and said “he looks like the type” ????

Bisexual but scared of women

Raze:

The biggest women lover 

gender is whats in your pants??? alright *pulls out several explosives*

Reyna:

Lesbian

Men anti 

Sage:

Trans, cottagecore lesbian

Mother???

Skye:

Aro Ace as fuck bro

Sex?? Romance?? nah mate the forest

Her nd dealock r in a queer platonic relationship 

Sova:

*Rubs my hands together evily*

Trans, gay Sova

You can pry this hc from my cold body

Viper:

Transfem

Straight but still anti men

Yoru:

Trans

Homophobic homosexual ngl

Phoenix tries to show any affection nd hes just like >:0 thats gay

Bonus:

Ruben pontes nd Oran McEneff:

Both gay

My actual OTP

I get sad when I think abt them

#valorant #valorant headcanons #astra #brimstone #breach #chamber #cypher #deadlock #fade #gekko #harbor #jett #kay/o #killjoy #neon #omen #phoenix #valorant phoenix #raze #reyna #sage #skye #viper #yoru

[saltsicklover]

Part Two - STCHT

Title: Someone To Come Home To

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3300+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of Sick Parent, Crying, so much crying, Drinking, Heavy Conversation, likely inaccurate medical stuff.

Best Friends to Lovers Romance! Marriage of Convenience!

Disclaimer: I do not own Jake Seresin, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Bags hang off Spurs' shoulders, weighing her down as she stalks up the driveway. Her SUV is packed full; what was once in her dorm is now stacked in the back of the vehicle. It's strange, to have her whole life fit in the back of a vehicle. Everything that makes her, her, outside of her body now on wheels. Spurs tries not to think about the fact that everything she has with her is her entire life. The idea that somehow, someone might be alright with living so minimally never sat right with her. The thought that her existence only expanded as far as she could reach doesn't quite settle in her bones. 

 Maybe it's the fact that it is her life alone, no one else's things mingling with her own. 

So, she thinks about a nice holiday at home with her Mom, and the fact that being in school was never her dream anyway. Her life is supposed to be more than sitting behind a desk. She needs to reach as far as she can and learn without limits. 

The handle on the front door of her mother's house still jiggles a bit as she turns it. It's been that way since Jake and Spurs rammed a couch into it while moving it through the threshold. It was supposed to be an easy task, really it was, and Ms. Jett wanted nothing more than to have a new couch. What she wasn't bargaining for was a doorknob that would jiggle for the next three years and counting. There is a scuff mark on the siding of the house right by the front door too. Spurs runs her fingers across it as she pushes through the threshold. 

"Hi, Mama, I'm home!" One bag clatters to the ground right in the entryway. "Happy Easter. The ham smells fantastic," and down goes another bag, settling itself right in front of the stairs. 

"Hi, Captain, Sweetheart! In here!" Lizzy calls, her voice carrying from the back of the house. When Spurs turns the corner she is met with the sight of not only her mother but the Seresin's as well. 

Mr. Seresin sits in one of the large leather recliners, a large Stetson atop his head. In his hand he holds a glass of what can only be a whiskey-coke. Spurs has only ever seen him drink whiskey-cokes. His wife is sat on the arm of the leather chair, he large hair styled to perfection. Her outward appearance hadn't changed much. Her favored red nail polish still shines brightly on her fingertips as she runs a hand down the collar of her husband's shirt. 

Jake is a few feet away, wringing his hands and pacing a few steps back and fourth. He looks nervous, more nervous than Spurs had ever seen him. She watches as he runs a hand through his hair and then down his face, attempting to collect himself. 

"Jake!" Her backpack falls to the ground with a dense thud. She scurries over, throwing her hands around his shoulders. He tenses. He has never tensed under her touch before, and she recoils. He can't speak, his body too tight with tension. So, she pulls her hands back, stepping away from his still recoiling form. Jake stands before her, still green around the gills, looking completely uncomfortable. 

"Jake, what's wrong? You don't look so good," Spurs brings a hand up to push his hair back from his forehead. Her fingertips are met with sweat that has collected around his brow. He attempts a small smile her way, but it comes out in more of a grimace. 

"Miss Jett, we are glad that you could join us," Mr. Seresin interrupts, pulling the eyes in the room toward himself. He runs a finger along the lip of his glass, a content smirk over his lips. "We have some very important business to discuss."

"What's going on?"

Spurs looks towards her mother for any clue as to what's happening. Her mother wears a soft expression, one that is riddled with underlying knowing that Captain can't quite make out. She gestures to the couch with a flick of her wrist, an unspoken invitation for her daughter to sit. Captain sits down uncertainly, her Mother sitting in the open arm chair next to the Seresins. 

Their son still stands just off to the side of the group, sweaty and pacing, like he might be able to walk an indent in to the carpet and displace the gnawing feeling in his chest. Nothing could have prepared him for the conversation that was about to take place, but through his anxiety, he can't help but wish he could have given Spurs a heads up as to what she would be walking in to. 

That's the way the world is though, right? There is always something lurking around the corner, no notice printed, always subject to change. Somewhere between fate and choice, the group sits, the air thick with tension that seems to ripple over their skin.

"We need to have a conversation," Lizzy speaks first, her voice almost too certain. It makes Captain's adrenaline sky rocket. The Seresin's sit, hands intertwined. Lizzy mulls over her words; they seem too big for her mouth, intruding on her gums. 

"I'm sick, Captain, and I don't have much time left," Lizzy finally spits out. One might think there would be a trace of worry on her face, maybe a tear in her eye, yet, Lizzy wears a small content smile. There is no fear behind her eyes, nor do her hands shake. The news she has delivered has been accepted by her soul- no room for fear. It just is.  

Captain, on the other hand, shakes. Bile creeps up the back of her throat, dragging the nausea with it. She thinks she might be sick- her body flashing between hot and cold without warning. Tears invade her eyes, everything in her field of view now swimming. 

"What?" 

"I have an inoperable brain tumor," Lizzy explains, "The doctor's have given me a year at most. They said that they didn't catch it early enough, and it just keeps growing-"

The sentence is interrupted with a strangled sound from Spurs, her hand doing nothing to muffle the noise that escapes from between her lips. She isn't crying- too shocked to find it in her. Instead, she feels like she has just been pushed to the floor, the wind escaping her chest from the impact. 

Lizzy observes the discomfort on her daughter's face, but continues anyway. There is too much to say and not enough time to say it. 

"Oh honey. There is nothing to be afraid of. You know that death isn't an end, it's just the beginning of the next step, the next life," Lizzy attempts to comfort her daughter, but the words don't have the effect she wishes they did. 

"When I found out, I went and talked to the Seresin's, and the three of us came up with a plan," Lizzy continues, her eyes drifting over to Patricia, who holds a hand out to the other woman. They clasp their hands together, exchanging a look between them. Patricia nods, squeezing Lizzy's hand. 

"I want to know that you will be taken care of when I'm gone, Captain," 

"And we want to know that Jacob will have someone to come home to after flight school, and the Navy takes more kindly to those with families," Patricia continues, her words sure, though there is a bit of tension in the lines of her face. This is the first time Captain notices age on the older woman's face, the feeling hitting her in the chest. 

"What are you saying?" Captain's voice is strained, throat almost raw. She sounds like she has taken large gulps of salt water; like she has been fighting the current of the ocean. 

"We have arranged for you and Jacob to get married," Mr. Seresin lays everything out on the table. He brings his drink up to his lips, taking a deep drink of it. 

"What?" 

The question is met again by Mr. Seresin, who leans forward and places a small box, velvet box on the coffee table in front of Captain. Her eyes lock on the dark purple velvet. The way the edges are sewn is perfect, not a stitch out of place, and with all the news being thrown at her, Captain can't help but trace her eye along the edges of the box. Her mouth hands slightly agape, tongue resting against her bottom lip. 

Time seems to slow for everyone. All the attention is on the small, square box sitting on the coffee table. After another moment, Mr. Seresin leans forward and pops open the box before directing it back towards Captain. 

"That ring there was a gift from my grandfather, to my grandmother in 1945. They had gotten married right before he got drafted. His mother, my great grandmother, wanted him to have a wife to return to when the war was over- and when he made it back, he presented my grandmother with that ring. He said that he hoped it would make up for all the time they had spent apart," 

Captain can't take her eyes off the ring. The large, square emerald sits in the center of the band, flanked on either side by smaller, rectangular aquamarines. The stones are set on a delicate gold band, the whole piece shining under the lamp light. The stones remind Captain of Jake's eyes, the delicate blue and the piercing green, melding together with the richness of the gold. 

The whole situation is overwhelming, and Captain can't quite catch her breath. She hasn't dared to glance at anyone else in the room, especially not Jake. She is too afraid of what could possibly be seen behind his irises. 

"Spurs," Jake's voice breaks through, "Please say something,"

Jake rings his hands together, sweat slick, pulse thrumming through his fingers. He hates how this is happening. He hates that his future with his best friend is being planned for him. He hates that she almost doesn't have a choice, that neither of them can walk away form this fucked up situation all together. 

If Lizzy wasn't sick, then Captain could live her life however she wants. Jake could go to flight school, sleep around, find out who he is and claim his place in the world. But now? He is forced to see his best friend sitting in front of him, do doubt overwhelmed and aching. This wasn't how life was supposed to go. 

"Let me get this straight," Spurs pulls her eyes from the ring to meet her mother's. Her mother is blurred through tears, but she does the best to make eye contact anyway. 

"First off, you are dying," Captain counts the facts off on her fingers, "But you don't seem overly concerned about it," 

"I have had a full life, Captain, and now that I know you will be taken care of, I am at peace with the fact, yes," Lizzy's voice is so soft. It makes Captain want to cry harder. 

"Two," She turns to the Seresin's, "You want me to marry Jake?" 

The three nod, all content with their choice. 

"Can I talk to you outside?" Spurs turns to Jake, wiping at the tears that have threatened to escape her eyes. She gets up and heads down the hall without a word from Jake, but she knows that he is on her tail. He snags the ring box as he walks after her, shoving it into his back pocket. 

They step out into the evening air. Captain leans awkwardly against the wall beside the door, waiting as Jake steps out onto the porch. The moment the front door is closed, Captain is thrusting herself into his arms. This time, he sinks into her touch, his own arms winding around her body. 

The tears finally fall, sobs racking through her frame in the way that shattered glass hits pavement. It's all sharp and made of anger. Jake brings a hand up to her neck, pressing her cheek harder against the firmness of his chest. 

There hasn't been time for either of them to really look at each other. From touch alone, they know so much has changed. 

Jake brushes her hair over her shoulders.  It's shorter now, but still soft as it threads through his fingers. Her body fuller than the last time he saw her, he can tell from the way the softness of her stomach presses against his body and the way her strong arms wrap around his frame. The sweet scent of her shampoo swirls around his senses as he kisses the top of her head. 

Captain can feel Jake's newly toned muscles under her hands, under her cheek, against her stomach. The Navy has toned his body and now he feels different. Stronger, leaner, like a force to be reconned with. But he still smells just how she remembered, like the ocean wind right after a rain storm. 

So much has changed, but yet, they are still the same, even after it all. Best friends till the end. 

Jake shushes her sobs, his thumb rubbing over the back of her neck. His shirt is damp down, sticking slightly to his skin beneath it. He wishes that he could do more, comfort her better- but then he remembers that's exactly why he agreed to this damn thing in the first place; to take care of her. 

"Spurs," The name is mumbled into her hair, "I've got you, sweetheart, I've got you," 

His calming words do little to ease the tidal wave of feeling that is hitting Captain square in the chest. She feels like she is drowning, overtaken by grief over a situation she has no control over. 

"Ja-Jake," She hiccups, her fists wound into the back of his shirt. 

With everything, Captain has been too preoccupied to notice just how nice Jake is dressed. A deep blue pearl snap, complete with a delicate white polka-dot pattern is tucked into his best jeans. His brown belt match is well conditioned boots, the bolo tie around his neck complete with a beautiful silver slider, the Texas Star in the center. 

"Talk to me, Sweetheart," Jake coos, pulling her face from his chest. He is met with tear stained cheeks and red skin. He swipes his thumb lovingly over her cheek, streaking some tears across her face and into her hairline. 

"They aren't- they aren't joking, are they?" Captain snakes her hands down his body, grabbing ahold of the belt loops on either one of his hips. Her fingers are wedged between the thick leather of his belt and the denim straps, the constriction of her fingers grounding her to him. She pulls on the loops, trying to get his body closer, but they are already pressed chest to chest. She can feel her heartbeat all through her body, her fingertips feel like the are pulsing, ready to explode. 

"No, Sweetheart, they aren't. God, Spurs, I am so sorry," He takes her shoulders in his hands, combing his fingers down to her elbows and back up. She relaxes under his touch, looking up to his face for the first time since they exited the house.

"We aren't dating, hell, we've never even kissed! I don't think we have even come close to it, and they want us to jump into marriage head first without a fucking life preserver, huh?" There is a light bit of humor hiding beneath the sadness of her tone. 

Then, she catches Jake completely off guard when she laughs. 

The sound is so out of place in the somberness of the air around them. It's light, but not quite happy. Jake can't help but narrow his eyes at her, his full eyebrows pulling together, causing a deep wrinkle between them. 

"What's so funny?" Jake can't believe he is asking a question like that, given the week he has had. From finding out about Lizzy's prognosis to the marriage he is all but being thrust into, then having to keep it all a secret from his best friend, his nerves are rattled. 

"I don't think I've seen you this dressed up in years," She hums, laughter still undertowing her voice. She untangles a finger from his beltloop to run it down the pointed collar of his shirt. Her touch is barely there, but gooseflesh breaks out over Jake's skin like it's thirty degrees colder. "What are you so dressed up for, anyway?" 

"I couldn't rightfully ask my best friend to marry me in my uniform, now could I?" Jake can't help the chuckle that laces with his words. His chest rumbles a bit under Captains touch as she places her palm flat to his chest. 

"I guess not-" Her fingers trace over the star on his tie, "I dunno, guess even after the whole thing was all laid out, we didn't really have a choice. Didn't think you'd actually ask," 

"There is always a choice, Spurs, you know that," 

She waves a hand, attempting to dismiss his words as her fingers pass his shoulder. He holds onto her a bit tighter, like she might slip out of his grasp. 

"Are you serious about all this?" Her eye brow is quirked, "Or are you being forced into it?" 

"Like I said, there is always a choice," 

Hands wind around her waist again, holding her against his chest. Her cheek is pressed against firm muscle as he speaks again. 

"Your Mom and I went over the logistics of it. She was a lot better about it than my folks. You are going to need health insurance after she passes, and you are going to need a place to live. Plus, a support system. You have me already, and my family, but there is support within the military that can help you out if we are married," He explains, brushing his hands over her body. The motion is more to calm his nerves than it is to calm hers. Neither of them comment on it. "It doesn't have to be forever, but I want to be there for you. Looks like this is going to be the best way," 

Captain doesn't think about anything outside of this moment. The way she can hear Jake's heartbeat thumping against his ribcage, and the way his hands trial over her arms. She focuses on her breathing and the way everything seems to buzz around her. 

Maybe its all the information clogging up her brain, or maybe it's the impending grief she knows she is going feel, lingering over her like a hangover. Whatever it is, she doesn't exactly care to pinpoint it. Instead, she pushes Jake back just a bit, enough for her to look up into his swirling green eyes. 

"Alright," 

"Alright?"

"Let's do it, let's get married," The words sound more sure than she expected them to when they slip passed her lips. 

"Really?" He asks. She nods. "Okay,"

Then, Jake takes a step back, dropping down on to one knee. He pulls the purple velvet box from his back pocket, presenting it to her as he pulls it open. 

"Y/N "Spurs" "Captain" Jett, my forever best friend and honorary cow girl, will you do me the honor of becoming your husband?" Jake's voice wavers as he speaks, the tear he spots in her eye almost breaking him. 

"Yes, Jacob Samuel Seresin, I will marry you,"

They embrace, Jake still down on his knee, Captain meeting him there. He slips the ring from the box before taking her hand gently with his own. He guides the ring onto her finger before kissing the back of her hand. 

And so, the pair are engaged to be married under the amber glow of the broken porch light, next to the old scuff marks on the siding from misadventure of years past. 

TAG LIST

@inky-sun 

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin marriage of convenience #marriage of convenience #top gun maverick fanfiction #STCHT

[morallyinept]

HAPPY SUNDAY LOVELIES! 🖤

Well after the craziness of last week, I've been back to work, and it still feels bloody crazy! I've managed to squeeze in some reading this week, but it never feels like enough. I want more time, damnit! 🥵

Anyhoo, let's crack that whip Jack, and get into this week's whip round. Yeehaw! 🤠

Catch up on last week here, sugar

☆ Things I've posted this week

Five Days Chapter 6 - We're halfway through this angsty, romance Joel story now, and I'm so glad those who are reading this are enjoying it. Warms the cockles of my little heart it does, to read all your comments. Thank you so much! 🖤

Unworthy - A Javier Pena GIFLET

Domestic Spice - A Marcus Moreno GIFLET

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales, Dark!Joel Miller & Dark!Dave York one shot for Halloween. This is my first time writing anything remotely dark, (although I felt it was pretty tame in comparison with some other dark fics I've read and enjoyed) and I'm completely floored by the positive responses to this story. Thank you to everyone who read it on Halloween, and who has enjoyed it since. 🎃

This week's Self-Care with Dieter & Jett looked at bullying and how you can deal with bullies, and avoid inadvertently becoming one yourself.

And this week's Writer Wow shone the spotlight on the wonderfully talented - and equally wonderful person - that is @boliv-jenta Go give them some love.⭐️

☆ Things I'm currently working on

Writing some more Christmas fics, have a bunch of GIFLETS lined up as always, and working on some one shots featuring Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike and Dave York.

I'm also getting soooo many ideas that my Google docs is a chaotic mess that I really need to put some order into. 🥴

☆ Things I've read this week

Head Shots - Chapter 4 - @secretelephanttattoo Everything about this series is so sweet and romantic, and has the perfect Marcus Pike in my opinion. I love how El perfectly places you, as the reader, in the scene so that you can literally see, hear and feel everything, and she manages to do it wonderfully. You must read this if you're an Agent Pike fan. Or any Pedro Boy fan, just read it. Thank me later. 🫠

Steep Is The Mountain - @sin-djarin Becca's Tim Rockford is just exquisite. Sexy, gruff, gun holsters... what more do you want from this handsome detective? I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and will deffo be re-visiting this when I have more hankerings for Rockford. The descriptives in this were utterly divine, and not just the smut. (Although that was scorching!) 🔥

The Haunting Of Dieter Bravo - @idolatrybarbie I have so many Halloween fics to catch up on, and reading this one was an absolute delight. I love how original and captivating this was, yet contained all the creep and dread that you want. And Dieter being Dieter, even though he's clearly spooked. This was a great read and I deffo recommend adding to your read list. Utterly spook-tacular! 👻

The Clink - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Let me tell you, if they had PrisonGuard!Javi P in prison, I think I would deliberately commit crimes to be locked up with him... This was hot AF. Damn hot, and in true Angela style, she captures the essence of that hotness and locks you up tight in it. Oof! 🥵

Juniper - @softlyspector This was an incredibly vivid read of Joel helping you get to sleep, in the only way Mr Miller can. And it was just delicious. I'm still thinking about this one, it's seared in my brain. 🫠

Hey There, City Boy - @sweetenerobert I had a fun cameo in Robert's Halloween Ghostface!Joel fic, and I'm still cackling about it now! Thank you, friend. The story was brilliantly hot and had that familial dread we've all come to know and love from the Scream franchise. And the smut was hella smutting for sure. Spooky Joel shenanigans aplenty! 🖤

Anytime - @undercoverpena Oh, I just fell in love with Javi P even more after reading this. Jo's romantic, friends-to-lovers story here is just beautiful! I urge you to read it because I am still drowning in my feels about it. 🥰

A shout out to lovely @beabliss who has been putting together some hot "things he'd say to you" drabbles. Some of my favourite's have been Marcus Pike & Javier Pena - super hot! Although all the one's she's released so far have been amazing to read, and inspiring too. 🥵

Also want to throw a nod and some love to @wildemaven who has been creating some of the most stunning mood boards I've seen. Again, so inspiring and creative, and some of my favourites so far have been Dieter Hosting SNL, Jackson Librarian Reunites With An Old Lover & Halloween with Dave & The Girls. But honestly, I could favour them all, they're incredible. 🖤

All these amazing fics will be added to my Pedro Character Fic Rec List when I update it next too. I've also created a Kinktober Specific Rec List now from this year, and current years gone by. So many amazing writers have contributed to this yearly theme, and the stories are incredible. Please go check them out. 🫶

☆ What have I been watching/listening to this week?

Blink 182 dropped a new album this week! And I've had it on repeat - A LOT! Growing up they were one of my favourite bands, and I've seen them live too, which was just incredible.

This new album is reminiscent in some ways of their old sound, with punchy anthems, but has some of those grown-up style ballads, similar to their album Neighbourhoods, dotted in there too, and I love it. It's been giving me embryo punk-rock Jett vibes from my college youth. And I'm still in love with Mark Hoppus to this day... 🥰

Some of my favorites from the album are Fell In Love, Terrified, One More Time & Edging.

☆ What have I been up to this week?

I went back to work this week, which was a shock to the system after a week of lay ins and writing a lot. 🥴 Feels like I've hardly done any writing at all this week.

I went out with my mom for lunch and a spot of shopping on Saturday, which was lovely, and I hung with my friends this week too for a belated birthday movie night - I was graced with a Pedro Pascal air freshener for my car... if I crash into a ditch, you'll know why! 😉

C'mon Jack, let's line dance outta here, cowboy!

That wraps it up for this week's whip round. I hope you've all had a good week and enjoy the remainder of the weekend.

Once again, thanks to everyone who sent Asks and left DM's. You guys rock! 🤘🏻

Stay kind, stay creamy. 🖤

🖤

#jett's weekly whip round #agent jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey kingsman #agent jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's fic recs #jett's writing #Spotify

[monin1ca]

Hello! May I request HCs of Jett, Fade, Chamber, and Yoru [Separately] when during a mission and they were about to be eliminated by their Mirror Counterpart until [S/O] [Gender Neutral] [Romantic], a Valorant agent, kills off the counterpart in front of them with the line, “There could only be one…”?

YIPIIEEEE a req, this is a concept I enjoyed writing!! Word count: 1.1k Warnings: poor use of google translate, Topics related to deaths, Cursing, angst, comfort at the end, Reader being badass

Chamber

“Merde.” Chamber wasn’t the type to lose his cool- but at this moment it was inevitable. His double hunting down the trail of blood he left behind after being shot, the golden bullet piercing through his stomach. Currently, he was leaning against some radianite boxes, his gloved hands drenched in his own blood from trying to plug his pierced flesh. ”Vous savez, mon cher doppelgänger, après avoir décroché le premier coup, il a déjà décidé qui gagnerait entre nous. (You know, my dear doppelgänger, after I landed the first shot, it already decided who would win between us)” He heard his own voice speak, the foreign language so familiar.

“Heh. You cocky bastard.” Both men turned in your direction- the enemy Chamber drawing his gun too late. You shot a bullet straight through his head- “There can only be one Chamber, this man is a handful by himself. I don’t need one more of him.” The now limp body fell to the ground. You ran to Chamber’s hiding spot, immediately tending to his wounds. “Mon Ange! What would I do without you?” He tenderly caressed your face, leaving behind a trace of his blood, your face was written with worry and panic. You placed your hand over his, multitasking as you tried tending Chamber’s wound with one hand. 

“Probably die idiot.”

Jett

“Get outta my way!” The enemy Jett shouts from A link, you were currently trying to defuse the spike whilst your dear lover tried to defend you. Jett covers you with a cloudburst and immediately dashes to go fight with her counterpart. “Jett wait-” You panic, the beeping of the spike getting faster and faster. A series of gunshots and updrafts were heard at the entrance, you just praying Jett would still be alive once you were done defusing. The outer part of the spike rose to the top, indicating that it was defused. You sigh out of relief, but you were not done. “Jett? Where are you?!” You whisper yell into the communication device, “A wine, Shit- I’m cornered.”  She whispers quietly, you quietly went to the location. Trying to catch the mirror Jett off guard, You draw your vandal; taking extra precaution to check your corners. 

You saw the mirror slowly about to find Jett in that corner, reacting quickly- You shout, “Ay! Over here!” Her head turned in your direction leaving behind your Jett. Just after shooting one bullet, the enemy falls to the ground; bleeding out on the ground. “There can only be one.” You sigh, feeling slightly guilty about killing someone you love. Even though it was an enemy mirror, “Ayiah! Y/N! Thank you so much!” You hear your lover’s chirpy voice chime, she runs to hug you. You briefly hug her back, and after pulling away you flick her forehead; “You idiot! If I was a second late you would’ve been dead! Don’t do that again please?” The duelist whines and she sticks her tongue out “No promises hehe…”

Yoru

“Yoru you little bitch-” You groaned, your asshole of a lover locked the door. Preventing you from helping with the fight, “It’s dangerous dummy, plus this is my fight.” He says, the door muffling his voice- Though it was clear what he was going to do. You banged on the door, it wouldn’t budge. You heard the rift walker’s footsteps getting farther and farther away, you tsked in anger- ‘Why wouldn’t he let you help him?’ Yoru made his way to the area his double was last seen, meticulously checking every possible corner ever. He sees a glimpse of his double- Not caring to check if it’s a decoy, he runs after it- shooting it. His eyes go blind “くそ (Shit).”, he curses. Yoru was careless and now he was going to pay for it.

In front of him was his mirror, the duplication so close- it weirded him out. You on the other hand found another way to get into the enclosed space, witnessing the scene in front of you. You made your way slowly to the double, Yoru sees this but continues to keep his poker face so as to not alert the enemy. “I can’t believe your my mirror, you were too stupid to fall for that!” The carbon copy chuckles, nudging the gun barrel on your lover's face. “うるさい (Shut up.)” Yoru growls, you were close enough to the enemy to take him down. “You should be the worried one cause-” The clone was cut-off by you choking him with your vandal, Yoru held him down assisting you with the kill. “Nah asshole- YOU should be worried 'cause there can only be one.” You said gasping for air,  who knew choking someone in this way was so tiring? “こいびと (Sweetheart), you didn’t have to do that.” Yoru hums, helping you stand up. You embraced him, “I had to.”

Fade

A familiar prowler attacked Fade, temporarily stunning her, it was darkness and silence only for a few seconds. “Agh-!”  Though stunned, she felt a bullet hit her right shoulder, causing her to gasp in pain. She gathered her senses- being now able to see, she throws her seize. Catching what she assumes to be her double, “Gotcha now, benim iki katım. (Gotcha now, my double.)” Releasing her own prowler to confirm the mirror’s position, the prowler attacks, and now the enemy’s blind. She runs to catch her counterpart off-guard, but to her surprise, no one was there.  She was kicked to the ground, and she groans- feeling the cold end of the barrel against the back of her head. “Did you really think that would work?”

“What d’ya think of my new decoy ey?” Her double says smugly, she could just imagine the cockiness on her face. “You left a prowler there? How cheap.” Fade retorts, in disbelief at how she fell for that trick. Unbeknown to both of them there you were behind, sneaking up behind the two- hoping to save your girlfriend. The mirror cocks the gun, taking off the safety lock. “Any last words?”  The enemy sighs, “Yeah bitch, there can only be one.”  You shout at the latter. Shooting the bullet straight through the enemy Fade’s head, the limp body fell on your lover’s body; earning a hiss from the bounty hunter. “Fade? Are you alright?” Slowly taking the dead body off of her, “Not really- I got a bad shot on my shoulder, take me to Sage. Please?” 

Author’s Note - THIS TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED HELP ME I LOST MOTIVATION HALF WAY HDYASHDLAKSJHD ANYWAYS- Theres a pending request Im about to do so stay tuned for it :))))

#yoru valorant #valorant yoru #yoru x reader #valorant jett #valorant headcanons #valorant x reader #valorant #valorant fade #fade #yoru #chamber #valorant chamber #chamber x reader #jett #valorant imagines

[agendabymooner]

9 to 5 || spin-off (f1 drivers series) - cast + playlist

Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter. The Wolff kids gather the attention of all as they wreak havoc in the paddock and the hospitalities.

Content warning (not updated): family-centric content, tooth-rotting fluff, brief use of explicit language, people trying not to swear in front of children, sickness, Toto scaring half the grid, Hearth sister!OFC x Max Verstappen relationship mentioned, Hearth sister!OFC x Charles Leclerc relationship mentioned.

Note: Chances are I'm going to be publishing these by scenarios? You'll see. I think. Enjoy knowing the original characters! xx

THE ORIGINAL FIVE

Lorelei Hester 'Lester' Alessandro - the italian paddock princess

daniel ricciardo's biggest fan (on-and-off the grid). less messy as of 2023. scared of toto wolff even if she's friends with his wife. also known as Zia Lori, Tante Lori and Aunt Lolo. nanny for the weekend.

Tilly Marie Ford Wolff (née Hearth) - lady boss

the wolff mother. probably gave birth to three toto wolffs. had stolen the hearts of the grid (might do it again by proxy). current situation: at home in london due to baby adelmo's unfortunate case of croup. thank god for toto, she didn't have to spend her weekend worrying about three kids under six.

Stevie Marlene Ford Hamilton (née Hearth) - ferrari's biggest threat

actually the person who keeps encouraging charles to go off in front of the camera since no one in the team would listen to her proposal to give the drivers a proper strategy. also known as Tie Stevie. current situation: cannot attend the baku race weekend due to her own work commitments, leaving toto no choice but watch the kids over by himself.

Sylvie Edson Ford Hearth - red bull's biggest non-driving menace

gives christian horner a run for his money whenever possible (has expressed her blatant dislike for him on tv but she still "respects" him to an extent; she likes toto better). max verstappen's lady macbeth. also known as Aunnie Vie (no 't' in auntie). current situation: cannot cause minor inconvenience in the red bull garage at the moment due to her photoshoot gigs and paperworks waiting for her in her red bull headquarters office.

Aimee Yael Edmundson Hearth - the more-private hearth sister

is on the lookout to make sure that lando norris and oscar piastri doesn't say anything that can jeopardize their own careers. the only sister who doesn't like to be in front of the camera. on toto's protection list. also known as Auntie A. current situation: won't be attending the baku race weekend due to some unknown reason. something about staying in monaco with charles' mother, pascale.

FEATURED CHARACTERS

toto wolff. daniel ricciardo. lando norris. max verstappen. charles leclerc. lewis hamilton. oscar piastri. mick schumacher. logan sargeant. carlos sainz jr. fernando alonso. alex albon. george russell. sergio perez. pierre gasly. esteban ocon. yuki tsunoda.

PLAYLIST (to bop to)

9 to 5 - dolly parton. love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse. the adults are talking - the strokes. honey, honey - abba. be my baby - the ronettes. isn't she lovely - stevie wonder. vienna - billy joel. i love rock 'n roll - joan jett & the blackhearts. put your records on - corinne bailey rae. walking on sunshine - katrina & the waves. smooth operator - sade. hey lover - the daughters of eve.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one smau #formula one x oc #red bull racing imagine #daniel ricciardo x ofc #f1 crack #daniel ricciardo imagine #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fandom #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fic #daniel ricciardo #danny ric #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 imagine

[frozenwafflesagain]

My Ideal TUA S4 Soundtrack:

“Love From The Other Side” by Fall Out Boy

“Mamma Mia” by ABBA (or any ABBA song really)

“Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” by Queen

“The Night We Met” by Lord Huron

“Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance

“Feel It Still” by Portugal. The Man

“Make Your Own Kind Of Music” by Cass Elliot

“Dreams” or “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac

“Midnight City” by M83

“Bad Reputation” by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

“Bennie And The Jets” by Elton John

“Chelsea Dagger” by The Fratellis

An emotional reprise of “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tiffany

Might add to this later, but these are the top picks so far!

Reblog with songs you would love to see in S4!

#I have unrealistic expectations #this list is my dream scenario #and yet I will cling to hope that at least one of them is correct #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy soundtrack #umbrella academy s4 #tua s4 #tua songs

[feelbokkie]

Don’t Let Me Love You | Playlists

pairing:  Felix x fem reader; Chan x fem reader

genre: smau, fake dating, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au

warnings: Possible spoilers?? Or maybe just misdirection

summary: With the upcoming wedding of her cousin and her ex, Y/n is in desperate need of a date for the wedding that will show the happy couple that she moved on.

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

masterlist

The firsts two songs in Chan's playlists aren't going to show up because I had to download them from my iTunes BUT I will link them right here if you want to listen to them

무단횡단 (Jaywalking) by Sung Joon

Wake Up by Sung Joon

*There are some repeated songs between the playlists. Interpret that how you will*

DLMLU Series Playlist (Spotify Link)

DLMLU by Stray Kids

Can't Stop by Stray Kids (Seungmin, I.N)

Heartbreak by Christian Leave

Careful What You Wish For by Bad Omens

Quite Miss Home by James Arthur

Hug All Ur Friends by Cavetown

I Hate Myself for Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

Not Falling Apart by Maroon 5

Sorry, I Love You by Stray Kids

Silent Cry by Stray Kids

The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy

Look After You by The Fray

Catching Feelings by Justin Bieber

Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer

Can't Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli

Temporary Bliss by The Cab

Why Won't You Love Me by 5 Seconds of Summer

Lonely Hearts by 5 Seconds of Summer

Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer

This is Gospel by Panic! At the Disco

Cuz I Love You by Lizzo

Paper Houses by Niall Horan

If I Could Fly by One Direction

Monet Issues by Chase Petra

Not in the Same Way by 5 Seconds of Summer

July by Noah Cyrus

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be by Jess Benko

To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles

Truly Madly Deeply by One Direction

Y/n's Playlist (Spotify Link)

Can't Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli

Everybody Hurts by Avril Lavigne

To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Superficial Love by Ruth B.

Why Won't You Love Me by 5 Seconds of Summer

Pleaser by Wallows

Stay by Post Malone

The Harold Song by Kesha

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

i love you by Billie Eilish

Unloveable by The Smiths

All I Want by Kodaline

Therapy by All Time Low

Please Never Fall in Love Again by Ollie MN

Leave Your Lover by Sam Smith

You Belong With Me (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Falling Out of Love With You by Rome Hero Foxes

Hard to Love by ONE OK ROCK

Still into You by Paramore

Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood

Please Don't Leave Me by P!nk

In Luv With U by Finn

Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John

Schizophrenic Playboy by The Crabnerries

Die In Your Arms by Justin Bieber

I Loved You by DAY6

Cough Syrup (Glee Cast Version) by Glee Cast

Temporary Bliss by The Cab

Fuck You by CeeLo Green

Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer

Felix's Playlist (Spotify Link)

Deep end by Stray Kids (Felix)

Please by Chelsea Cutler, Jeremy Zucker

In Too Deep by Why Don't We

Sunflower by Rex Orange County

I Can't Make You Love Me by Dave Thomas Junior

Therapy by All Time Low

Mr. Loverman by Rick Montgomery

Fergalicious by Fergie, will.i.am

Sweet Creature by Harry Styles

Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects

Gives You Hell by The All-American Rejects

fOoL fOr YoU by ZAYN

All I Wanted by Paramore

I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry

Heartbreak by Christian Leave

Complicated by Avril Lavigne

It's U by Cavetown

Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars

Yellow by Coldplay

Pushin' Me Away by Jonas Brothers

Die In Your Arms by Justin Bieber

I Need Somebody by DAY6

She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5

Can't Help Falling in Love by Christian Leave

She Is the Sunlight by Trading Yesterday

I Don't Love You by My Chemical Romance

Temporary Bliss by The Cab

Can't Stop by Stray Kids (Seungmin, I.N)

Pray (I'll Be Your Man) by BTOB

Chan's Playlist (Spotify Link)

무단횡단 (Jaywalking) by Sung Joon

Wake Up by Sung Joon

i hate to admit by Stray Kids (Bang Chan)

Can't Take My Eyes off You by Frankie Valli

And I Love Her by Kurt Cobain

Bad Diary Days by Pedro The Lion

Love is Dead by Tokio Hotel

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

She Doesn't Love Me by Billy Cobb

I'm a Mess by Ed Sheeran

Breakeven by The Script

Your Song by Elton John

I Hate That You're Happy by Tiny Little Houses

I Miss You by blink-182

Can't Have You by Jonas Brothers

Love Unfinished by Christian Leave

The Truth Untold by BTS, Steve Aoki

DON'T FORGET by iKON

Don't Wanna Cry by SEVENTEEN

It's Definitely You by V, JIN

Missing You by BTOB

Ex by Stray Kids

i love you more than you will ever know by Never Shout Never

The One That Got Away - Acoustic Version by Katy Perry

I'm Lost Without You by blink-182

Lover, Please Stay by Nothing But Thieves

hell is where i dreamt of u and woke up alone by blackbear

i'm in love with u, sorry by j'san

DLMLU by Stray Kids

When I Was Your Man by BTOB

—

Buy me a coffee?

#feelbokkie writes #dlmlu smau #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau #skz smau #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #chan smau #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #felix smau #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin

[matchalovertrait]

Anonymous OC question of the day!

If you could make a character real, which of your OCs would be:

your bestie

your spouse/partner

your secret lover!

your friendly rival

your enemy!

BONUS: do this for other people’s OCs too!

Pass the game along (anonymously or not)

Thank you so much for this ask! I'll answer this with a mixture of my own OCs and OCs of some of my mutuals :)

My bestie: @changingplumbob's Devin Villareal

Let's be real, I'd be just one of her many besties cuz she's so amazing and popular. I love how supportive she is and how she is always there for someone when they need it :) She is the best!

My spouse/partner: @ruthplaysthesims's Tyson Blackwell

Tyson is the total package! Smart, hardworking, a lil dorky, and extremely handsome. He already proposed to me btw 🤩 we're getting married soon.

My secret lover: My Suguru Geto

He doesn't really count because he's from Jujutsu Kaisen, buuuuut I'm not crushing on any of my actual OCs like that lol Also, Tyson hasn't officially proposed to me 🙄 but if he doesn't soon, then I'll have to resort to this guy. Don't make me do it!! Geto has... a few major issues.

My friendly rival: @gooretrait's Dina Caliente

I LOVE Kai's version of Dina Caliente and honestly, I support her 100%. Dina made me realize that I probably would also go for that Goth money if I had the chance 💀 and that I would also possibly fall for Mortimer (I've always thought he looked handsome) and be a good mom to Alexander. Why not? So if Dina was in my way, we'd probably be rivals.

My enemy: @miralure's Ravena Jett

Ravena does have the "Public Enemy" aspiration, so it only makes sense! As much as I love Ravena, I like to admire her from afar lol. We probably wouldn't get along that much 😔 but good thing she's a sim, so I will still be supporting her, hehe <33

Thank you again for asking me this! It was super fun :)

#amy's asks

[imkillerbae]

Enemies to Lovers Part 5 (Valorant Yoru x GN!Reader

Part 4 here.

Been a while since I updated this oneshot that accidentally gained a plot. But I think this will be 7 parts in total? I've written part 6 already but I dont feel like posting it immediately after this. Hope you enjoy!!! And feel free to request something!

tagging: @swiftyangx12

It’s been two months and a half since your first meet up with Yoru in the shooting range. And somehow, it became routine.

It was an unspoken rule that you and him would be there after noon.

Sometimes he was first there, sometimes you were. When one of you were on a mission, the other would still show up.

Somehow the day wasn’t complete for the both of you if you didn’t meet up.

The day would feel empty. Even Yoru felt the itch to at least peek by the windows to make sure you were there, practicing your aim.

He would never admit it to you or himself, but he felt very proud of your improvement (mainly because he was the one who taught you). It was an ego boost that he was teaching someone something that came so naturally to him.

Whenever he wasn’t there, you somehow found yourself easily distracted looking around the place.

While this went on, some people caught a pattern. Cypher, of course. And so did Jett, Neon and Phoenix.

Cypher was intrigued by the rendezvous you both had often, and as a married man, he saw something that even his cameras could not detect: chemistry.

You and Yoru complemented each other.

He was arrogant and spiteful, you were calm and optimistic. Together, you balanced each other out. You helped him to be more empathetic (after your little outburst before), and he taught you not to take shit lying down anymore.

He taught you how to aim, defense and attacking tactics, as well as game sense, and you helped him realize that there was more that he can do with his skills even away from the battlefield: he could teach.

Lastly but definitely not the least, at this moment in his life, Yoru sees you as his anchor. Something routine, something that is constant. In his life where nothing and no one seems to stay, you always showed up. In that little hideout, he felt like you were someone he could always…go back to.

In that room he always felt like he was needed, wanted, and maybe even…

And as for you, from despising him, Yoru became someone you looked up to. He was skilled, and much more knowledgeable than he let on. He was cutthroat but his method made results. People don’t give him enough credit for it. He was proud, sure, but now you know that there is bite behind that bark of his.

Cypher laughs from his room, smirking under the mask. “How about I play cupid for a little bit, eh?”

He waited for a day where Yoru would be late or absent from your regular meet ups. He then slithered his way in the shooting range.

When he entered, you thought it was Yoru so you might’ve said something embarrassing.

“Wow, you’re late. I was starting to miss you,” You joked as you reloaded.

“Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint. I am not the one you are missing.” Cypher giggled, walking with his hands behind his back.

“Oh shoot. Sorry, I thought you were…”

“Ryo? Ah, I’m afraid he is somewhere else. Although I hope you don’t mind my company?”

“Oh, of course, not! It’s been a while anyways, I don’t see you as often anymore,” you smiled. You liked Cypher. He was a mellow guy.

While both of you talked, somehow the conversation went to Chamber.

“I’ve seen the guns he makes. They are beautiful, too bad they’re such a pain to calibrate. Yoru’s been coming back here non-stop, fine tuning that damn thing.”

Cypher’s brow raises as you continue. “You’d think Chamber would be quick, but it is him so maybe he likes things perfect, even if it takes a while.”

“You are mistaken dear. The gun made for Yoru was finished a month ago. He has a different client now.” He interjects.

You gave a questioning look. “Are you sure? Yoru’s still fiddling with that thing and talking about how it’s taking a while with Chamber. He just said that he’d bring it back to him yesterday.”

“My darling, I see everything. Plus, I am his new client. He does not multitask between projects.” Cypher shrugs, tracing his gloved fingers over the golden markings of the gun he is using. “It takes Vincent a week to make a gun perfect for the user. Amazing, no?”

His comment falls on deaf ears as you processed what was happening.

Yoru was lying about the gun he was using. He wasn’t finetuning it. All this time, you thought he was coming back to the range just because of that damn thing.

You’ve connected the dots: He was going here on his own volition, on his own accord, willingly spending his time here teaching you his tricks. All those reasons he gave you were lies.

He wanted to be here with you.

Cypher wondered. How about the other three that noticed something? Were they also playing cupid?

#valorant yoru #yoru x reader #valorant yoru x reader #valorant imagines #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant yoru imagines #valorant yoru oneshot #valorant oneshots #valorant oneshot #yoru #fanfiction #valorant fanfiction #messages #requests

[chou-de-chambers]

Change of Heart

Content rating: Explicit (NSFW) Tags: Yoru x Reader, Yoru x You, fem!reader, reader is a Valorant agent, ex-lovers, slight angst, alcohol consumption, mention of smoking, smut with feelings, unprotected sex (consensual), happy ending, no beta we die like cinematic Cypher Next entry for Kinktober 2022! This one is a gift for my friend slash Valorant duo (best duelist in APAC for me btw) who simps for hair-down Yoru ♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Colorful lights seeped through the thin gaps of the cabinet's door, painting beams on both you and Yoru's tense bodies. It was already late at night; everyone in the party was tipsy from drinking beer (outside of Brimstone's knowledge) and celebrating Phoenix's birthday. Lofi beats hummed through the speakers of the basement garage, enough to set the ambience without bothering the older agents upstairs from their slumber or whatever work they were still busy with. Everyone felt brave enough to dare each other to a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, its players decided through a round of Spin the Bottle. However, you knew yours was rigged, judging from the subtle puff of air you had observed from Jett's fingers as the bottle pointed over Yoru then you.

As much as you loved your best friend, you couldn't help but feel betrayed by how she intentionally partnered you with your ex out of all the people in the room. Jett knew you were trying your best to move on from your recent breakup, your constant worrying and Yoru's stubborn behavior not blending well, yet she still challenged your will by subjecting your bodies this close to each other. You sighed out of nervousness as you and Yoru waited for any signs of life outside, like they're intentionally giving you more than seven minutes of torture inside the dingy garage cabinet. Not like any of them knew history between the two of you- only Neon and Jett had knowledge about your secret of having dated the riftwalker.

There wasn't enough room for personal space. Your hands were pressed onto Yoru's chest, clad in a black leather jacket, its decorative spikes digging into your palms. His hands were pinned on your sides, enclosing you in him. You could feel the heat from both your breaths gathering, causing both of you to sweat profusely. Yoru gulped as your hands slightly moved, him getting threatened by the idea of you noticing his heartbeat pacing.

"Sorry," you whispered, "I just wish we had more room."

"Yeah," Yoru mumbled back, wanting to scratch the back of his neck.

"What's taking them so long, though?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "No idea."

Then silence. Your head remained shifted away as you tried to pick up any activity outside. But in truth, you're just trying to avoid meeting Yoru's gaze. You could feel how his eyes were glued onto you ever since you entered the room. In Yoru's defense, he was longing to take another chance on you. Longing for you. He knew it was his fault your relationship ended, what with him constantly putting you on the edge for every dumb thing he did and refusing to introduce you to his vulnerability. He didn't even want to come to this party until Phoenix begged, just to avoid bumping into you. To avoid the guilt from hurting you. To avoid the pitting hole from not having you.

His efforts to catch your attention though were easy to tell, starting from the way he dressed tonight. Yoru donned your favorite apparel for him, the leather jacket he used to wrap around you during evening bike rides. His hair was even fluffed down, knowing full well that you preferred him that way compared to his usual spiky hairdo. He even wore the necklace with the little hamster pendant you crafted in clay for him. Everything about the way he presented himself tonight screamed for you.

"Uh," Yoru cleared his throat in an attempt to fill the void, "You look cute."

Well that's awkward. "Um. Thanks," you muttered as you eyed the graphic crop top and dark denim shorts you're wearing. You changed the topic though, "I swear they're just messing with us at this point. I'm coming out-"

"Don't," Yoru huffed as he pushed his body even closer to you, "Stay here. With me."

You gulped as his face inched closer until your foreheads were touching. Your fists balled in an attempt to force him away, but he remained as sturdy as a tree. The only thing you managed to do was turn your head to the side, avoiding the possibility of your lips meeting each other. You knew it was bound to happen, Yoru appearing to be more confident given the compromised situation. You didn't sign up for this shit, regret flooding your thoughts from attending this stupid party. How is this gonna help you in any way? You swore Jett was out of her mind. And you made sure she'll pay for this.

You toughened up, your face still away from his, "I don't see the point in staying here with you any longer."

"You hate me that much?" he snickered, playing the role of a tough guy.

"I guess you could say that."

"Give me another chance."

Your eyes narrowed, now crossing with his, "What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I mean."

"Ugh," you groaned in spite, "Your audacity, I swear. You haven't even apologized yet."

Your tone and volume amped higher, high enough for anyone outside to hear. Yoru didn't mean to start a fight from how he had trouble expressing himself. So he followed your advice, "I'm sorry, then."

"See?" you rolled your eyes in disbelief, completely dodging his attempt, "Like always. You had to wait for me to say it before you mean it."

"I'm shitty with social cues," he muttered with a crack in his voice, "You knew I had always been by myself until you came. You were my first."

"Doesn't excuse you from not listening."

"Please just-"

"Enough, Ryo," you answered firmly, the mention of his actual name hinting you're upset, "You're not helping me."

"Sorry." Yoru's sight fled down in shame. He took a few seconds to arrange his thoughts, giving you a moment for yourself, before pouring his feelings out, "But I'm serious: I really want to try again." His right hand fled to hold yours, squeezing it to where the beating of his heart was. Your ears perked from the emphasis in his tone. The riftwalker's voice was soft and enticing, "Just tell me what to do. I'll make it up to you."

Another cricket of silence. This time though, both of you were staring at each other, Yoru taking in this precious moment of being alone with you while you weighed how sincere he sounded. Before you had the chance to respond, the cabinet door swung open, putting you into flight mode and abruptly taking your hands off of him. Yoru did the same. Everyone cheered and teased from how both your faces were as red as a tomato, most of the girls giggling, including Jett who plastered a smirk while eyeing you. Engulfed by embarassment, you shot your best friend an irritated look and walked away.

"Ooh," everyone reacted, pressuring the left alone Yoru as he stepped out of the cabinet. Phoenix nudged him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, the smell of liquor radiating from his slurry speech, "So how'd it go, fam?"

"Screw you to shards, idiot," Yoru spat back, sinking on the couch as he reached for his bottle and swiftly downed what's left of his beer.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Yoru's heel dug onto the spent cigarette butt, distinguishing its flame. He took a few seconds to stare into the starry night sky before coming back inside, hands inside the pockets of his jacket. He knew how much you liked the stars, so he often snuck you out of HQ to a special spot beyond the city with his motorcycle. The way your eyes glimmered were brighter than the twinkling of the stars. He couldn't get the grin out of his face from how your fingers pointed to the sky, pretending to touch each speck. And most of all, your wholehearted laughter that echoed throughout the woods. He tried. Maybe he's just not cut out for you. Maybe he's that unbearable to handle. Like a teenage son, he remembered you call him before you told him it's over. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he reminisced the little time he spent with you earlier. Defeated, his foot kicked the dust off the concrete floor.

To his surprise though, he found you outside his apartment door, wearing nothing but his oversized shirt you forgot to return. Your arms were hugging yourself, face flushed as you averted your gaze away from him. For a moment, he froze, itching to rub his eyes just to check if he was already wasted somewhere in HQ and dreaming, but the rapid beating of his heart confirmed that this right here is reality. Without warning, you were dragged inside his room as his lips crashed yours, your body pinned onto the other side of his locked door. His hands were quick to grab onto your ass, sliding down to your thighs, lifting you up so he could walk both of you to his dim bedroom. Yoru didn't stop wallowing in the passion of your kissing as he tossed both of you on the matress, sheets rustling from your hands hungrily exploring each other. Your tongues danced, tasting the same beer both of you had from earlier's party. Yoru was the first to pull away, peering over the silhouette the moonlight could draw from your pretty face.

"Are you drunk?"

You shook your head to deny it, your hands pulling his face onto yours. He gently brushed them off, "I still need an answer, you know."

You were too shy to admit it- even to yourself- that you still like him. That you still looked out for him despite promising yourself not to. You weren't drunk, but the beer somehow helped you become more honest with yourself. All you did was stare at his lips with your lidded eyes. He noticed, giving you a soft peck to satisfy your need, asking again, "Is this you giving me a second chance?"

You nodded. He gently smiled, something he rarely did, "Kawaii sugiru," and kissed you fiercely this time. This turn of events made it seem like a miracle. Yoru thought about finally thanking the gods for this. No questions asked; he'd grab this opportunity freely handed to him.

His lips remained on yours as he shook his jacket off of him, throwing it on the edge of his bed. You could feel his rough hands sliding up your body, his wrists lifting up your shirt to your chest, revealing your waist down. You bit your lip from how he grinded his bulge onto you, the friction from his denim pants rubbing between your legs. He whispered onto your ear, "Stop pretending like it's our first time doing this. You know you can let it out. Our rooms are soundproof, baka, " then his lips traced down the area underneath your jaw, one of your most sensitive spots, rewarding him with moans from you. His grinding onto your core sharpened, driving you crazier than you already are.

"Oh, Ryo-" you breathed out, gripping onto the back of his shirt.

"Fuck," he groaned through the curve of your neck before kneeling up. His beady eyes admired the tangled mess you became, his hands doing quick work on taking off his clothes. Yoru let out an exhale from the way your hands traced each one of his scars that adorned his torso- scars he earned from Shibuya gang fights in the past and some that developed from his riftwalking. He noticed the worry on your face once again, an expression he wouldn't want to gain at this kind of occasion, and attempted to distract you by pulling down your panties. He cursed in Japanese, thrilled from the sight of your wet sex and the image of his hard cock diving into it.

"And here I thought you weren't happy to see me," he smugly commented as the tips of his fingers grazed onto your wet folds.

You covered your face in embarassment with his pillow as you whined, "Ryo, stop..."

He chuckled, obviously winning from how you fed his ego with your reaction. The pillow on your face got quickly discarded and thrown on the floor. His other hand grasped your chin, averting your face towards his conquering figure and gifting you with a passionate kiss again. He loves the feeling of your soft lips on his. It's one thing he missed the most from you. You felt a calloused finger enter your craving hole, making you beg for a pause to moan. Yoru denied your plea by shoving his tongue into your open mouth and adding another finger pumping inside you. You whimpered from each thrust he did, your walls getting more slippery. Release felt so close. "Ryo, I'm close-"

Then Yoru pulled out, momentarily licking the sweetness of your juices on his fingers, then lifted you onto his lap. He smirked from seeing your brows knit together.

"You're cruel," you pouted as you squeezed on his bare shoulders. His hand held onto yours, guiding it towards his erection. Your fingertip caressed its head, feeling the warmth of his precum, drawing out a lustful gasp from him. Yoru's wish was clear and you complied by wrapping your hand around his thick shaft, stroking it up and down. He pulled you in for a hot kiss as you gradually paced your hand's movement. The low groans that vibrated from his throat were satisfying for you to hear, like he's under your mercy. This was enough to make it even.

When his lips parted from yours, his hands held your cheeks, and the tender look from his eyes relayed a familiar message: Yoru was begging you to go down on him. You kissed the corner of his mouth before descending onto his twitching cock, peppering it with kisses before flicking your tongue over the wetness of its head like a treat. He hissed at the pleasure, his hand gripping onto your loose locks. Slowly, you took his entirety in your mouth until its tip reached the back of your throat. You felt his hold on your hair tighten, urging you to move. You did so by bobbing your head up and down until it was Yoru controlling you. Your tongue ran underneath his shaft with every movement of your head, leaving him euphoric to the point that his hips began rocking. Yoru's head snapped back from the overwhelming bliss as he cried curses in his native language, and the sight of him all sweaty and lewd like this motivated you to pleasure him even more. He'd often act tough outside, but you've always wished that he'd share his weaknesseses to you.

You felt your hair being pulled. You willingly obliged, releasing his cock from your mouth then gently pushing him to lay down on the bed. You knew Yoru loves it when you're on top, so you straddled his hips and slowly sank onto his girth, eyes focused on his. Both of you missed this feeling of being connected to each other as you moaned in unison. His hands met yours, fingers intertwined before pulling you closer to him. While you were still relishing on the feeling of him inside you, he whispered in a husky voice, "Go on, move. Show me you deserve to feel good."

His sudden retrieval of power from you turned you on, coaxing you to rock your hips, eliciting deep grunts from him. Yoru's hands fled to your hips, sliding down to your ass, squeezing it as you lowered yourself again on him. His eyes lingered on yours, his senses swallowing every bit of you- from your beautiful body to your melodious moans and fragrant scent of sex that blessed his territory with your presence once again. Everything was at its place. You were with him, and he's glad that he was right where he belonged: by your side. Yoru did his best to intensify your pleasure by fondling your breast with one hand and thumbing your clit with his other hand. You swore your mind was going blank from the way his hands occupied you, especially with him rubbing your core. It kind of made your movement sloppy. A deep chuckle escaped Yoru's lips as he adored your heated expression devoid of any thoughts except for your lovemaking. This urged him to seize your hips and move his instead. The yelp you let out was sultry, and it further motivated him to thrust harder.

Your back arched and your fingers clawed onto the bed sheet, "Ryo, please harder, I'm almost there."

"Me too," he mouthed breathlessly, his thrusts going faster and harder. His release was triggered by the way your walls clenched onto his dick, his warm cum pouring into you as you climaxed along with him. Yoru's hips continued thrusting onto yours, ensuring that every bit of his semen was inside you as a way of marking you as his. He sighed in relief as you pulled yourself away of him, a sight of his seed dripping from your swollen hole. You smiled at him before laying on his chest, his arms enclosing you into a loving embrace.

"So we're back together, yeah?"

You huffed in playful annoyance, "Of course, dummy."

"Just making sure," he said, brushing your hair then planting a kiss on your temples, " Suki desu."

"Love you too, Ryo."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant smut #valorant x reader #valorant yoru #yoru valorant #yoru #yoru x reader #yoru x you #ryo kiritani #ryo kiritani x you #choudechambers writing #kinktober #kinktober 2022

[waynes-multiverse]

Bad Reputation – Chapter 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Series Summary: In a world full of careless supes, powerful people, and corruption on all levels, Y/N’s the typical millennial, trying to make the world a better place one good deed at a time. As a civil rights lawyer in New York City, justice, kindness, and selflessness are her motto. Her patience is tested, however, when none other than America’s ass himself shows up on her doorstep and needs help.

Warnings: +18, strong language (please mind the fandom), angst + crack = crangst, violence & a few death threats, a budding forceful friendship?

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I, uh... words... Okay. How to describe this? Maybe “opposites attract” meets “gun-point friendship to lovers”? This is still in the early days of writing, but I wanted to share this first chapter with you guys as a thank you since I’ve reached 500 followers yesterday and y’all know I can’t do one-shots or keep things short 😂 I appreciate every single one of you so much and I hope you enjoy this little series. It was a lot of fun to write and to play around with a new character (even one we don’t know much about & I wrote this after 3x04). Enjoy, loves! And no, for once this wasn’t inspired by T. Swift but by the Joan Jett song 🤘

Say a big thank you to my sweet @eevvvaa​ for encouraging me to post this months sooner than I normally would have 😉🖤

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

“And we’re done,” the EMT smiles kindly as she removes the needle from Y/N’s arm and carefully places a band-aid over the small puncture wound.

Y/N rolls down the sleeve of her hoodie and rises from the metal examination table, gathering the rest of her belongings. “Thanks, Amy. Have a good night.”

“Don’t forget: plenty of fluids and eat something. I don’t want you to faint again,” Amy reminds her with her infamous concerned brow as Y/N hops out of the back of the ambulance.

“Don’t worry. I have a box of macaroni and cheese waiting for me,” she grins in response, but honestly, it’s nothing to get jealous over. It tastes like the most generic shit ever and nothing like her grandma used to make it.

It’s Wednesday and almost midnight when she strolls home below 14th street into the Village. Street lamps and neon signs guide her way home, tourists and locals crossing paths on sidewalks. New York City is never quiet, especially after midnight, and especially with Vought HQ and all its superheroes nestled right in the heart of the city.

Every Wednesday, she donates blood after work. Hospitals are in dire need of it, not surprising with all the destruction around caused by reckless and careless supes – not that legal action could ever be pursued. She knows. Every second client of hers has been damaged or violated by a so-called hero, but barely a handful of them ever get any compensation for it.

Y/N’s not a superhero and never wanted to be one, even if Mother Theresa paid her a million bucks. Maybe that sort of power would only corrupt her like it seems to do with everybody else, you know?

In other words, Y/N’s simply a woman with a kind heart and a giving spirit. She grew up in suburban Connecticut with two warm-hearted parents and an admirable older brother. She doesn’t live lavishly, only buying what’s necessary and donating the rest. She’s still occupying the same apartment she’s lived in since she attended NYU. It’s a crappy place, hasn’t been renovated since the 80s, but she all too happily still calls it home. The world has become a sinister place ever since greed and corruption took over, but she’s far from willing to give up. If she can better the lives of a handful of people, that’s enough for her. So, she spends every ounce of her free time helping others. She helps organize protests, tutors kids for free at the local youth center, volunteers at homeless and animal shelters, and stops by the retirement home as often as she can to play bingo with old vets.

Y/N doesn’t care that there aren’t any days left for herself anymore. Her self-care is giving time to others. It makes her happy to make them happy, believing kindness is still the greatest superpower of all and time the most valuable gift.

With almost scientific accuracy, she pushes her various keys into all four locks before kicking the badly oiled door to her apartment open and closing it behind her, the rustling of a chain and four locks following. She’s already been mugged five times since her move to the city. No superhero ever came to help, which was probably for the best, considering the building would’ve most likely been leveled.

You’d think she’s kidding, but she’s not. Just during her lunch break, a building in Midtown was demolished to the ground with nineteen people left dead by some airhead supe. Honestly, she’d move, but these idiots have been scattered all over the country by fucking Vought. It’s like an alien race has ceased the planet and declared itself the new rulers of Earth. Everyone else is presented with two options: obey or die, and even if you play along, the chances of being blown into oblivion are still high.

Y/N grabs the pack of Queen Maeve’s Macaroni and Cheese from the pantry and turns on the stove, carelessly dropping the gross contents into a pot. Everything’s branded these days, and it’s even hard to purchase something that’s not decorated with one of those fuckers’ faces. Honestly, they might as well go ahead and burn that shit into her skin. It really doesn’t matter anymore.

While the yellow paste is cooking itself to completion, her mom calls like she usually does when Y/N gets home from work, even stays up late to check in, and always whispers through the speaker so as not to wake her snoring father next to her in the bed. Her mother constantly worries about her, wishes she’d only move back where it’s “safer,” but Y/N knows safe places don’t really exist anymore. Have they truly ever? To her, it seems like they’re a mere illusion people hold onto to sleep better at night.

Suddenly, some continuous thundering pounds on the front door rattle her, and she jolts up, almost dropping the phone in her hands into the pot. The pounding is so goddamn loud and heavy that the whole wall shakes and the thin wooden door comes close to giving in and crashing down.

A few seconds pass before she’s unlocked the door again, phone neatly tucked between her ear and shoulder as she pries the door open, the chain still providing her some necessary safety.

Her brow furrows, head tilting to the side, and her eyes wander up the tall, bulky frame of the stranger on her doorstep. He breathes heavily, stares angrily, and looks…

“Uh, Mom, I gotta hang up. There’s a homeless guy at my door,” Y/N says and mindlessly ends the call, her mother’s “call the cops, honey,” only a faint sound in the distance.

She’s not gonna lie: the dude in front of her looks rough. Long, untamed hair and an even more untamed beard almost entirely hide his green eyes and the freckles on his skin, dirty and ripped clothes (sweats no less) clad his muscular body, and his smell direly suggests a need for a shower. Either way, he seems to be in his thirties and definitely gives off serial killer vibes.

“Can I-, can I help you, sir?”

Look, if the guy needs a shower, some food, and fresh clothes, she’s not gonna turn him away. Everybody needs a little help sometimes or the kindness of a stranger. She’s still got some old attire from her brother lying around that she was going to donate anyway. She probably should call her upstairs neighbor Eddie, though, before she lets the man inside. Although, by the looks of it, the guy seems like he could probably take out both her and Eddie easily at once. Nevertheless, some extra protection never hurts, right?

However, before she can lift her phone to her ear again, the guy’s fingers curl firmly around the rusty metal chain. He yanks it off its hinges, screws propelling to the floor, and violently pushes the door open. The sudden force makes her stumble backward, and before she can utter a single word or catch her balance, he bursts into her apartment.

Her breath hitches as she watches his chest furiously heave and his nostrils flare. “Wait… what are you doing? You can’t just-,” she splutters, the rest of her sentence cut off by his hand around her throat.

He’s quick, too quick to even see him move when he pushes her harshly against the door, his fingers squeezing into her flesh and tightening her airway as her feet lift off the creaking floorboards.

“Can’t do what?” he growls through clenched teeth, a certain cockiness gleaming in his eyes. She’s scared shitless and can tell that little detail only amuses him.

His strength is unnatural and the arrogance on point, so she doesn’t have to think long and hard about who she’s up against. “You’re one of them... Supe…What do you want from me?” Each word pushes out with an exhaustive breath, making her wonder how many she’s got left, the harsh grip on her throat seemingly unwavering.

Quietly and mostly reserved, he stares at her, studies her, as eternal seconds tick away on the clock. She squeezes her eyes shut, a part of her already accepting her fate and repeating the death statistics in her mind. Dying by supe is almost as likely as a heart attack nowadays. She guesses for her it’ll be the former.

But then, absolutely nothing happens. In fact, his grasp even loosens slightly, and as she dares to open one eyelid again, she finds him gazing at her display of family photos on the little side table next to the door. Then he abruptly drops her, her ass rather painfully hitting the ground. She rubs the sore skin on her throat and coughs until her lungs finally refill with enough oxygen at her first deep inhale.

Her eyes then find the supe as he paces curiously through her living room. He stops in front of the window and gazes through the yellowing blinds, pushing them apart with two digits. “You know, this used to be my place. Got it back in the late 70s… off the books. Warhol recommended it to me. He brought the sluts from Studio54 here and fucked ‘em upstairs,” he chuckles over his shoulder and throws her an expectant look like she’s supposed to be impressed by his little history lesson.

Who the fuck is this guy?

“What a… sweet story,” she clears her throat and smiles at him, but she’s sure it looks awkwardly uncomfortable as she slowly gets back onto her feet, her back pressing against the door. Man, she wishes she could disappear right through it. “Look, I get being sentimental, but I don’t care that you’re a supe. I’ll call the cops if you don’t fuck off.”

What follows next can only be described as a death stare before the creases around his eyes soften and his whole body starts to erupt into shakes.

Oh shit… he’s fucking laughing at her. That’s not a good sign.

His laugh is loud and booming as it bounces off the walls. He rubs the tears out of his eyes, still chuckling when he strolls her way. “Gotta admit, I haven’t laughed like that in… well, hell, probably forty years.”

“Gnarly,” she grits sarcastically, and yet her heart is wildly hammering against her ribcage, the sound ringing in her ears like a shrill alarm bell. Maybe it’s the coronary that gets her, after all.

His mouth opens, ready to retort something or swerve into another story, but then he closes it, his eyes flickering to the TV screen as the late-night news report rolls footage of today’s explosion.

And then, she’s certain the heart attack wins because she surely can’t feel hers beating anymore.

Holy fucking shit Christ… She’s fucked, isn’t she?

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Same sweats, Y/N. Why are you even asking? “You killed nineteen people,” she whispers, and it comes out almost incredulously, like the number can’t be real and representatively standing in her living room right now. It’s too fucking surreal.

His head snaps to her, each heavy step towards her pushing his full weight onto the old, wooden floorboards. His eyes are dark, empty, and nefarious, his body threateningly towering over her small frame like the Berlin Wall. She’d love to cower in front of him, but she’s even too frozen for that. “You want to be number twenty, darling?” His hand reaches out, knuckles lifting her chin to meet his gaze. She shivers in fear and flinches away. He smirks and drops his hand to his side. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have no intention of hurting a pretty girl like yourself, okay? Now, all you need to do to make me keep that promise is to shut that fucking mouth and stay outta my way. If you don’t, I might have to crush your skull. Understood?”

She nods with a thick swallow, her mind racing a mile a minute before her brain flatlines altogether.

“Good,” he smiles and ambles to the couch, planting himself in front of the TV. She’s frozen in place, can’t move a limb or a goddamn pinky. She’s not sure she’s even allowed to breathe at this point. All she hears and feels are her thudding heartbeat in her ears and the fear coursing through her veins.

He glances at her from his periphery, rather annoyed, and sighs, “Look, after a goodnight’s sleep to clear my fucking head, I’m gone again and you can return to your pathetic, little life, alright? I just need… a safe place, okay?” He shifts a bit on the couch and looks at her fully now.

“O-Okay,” is her response, not quite believing that word left her mouth. But for a blink of a literal eye, there was a softness flashing across his pupils. “You-, uh, are you hungry? I can order pizza.”

Jesus fucking Christ, is she losing her mind?

He seems to be as baffled by her question as she is. “Aren’t you cooking dinner right now?” He gestures to the pot on the stove.

She grimaces and shakes her head, “Trust me, you don’t wanna eat that.”

“You just found out I killed nineteen people. Do you really care what I eat?”

Well, he’s got her there. She really just wants him to leave her apartment again, but she supposes that won’t happen anytime soon, judging how his ass is firmly planted on her fucking couch. But now, she’s stirred her own appetite for pizza and craves some comfort food on top of it all. The last fifteen minutes have been incredibly stressful, and she’s donated a lot of blood tonight and feels dizzy under the circumstances.

“Okay, let me ask you this,” he interrupts her train of thought when several seconds pass without a response from her, “Are you just offering pizza so you can leave and get help?”

She shakes her head, lips slightly pursed. “No, uh, I was gonna DoorDash it.”

His brow knits, and when she pulls out her phone to show him what she intends to do, he suddenly jumps up from the couch and snatches the device from her hands, almost crushing it in his fist. “Whoa! What weapon is that?”

Confused, she arches an eyebrow at him, “Weapon?” Seriously, who the hell is this guy? He looks way too young to have partied here in the 70s and everything about him seems a little odd and out of place. “That’s a phone,” she points out.

He scoffs, the angry wrinkles on his brow reappearing, “How stupid do you think I am?”

“You want me to answer that honestly?” she snorts and then chokes the laugh when his glare only intensifies. “Look, I promise it’s just a phone, okay? Everyone’s got ‘em. Nothing special about it,” she assures him, and to her surprise, he seems to believe her, his shoulders slumping a little.

“It doesn’t have any buttons,” he grunts and squints his eyes at the device in his large hands.

“Yeah, it’s a touch screen,” she shrugs and observes his lips curl into a pout. God, he almost resembles her grandpa when she gave him a tablet for Christmas. “Can I have it back to order, or do you wanna do it?”

A moment passes between them as he seems to contemplate his options before shooting her a reluctant glance and handing her the phone back. “Nah, I’m sure you can handle it, sweetheart,” he smacks her ass with a smirk and coolly proceeds to saunter to the TV as if he hadn’t just touched her inappropriately.

“Sure,” she replies somewhat bitterly. Any other guy would have already received a lecture and a sprained wrist from her, but she figures an ass grab is not really worth dying over.

While she opens the app and places an order, she watches him as he inspects her TV, his head poking behind the flatscreen. The app announces the pizzas will be delivered in twenty minutes, and as she glances up at the superhero in her living room again, he has moved on to her laptop now. He picks it up, weighs it in his hands before opening it up sideways like a book. All in all, he seems lost and, frankly, slightly panicked.

Yeah… she should ask questions, right?

“Uh, just-…” Upon her utterance, he puts the computer back down on her desk and blinks at her expectantly. “Are you… alright? Like, in the head?”

His eyebrows draw tightly together, and then he rolls his eyes and licks his lips. “What do you mean?”

She twitches her shoulders, hoping she won’t say something stupid that’s going to get her killed. “I, uh, I just mean… maybe you have amnesia or something. Maybe a concussion? Did something happen to you? You remember anyone hitting you over the head?”

“Why are you asking?” he snaps a little impatiently.

“It’s just… the phone, the TV, the computer-”

His eyes widen almost comically as he thumbs back over his shoulder to her desk, “That’s a computer?”

“Yeah, see, kinda the point I was trying to make,” she nods. “No offense, but you seem like someone who’s stuck in another decade. And honestly, you look way too young to have already been alive and partying here in the 70s. Are you one of those supes that doesn’t age? Did you take on someone else’s identity, like a, uh, a mind switch? Or is your superpower time traveling and a wormhole scrambled your brain?”

“Look, I-…,” he scratches the nape of his neck and purses his lips. “Something like that. You don’t need to know the exact details, okay?”

The doorbell interrupts their talk, and she quickly rushes to accept the food. For a second, she thinks about dashing out that door and calling for help, but she doesn’t want to get the delivery guy killed with her. She puts the two boxes on the coffee table, the supe instantly plopping down on the couch and grabbing himself a slice. The way he hums in delight around the melted cheese and crust makes her think it’s been a while since he had a decent meal.

“Uhm, if you want, you can use the shower. I have some fresh clothes that should fit you, too,” she offers him and softly clears her throat to catch his attention. “Nothing fancy. Just some old ones from my brother.”

“Thanks,” he states gruffly and then continues to eat and watch TV.

She cleans up the kitchen a little, removes the vomit-looking food from the pot, and mostly stays out of the superhero’s way. After he’s done with his pizza, he wordlessly locks himself in the bathroom while she tells him a fresh set of clothes is already lying on the hamper. He showers for approximately fourteen minutes before she hears him cursing when the water finally runs cold. She’s turned the TV off in the meantime and prepared the pull-out couch for the night, only the dim and flickering kitchen light remaining to illuminate the apartment. The door to the bathroom then opens, steam flowing through the crack as her eyes slowly wander up his frame.

Admittedly, he looks a lot better once he’s cleaned himself up, her brother’s old Giants jersey and sweats fitting him like a glove. The hair and beard still remain a wild mess, and even the supe seems to think so as he rubs his chin rather uncomfortably and then looks up at her.

“Oh, uh, I can get you a razor tomorrow,” she tells him. He nods silently, and yet, she can detect a little gratefulness gleaming in his green orbs. Still, she reminds herself he murdered nineteen people and only threatened her an hour ago. As she dries the last plate over the sink, however, he walks to the fridge and grabs himself a beer, examining the label closely before popping the bottle open and gulping it down.

“I’m Ben,” he suddenly says, and her eyes almost spring wide open because she’s so surprised by the information he decides to share. A small part of her already bet on that he’d likely kill her in her sleep tonight.

“Wow, uhm, no stupid superhero name?” she questions, bites her bottom lip instantly, and honestly doesn’t understand why she keeps engaging him. She should count her blessings that she’s still breathing at all.

“I think it’s best if you don’t know that either, darling,” he replies and then stares at her intensely before she realizes he’s waiting to hear her name.

“Oh, uh, Y/N,” she swallows and then abruptly backs out of the kitchen. She doesn’t exactly know why, but his presence is making her feel fairly uncomfortable – and not just because of the killer look in his pine green eyes. “Uhm, I’m gonna go to sleep. I left a pillow and blanket on the couch for you. I’ll take the bed since I pay rent and you better not crawl into mine while I’m asleep. Got it?” she tells him in a sharp tone, wondering where the fuck that courage is coming from and immediately feeling like she’s going to pass out.

He bobs his head, tongue licking over his plump lips as he guides the beer bottle away from them. There’s slight amusement detectable in the corners of his mouth. “Alright… But you’re aware I could easily kill you and just take the bed, yeah?”

To his bewilderment, though, she plainly shrugs her shoulders and bravely meets his gaze, “Honestly? At this point you’d be doing me a favor.”

When he only nods and nurses his beer in silence, she finally escapes into her bedroom and closes the door firmly behind her, locking it for good measure, although she knows that won’t do shit to keep out a supe if he ever changes his mind about her living status during the night.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How is she supposed to get outta this one alive?

Chapter 2

Please do let me know if you want more of this! I’m a little goofing around with this series and having fun. It’s got a bit of everything in it and if you know my writing and my humor by now, you probably can guess what this series will be like 😝 Don’t worry, tho – there’s no excessive slow burn, but as you can tell reader needs a little time to adjust to her hostage situation 🙈

Tags:

Real Heroes (Dean/Jensen Tag): @deanwanddamons​​ @flamencodiva​​ @panicking-outside-the-disco​​ @deandreamernp​​ @avanatural​​ @eevvvaa​​ @writercole​​ @gshade22​​ @poptart06294​​ @supraveng​​ @sexyvixen7​​ @that-one-gay-girl​​ @lyarr24​​ @msmarvelouswinchester​​ @akshi8278​​ @spnbaby-67​​ @xlynnbbyx​​ @mimaria420​​ @thoughts-and-funnies​​ @dark-night-sky-99​​ @wittyboldsoul​​ @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​​ @imherefordeanandbones​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​ @snowlovespie​​ @leigh70​​ @maggiegirl17​​

#bad reputation #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy series

[jeannyanswers]

Hello :)

I would love to see an example of a school playlist! (Doesn’t have to be lofi)

Hey there Anon!

So in this post I talked about ways to romanticize school and one of them is to create different playlists for different vibes. I’m just going to give you a few songs per playlists so that this post doesn’t become too long, but I hope you’ll enjoy them ♥️

Getting ready in the morning (still trying to wake yourself up)

Suddenly I See ~ KT Tunstall

Someone New ~ Kakkmaddafakka

Feather ~ Sabrina Carpenter

love is embarrassing ~ Olivia Rodrigo

Ein bisschen mehr Liebe ~ RAUM27

Umazane Misli ~ Joker Out

Lunchtime ~ Spacey Jane

Daylight ~ Harry Styles

Juice ~ Blæst

SUPERMODEL ~ Måneskin

Oft gesagt ~ RAUM27

3005 ~ Childish Gambino

Dice ~ Leoniden

Restless ~ Kakkmaddafakka

Walking/driving to school (main character vibes)

Brazil ~ Declan McKenna

Bad Moon Rising ~ Creedence Clearwater Revival

I Walk This Earth All By Myself ~ EKKSTACY

Retro (Rough) ~ Childish Gambino

End of Beginning ~ Djo

Think About Things ~ Daði Freyr

Plattenbaum ~ RAUM27

Morirò da re ~ Måneskin

pretty isn’t pretty ~ Olivia Rodrigo

Crazy Little Thing Called Love ~ Queen

Obvious Guy ~ Alfie Templeman

betty ~ Taylor Swift

Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa ~ FINNEAS

For Elise ~ Saint Motel

Day ‘n’ Nite ~ Kid Cudi

Studying during your free period (mysteriously sitting in a corner)

Killer Queen ~ Queen

I Want To Hold Your Hand ~ The Beatles

Fortunate Son ~ Creedence Clearwater Revival

Shattered Dreams ~ Johnny Hates Jazz

I Wanna Be Sedated ~ Rockaway Bitch

Sympathy For The Devil ~ The Rolling Stones

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy ~ Queen

Harness you Hopes (B-side) ~ Pavement

The Joker ~ Steve Miller Band

She Drives Me Crazy ~ Fine Young Cannibals

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper ~ Blue Öyster Cult

Walk This Way ~ Aerosmith

Another One Bites The Dust ~ Queen

Go Your Own Way ~ Fleetwood Mac

You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet ~ Bachman-Turner Overdrive

Glass Onion ~ The Beatles

Coming home after school (letting out the frustration)

Brutal ~ Olivia Rodrigo

KOOL KIDS ~ Måneskin

Bad Reputation ~ Joan Jett

Celebrity Skin ~ Hole

Vermiss dich ~ RAUM27

Just a Girl ~ No Doubt

Dark Side ~ Blind Channel

Funeral ~ Leoniden

LA FINE ~ Måneskin

All American Bitch ~ Olivia Rodrigo

For a dark academia vibe

Waltz No.2 ~ Cihat Askin

Time Will Come ~ Tol-Puddle Martyrs

Dance of the Knights ~ Sergei Prokofjew

Lacrimosa ~ (performed by) Vienna Mozart Orchestra

Danse Macabre, Op. 40 ~ Camille Saint-Saëns

Honestly anything by Aija Alsiņa she’s amazing

Or anything by Igor Levit, he’s great too

Calming down in the evening

Booster Seat ~ Spacey Jane

Kill Bill ~ SZA

Twilight Time ~ The Platters

War With Heaven ~ keshi

Bring It On Home To Me ~ Elvin Bishop

Galapagos ~ Kakkmaddafakka

0471 ~ RAUM27

Glitch ~ Taylor Swift

lacy ~ Olivia Rodrigo

Little Sad Eyes ~ The Castells

My favourite Albums to study too

SOUR ~ Olivia Rodrigo

emails i can’t send ~ Sabrina Carpenter

Because the Internet ~ Childish Gambino

Kauai ~ Childish Gambino

Bridge Over Troubled Water ~ Simon & Garfunkel

Hozier ~ Hozier

Stick Season (Forever) ~ Noah Kahan

folklore ~ Taylor Swift

evermore ~ Taylor Swift

Harry’s House ~ Harry Styles

To Feel Something At All ~ KYTES

Happiness in Liquid Form - EP ~ Alfie Templeman

Anfangen Anzufangen ~ RAUM27

AM ~ Arctic Monkeys

Rumours ~ Fleetwood Mac

#okay so this post still ended up being super long #I just had a lot of fun whith this #I know you’re supposed to listen to music without words while studying #but personally I prefer songs with words while doing most of my studying #when I really need to focus I listen to either soundtracks or lofi #ask blog #anon ask #ask #student life #student #school #school life #romantizing life #romantizing school #becoming that girl #it girl #self improvement #that girl #best version of yourself #girlblogging #music #my playlist #playlists #music playlist #playlist curator