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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 2

This was a collaboration with my dearest @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: After you and Eddie have given into your feelings for one another, complications arise that were never part of your fantasies.

Note from Red: The love I received for part one of this story blew me away. I absolutely could not believe it. It was a labor of love and the fact that so many of you wanted more just made it even better. Thank you all for your love and kind messages. Feel free to keep requesting stories from this universe 💕

Note from Bug: I’m so grateful that Red allowed me to collaborate with her on this amazing series. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), infidelity, age gap (reader is 20, Eddie is 32)

Words: 7k

Part One | All stories in this verse

“Fuck, Eddie!”

You’re in the back of his car—correction, Brittany’s car, since she’d told him to bring it to the shop and fix a busted taillight. If it was anyone else, you would’ve assumed she’d asked him, but with Brittany, you knew it was a demand. You straddle Eddie’s waist, his grease-smudged coveralls and plaid boxers shucked down to his ankles; your skirt is pushed up to your hips, panties somewhere on the floor. Eddie had practically ripped them off once you two were alone.

Eddie’s lunch break happened to coincide with the end of your classes for the day, so you’d happily gone to visit him at work. When his eyes first landed on you and dipped down to your skirt, you knew what you were going to spend the hour doing.

It had been two weeks since the night you first slept together, and it was the happiest two weeks you could ever remember having. Of course, the kids didn’t know what was going on, so it was important to both of you to keep up the façade of your usual relationship in front of the boys. Since Brittany came home from work shortly after Eddie, that didn’t give the two of you any time alone without the boys around. That meant there were stolen kisses, longing looks, or lingering touches when the boys weren’t paying attention. Brittany knew, obviously. She knew from that first night when she’d come out of the master bedroom and practically threw your jeans in your face and all you did was wink at her. What could she say, though? Nothing that wouldn’t make her a hypocrite along with an adulteress and pathological liar.

Eddie’s thrusting up into you now, pinning your hips down so he can get impossibly deep inside you. “Holy shit, sweetheart,” he pants, sucking a harsh bruise into your chest. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and you’ll make me blow my load.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you moan; half teasing him and half because he just feels so damn good. You bounce on his cock, matching his rhythm. He’s already given you two orgasms, and you’re approaching your third. His thick finger makes its way to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it, and you cry out at the overstimulation. “P-Please, Eddie; can’t take much more.”

“You’ll—fuck—take whatever I give you,” he orders through gritted teeth, but his eyes tell you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bracing yourself for him to quicken his pace so he can finish.

“Eddie,” you moan out again—and he wasn’t lying before. The sound of you saying his name again has his hips snapping up against yours, and the feeling of his cock twitching against your walls lets you know he’s about to come. His finger keeping a strong pressure on your clit, you bury your face in his neck as you feel your orgasm start to wash over you. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

It’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s spilling inside of you, hips stuttering against your own as he works you both through the pleasure. You press kisses against the side of Eddie’s neck as you start to come down from your high, smiling against his sweaty skin. His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and instead of the bruising pressure he now rubs his fingers up your sides.

“Y’with me, baby?” He smiles, kissing you again. This time, his touch is tender and loving, a stark contrast to his animalistic hunger just moments earlier. “God, you’re so beautiful when you come for me. You’re always beautiful, but, I mean, damn.” He licks his lips, making you giggle. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be with you, I swear.”

“Funny,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder. “I lay in bed at night thinking about how I’m the luckiest girl in the world. After I make myself come while thinking of you, that is.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Not gonna need to do that tonight, huh? Did I wear you out, pretty girl?” His calloused hands against your soft skin have goosebumps breaking out along your flesh.

“Yes,” you say, body still thrumming from the three orgasms. Picking your head up from his shoulder, you give him a sly smile. “Not bad for an old man.”

“Old man?!” he sputters, faking offense. “Baby doll, I’m 32 years young.” You stick your tongue out at him, reveling in the giddiness that being with him brings, and he leans over and licks your nose.

“Ew!” You can’t stop laughing, making it nearly impossible to kiss him like you want. “You boys never grow up, huh?”

Eddie flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Nope!” He smacks your ass and helps you readjust your skirt. “C’mon, we can split a sandwich for lunch. Bet my girl worked up an appetite.” He winks at you, and your stomach flutters at the words my girl. There’s a pang of disappointment with it, too, because you’re not really his girl. If you were, you wouldn’t be relegated to fucking in secrecy.

“Um, Eddie?” you murmur as he starts to open the door. “I’m, um, missing something.” When he looks at you with a puzzled expression, you whisper, “have you seen my panties?”

“Oh, shit,” he says, hand abandoning the door handle. He helps you look around the floor of the car, barking out a laugh when neither of you finds them. “What the hell?”

“How did they just disappear?” you ask, brow pinched in concern. Standing up as much as you can in the cramped space, you lean into the front seat to look. Eddie glances up and abandons the search when he gets a look at your pussy, his cum still leaking out.

“Fuck, what a view,” he muses. Looking over your shoulder at him, you roll your eyes and plop back down in the seat next to him. You swat him on the chest, and he catches your wrist, leaning in to press kisses to the side of your face as he laughs. “Think you’re gonna have to go home and get a new pair before you pick the boys up from school. And maybe some pants instead of that skirt, too. Unless you want me pulling you into my room and telling the boys I have to have a nice, long talk with you.”

“Hmm,” you grin, biting your lower lip. “It would be nice to have sex in a bed instead of the backseat of a car.” Of her car, nonetheless.

Eddie laces his fingers through yours and pulls you towards his chest. “How about,” he starts, leaning his head on the headrest, “I get us a hotel room one of these days. We stay up all night, sleep in real late, and then order room service for breakfast in bed.”

“That sounds incredible,” you agree, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “When can this little vacation happen?”

“This weekend?” he suggests, but the light in his eyes dims as quickly as it appears. “Shit, wait. I told Brittany I’d wait at home for the plumber while she…does whatever the fuck, with whoever the fuck.”

Brittany. Brittany Brittany Brittany. You want to feel sympathy for him, but you just can’t. A scream lingers in your throat, but you swallow it down. “No, I get it.” But you don’t. You don’t understand how he can have someone who cares about him, who loves him, right in front of him, and continue to stay with the woman who breaks his heart time and time again.

“Rain check, baby? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He gives you those puppy dog eyes that you’re pretty sure could have him getting away with murder. You hate that it works on you so well, but it does.

“Guess since you just gave me three orgasms, I’ll say okay.” Even if you don’t want to. But for now, you’ll let it go. “Now, where’s that sandwich?”

The rain outside provides a calming sound as you’re curled up on the Munson couch, Ryan tucked into your side as he reads to you from his favorite book. He’s so proud that he got an A on his spelling test today and his excitement is contagious. So, when he asked if you wanted to know what his favorite book was about, of course you’d said yes. Or rather, his favorite book this week.

“When the puppy ran down the street, the little boy chased him,” Ryan reads to you. Luke is sitting on the carpet near your feet, tongue poked out in concentration as he fashions his Legos together to make, what you assume, is supposed to be a fire truck.

The doorknob rattles and your stomach jumps for joy as Eddie makes his way inside. He shakes his hair out like a dog coming out of the bath, and it makes both the boys giggle. You just watch him adoringly and he shoots a wink your way when he notices.

“My boys!” He holds his arms out wide, and Luke and Ryan bolt over and give him a giant hug. “How were our little rascals tonight, baby—uh, babysitter?” His cheeks flush red as he realizes his slip-up; luckily, the boys don’t seem to notice.

You clear your throat. “Just the absolute worst,” you joke, watching their little jaws drop at your response. “Destroyed the house, yelled and screamed the whole time, and refused to do any of their homework.” You hold out your hand, keeping a straight face. “Just pay me and consider this my resignation.”

“My angels would never!” Eddie gasps, flinging his arms around your torso and pulling your back to his chest. “Boys, don’t let her leave!” Ryan and Luke cackle with laughter, each grabbing one of your legs and clinging on for dear life.

“I’m under attack!” You unsuccessfully try to shake the kids off, inadvertently pressing your ass to Eddie’s groin. You’d put on a new pair of panties after your lunchtime tryst, but you kept the same skirt.

Luke grips tighter, his hands now on your thigh. “Hey, Gollum,” Eddie says to him, breaking character for a second, “watch where you’re putting your grubby paws.” Luke nods and brings his hands back towards your knee.

“Thanks,” you whisper to Eddie, your voice barely audible.

“Gotta look out for my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, and you freeze at the pet name. The words sound so lovely coming out of his mouth, directed towards you. But there’s still this little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s not true. And for once, that voice is right.

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking down at the boys. “You got me! I’ll stay!” Ryan and Luke release you, cheers of their victory being shouted as they dance around you. Eddie’s grip loosens on you, and you step out of his arms, crouching down to be at the same level as the boys. “Homework done?” You look at them and they both nod their heads. “Baths?” They both give you sheepish looks and you’ve gotten your answer. “Why don’t you go take your baths now? That way after dinner you can play a game with daddy?” The boys both give their dad excited looks before they slip down the hall and towards the bathroom.

“Volunteering me to play games, huh?” Eddie asks, snaking his arms around your hips once the bathroom door can be heard closing. He pulls his body against yours and your nose wrinkles up when you see all the dirt and oil on his blue coveralls.

“You need to take that thing off,” you say. Immediately, there’s a spark in Eddie’s eyes and a smile’s already on your face before he’s done anything. But you know the crazy tactics his mind comes up with, so you’re curious.

“Take it off, huh?” Eddie says, taking a few steps back from you. His hand goes to his zipper, and he starts to pull it down at a glacial pace. “This would be better if I had some music.”

“Should I put on Madonna? Or maybe Billy Joel?” you tease. His eyes narrow at you as he gets the coveralls down his shoulders. Once his arms slip out, you have to admit that this pseudo-striptease is working for you. Eddie recognizes he’s got you now, and he starts to swing his hips back and forth, which just makes you burst out into giggles.

“What?” he asks, body never pausing in its movements.

“Babe, you know I adore you. You’re handsome, you’re kind, you’re hilarious, a great dad. But you can’t dance.” The laughter spilling out of you has Eddie joining in as well. “It was hot until then.”

“Fine,” he says as he stills his hips. “I’ll just take my clothes off for you then.” You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms over your chest, ready to watch the show unfold in front of you. It’s hard for him to find a sexy way to step out of the coveralls, so he just kicks them off and to the side. When he takes his t-shirt off, he steps forward towards you, rolling the shirt until it looks like a long piece of rope. He brings it to the small of your back and uses it to pull your body up against his.

He smirks down at you and you’re just about to lean in for a kiss when the front door opens. Both you and Eddie turn to look and see Brittany coming in. She slips a raincoat off and hangs it on a peg near the door. When she turns, she freezes as she eyes the two of you. Eddie shirtless, you pressed flush up against him.

“Please tell me the boys aren’t seeing this bullshit?” she asks, as if she suddenly has an interest in the well-being of her children.

“No,” Eddie huffs at her. “They’re taking a bath.”

Her cold eyes scan you up and down before she scoffs and makes her way back towards the master bedroom.

“So, uh,” you back away, letting your gaze drop to the ground, “mood officially ruined.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his curls. “I’m sorry; you should get going.” He picks up the discarded coveralls and digs into his pocket for his wallet, handing you a twenty.

You nod and accept the money, cheeks burning with embarrassment. What, were you expecting an invitation to dinner after his wife just caught you about to suck face? “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he affirms. His expression seems lost, though you can’t quite pinpoint it exactly. You wonder if he feels the same heartbreak as you.

Eddie walks you to the door, giving you one last kiss before you go. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s something tainting it. After Eddie closes the door behind you and locks it for the night, he starts on dinner. The meal goes surprisingly well for an evening in the Munson household. There’s no shouting, no arguing, and Brittany even asked Luke about school. The little boy was clearly shocked but proceeded to tell her about the hamster someone brought for show and tell today. Tucking the boys into bed was suddenly a team effort, more than Brittany’s usual quick kiss on the cheek before practically shoving them into their rooms.

Once they’re both in bed, Eddie grabs a towel and heads into the bathroom for a shower. He closes the door and turns the water almost as hot as it can go. He steps in and does his usual routine. Quick rinse of the body, grab the soap and suds up, then grabs his dick in his hand and starts to think about you.

The way you showed up at the shop in that little skirt, begging to be touched. The way your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you rode him. The way you said his name over and over like a prayer—dammit, Madonna was right. He lets out a terse laugh, making a mental note to tell you tomorrow.

“Y’like that, baby?” Eddie groans softly, tugging on his hardening length. “Like the way I fill up all your holes, hm? Gonna take it all for me, my good girl?” He imagines you on your knees in front of him, obediently swirling your perfect tongue around his sensitive head as he fucks your face. “What’s that, sweetheart? You want it in your mouth? God, you’re so fuckin’ good to me.”

He stops for a second, practically edging himself, before running his slick palm over his shaft again. “But I really need your pussy tonight, baby. Need that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Jus’ like that, fuck.” He’s got a mental image of you bent over, leaning on the hood of a cherry red convertible, that damned skirt pushed up as he pistons into you from behind. “Yes, yes, oh, fuck YES!” Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into his hand and onto the shower tile as Eddie moans your name out louder than he intended. He freezes as the bathroom door swings open. There’s a pause, then a few footsteps closer to the shower, then the door closes.

“If you’re gonna fantasize about the kids’ babysitter, at least don’t let them hear. Can’t have them growing up and acting like you.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches and he lets his softening cock fall from his hand. He tries so hard to let the things she says roll off his back, but sometimes he just can’t help it. “Acting like me, huh?” He rinses his hand off and wipes his cum from the shower wall. “You mean, working hard trying to support my family?” He snatches his shampoo bottle up and squeezes some into his palm. “Wanting to spend every free second with my kids? Yeah, what a shame that would be.” Eddie scrubs the shampoo into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp as he works the citrus scented foam through his locks.

“No, I mean the part where you seem to think you’re in some porno film, fulfilling some sick fantasy. You realize she’s a kid, right?”

“She’s not a fucking kid,” Eddie snaps, pulling the shower curtain back just enough to glare at Brittany. “Can I finish my shower in peace, please?”

Brittany shrugs, holding her hands up in front of her. “You’re the one who sounded like you wanted some company in here.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he mutters under his breath, staying quiet for the boys’ sake, not hers.

Coming home from work has always been Eddie’s favorite part of the day. How could it not be when he knows he gets to see you and his kids when he gets there? But ever since you and Eddie got together—if you could even call it that—he loved coming home even more. He couldn’t tell you the last time he came home from work to be greeted by Brittany, happy to see him. It’s been at least two years.

But that’s exactly what happens when Eddie gets home today. His heart plummets when instead of your gold car in the driveway Eddie sees the red one that he just fucked you in the other day. Begrudgingly, he steps inside the house, ready to focus on his boys and only his boys. Eddie is in for the shock of his life though, when Brittany flounces up to him and presses a kiss to his lips. When was the last time that happened?

“Hi, honey,” Brittany says in a sickeningly sweet voice. The smile on her face is a mask, Eddie knows. She’s been lying to him for long enough that he’s able to tell.

“Um, hi,” Eddie says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Thought I’d start the weekend a little early with my boys.” She takes the keys from Eddie’s hand and puts them on the table in the hall next to hers before slipping her hand into his. Eddie’s becoming more and more confused by the second. “Why don’t you get washed up and we all go out for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m kind of tired,” Eddie says, which isn’t a lie. But mostly he just doesn’t want to go out with her. “Do you mind if we just stay in? We can order takeout?”

“Whatever my husband wants,” Brittany says, a fake smile plastered on her face as she tugs Eddie along behind her. “Now, you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish up helping the boys with their homework.” Indeed, as Eddie walks past the kitchen to get to his bedroom, the boys are both at the table, pencils scratching away on paper.

Luke and Ryan tell their parents about their days while the family sits around the table, devouring Chinese food. It’s what Eddie’s always wanted–family dinners, sharing stories–except something still doesn’t feel right.

“And then Tyler kicked the ball, and it hit Jimmy right in the stomach!” Ryan exclaims, eyes wide as he relays the events of recess. “Jimmy almost threw up his lunch, and we had macaroni and cheese today, so that would’ve been nasty.”

“Super nasty,” Luke echoes, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“That’s nice, honey,” Brittany responds absently, spearing a piece of sesame chicken with a plastic fork. “Glad you had fun at school.”

Eddie catches the confused look on his eldest son’s face. “I think Mommy means that the whole thing sounded exciting.” He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to cover for his wife, but it seems to placate the situation for now.

After everyone is full, Brittany cleans up while Eddie gets the boys ready for bed. After their usual routine, including an extra two bedtime stories, they finally fall asleep. Eddie kisses each of their foreheads, silent apologies for their mother’s behavior at dinner.

All he wants to do is go to bed, get a good night’s sleep–maybe dream about you–but Brittany’s waiting in their room in a black lace teddy. It’s been a long time since they’ve had sex, so he’s understandably caught off-guard.

“Hi, baby,” she coos, dragging a painted fingernail down his chest. “Wanna have a little fun tonight?” She presses her body against him, and Eddie could kick himself for involuntarily starting to get hard. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She brings her lips to his neck, smearing her lipstick on his collarbones.

“N-Not now,” Eddie stammers out, frozen in place.

“C’mon,” she protests, grabbing his erection and making him hiss at the sensation. “I know you want another baby. Why don’t we get started tonight?” She nibbles at his earlobe, whispering, “want you to get me pregnant, Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back before she can fully draw him in. She’s so familiar; it would be too easy to fall into bed with her and pretend like nothing’s wrong. Just the average married couple making love on a Friday night. But he can’t do it anymore. “No, Britt. I…I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Brittany’s sensual expression quickly turns to anger. “Seriously?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ll fuck the babysitter, but not your wife?”

“Can you stop calling her the babysitter?” Eddie retorts. “She has a name.”

“Yeah, I know; I heard you moaning it in the shower last night,” Brittany scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you. You’re willing to throw away the life we’ve built together, forcing your kids to have a broken home, all so you can live out some twisted fantasy with a girl who’ll dump you once she finds a younger model?”

He’s stunned into silence. He knows all too well what a broken home looks like; he remembers the utter chaos of his parents’ rage before he went to live with Wayne. The nights where his mom would scream at his dad until her voice was hoarse and scratchy or until he drove off to God-knows-where. He’d never wanted that for his own children.

“You know what?” Brittany’s shrill voice punctures his rambling thoughts. “Fuck whoever you want. I don’t care anymore.” She stomps towards the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her, making Eddie grimace. He waits for one of the kids to wake up from all the clamor, but no one comes in the room.

It’s not until after he’s gone to bed that his worst nightmare occurs to him: they’re already used to it.

You’ve barely slept since Brittany caught you and Eddie about to kiss; your brain is overwhelmed with anxiety. You feel like some kind of slut, messing around with a married man, regardless of how awful his wife is. And it’s pathetic how easily you’ll do whatever he asks, desperate to keep him, when he’s never fully belonged to you in the first place.

You’re being selfish, wanting him all to yourself. He has a whole family, and you’re just a way for him to get what Brittany isn’t giving him.

You have to talk to him. You have to know where he stands. He cares about you, that much is obvious. But is it enough?

Since he told you he was going to be home on Saturday to wait for the plumber, you know this is a good time for you to go over. The kids will most likely be there, but hopefully you can somehow squeeze in some alone time to talk to Eddie. The whole ride there your stomach is in a nervous knot. This is what you wanted, your brain tells you. You wanted him to kiss you and care for you and sleep with you. But maybe it was worse to have a taste if you could never really have the whole meal.

Hand shaking as you raise your fist to knock, you try to steel yourself. It’s still Eddie you’re talking to. The same caring and loving man that you’ve been dreaming about forever.

When he answers the door, you can tell he was expecting you to be the plumber. But his face switches from polite smile to full out glee in a fraction of a second. It knocks the breath out of you because you know you’re the only one lucky enough to have that smile aimed your way.

“Hey! This is a nice surprise,” Eddie says. He grabs your hand and tugs you inside. One arm wraps around your waist while the other closes the door behind you. The kids must not be nearby because he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a plumber. Here to check my pipe?” The smirk on his face is so endearing and playful that you almost want to abandon the conversation you need to have with him. Deep down you know that you can’t, though.

“Mm, maybe later,” you say, resting your hands on his chest. “Where are the boys?”

“In Ryan’s room. Either they’re playing quietly, or they’ve killed each other,” he jokes, but he becomes solemn when he sees that you’re not laughing along. “I-I’m kidding; they’re both very much still alive.”

“I need to talk to you about something, Eddie.”

His mind spins all over the place in a matter of moments, trying to read on your face what could be wrong. His eyes scan up and down your body, assessing if you’re hurt anywhere. But as his eyes move back up to your face, a thought flickers to life in his mind as he gazes at your stomach. Unable to tamper down the joy that comes at the mere thought, a smile graces his lips.

“Are you..?” He trails off, eyes darting back towards your stomach.

“What?” you ask, before catching his meaning. “No! Oh no, Eddie, I’m not pregnant.” The way the smile melts off his face makes your heart lurch in your chest. He really wants to have a baby with you? He got that excited after only being “together” for two weeks?

“Oh,” he says, disappointment clear in his voice. “Well, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you grip his hand in yours and lead him over to the couch. His eyebrows are furrowed as he sits down next to you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. The concern in his eyes feels the opposite of butterflies in your stomach. It feels like moths were drawn to the light only to be killed by a bug zapper. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Shit, you really should’ve figured out how you were going to start this conversation.

“I, um, I need to tell you how I’ve been feeling,” you say. “And I want to know how you’ve been feeling, too.”

“Okay,” Eddie drags out the word, a frown creasing his forehead. “Are you all right?”

You’re not sure what the honest answer to that question is. “I’m feeling guilty, Eddie. B-Because you’re still married. And I know you care about me, but you have a family here. Am I just…” you break off and take a deep breath. “Is this thing between you and me only because you want the attention and affection that you’re not getting from Brittany?”

“What?” Eddie’s baffled by the question. He shakes his head, trying to make things make sense in his mind. “You think I only want you for what my wife isn’t giving me? What, you think I just want to sleep with you?”

“That’s not exactly…” Again, you trail off, not sure what the right words are. “It’s just that you haven’t really made any steps towards leaving her. I’m not saying to pack up your stuff and leave. But…I just want to see you doing something, I guess.” You fidget with your thumbs. “I can be with you, or I can be your kids’ babysitter. But I…I can’t be both anymore.”

Eddie massages the bridge of his nose as he contemplates his options. “I want you,” he states plainly, “but it’s not that simple.” He thinks of what Brittany said last night, about breaking up his family. His boys having to split their time between Mom and Dad.

His hesitation gives you all of the answers you need. “I’m not asking you to choose,” you tell him. “I…I’m telling you that I can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to force something that isn’t meant to happen. I just have to take care of myself.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes mist over. “No,” he mumbles, gnawing on his lower lip anxiously. “I want to take care of you. I want to take care of my girl.”

“Stop calling me that,” you choke out, tears burning behind your eyes. You try to blink them away before he can see.

Eddie’s thick eyebrows pinch together. “I thought you liked it,” he says. Concern is written all over his face.

“Look, I get it. You and Brittany are married, have kids together—you can’t just pick up and go.” There’s no use trying to hide your emotions, and you heave out a sob. “I was the Other Woman, and that’s just something I have to accept, I guess. But you have to stop calling me your girl. Because I’m not.” Your eyes dart to the coffee table, where a frame holds a photo of Eddie and Brittany on their wedding day. They look so in love, and it’s a punch to the gut to realize you’ll never have that with him. “She is.”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing. His heart breaks, knowing he’s caused you to feel this way. “No, she’s not. Not anymore. It’s you, baby. Only you.” He starts to reach out to wipe away your tears, but you jerk back.

“If we were just having fun, that’s fine. But I need to hear you say it.” You muster up all of the courage you can. “And you need to stop calling me your girl, or baby, or whatever other cute nicknames you come up with.”

Eddie lets his hands drop to his side. He stares at you forlornly. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Me either.” You can’t meet his gaze as your trembling hand turns the doorknob. “Goodbye, Eddie.” You pull the door closed behind you, vision blurred as you hurry to your car. You leave behind a stunned Eddie Munson, stuck in place as he watches his world crumble.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall so hard that it dents. He hisses as the pain sets in.

“Dad?” A small voice calls from behind him. Eddie looks to find Ryan peering out worriedly from the kitchen. He hadn’t heard him leave his room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie tries to reassure him, but his voice catches. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, buddy; I’m okay.”

“Did she leave?” Eddie didn’t even realize that the kids knew you were here.

Eddie glances out the window to see that your car is no longer in front of the house. “Yeah,” he says sadly. “She’s gone.”

Brittany comes home after the plumber’s been gone for hours. After Eddie fed and bathed the kids, all on his own. After he tucked them in and kissed them goodnight. Eddie wonders if she was spending time with more than one of her boyfriends today. It doesn’t matter, though. It hasn’t mattered to him for months. There’s no pain whatsoever associated with being cheated on or lied to. That nerve went dead a long time ago.

The pain he feels right now doesn’t really have to do with Brittany at all. It all falls on him, in his own mind. He was the dumbass who finally had the girl he had been pining over for the longest time. Found out she returned the feelings, even when Eddie thought no one would ever love or want him again. The woman who made him feel cared for and important. Who had made him truly happy for the first time in God knows how long.

Apparently, the pain is clear on his face as he stares at the television, eyes not really absorbing whatever is playing on the screen. Brittany hangs up her coat and strolls over towards him.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. “Did your little girlfriend have to be home before curfew? She wouldn’t want to get grounded, would she?”

“Fuck off, Brittany,” Eddie says, glazed over eyes not even bothering to look in her direction. She doesn’t, of course. She takes a few steps closer, the heels of her shoes thumping against the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees her cross her arms over her chest. Her hip juts out to the side and he knows this isn’t going to end well.

“So, have you learned your lesson?” she asks. That makes him finally look over at her, face scrunching up.

“What?” he asks.

“She already found someone better, didn’t she? Probably just wanted you because she couldn’t have you. Or that’s what she thought, anyway. But you caved because she still has that new baby smell about her, right?”

Eddie pushes himself off the couch, jaw clenching as he stares her down. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just because your God damned harem of men think it’s hot to be fucking someone who’s married—if you even told them—doesn’t mean that everyone is like that.”

“A harem is made up of women, you idiot,” she scoffs.

“That’s what you fucking took away from what I just said?” Eddie’s hands come up to grab at his hair, his fury and heartbreak reaching a boiling point. “You’re incredible. You know, I’ve known about your affairs for years. Fucking years, Brittany. Years. I was terrified Luke wasn’t even mine but thank God the kid looks just like me. And you know, I accepted it after a while. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was beyond pissed and hurt. But you, with your psychotic ways, made me think that no one else would ever care about me. Would ever want me. And that’s why you’re so mad now, isn’t it? Because I don’t feel so fucking worthless anymore. Because someone made me feel important after all your years of you trying to do the opposite.”

He takes a few deep breaths, his pulse raging and his breathing labored from behind so worked up. Brittany is looking at him with fire in her eyes, but Eddie doesn’t care. This explosion was long overdue and she was going to stand there and take it. “And yeah, maybe she’s young. Too young for me? Probably. But that’s not fucking up to you. That’s between me and her. But don’t you dare insinuate that I only want her because she’s young and beautiful. She is everything this world needs more of. Kind, caring, compassionate. Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot that you don’t know what those words even mean. I’d love her even if she was seventy-five and had more wrinkles than my shirts do after you attempt to do the laundry.”

It’s not until Brittany’s eyes widen that Eddie realizes what he just said. He loves you. It just came out with the litany of other words that spewed from his mouth, but he finds these to be truest of everything he said. God, I’m a fucking idiot, he thinks to himself.

Brittany stalks forward, a lioness about to devour her prey. If there was fire in her eyes before, now there’s an inferno. She grabs Eddie’s hand in one of hers, holding it palm up to the sky. With the other hand, she pulls something out of her purse and slaps it in his hand.

“Here,” she seethes. Eddie looks down and sees the pair of green lace panties you had lost in Brittany’s car. His fingers curl up around the material. He takes his hand that’s clutching the lace and holds it against his chest.

“You’re pathetic,” Brittany sneers. “We both know you won’t actually leave me. That would require you to grow a pair.” She walks into the kitchen and grabs a cupcake from the fridge; Eddie recognizes it as one that you brought over for the boys. “Have your fun, Eddie. I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back with your tail between your legs once you realize you’ll never have anyone as good as me.”

He wants to yell back at her, call her all the names in the book, blame her for cheating first. But she’s right–he’s a coward, too afraid to make waves. Instead of committing to the woman he wants to be with, he stays with the one he feels obligated to be with. He grabs his pillow from the bedroom, trudging to the couch for the night. He can’t bear to share a bed with someone who isn’t you.

Eddie can’t sleep, of course. Too many things are going through his head. I don’t want my kids to come from a broken family. But do I want them to grow up like this? Hearing their parents scream at each other at the top of their lungs? It’s not an example of a healthy relationship either, Eddie knows. And even at five and seven-years-old they already know their mom isn’t there for them. She doesn’t listen to them, show them affection, or even take care of them, really. Sometimes it feels like Eddie is a single parent. Although, that might be easier than this, he thinks.

But then he thinks about how you are with the boys. Always taking care to make sure they know you’re listening to them, that you hear them. Being firm but never mean when they act up. Buying them things with your own money just because you thought they’d like it. How excited they get when they see you, running over and smothering you in hugs and hellos. How much happier they are around you than they are Brittany. He’s seen the way they’ve physically cringed away from their own mother before. But with you, they never get enough. They always want one more hug, one more game, one more song. Yet, you never get annoyed by it. Most of the time, you agree to it. If Eddie is sure of one thing in life, it’s that you’re meant to be a mother. But did he miss the chance to share in that with you?

A tear snakes down the side of Eddie’s face and the heel of his hand comes up to rub at his eye. He sighs and turns on his side on the couch, adjusting the blanket on top of him. Something soft presses into Eddie’s hip, pressed between his body and the couch. He lifts his body enough to slip his hand into the pocket of his pajama pants. When he looks at the offending item, it’s your panties that Brittany had handed him before. A sniffle comes from Eddie as he balls up the lace in his hand. After holding it for a few minutes, Eddie slips the material back into his pocket.

Crying over a pair of panties, Munson? he thinks, that’s a new one. He flicks on the TV, desperate for a distraction. A rerun of that old crime show, Vega$, is playing. Eddie watches as Robert Urich struts across the street past a flashing neon sign advertising “Girls Girls Girls!!”

Eddie sits up so quickly that the blood rushes to his head. As soon as the dots clear from his vision, he’s grabbing the phone book.

At Eddie’s bachelor party, Steve had drunkenly married a stripper. He’d woken up the next morning and immediately got a lawyer, and it was like the whole thing never happened. Eddie knows his case won’t be so straightforward—he’s been married way longer than 24 hours, for one thing—but the lawyer who’d handled Steve’s divorce made it as painless as possible.

He finds the guy’s name and number and tears out the page, tucking it under his pillow. He’ll call first thing in the morning. And then he’s going to win back the love of his life.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #ayw #AYWS

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eepywriters · 4 months

Note

I LOVED YOUR MESSAGES WITH QUACKITY ❤️❤️❤️

please do getting into an agrument with quackity headcanons please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻😙😙🫣‼️💕💕🩷🩷

.✦°. • getting into an argument hcs (*´Д｀*)

warnings: a bit of angst and maybe a bit ooc? I tried 😞🤚🏻

a/n: HIII!! THANK U SO MUCH! It means a lot :D and sorry if it took so long ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ finals kicked my ass so I couldn’t write for a while BUT IM HERE SO LET’S GET INTO IT

EARLY INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

(thinking of a young, little experienced Alex)

Oh it’s jover

This could actually be something that could cause a breakup cuz let me tell you THIS MAN just can’t stand confrontation

If it’s something that bugged you, he’d probably understand your point of view but would also be very overwhelmed at the thought of losing you cause he hasn’t been good enough for you, resulting in him hyper focusing on his spiraling thoughts rather than listening to what you are saying

I feel like he’d also be the type to act like nothing happened right after an argument; he’d ignore the tense situation and make jokes to light up the mood and forget about it. He’s not dense, he knows it hurts you to see him seemingly ignore your feelings like that, but he’s not used to being listened so he ends up making his partner go trough his predicament as well

BUT it’s even worse if it’s something that bugged HIM; he probably wouldn’t tell you about it, much preferring to suck it up and don’t cause problems, even though he IS creating more problems

the underlying tension caused by his silence would bring the relationship to a breaking point:

1 you break up and the regret eats him up (probably also wouldn’t reach out again because of shame and a tiny bit of ego)

2 you talk about it cause it can’t go on like this

When I talk about bugging tho, I’m thinking about things that don’t surge an immediate reaction from him, because if he’s mad, he’s mad.

He’s the venomous type, forget his silence and self pity, he’ll probably laugh in your face in irritation and say whatever the fuck he thinks

He’ll retreat to his office as soon as he sees the hurt in your face, understanding he went to far and going back to he’s usual silence, ending up giving you the silence treatment. (he also feels incredibly ashamed) (he’ll just stay in his office all day, editing mindlessly since his mind is anywhere but in the work he’s doing)

He’ll either leave you alone in bed that day, making you sulk and feel as lonely as ever, or will sleep with you but it’ll be the coldest shit ever (like the typical movie scene where two people sleep super afar from each other)

Don’t misunderstand tho, he does feel guilty, he just struggles with communicating his feelings properly (*´ー｀*)

“(Name) I’m not a child, stop acting like you are my fucking mom” he spat, a look of indignation spreading on his features, shaping his otherwise gentle appearance into a strong, furious one.

“Cant you understand that I’m worried about you?” you strike back, jaw impossibly tightened “I understand that you’re very dedicated to your job, but you can’t get yourself to this state.” You sigh, not able to keep up the mad act: “You look very tired Alex”.

You take a tentative step towards him, determined to show him you weren’t scolding him, nor were you mad at him. You were trying to establish contact with him, not start a fight, after all your irritation came from worry, not anger. But he didn’t receive that well. His brows scrunching even further while his mouth twitches downwards.

“Stop acting like I’m some fucking rabid animal. I can take care of myself just fine, I don’t need a fucking babysitter”.

Seems that wasn’t the right move.

The way he was saying your name was probably what hurt the most. You find yourself missing the gentle tone he usually reserved to it when spoken.

“What are you even saying?” you breathe out, your voice being so fragile you almost don’t recognize it as your own. “Do you hear what you are saying? You are being impossible Alex”.

At this point his foot is stomping nervously on the floor. He’s getting annoyed by the minute and he can’t wait to forget about this tense situation. Arguments always put him on edge, but instead of working on the root cause of his discomfort, he always had preferred to just get himself out of the mess as soon as possible. (He hadn’t yet grasped how much that could hurt others). And that’s why, out of everything he could’ve gone, he replied with the one of the most uncalled for things he could ever come up with.

“Maybe instead of worrying about me, you should take a good look at yourself first”.

And you know what he was trying to entail.

You were never insecure of your dark circles, or at least, it wasn’t something that bugged you on the daily ever since you had found a common ground with Alex, knowing he struggled with very prominent circles cause of his lack of sleep. But for someone like him, who always had a hard time with his appearance, to clap back at you by going for your looks? Foul. Unexpected. Not like him at all.

You were sure he could tell from the look of disbelief on your face that he had fucked up.

Alex’s breathing keeps up, his chest constricts, and the anger and the pride that he has wearing like a tailored suit are stripped out of him at the sight of your frown. His mind goes haywire trying to come up with any response.

Maybe if you would’ve known him better by then, you would’ve known how terrified he was of your judgment. Even though his fame often had him deal with horrible comments filled with free hate, if judgement came from you, it scarred 100 times more than anything could ever do.

“Just leave it be, I’m fine” it’s all he mutters before booking it and hiding himself in his office, leaving you to stand there, in the middle of your living room.

Tears prickle your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment and your lip begs you for mercy as you bite into it.

God, why was communicating so difficult in this house?

LONG INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

It took time, it took healing, it took sitting down and TALKING to finally find your balance

He’s still pretty much venomous when it comes to immediate triggers, but after you are both done fighting and cursing each other out, you talk about it and come out of it somewhat unscathed

Anger isn’t easy to control or refrain after all, but you both try your best, and you are able to make up most of the times without falling into old dynamics of silent treatment or isolation

If something bugs him, he most likely will tell you; he is hesitant about it, but after many nights spent in your arms, he starts to let go on some of his biggest worries (anxiety still gnaws at his core every time he opens his mouth though, that doesn’t get old at all)

If something bugs you, he doesn’t shy away from confrontation anymore; he’s not perfect at it either, he still feels the urge to run away and laugh about it all, but he’s gotten way better at it

He’s still very scared of you having a negative opinion about him, but now you know him well enough to spend some extra time to reassure him that you won’t stop loving him for a petty fight, and that arguments in relationship are important to grow not only as a couple, but as people too

“(Name)” he calls out, and you instantly recognize the hint of anxiety that he’s trying to hide from you.

“Yes honey?” you reply, taking your eyes off your phone to stare into his pretty, brown ones. They screamed stress, fear, yet also determination. He did so much progress compared to the beginnings of your relationship. You were proud of him.

Alex took a deep breath before saying: “Uhm, It’s about the photo of us you posted earlier”. You could practically smell the tension in the air. His body is stiff, his chest is heaving, but your gaze is captured by his fingers and by how his nails are digging into them continuously, tearing his already red skin.

You take his hands in yours, preventing him from doing further damage to his poor, abused fingers. You knew he does it as a way to ground himself, but he really needed to find a new coping method - one that didn’t feature him torturing his body if possible.

He stares at his hands in yours for a while. You don’t say anything, allowing him to take his time.

“Okay fuck it” Alex whispers under his breath, so quietly you almost miss it.

“It makes me feel insecure, I don’t like it” he admits, keeping his focus on your hands as he munches his bottom lip nervously. You, in response, draw slow circles on his hands, offering him a gentle smile.

“Can you delete it..?” he sounds unsure, like he’s testing the waters instead of actually making a request. Either way you welcome it.

You put one of your fingers under his chin, gently applying pressure for him to lift his head, just enough to look at you. “Of course I can. Thank you for telling me Alex, I know it’s hard”. His once tense body relaxes.

He avoids your tender gaze, seemingly preferring to stare at the floor, yet you see the soft blush that was quickly taking over his cheeks. You also can’t help but notice that he already had found his charming smile back.

“Stop looking at me like that” he mumbles as his smile spreads. Uh oh, that can only mean trouble.

“Like what” your eyes narrow, not trusting his new found confidence.

“Like this”.

His imitation is pitiful: furrowed eyebrows, small frown and large puppy dog eyes. The more you look at him, the more he reminds you of that one emo guy that kind of looks like him (he definitely does). He looks ridiculous. How did you even fall in love with this dude?

You slap his arm, scoffing out a laugh as you look at him incredulous: “I don’t look like that!”.

“I think you do” he says with a smug tone, one that makes you want to hit him with a pillow till he goes back to sleep. And maybe you just will.

“Oh it’s on you motherf-“

The room was filled with laughter instead of unconfortable, loud silence.

(first post of 2024 yippiee)

#quackity x reader #quackity imagine #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity fanfic #qsmp x reader #first request #yippie

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peachseashell · 6 months

Note

Hi :)

Can I request Xiao and Wanderer (separately) with an autistic s/o pls? Gender neutral reader if it's possible thank you!!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Special to me

Xiao and Wanderer with an autistic s/o

Gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: food textures (sensory issues), reader is kinda emotional and Introverted, Wanderer is kinda toxic and possessive, mentions of anxiety.

Notes: I was actually so excited to write this because I love these characters and I'm also diagnosed with autism so it makes me so happy writing about something that I can easily portray! So thanks for your request ml 💕

Xiao

- He has little knowledge of human and abilities and basically anything about them apart from they work, eat and sleep. He never really fussed over it much until he met you and learned that you're quite different from all the other mortals he's encountered.

- You have to teach him about your needs, preferences, feelings, opinions as he doesn't always understand. He's scared that he won't know what to do when you're in an emotional state because he knows you feel things differently from others.

- I feel as though Xiao is a good listener and can sit in silence while you ramble on about anything you want, even thougg he may not understand a single thing about what's coming out of your mouth. He's also learned that he needs to be careful how he words things in case you misunderstand or take his harsh words to literally.

- This may just be me, but physical touch is something I'm not particularly fond of at all and I don't know if this is an autistic thing or just me. But anyway, Xiao's more than happy to give you your own well deserved space and alone time; though sometimes he can be very touch starved in my opinion.

- However, if you don't mind affection I can see Xiao warming up to you and leaning in closer and resting on you. This affection is mostly displayed during inside areas, usually when you're both very calm. Bedtime is when you can catch him most vulnerable and cuddling up to you like a snug bug in a rug.

- Xiao understands your eating issues and that sometimes your picky. You both share the dislike of certian textures and flavours, not just food but the feel of objects as well. For example, if a blanket is too scratchy or fish is too slimey, or shoes are too squeaky. Sensory issues are probably something he has in common with you.

Wanderer

- I feel as though Wanderer is very educated on this topic. Even if he is a puppet, I think perhaps he must of come across an autistic person and became curious, therefore leading him to want to learn more about it during his time as a fatui harbinger or maybe at the Akademiya.

- 100% remembers your likes and dislikes, never forgets them; keeps a secret diary all about you because he loves you so much. Buys you things to help with fidgeting and stress whenever you're distracted and loves hearing you ramble on about the littlest and strangest topics.

- No matter how confident he may be that he can look after you. He's helpless in a situation when you're completely exhausted and panicked or upset. Lets you shout at him to be honest because he knows it's not really personally against him. This may sound cruel, but he may leave you to let it out on your own in case he upsets you even more, the best thing he thinks to do is give you space.

- Of course after he'll cook you your favourite meal and dry any spilt tears, isn't he just so dreamy? Doesn't like to admit it but he loves it when you have nobody to turn to but him because he's the only one who understands. Holds your hand when you're nervous whenever you two go out and the anxiety takes over you.

- will hunt anyone down who makes fun of you for any habits, preferences or anything you have that makes you slightly unique; he just hates people who can't accept that disabilities aren't something to joke about. he just doesn't want to see you hurt because of someones stupid opinion, it makes his non existing heart twist and break.

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casukaga · 2 months

Note

Please talk about what you love the most about your lil blorbos (Cable and Maverick and anyone else!) and what has been a fun challenge while playing them! And any other details that you're like "this is so neat but so niche so no one will know unless this VERY SPECIFIC SCENARIO COMES UP"

HEHEHEH WELL SINCE YOU ASKED….. :3c

cable—

i fuckin love this guy.

the basic rundown of cable: he’s charming, charismatic, loves spontaneity, and loves living life dangerously!! he’s all about doing what makes you happy and is a big advocate for self-love. they’ve got a high self-esteem and know their self-worth (he knows he’s hot shit and loves himself a lot!! ❤️) they also used to work at a brothel and are super open about their sexuality. this guy? horny. they love performing and pole dancing and wearing high heels. he’s also very affectionate and loves any and all kinds of physical contact. he’s also aromantic and pansexual!! he is platonic partners with my gf’s character, ophelia 💕

you ask me what i love about cable and it’s just. all of him LMAO.

i love cable sm because there’s a lot of myself in him (i made their character at a time when i was doing a lot of self-reflection). also he’s so open and honest and self-confident, i’m like— WOW, i aspire to be like you someday…

if i were to give a challenge i have while playing them… i love rp (it is my favorite part of dnd), but i fear i’m not the best at improv. i tend to get nervous during sessions for this campaign specifically. i think it’s that i’m so self-conscious about playing cable accurate to how i imagine him in my head that i’m just a bundle of nerves. i’m nervous at first, but eventually i get into a groove the longer the session goes on. though, these past few sessions especially, i’ve been pretty happy with how i’ve been playing him!! it delights me when my friends tell me they love cable as well 🥺

i also play leiana, my high elf druid!!

i realized i haven’t talked about her / showed her publicly on social media at all, so here she is. i don’t have as many things to say about her as i do cable, but i love her all the same!!

she was the first character i tried to give an accent to (irish), and while my irish accent is definitely not that good— it is what it is. this is just how she sounds like, and it’s good enough for me.

leiana is a cartographer and she loooooves bugs. loves bugs. which is very much not like me because i am, unfortunately, a little bug hater. but leiana has such a fascination with nature and bugs especially. she studies bugs and likes to pin them (she only pins dead ones she finds, she would never kill a bug herself) and she has a collection of pinned bugs!

she also has a pet tarantula named fenri, who can change colors! (he’s primarily pink and matches leiana’s hair.)

leiana is no stranger to grief and she fears dying. currently she is trying to distance herself from the party for Reasons 🥲

while i have a few more dnd characters, they are for upcoming campaigns that i have yet to play in!! cable and leiana are the two i am actively playing at the moment :3

maverick is also in my brain constantly these days, but unfortunately i cannot talk abt xem for reasons….one day i will gush abt them to my heart’s content…

thank u for letting me chatter abt my ocs, i give u a little kiss on the forehead

#dnd is so fun y’all 😭😭#i bounce around excitedly #casu asks #i made cable for an anim class with the intentions of ‘i wanna make a red enby tiefling’ and ‘i really wanna make another hot character’#leiana was just because i wanted to make a character with a pink pet tarantula #heheheh #cable #leiana

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months

Note

Hi! Gotta say that your writting is so, so amazing!! It's so in character and the way you work with descriptions and words is really beautiful! <333

It's so very impressive and inspiring that you post almost every single day(like WOW), I hope you're not overworking yourself and take breaks!

I'm not sure if your requests are open(if not, feel free to ignore it pls!!), but I would've liked to request pretty much anything with either 2007 or 2003 Donnie if that's okay :D

Timeless Love (Fluff)

FastForward!Donatello x reader

A/N: Thank you so much!💕 I’ve been writing for years, but actually sharing my writings is still pretty new to me, especially in English💚 It’s so sweet of you to think of my well being. I do not feel overworked just yet😂 Anyway, I already had this idea floating around for Fast Forward Donnie, so I thought this was the perfect time to get it done. I might continue it and have some more fun with it in the future, but I’m not sure yet. But until then, hope you enjoy💜🐢

--------------

Donatello and Cody make a device that can freeze time, but does it work?

Warnings: None that I can think of💜

--------------

Donatello had been eager to show you and his brothers, his and Cody’s latest project. At night when the two of you were about to got to bed, he would start rambling on about how it might be one of the greatest innovations ever made. This left you very interacted, as you had thought Cody’s accidental time machine was the greatest innovation ever made.

It didn’t take long before that day came. In the depths of Cody’s lab, Donatello and the young Jones proudly presented the small top rounded machine to you and the rest of the turtles.

“That’s it?”, Raph asked, looking at the clock-like machine in front of him. “All this for a fashy stopwatch?”

“I think Donnie finally lost his mind”, Mikey whispered to Leo, causing the oldest turtle to roll his eyes.

“It is not a stopwatch”, Donnie said. “It’s a Temporal Interruption Device - or TID for short”.

“Donnie, sweetheart”, you said, using that nickname that made Donnie churr whenever the two of you were alone. “You know I love it when you tech-talk, but I have no idea what that means”.

Donatello sighed before pointing to the machine with a deadpan look. “That thing can stop time. Pause it, you can say”.

“So I was right!”, Raphael laughed. “It is a stopwatch!”

“Kind of”, Cody smiled, finding the banter amusing. “I have to admit, when Donatello first came up with the idea I thought it was strange, impossible even. But then Donnie reminded me that if you can travel in time, then it should also be possible to stop time”.

Leo hummed in thought, rubbing his chin. “It sounds pretty amazing, Donnie, but is it a good idea to freeze time?”

“Well, just like time travel can have its consequences on the space time continuum, I would speculate that freezing of time would most likely have some of the same”, Donnie said in thought, looking through his notes on his holographic tablet. “But we got time to figure that out, no pun intended. The Temporal Interruption Device isn’t ready yet. It still has a few bugs we need to smooth out, before it even can freeze water”.

“But if it worked”, you started, your curiosity peaked like it did so often when Donnie talked about his work. “How do you use it?”

“It’s very easy”, Donnie said, beaming bright at your interest in his invention. He took your hand and led you close to the machine, causing Mikey and Raph to make gagging noises behind your back, only for Leo to give them a light scolding. He took your other hand, making your stomach tingle slightly, before putting it on top of the rounded machine. “You just put your hand here”, he said, his face close to yours as he did so. You turned your head to smile at him, almost forgetting his brothers and Cody being nearby.

“Gross, they’re doing it again”, Mikey said. “They are doing that weird tech PDA thing!”

“Be nice, Mikey”, Leo said, just as Donnie put slight pressure on your hand.

“And then you just push”, he said, ignoring his younger brother. The machine made a small click as it was pushed down. You didn’t think anything strange of it as the lamps lit up, but when you saw Donnie’s confused expression, you knew something was up. Your boyfriend never looked confused at his own inventions.

Before you could ask him what was going on, the machine made a small thing. Then all sound stopped. The small background hums of the machines in Cody’s lap, Splinter’s soap opera in the living room and the song Serling had been singing in the kitchen, all stopped.

The other turtles and Cody were stuck in various poses, mid-action, all in the midst of moving towards the two of you, in what seemed like a hurry. You and Donatello however remained unaffected.

"Oops”, he said, in an almost unintentional comical manner, as he took in the others' appearances. “This wasn't supposed to happen".

You looked around at the frozen scene, a mix of awe and amusement on your face. "This is so cool, Donnie", you said, grabbing onto his arm.

“I guess so”, Donnie said, turning his head to the side as he looked at his brothers, a small smile spreading across his face once more, when he turned to you once more. You loved whenever he adorned that smile. Slightly mischievous but never any less than sweet and bright. Typically a smile Donatello would show, whenever he had an idea he thought to be good. “Wanna take a look around?”

“Of course”, you smiled back.

You and your boyfriend walked from the lab and into the living room, where you found Splinter frozen in front of the television, shock spread across his face, taking in the character on the screen, that was in the middle of telling her cousin she was actually her stepsister.

In the kitchen you found Serling in the middle of his cooking. Food on the stove while he stood at the kitchen counter, a knife slightly raised over the vegetables he had been cutting.

“Okay, you were right”, Donnie chuckled. “This is pretty cool”.

“It almost feels wrong”, you said, making your way behind Serling so you could get to the fridge. “To be walking around without them knowing”. You opened the fridge and took out two juice boxes.

“You’re once again right”, he said, accepting the juice box with a grateful smile, letting his hand linger on yours for a bit. “But I have to be honest, I do like how quiet it is”.

“There’s something about that”, you giggled, bringing the straw of your juice box to your mouth so you could take a sip. But before you could manage that, Donatello put his juice box on the kitchen counter and brought his arms around your waist, pulling you into a quick sudden kiss. You kissed him back, but couldn’t help but giggle against his lips. “What was that for?”

“With my brothers frozen in time, I can kiss you as much as I want without them acting up”, he joked, dipping in for another deep kiss. You smiled against his lips, enjoying the nice and quiet moment, knowing that no one would come and interrupt you. Maybe the Temporal Interruption Device would become way more handy than you originally had thought it would.

When the two of you pulled apart, you had already forgotten the presents of frozen Serling in the kitchen, causing both of you to jump a bit.

“Maybe we should go back and unfreeze them”, Donnie said, still with his arm wrapped around you, his hand making soft circular motions on your back.

“That’s probably a good idea”, you said, handing him his juice box once more, before finally taking a sip of your own.

You and Donnie went back to the lab, chuckling at the sight of his brothers and Cody, frozen in the same position you left them in. Still with your juice boxes in hand, you went over to the machine, where both of you placed your hands on top. You gave it a good press, watching as the world around you got unpaused. The humming of the machines came back, followed with the sound of Splinter gasping at his soap opera.

“Bianca, no!”

The turtles and Cody came back to life, hurrying forward, only to stop in their tracks when they saw you and Donnie happily drink out of your juice boxes. They stared at you, confused by the sudden appearances of the juice boxes, let alone who the two of you managed to get to the other side of the Temporal Interruption Device in less than a second. But before they could ask any questions, Serling came into the lab with a heavy sigh, metallic hand rubbing the place where his nose should have been.

“Master Donatello, Miss (Y/N)”, he started, sounding very strained. “I understand the need and appeal of getting affectionate with no interruptions, but please refrain from doing it in front of me. Even with time frozen, my picture memory and motion sensors can read any interaction”.

“Don’t say it like that, Serling”, you sighed, trying to ignore the expression on the boys’ faces. “You make it sound like we had sex in front of you”. Donatello almost choked on his juice by your forwardness, causing the boys to burst out in laughter. Even after such a long time together, it still managed to surprise Donatello every once in a while.

“I am just happy you left before deciding to do so”, Serling sighed, before turning towards the door so he could return to the kitchen. “That mental recording and terabyte trauma just wouldn’t be worth it”.

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8-dermestid · 1 month

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Hello, I hope you are well! Recently I read a fanfic of yours on Ao3 about Ticci Toby and I fell in love with your writing!! I loved the way you develop the characters and their feelings!! 🤧💕✨

I would like to know if you write for Creepypasta X Virus, it is one of my favorites but there is almost no content online about it 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

Anyway, I saw your requests are open! If the idea pleases you, I would like to ask for headcanons of X Virus and Toby (or just Toby) with a reader who practices magic and has somewhat "dark" tastes (interest in poisonous animals/plants and the supernatural as a whole, in short, just a scary and adorable nerd at the same time!)

Thanks!! 💚

ahh! hello-hello!! i read x-virus' story and took notes for these, i really enjoyed writing Cody, so thank you very much for the request :-]

i rlly liked this request, and this is actually the first time i've ever done headcanon-ish things, i hope you enjoy these (bc i enjoyed writing them a lot)

x-virus & ticci toby: reader with macabre interests

relationships: ticci toby x reader, x-virus x reader

word count: 1.5k

links: available on ao3

x-virus warnings: animal death (off-screen, animal body shown) animal dissection, taxidermy, canon-typical violence

ticci toby warnings: canon-typical violence

☣︎ X-Virus | Cody _____ ☣︎

You let it slip one day that you wanted to try taxidermy, an embarrassing guilty pleasure you were confident you could keep under wraps, but Cody’s just been so nice about your eccentricities and you couldn’t help yourself.

“They use bugs in the process, lots of museums have them to clean the bones because they’re better than the best person with the best tools—” You pace back and forth as Cody watches you from your bed, “—Because that’s all they do, all they do is eat rotting flesh off the bone. The bones last much longer when cleaned by any Dermes—”

You stop yourself from mentioning the insects by their scientific name, embarrassed that you let your ramblings slip away like that.

Cody leaves the next day and you’re left alone with your thoughts. Maybe there’s another mansion full of serial killers so you can start fresh, your ears burn recalling how excited you got talking about flesh-eating bugs.

A few days later, Cody returns to the mansion with a limp raccoon and some things it stole from the local morgue.

You spend the entire night together trying to preserve this creature’s hide, you take it apart with precise motions, expertly moving the scalpel along the skin and parting flesh and sinew. You soak the skin in salts, rubbing it into the bloody underside until you smell like copper and the salt mines.

The whole room smells like formaldehyde, too.

✸ ☣︎ ✸

Cody is so excited to share its books with you, all of them. You spend long evenings together curled over a battery-powered lantern and ten-pound textbooks, occasionally mentioning an interesting tidbit when you come across one. Your books are filled with flattened foliage from the surrounding woods, poisonous plants and flowers, plastic baggies filled with poison ivy leaves, and hand-drawn diagrams of each plant’s internal structures in a ballpoint pen. It flips through each page carefully, examining each specimen, complimenting each note and observation.

“You should open a museum,” It says, running a finger over a pressed Conium maculatum. That snaps you out of your science headspace.

You should, but you can’t. “Besides, who would enjoy a museum like that?” You argue.

“Think about the Mütter Museum,” It quips back, “If people frequent a museum full of pickled people-guts and spines, I’m sure people would go to yours. People like flowers.”

In another universe where violence wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, maybe you’d be the curator of a weird little museum full of oddities.

✸ ☣︎ ✸

“Toby comes here all the time to burn CDs, don’t worry, the cameras stopped working years ago and they never bothered to fix them,” Cody pushes open a window and climbs into the air-conditioned computer lab of the local library, “Just don’t knock anything over, I guess.” It jokes.

You drop through the window and feel goosebumps form on your arms, you haven’t felt air conditioning in years.

Cody unlocks the door leading to the rest of the facility, you walk side-by-side, dragging your fingers over the spines of dozens of books.

“You know the Dewey Decimal System, right?” Cody asks, there’s a thrill with breaking in, especially for pleasure (rather than worrying about killing every occupant in a house, you both can focus on finding a specific edition of a book you were dying to read).

“By heart.” You joke, guiding it to the 500s: Natural Sciences.

You spend five hours squished up together reading from the same book. It points to a diagram and you explain every minute detail, Cody listens eagerly to your explanations, wanting to ingrain every word that comes out of your brilliant, perfect brain, and memorize the way you describe the venom sacs of the Hydrophis schistosus.

The way it rolls off your tongue—Hydrophis schistosus—Cody wants that to be the last sound it ever hears, the sound echoing forever in its brain until the heat death of the universe.

You creep down to the 200s and find a few textbooks about niche religious practices. You tell Cody about the rarity of cannibalistic religious practices, and the prevalence of cannibalism in some movies ticks you off.

“Cannibalism isn’t that common,” You scoff, “It’s more than socially taboo, it’s biologically taboo. Ever heard of Kuru?”

“Tell me.” It begs.

✸ ☣︎ ✸

⦻ Ticci Toby | Tobias Erin Rogers ⦻

Every word that comes out of you flies over his head. Even though he doesn't know a thing about what you’re telling him about, he’s completely and utterly enamored. Toby never graduated high school, and—for the most part—he’s glad he didn’t have to spend any more time around high-school people.

He misses learning. Sometimes Toby thinks he’s stupid, Tim and Brian went to university, and they have high school diplomas with their names on them somewhere, Toby has nothing except an honor roll card from the eighth grade. You’re so brilliant, maybe part of him thinks he’s weighing you down by stopping your ramblings to ask for clarification. He’s so deep in thought he hasn't been paying attention to your talks about the Ghent Altarpiece’s connection to ancient practices of animal sacrifice.

“Does it bother you when I do that—when I don’t know things a-and you gotta explain it to me?”

You’re sitting on the porch together looking out over the rolling fog, he sucks in a breath, the tip of a Marlboro lighting up orange-hot.

“I like it, actually.” You say matter-of-factly

Toby’s diaphragm sputters as smoke spills from his nose, and he coughs hard into his elbow. “...Doesn’t it—But I’m interrupting you because I’m too stupid to get it the first time—”

That word gives you pause, and Toby tosses away the cigarette butt and curls into himself, shame burning hot on his face.

“I don’t think—”

“E-Everyone does,” He cries, “I-I can’t help it, I couldn’t even finish high school. Tim and Brian made it to college, at least.”

You push yourself into his personal space, knocking your knee into his as you lean over to share a secret.

“I can teach you if you’d like.”

Toby’s red-hot shame melts into a giddy flush as your warm breath lands on his ear.

✸ ⦻ ✸

The next victim that comes Toby’s way—a family of three with a prying-eyed teenager getting too close to discovering the mansion—grants you both access to the internet for a time.

You start with Wikipedia, it’s good practice to get bare-bones information that starts the deep dive. Marine Biology is the starting topic because the random article Wikipedia spat out at you was about the bigfin squid.

Toby mumbles aloud as he scrolls through the article, the picture on the right left the hairs on his arms standing on end. Little is known about it because it dwells so deep, and scientists aren’t entirely sure why its distinct long arms are there.

“Nobody knows how it feeds?”

“We know more about space than our oceans,” You say, “We have pictures of the Big Bang.”

Toby rolls back on the wheeled chair and pushes the keyboard to you.

You open a new tab and open the search bar.

COSMIC MICROWAVE BACKGROUND.

He pulls back in, opening the third link that pops up. You sit quietly as he devours an entire article explaining the picture’s existence, he’s vibrating in his chair. Toby continues the search without your input, googling words and finding plenty of pictures of smattered space dust orbiting tiny, dense stars.

The pictures of the black hole shake him to his core, nebulae give him chills, beautiful planets and star systems and moons and—

Alpha Centauri grabs a hold of Toby’s body and keeps him there. He pushes the monitor towards you and you read along with him, he’s shaking with excitement, free hand flapping excitedly as he scrolls through the academic journal.

He prints out a few pictures before the police show up, the cosmic microwave background bathing the room in greens and blues and smatterings of yellows and reds.

✸ ⦻ ✸

He starts stealing books from the library, as do you. You take turns showing and telling. He shows you astronomy books and you show him textbooks about the history of taxonomy; you spend hours sitting across from each other on the floor exchanging knowledge.

“I’m—I’m glad we did this. Thanks for doing all of—of that.”

You peek over an academic journal you’ve read at least seven times, smiling softly as Toby puts his new collection of literature into a box and pushes it into the closet. He piles a few flannels and shirts over the box to camouflage it amongst his dirt laundry.

“Why’re you doing that?”

Toby turns to you and turns away meekly, “...It’s our special thing, you get it? I don’t want anyone getting into our business. This is our thing. Our special thing.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as Toby holds your gaze. You close your journals.

“Babies have more bones than adults.” You whisper, your hand splayed over his shoulder blades, “About three hundred.”

Toby’s breath hitches as your hands warm the spot where his cervical vertebrae end and the thoracic meet.

“H-How many are—” He covers his mouth to cover a shaky breath, “—i-in the spine?”

“There are thirty-three vertebrae. Seven cervical,” You and trails down his back, “Twelve thoracic,” you creep further, “Five lumbar,” Lower and lower you go, “Five sacral,” You’re getting bold now, “...And four coccygeals.”

You hold your hands there, Toby enjoys the warmth radiating from your fingers, he wants to melt into you like watered-down clay (you would call it slip since you know everything). He wants to read books with you for the rest of his life and not do anything else.

He wants you to count every rib, every tooth in his mouth, every bone in his hands and feet—counting and counting and counting until he's dizzy.

✸ ⦻ ✸

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scooprtroopr · 3 months

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9 and 28 with steve if you ever get around to it, love you bestie 🫶

Parker, thank you for being so patient with me well I worked out how I wanted this one to go. I hope you like 🖤💕🖤💕

9. Falling in and out of sleep holding each other and admiring the other while they sleep.

28. “Oh my god, your such a cuddle bug.”

It had been a long day and between hauling boxes up to your new apartment and attempting to begin unpacking you and Steve were beyond tired. Even with boxes strewn across your would be bedroom and only a mattress to lie on, the bedframe would be delivered tomorrow, you couldn’t help the swell in your chest as you looked around. Sure the walls may be bare and things you had a lot of work to do in the coming days but you and Steve finally had a home together. Thinking about this you couldn’t help the smile the crept its way onto your face as you lay in bed. Steve’s strong arms were wrapped around your waist, an empty pizza box lay at your feet, a reminder of the celebratory dinner you had shared before the exhaustion of a fully day hit you both.

You tried nudging the empty box with your foot in an attempt to gently move it from the bed. At your movement Steve’s arms tightened around your waist a tired, “where are you going?” leaving his lips.

“Nowhere love, just trying to get the pizza box off the bed, didn’t mean to wake you,” you begin to roll over in Steve’s arm so you can face him, but again your movement only leads to his grip tightening, pulling you closer into him. Finally finishing rotating in his arms you can’t help but giggle, “oh my god, you’re such a cuddle bug!”

At this Steve peeks out at you with one eye, a lazy smile on his all too perfect face before he sticks his tongue out at you. “ ‘m sorry I love you so much, you can go if my cuddles are keeping you from defeating the evil pizza box” Even as exhausted as he sounds, his voice is laced with the sound of a smile. HIs one open eye closes as you snuggle in closer to him, a content sigh leaving both of you.

It’s not long before Steve falls back asleep, and your breathing syncs with his. Up close you can’t help but look at all his delicate features. The way his eyes are gently closed, lashes fluttering every once in a while, making you wonder what he could be dreaming about. You follow the curve of his nose with your eyes, count the freckles on his face and neck, reaching out you stroke the soft skin of his cheeks. Eventually you're drawn to his lips. Lips so soft and pillowy, slightly parted as his even breaths leave his body. Lips that curve in the sweetest way when he laughs or tells you he loves you. Lips that have been the source of more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Lips that you have kissed countless times. Your mind begins to wander to all the places you and Steve have shared kisses, and to all the kisses you’ll share in this new home you get to build together. It’s with these thoughts of soft lips on yours that eventually your own eyes flutter closed, falling asleep still tangled in Steve’s arms.

#it's shorter than i wanted it to be #but perhaps this is a thing i will return to #at some point in the future #who knows #anyway here's some fluff #steve harrington x reader #stevie fic #steve harrington fluff #ali writes fic #steve harrington blurb

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mae-gi-writes · 10 months

Text

It's (Just So) Awkward | jungkook (bts) - one

“No way. We’re too different and he’s so—so black and white. A straight-up yes-or-no kind of guy. And I’m not.”

Genre: nerd! Jungkook x outspoken! Reader, university! Au, idiots to lovers au, kim changbin cameo (skz)

A/N: any mention of disorders/medical conditions are fictional and I do not own Jeon jungkook. I only own the plot. If you are sensitive to content that talks about psychological disorders, i would advise you to read at your own risk. Please do enjoy !!

Comment your username to join the taglist! 💕😊

Part One | Next >>>

———

“And I scream ‘for whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” — Cruel Summer, Taylor Swift

———

You and Jeon Jungkook have known each other for years.

You know him like the back of your hand, not because you wanted to, but because you were obliged to, with the god-awful amount of time that you spent together.

Everything started back in art class. You had been fifteen at the time and had enrolled in the Visual Arts IGCSE course, as did he. There were only five students in the class, which was the main reason as to how you got to know your classmates that well, considering that these were the sorts of people that you wouldn’t normally hang out with on a daily basis.

You’d taken a seat next to Jungkook on that very first day of class, your colored markers in one hand and your sketchbook in the other, when he’d first decided to pick on the state of your shirt.

“Your shirt is crumpled,” he’d stated matter-of-factly, as though he didn’t have any filter, as though he didn’t care that it might affect your feelings. Good for him that you weren’t the type of person to take things to heart.

You merely straightened and looked at him, “thanks for the observation.”

“Don’t you iron your shirts?”

“Uhm no, I forgot,” you eyed his very organized desk, noticed the straight angles of his own sketchbook perpendicularly placed with his ruler. His pens stacked at its side, parallel to the paper, and his hands poised onto the fresh page.

Your gaze then traveled up to his clean, crisp shirt, hair parted to the side and glasses perched on his nose.

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity as he said, “coming to school with a crumpled up shirt just shows how disorganized you are. Or maybe you didn’t have enough time. Then that’s time-management skills that you lack.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that into consideration,” you’d replied sarcastically.

And from there, you had learnt to know who Jeon Jungkook really was.

Undeniably, he had an amazing gift for art which no one could argue with, so all his backhanded comments were, over time, either ignored or playfully used as insults to tease him back. He was a funny guy — in the sense that he barely had any filter or sense of what was socially accepted to talk about — but you couldn’t say he hadn’t grown on you over the past years and funnily enough, you both ended up in the same university course as Visual Arts major.

“You again?” You’d groaned on the first day of lecture upon noticing his tall, dark frame behind round spectacles. Even out of high school, he still wore a shirt -- this one pale blue -- tucked into sable pants, hair combed back into that side part that now sportrd a few bangs, and his glasses.

He grinned at you from his seat, “hello, Y/N.”

“Why are you here?” You dramatically fell into your seat, swiveled towards him with an exasperated sigh as your chin fell into your hand.

“Because I applied for Visual Arts and got in.”

“Well yeah I knew that much,” you rolled your eyes, “but I thought you wanted to be an architect. Isn’t that what you said before graduation?”

“You remember?” His grin widened, “that’s nice of you—“

“Not on purpose, you dweeb. Now tell me why you’re here instead of bugging someone else in architecture 101.”

“I am in architecture,” he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, “but my course asks for an art prerequisite. They said I couldn’t use my high school grades to give me my transfer credits because art wasn’t my main subject.”

“That’s bullshit. Your art was the best out of all of us.”

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough for them.”

You tilted your head at him, “so you’re telling me I have to suffer through this with you, again? Didn’t I do enough of that in high school?”

“Technically, you’re the one who came to sit next to me.”

“You got a point. Maybe I should move.”

But you didn’t. Not wanting to admit it, you were actually grateful knowing that Jungkook was a familiar element amidst all this new environment. Not that you’d ever tell him that though, knowing he’d take full advantage of it.

That didn’t stop you from complaining about it with your mother every time you saw her appear on your phone screen. She would only laugh and tease you about it, saying that out of all universities, Jeon Jungkook had chosen the one you had applied to. Surely, according to her, she thought it was fate.

“It’s not fate,” you’d grumbled into your pillow, “how can it be fate? He just likes to torture me.”

“He’s not that bad Y/N,” your mother chided, “and you know how he is. His mother said so at the exhibition, remember?”

Yes, you had remembered how his mother had apologized following Jungkook’s harsh criticism of your projects. How could you forget? It had been on the final exhibition evening where all students were decked in black and white to follow the theme of the night, and as part of your final exhibition, you’d had to criticize and analyze your classmates’ pieces with your teacher as mediator. And when Jungkook had been asked to voice his thoughts about your work, he had been void of kindness:

“It doesn’t seem genuine.”

“It lacks of technique.”

“You could’ve used more depth.”

“I don’t see the connection between the artist and the audience.”

Not wanting to cry in front of the entire class had you running to the bathroom as tears streamed down your face, which caused his mother to follow you while trying to explain her son’s horrible behaviour.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. You know he doesn’t mean it that way, not really—“

“Oh then, in what way does he mean it then?” You’d sniffled into your tissue, hating how red your eyes looked in the mirror, “because to me that sounded downright condescending and honestly, I thought better of him—“

“He’s different, Y/N.”

“Different?” You pause, “what do you mean…different?”

That was when she explained about Social Cues Disorder, also known as SCD, which was placed on the Asperger’s spectrum despite being slightly different from the said diagnostic. And as she spoke, it became clear why Jungkook didn’t have any social barriers into speaking his mind even when it might hurt people or be taken the wrong way. The thing was, he didn’t know.

Nevertheless, it took you a few days to recover from his personal attack. You were surprised when Jungkook came up to you a few days after the exhibition to offer you an apology.

“My mother said she told you about SCD,” he spoke as though they were talking about the weather when to you, it was slightly difficult to handle such a topic when you had no idea whether he’d take it right or wrong, “she also said I need to apologize because I was very harsh on you during the exhibition.”

You swallowed thickly, the sting of tears building in your eyes as the memory resurfaced, “yes. You were.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied without missing a beat, “I didn’t know it would hurt your feelings. According to the doctors, I don’t know how to understand people’s emotions or react to people, or say the right thing. So I’m sorry, because I’m sure I might do it again.”

You looked at him for a long moment, judging the weight of his words. Then, you sighed, “that’s fine, Jungkook. Thanks.”

If you removed his lack of total empathy, Jungkook was admittedly kind of fun to be around. He had the most hilariou responses to everything, which you learnt the more you sat next to him in class.

"Color blindness is an eyesight problem," he said one day when you told him that you believed color blindness to be some sort of supernatural gift.

"Well how do you know that the colors you see are the real ones?" You lean over your desk, pen in hand as the soft scratches of pencil to paper filled the room, "maybe we're the ones who are colour blind."

"That is scientifically incorrect."

"Who said so?"

He looked at you as if you were an idiot, "it was scientifically proven, Y/N. I don't think your argument is valid."

"Okay, so let's take schizophrenia for example," you quickly fired back, "people say that those with this disorder hallucinate and see things that aren't there. But maybe, wait--hear me out," you added when Jungkook started shaking his head, "maybe these people actually see things that we don't."

Jungkook's eyebrow rose in what looked to be half-amusement, "I'm not sure that's a valid point. Also, it's medically incorrect to be sharing false information about psychological disorders."

"Not everything is quantifiable, you know."

"Still, what you're saying is that these people have superpowers that don't exist."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like some kind of marvel action movie to me."

Of course he would say something like that. What were you expecting more? With time, you came to understand the phenomenon that was Jeon Jungkook, with his weird quirks and curious way of thinking. You secretly wondered whether he knew how easily people got triggered by his responses, or whether he just went through life with his own kind of colorblindness.

You got rewarded with a first-hand situation between him and another classmate of yours a few days later, going by the name of Kim Changbin.

It was in the middle of mid-term and since deadlines were comig up soon, the printmaking studio was crammed with students trying to finish up their portfolio projects in time. You would normally give Jungkook a hand with the technical materials and tools needed and after having set up his screen, was busy arranging your own set of colours when a voice pierced through the room in anger.

"What the fuck, Jeon?!" Your head swivelled to see Changbin at the station that Jungkook had been standing at seconds prior, looking quite murderous with his damaged screen in hand. Facing him was Jungkook, a palette knife held in mid-air, "what's wrong with you, flaunting that thing around when we all have screens?!"

"I'm sorry," the words came out straight away from Jungkook's mouth, "It wasn't my intention. I'll make sure to work on it--"

"Work on it?" Changbin's nostrils flared. He stepped towards the taller man, "this took me fucking weeks to perfect. And what? You're going to work on it?" He took another step closer, causing Jungkook to lean back, " How the fuck am I supposed to get my artwork back huh?"

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention," Jungkook parroted again with eyes glassy as though he didn't know what to say, "I'll make sure to wo--"

"Yeah I heard you the first time!" Changbin hollered, index stabbing at his chest, "this artwork is my scholarship ticket and you fucking ruined it!"

"Hey hey," you quickly stepped in-between the two men, hand latching onto Changbin's shoulder, "he said he was sorry okay? Let's just calm down and--"

"Move out, Y/N, this is none of your fucking business," Changbin pushed you away and you stumbled. He took this chance to lunge for Jungkook's chest and the latter whimpered, yelping and handa scrabbling to push Changbin away, "you gonna take responsibility, dumbass?--"

"I'm sorry it wasn't my intention--"

"You fucking retard you can't even --"

"--make sure to work on--"

"Shut up!" And before he knew it, Jungkook yelped and pushed Changbin away.

"Changbin!"

"Jungkook!"

Changbin fell, crashed straight into a table with such force it split down the middle. For a minute, he lay there motionless, the entire class rendered silent.

And in the middle of it all, a panicked Jungkook holding his hands over his ears.

He crouched down as people moved towards Changbin concern and you took this chance to go to your friend, hearing him mutter the exact same phrase over and over again with a blank look in his eyes.

"Jungkook," your words were quiet as your hand wrapped around his shoulder tentatively, "hey, you alright bud? Let's get you out of here, okay?"

But as if he just realized you were his only safe anchor, the young man was quick to wrap his arms around your middle before he buried his head into your chest.

Your cheeks flamed, but you went to caress the back of his head, knowing that this was not a normal situation. He needed you.

"Jungkook?" You whispered and tried ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat, "you okay?"

"Just--please. Don't move."

Few words with so much power. You couldn't help but crumble and hold him closer if that was possible, hoping that the consequences that would follow would hopefully be called an accident.

This was the first time you'd seen Jungkook, as who he really was. You could have walked away , you had that choice, if you wanted to.

But you didn't.

---

"Hey."

Changbin's angry eyes fluttered up to yours from the nurse's bed. He'd been admitted to the campus clinic for an overnight watch in case something went wrong with his back. Due to the force of his fall, he now sported bruises all along his spine and you knew without doubt he'd use it as blackmail against Jungkook even if the wounds were superficial.

"What do you want?" He growled.

From his narrow-eyed stare, it was clear that he was not enjoying his current predicament; that being pinned down to a bed.

"How are you feeling?" You moved a little closer and tried not to flinch under his hard gaze, "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well you got your answer," he snapped, "now if you don't have anytbing else to say, get lost."

"I'm sorry. Jungkook--he's a bit socially awkward and I know you took a lot of time to finish this--"

"That's not your job, is it?" He chuckled emptily, "why are you apologizing on his behalf?"

"Because I know that's what he wants to say, but he's not in a state to say it right now," you took another step closer until you were at his bedside, "so before you go and think that he's just a loser, I wanted to clarify it with you."

"What are you, his mom or something?"

"We're friends, Changbin."

He shook his head, looking amused and you were glad he didn't seem to be so angry now that you exchanged more than two words with him, "and how exactly, did you become friends?"

"Why?"

"You don't seem the type to be friends with that kind of geek, apologies for the insult," he said with a raised brow, "so tell me. How are you friends? Is it by duty?"

"No. He's...it just happened," you tried to stammer through an explanation, though he had a point. How had you become friends? "In any case, does that even matter?"

That was when Changbin grinned at you, "wanna be my friend?"

You stared blankly at him, "what?"

"You wanna be my friend and help me out with my artwork?"

Considering that he would probably combust and drag you along with him if you failed to agree, you were quick to abide by his suggestion, setting up a meeting at the studio a few days later when he'd be safe and sound from the nurse.

You even prepared the materials in advance, setting up all the colours and preparing the screen so that Changbin wouldn't have to wait for it to dry to expose his design.

Your phone vibrated and you quickly pulled it out, frowning when Jungkook's name flashed across the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hello Y/N. Where are you?"

"Uh, at school. Why?"

"I bought chocolate donuts."

Your heart melted slightly, "I'm in the art lab."

Which was where Jungkook found you a few minutes later as he walked through the door, donuts in hand and looking as geeky as ever with a crisp white shirt tucked into light jeans.

"Why are you here?" He frowned, "You're already done with your artwork."

Changbin walked in from the exposure room right at that very instant, his face turning sour as soon as he caught sight of the dark-haired man, "what the fuck are you doing here?" He growled.

"I'm here to give some donuts to--"

"To you!" You grabbed the donut box from Jungkook before thrusting it in Changbin's face, "hos way of saying sorry about your broken screen."

"Actually, these donuts were for yo--"

"He just feels so bad about you having to do your artwork all over again, right Jungkook?" You throw him a pointed look, which caused Jungkook's brows to furrow in even more confusion as Changbin's dark eyes flickered between the two of you, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

It took a moment for Jungkook to mutter out a, "sure."

"I'd feel a whole lot better if you got out of my face," Changbin scowled at him then, and you quickly scurried in front of your friend with hands held up in a defensive manner.

Jungkook turned to you, "do you have to help him, Y/N? He doesn't seem to be very friendly to me--"

"You little shi--"

"Alright alright boys!” You flailed your arms around wildly in hopes that would deter any kind of fight, “I told you, Jungkook doesn’t know how to show his affection and gratefulness to other people. Don’t take it badly, Changbin, let’s just— “

“Statistically speaking, you shouldn’t hang out with people with violent tendencies. It’s dangerous,” Jungkook stated bluntly.

You threw him the angriest glare you could muster, causing the said man’s eyes to dart away. He couldn’t recognize social cues, but he did know for a fact what your angry face looked like. So he didn't fight when you pushed him out of the door while excusing yourself with Changbin and it was only when you were safely away from prying ears that you tried talking some sense into your friend.

"Don't mess with this, okay? I got it." You said in what you hoped was a convincing tone, "just go home and finish your homework. We have that art history essay due tomorrow."

Jungkook stared you down behind his glasses, "but Changbin is--"

"No it's fine, just go home. Everything will be fine if you go home."

"What if he hits you?"

"He won't."

"You will call me if he does?"

"Yes. I promise I will."

That seemed to satisfy Jungkook and you quickly propelled him out of the building before ushering back inside the lab just in time to catch Changbin doing his screenprint.

"Got rid of that loser yet?" His smirk was infuriating. It made you want to slap it off his face.

"Shut up and let me help you," you responded, rolling your eyes as you went to assist him. In truth, you were just secretly glad they didn't tear each other's throats out.

Not everyone understood Jungkook, and while that was fine, you just felt as though you were responsible for protecting him.

It was almost midnight when you finished cleaning up the studio and packed up all the tools and materials, that was when Changbin suggested you get something to eat. Deciding that your stomach was a priority, you agreed and settled at one of the small cheap restaurants that sold hot noodle soup, one of the rare finds open 24/7.

"Why're you friends with that guy?"

You glanced up from your soup, "you asked me that before, Changbin."

He took a sip of his, other hand fumbling with his chopsticks to gather some noodles, “and I’m asking you again. Why are you friends?” He took a bite of his noodles and grumbled appreciatively, “you like him or something?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard coming out of your mouth,” you snorted as you slurped your noodles and chewed on the warmth that seeped into your chest. Noodles always tasted better in cold weather.

“Well he likes you.”

You almost choked on your noodles, “wha— where are you getting all this false information.”

“It’s written all over his face, Y/N,” Changbin rolled his eyes, “he wouldn’t be bringing you donuts if that were the case.”

“You’re wrong. He’s just kind. He always was,” the thought of you and Jungkook being together suddenly flashed before your eyes and heat flushed through your cheeks at the thought. He was your friend, he was the closest thing to home that you had now that you were in university, so it was just natural for you to gravitate towards the familiar.

“Bullshit. You don’t see the way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

Changbin merely chuckled, shaking his head before finishing his soup in silence. You were glad that he dropped it, knowing full well that you wouldn’t have been able to take it if he’d continuously found arguments to support his hypothesis. Jungkook couldn’t like you…could he? He was…odd and not the kind of man to look for things like relationships.

Then again, you’d never actually asked Jungkook how he felt about girls. Or relationships for that matter.

Which was why you had planned to corner him after your English lecture, rushing to the end of the corridor where you knew Jungkook had his design class with your bag barely closed and books clutched to your chest, only to find the said man wrapped up in an animated conversation with a stranger you’d never seen before.

The girl was beautiful. That was a given, with long glossy curls that fell to her waist and dyed light blonde, giving her the appearance of a fairy. She was wearing a pastel blue coat decked with white pants and boots to match, the perfect fashion icon for many, slightly smaller than you were so that her head had to tilt back every time she spoke to him.

You were about to swivel around — since they seemed to be in deep discussion — when Jungkook spotted you. His brown eyes lit up from behind his spectacles (it was kinda cute) and he grinned, dimple showing.

“Y/N,” he called your name and you had no other choice than to walk over, flashing him a weak smile, “this is Lee Sara. She’s in my design class. She’s also going to be an architect.”

“Hi,” Sara smiled. She was beautiful, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled back, eyes darting between the two before settling on Jungkook’s, “you ready to go?”

“Actually, Sara and I are going to get some boba,” Jungkook said.

“Oh,” you tried to hide the surprise on your face, “right. Uhm… I’ll see you later then.”

“Do you want to join us?” Sara asked kindly.

Jungkook was already turning away by then, probably too excited to get his drink to think about your feelings. He stopped mid-way, looked back at you, only to see you shake your head.

“I’m okay,” you smiled slightly, “see you two later. I gotta head to the library to study.”

Maybe it was the fact that Jungkook never used to socialize with girls before or that you never noticed, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disoriented at the sudden switch in the situation, causing Changbin’s earlier words to resonate through your brain. Did Jungkook actually have romantic intentions towards girls.

Did he feel attracted to them? It had never crossed your mind before, but now that Changbin had it labeled as an option, it was as if you couldn’t get the thought out of your head.

And it wasn’t just a one-time occurrence. A few days later you found him cooped up in the library with Sara at his side as they studied the mathematical equations of buildings and helped each other out with their projects. You had joined for a bit, only to feel a bit left out by the conversation and thus opted out early in favour of escaping the rising awkwardness. Not that Jungkook noticed, he never noticed anything.

“Maybe you’re right.” You’d grumbled to Changbin during your art lab a few days later. You had arrived early to class, coffee still steaming in hand, to find the said young man already sitting inside with his final artwork labeled and ready to be submitted on the table.

He looked at you, an eyebrow raising in curiosity, “I’m right about many things,” a smirk graced his face, “do tell.”

“About Jungkook liking girls.”

“No. I said he liked you, that’s a different—“

“It doesn’t matter,” you cut him off, “he doesn’t like me. But he’s—I just realized that maybe he does want a girlfriend. Maybe.”

“What made you say that?”

“He’s been hanging out a lot with a classmate lately,” you shrugged, “it’s just—it feels weird. He never used to be so…social.”

“Good riddance,” Changbin’s smirk grew, which made you throw your pen at his head. It hit him straight on the forehead, “ow! Watch it, woman.”

It was for the best. Really, truly, that Jungkook was expanding his horizons and talking to new people. He couldn’t be in your shadow forever, after all. That was what you kept on repeating yourself as the thoughts replayed through your brain again and again and again. The realization was tough, but change was good. Right?

Change was needed.

And maybe you should change too.

———

"Pigs aren't cute. They bathe in mud and carry numerous bacteria and and these bacteria are transferred to humans."

"Pigs are cute!" You gasped, shoving your phone in Jungkook's face to show him an image of said animal, "look at their babies! They're so fluffy and like tiny and small--"

He pushed your hand away in disgust, "you have weird taste in cutness."

"They're this ugly pink but overall they're quite charming, don't you think?" You giggled as you keptbswiping for photo after photo, "oh gosh, look at this one! He has a bow on his head."

“Y/N you have a weird definition of cute.”

You chuckled, “and you are weird, full stop.”

A few days had passed ever since your encounter with Sara and you hadn’t mentioned anything about the said girl since, thinking that it was probably for the best. And plus, Jungkook had the complete right to do whatever he wanted with his life. Yup. You weren’t there to stop him from talking to a pretty girl.

Maybe you should worry about yourself instead, and try not to focus too much on how it was getting harder and harder to get Jungkook’s attention these days.

Not that anything had changed. You still went on your library study sessions and bought boba together after every art history lecture. You still ate friend chicken and pizza while streaming your favorite movie — the same one that Jungkook asked for every week — and you still hung out with each other as though everything was normal.

But you knew it was far from it, something that your social circle of friends also pointed out during one particular lunchtime.

“He’s so peculiar. How do you hang out with him?” asked your good friend Yoona. You had met her during orientation and the two of you had hung out together quite often ever since. She’d even tagged along to some of your famous movie night Fridays, “I mean, not to sound rude but he’s like the kind of guy you’d find in Internet cafes.”

“He’s not all that bad. You just don’t know him well,” you argued as you took a sip of your iced tea.

“Don’t you think he has a crush on you, Y/N?” Another friend, Jimin, asked. He was busy unwrapping his sandwich and flicked his fringe out of his eyes, cocking his head in a way that made you feel a little self-conscious.

Yoona chortled, “no way. I don’t see it. Although…when you think about it, it would make sense why they would end up together.”

“Right?” Jimin added, “it’s clear as day that you guys have feelings for each oth—“

“Bullshit,” you laughed, “I don’t know why you keep mentioning that. And plus, he’s hanging out with this new girl these days.”

“New girl? Who?” Yoona frowned.

“Her name’s Sara Lee. Heard of her before?”

“Oh,” Jimin straightens, “the pretty girl from architecture right? I think everyone’s heard of her. She’s like an influencer or something.”

“Well you know, if you dress up Jungkook nicely…” Yoona trailed off in thought, “I think he has potential.”

“You think? Girl, the ladies in my course have been eyeing him since the start of the new semester. That’s old news,” Jimin rolled his eyes as you stared them down, eyes darting from one face to another as the new information sunk in.

“Wait—“ you interrupted their flow of conversation, “are you—are you actually serious? Jungkook? Potential? What—“

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet, Y/N,” Yoona said as she slurped down her drink, “I mean— this boy just has wardrobe issues. Nothing that a little bit of fixing can’t solve.”

Contrary to your friends, you had never actually thought of Jungkook— seen of him in this light. Which was why you decided to stare him down in your art history lecture right after lunch, cocking your head this way and that as you examined the angles of his face.

In truth, they were right. Jungkook did have potential to be handsome. Because even with those round glasses and that horrible side part of his, you could still catch a glimpse of his jaw line. His build was hidden, but yet still there underneath the curve of his shoulders. His back was broad, that you were sure of and you couldn’t help imagining how he would look like in a v-neck shirt—

Stop. Your slammed down on your thoughts like car brakes. This was Jungkook, for god’s sake. You’d known him as the annoying classmate in high school, the quirky friend who never wore sweaters or casual wear and was always decked in formal attire. This wasn’t about to change now.

“Y/N, you’ve been staring me down since the start of class and it’s starting to creep me out.”

Jungkook’s voice dragged you back to reality. You blinked, catching his eyes as warmth suddenly flushed through the back of your neck.

“Uh—yeah sorry. Was just lost in thought.” Lies. You were definitely checking him out. You wondered whether he actually knew what that word meant. You were just glad he wasn’t the best at reading physical body language or expressions for that matter.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked suddenly.

He looked hesitant, but nodded.

“What do you think of Sara?”

“What do I think of Sara?” You watched his eyebrows pull into a frown, “I don’t think I understand this question, Y/N.”

“I mean—do you find Sara attractive? Like as a girl?”

Jungkook was silent for a long moment and though you were usually the best at reading him, the expression on his face was one that you couldn’t decipher.

It made your stomach curl with unease.

And when he finally spoke, you swore your stomach twisted in on itself.

“Sara is pretty.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry. You swallowed thickly, bit down onto your lower lip and tried to wonder what the fuck was wrong with you. It wasn’t like you liked Jungkook…right? Right?

“Would you date her?” You asked.

“I have not thought of it. But yes, she is, by every man’s standards, a very good candidate for a girlfriend.”

Ah. So he did know what it meant after all.

“But would you date her?”

“Probably. Yes.” He looked at you then, tilting his head to the side as though trying to decode what was going on inside that head of yours, “why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. No reason.” You tried to smile, lips lifting slightly at the corners in hopes that it would fool him.

It did. Without him knowing that somewhere along the seam of your heart was a small hole that ripped apart its seams.

-—-

Part Two >>

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