#fact check me if i got that fact wrong though
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Smoke Signals
Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas
W/C: 7.5K
Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader
Have yourself a merry little Christmas…
(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers
Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀
A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭
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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.
A senseless daydream.
It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it. Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape. This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place. It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.
So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt. Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life. And last week he was suddenly dead. It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie. All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor. Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.
He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s. Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste. Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.
Whatever you wanted.
He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke. His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you. He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him. He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place. Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick. He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.
Now just standing up seemed impossible. Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible. And for what? For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions. Pathetic, he knew. But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.
This was it.
This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man. Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything. He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come. A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind. And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver. The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him. He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.
Eddie told you he was feeling better. It was a lie. He never had the flu. He didn’t feel better. He wanted to die. And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive. Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.
And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon. His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.
He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones. There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did. A flaw in the system. And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?
Several.
He thought to himself.
You could have gone to school, shown up.
Could have stayed out of detention.
Gotten arrested less.
Not get arrested at all.
Could have said no. So. Many. Times.
In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death. He couldn’t stop making excuses. Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse. For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together. Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had. It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.
Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision. He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid. Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.
What’s the matter darlin’?
And he just sobbed. And remembered.
Morning pancakes and the blues. Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies. Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum. Dancing in the living room. Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees. Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin. Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.
Then he remembered.
Him.
Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense. Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer. That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised. Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights. Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in. Disappearing for days.
Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home. Only he rarely did. Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time. Years and years of push back. A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.
“My dad has a ton of jobs.” He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.
The kids would snicker. Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness. And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day. Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them. Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.
So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature. At least that’s how dad described it. It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse. They called his dad a drunk. They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged. “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie. Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time. Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.
Freak.
Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt. And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up. Closure in some kind of fucked up way. Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.
Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with. Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.
All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes. Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability. No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door. He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it. This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions. He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world. They shouldn’t have to worry about me. With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.
The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana. A life he’d always longed for anyway.
Be careful what you wish for.
That goddamn voice taunts him.
The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away. “One slip up…” They had said. It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him. Literally anyone. As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.
Cause he was nothing if not a problem. First and foremost.
Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–
“Eddie?”
It all stopped.
“Eddie?!”
There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry. The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.
Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–
“Please don’t make me go back!”
You couldn’t form words.
“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.” His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime. “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear. Please d-don’t let them take me.”
Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made. You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.
“I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” You soothe.
Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose. A wordless commitment. Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
–
Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure. Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had. Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at. He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.
The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house. Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred. If either spoke it would make it real. Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.
He said it was an accident, and you believed him. There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind. Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip. It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.
He felt on a deeper level than most.
At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him. In the standard of fight or flight, he froze. Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.
“Bambi–”
“You don’t need to say anything.”
You were trying to keep it together. His croaking voice made that hard. But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability. And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime. Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him. Maybe that was dare you even think it, love. But that’s a crisis for another time.
“Dad died.”
Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions. Conclusions you backtracked on immediately. It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.
“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–” A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.
“It’s fucked.” His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior. “I shouldn’t–” There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath. “I shouldn’t feel bad.”
“You’re allowed to.”
“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”
“And you’re still allowed to mourn. Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”
You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet. Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.
“How’d you know?” He finally asked, timid.
“Hm?”
“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”
“Needed someone?”
Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.
“Wayne called me.” You sigh. “Said he got my number from Steve. Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?” At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it. “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in. Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”
“So you knew?”
“No.” You assure, taking care to relax your features. “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out. He wanted me to check in. I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.” You chuckle.
Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again. You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick. The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor. There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better. You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again. It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.
“I’ll be fine.”
Famous last words. When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.
“But right now you’re not.”
Sabotage. In his eyes.
“But I will be. Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”
Excuses. Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble. A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.
“Stop it.” You demand.
“No, Bambi. Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”
“Stop.”
Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key. Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself. And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses. His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.
Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness. Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in. He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.
“Would you listen to me?!” Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow. “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down. I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it. My shit is my shit.”
You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.
“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.” Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze. A plea. “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in. I don’t care what holiday it is.”
“Go.”
You try not to take it personal. It’s not personal.
“Fine.”
The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him. The room turned colder, more vacant. Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart? His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.
Do not resuscitate.
As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall. The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.
It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended. Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what? Stormed off? Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat. He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—
In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other. And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness. The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.
Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut. An uphill battle.
“Bambi, what did I tell you–”
“You told me to go.” You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth. “And I did. You didn’t say how long or—or where to go. But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake. Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“
Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.
There he is.
Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips. Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you. Your boy.
Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense. Bambi and Eddie. There is not one without the other, not anymore. Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—
“I love you.”
It just fell from his tongue. A promise.
“I-are—are you s—“
“Am I serious? Is that what you’re gonna ask?” He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.
You nod, gulping. Not because you’re afraid, no, never. You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.
“Bambi…” He tuts. “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”
All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.
“Bad.” He reiterates. “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“
“I don’t—“
“I’m not finished.” Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip. “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it. And I’ll run with it. Far. Because I’m pathetic—“
“You are not.”
“I’m a pathetic man. Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”
“Stop saying you’re pathetic.” You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.
“Oh, but I am.” He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.
Did he believe it was his last chance?
And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.
A pathetic whine dare you say.
“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.
“Don’t—ow! Jesus fuck.” Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek. “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”
You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of. Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.
“Can you…can you do that again?” He whispers. Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.
Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck. His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest wet dreams.
Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail. And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.
He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.
“Like that, baby?” You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.
“Please.” A whisper that tells you everything. “I-I never—no one’s ever—“ He tries to warn you.
“What?” You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe. “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”
“Just my hand.” Eddie jokes, voice strained.
Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap. Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his. Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.
“We can stop.” You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.
“No, no.” His voice shakes, chest heaving. “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”
There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him. But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable. Feel sexy and wanted.
“Let me do the work.” You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him. “Let me take care of you.”
He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles. You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.
“I said, let me take care of you.”
Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you. His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.
Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far. His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.
“Eddie.” You whimper.
“M’ gonna cum.” He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria. “Wanna be inside of you.”
You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.
“Please, baby. Please, I’ve got condoms—“
You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.
“You bought condoms? Boy, are you prepared—“
A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.
“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”
“Shhh, okay, okay!!” You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back. You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.
“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.
Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care. Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed. You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you. Purely Eddie. Woodsy and minty. A tad smoky. And some hints of apple.
Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room. And then it plays. A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love. A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.
“Well alright, cowboy.” You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.
“Shut up.” He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.
“C’mere.” You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you. “Wanna see you.”
“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”
Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach. Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago. The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined. While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side. Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.
As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him. Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants. Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.
“F-feel what you do to me?”
It aches.
His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet. But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.
You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side. His eyes grow, lips parted in awe. And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.
You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control. And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.
Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval. That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.
His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it. Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red. Painfully aroused.
He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.
“B-baby, please.” While grinding into nothing, poor boy. “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”
He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands. You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.
Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth. Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps. Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair.
He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot. Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned. Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone. The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom. The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.
Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm. Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.
Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting. The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.
Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds. Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what. Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime. Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.
Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm. His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted. You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark. All of him.
His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you. He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.
Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless. Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit. Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”. That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?
–
Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close. Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.
The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart. Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.
It could help though. And that’s all that mattered. If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing. If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.
While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree. Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar. Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works. Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.
You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did. Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste. Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.
You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes. While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.
Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet. Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity. Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips. A dream.
“Merry Christmas to you too.” You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.
Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.
“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?” He laughs, voice husky with sleep.
“No but I can do you one better—“
“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“
“Next to the table.”
Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created. Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow. He felt like an asshole.
“I—no I can’t—“
“Open it.”
Eddie just stared.
“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!” You smile, approaching behind him.
Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you. When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.
“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse. I just didn’t. I’m sorry.” His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.
As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck. And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.
“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you. I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“
“I love you.” You interrupt.
Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table. Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you. Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute. He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing.
“You’re not just saying that—“
“I. Love. You.” You enunciate each word with a peck. “Point blank. No exceptions. You’re stuck with me old man.”
“Old man? We’re like the same age—“
You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records. A huge stack of them. All genres. Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal. It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling. That much you could gather.
“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”
“Don’t like them?” You scoff. “I love them.”
You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school. You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach. He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.
And he was blushing.
“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me. I picked some out that I knew you’d like. Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”
“Oh, we are listening to them. Right after you open your gift.”
More blushing.
Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him. Like Pandora’s box or something. Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper. A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold. His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper. It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture. At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said.
“No fucking way.” He smiles, half laughs. Then repeats himself. Over and over.
“Do you like it?”
Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around. Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.
“I love it, I love you.”
Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table. The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other. Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between. His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.
He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three. Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled. Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.
Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere. You miss it. But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything. Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi. Makes small talk with mom and grandma. Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day. No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her. He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.
Lastly you call up the gang. Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual. Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background. Something about a broken sled. Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.
“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either. This would all make so much more sense then.”
There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on. Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default. She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially. Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house. Beautiful in the summertime. Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.
Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays. One of the records he’d gifted you.
~end~
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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#smoke signals#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie Munson series#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fic
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Favorite DnP Tour Song Statistics
Settle round, little ducklings, do I have some statistics to share with you all!!
A grand total of 156 people participated in this survey, so thank you if you took the time to fill it out! 🧡
As a teaser, here’s a pie chart of the votes for your favorite song! We’ll be discussing this in depth in its own section but I know some of you f*ck vibe with pie charts more than the bar charts I use there…
To give you a clear vision of what we’ll be looking at, here are the categories of the upcoming analysis:
Phandometrics (community growth on a viewership & fandom scale)
Favorite Song (general)
Favorite Song vs. Phandometrics (the main hypothesis!)
Honorable Mentions (fun little quirks I noticed along the way)
Ready? Time to read on.
PHANDOMETRICS
Lag between year started watching -> year joined the phandom. This can be seen most obviously in the 2009-2015 portion of the graph, likely when the community was just building up. I went back to check individual points, and many people seem to join a year or two after starting to watch.
Three distinct peaks of phandom growth: 2015 (dnp popularity peak), 2019 (coming out), and 2023 (dnpg comeback, dnp renaissance). Pretty expected, but still cool to see!
The difference between the peaks when you look at viewership vs. phandom is interesting though! Especially 2019 seems to be a huge spike in viewership, but the phandom growth seems a little more gradual (maybe more people lurked at first, then joined the phandom in 2023 once they were more active?).
The 2012 peak is really interesting. Most popular year to start watching from this sample, apparently!
FAVORITE SONG
"The Internet is Here" won 51.3% of the votes... which didn't surprise me all that much. It's iconic, okay?
II is about half as popular, and beyond the song qualities themselves, I wonder if a contributing factor to this pattern could be its lack of availability as an officially released song.
I think Everything's Fine is so low partially bc I closed the poll before WAD released to prevent the recency effect from skewing the data. (Especially because I thought we were getting "Everything's Fine (Acoustic)" smh.)
FAVORITE SONG VS. PHANDOMETRICS
By era...
I had a hypothesis: based on the year you joined, which I now realize in my head wrongly equated with the year you were most active in, you'd be more biased towards the song of that era bc a) you were more likely to go to the tour or b) epic nostalgia hit.
Yeah, I was wrong.
When you group the eras you see that TIIH wins in almost every single group by a similar proportion to the total, which means this attitude is fairly evenly distributed amongst the phannies.
By year...
Separating by year, you begin to see that, hold up, the hypothesis could have some merit! In either 2017 or 2018 on both graphs, the II finale actually does win.
The super high TIIH votes bleeding in from 2015/2016 and from 2019 seemed to mask this pattern.
HONORABLE MENTIONS
I have no idea what happened here but both ways you slice it, Interactive Introverts was fighting for its life amongst the 2012 phannies???
We got three phannies that have been watching since 2009!! The fact that people have been sticking around so long (up to fifteen years!!! and this was only a sample of 156 of us!!!) is really heartwarming for me bc it's a testament to how strong of a community dnp have built their viewership to be.
At the end of the day, what can I say? That was a lot of statistics. I hope you enjoyed or took something away from this little survey. Lmk if you notice any other cool trends or have any theories on what the data means!
Thank you for listening to my yapping; have an orange heart.
🧡
#OH ALSO GUYS I literally did all of the categorizing manually in order to make the clustered bar graphs. it was a pain. it was worth it.#dan and phil#dnp#we're all doomed#wad#phan#tatinof#interactive introverts#daniel howell#danisnotonfire#amazingphil#phil lester#ser does stats#ser shares#stats phannies; music phannies; data analyst phannies... this one is for you <3
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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
TW: little bit of nsfw, BDSM mention, angst
You shouldn’t be googling ‘how to tell a guy no in a nice way’ at the nurse’s station, but something has to be done. You thought after you left Julian’s place that there would be a mutual understanding of “this isn’t going to work out, we’re too incompatible”, but he didn’t seem to get that memo.
The gifts just keep coming:
A pretty black silk dress in your exact size by Prada. Two crescent thin golden bangles for each wrist from Tiffany & Co that come in a robin’s egg blue box wrapped in a white satin ribbon. Upon close examination, you make out that they are subtly engraved in slanting script, JM. Really? His initials? You almost chuck them out the window just for that.
An expensive lunch from the fancy bistro that you can never afford, though you would have preferred a gourmet sandwich to an artisan salad.
A bouquet of fifty fucking red roses for Christ’s sake. They take up so much room at the nurse’s station that they’re a nuisance. They’re addressed to you, not signed—but you know exactly who they’re from. Then you have to field all the annoying questions about who’s your secret admirer? You hear Karen grumble that it must be that Officer Romeo and didn’t know cops got paid that good.
If only they knew. It would serve Julian right, if you just ratted him out to everyone.
This has to stop.
“Julian?”
He looks up from his mountain of paperwork. “Hey, look who it is. Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine. How are you?” Yeah, great, egg this on a little bit more instead of getting to the point. When will you learn?
“I’m spectacular,” he says. “I was wondering if you were alright because you called off for the first time yesterday?”
Yeah, so I didn’t have to face you after receiving the expensive ass jewelry…
Your smile feels forced enough to induce a migraine, but at least it gives you an idea for an excuse. “Yeah, I had a really bad migraine.”
“Oh, that’s not good. Do you get them frequently?”
“Yes.” It’s not exactly a lie, although these migraines you’re admitting to are actually just mild caffeine withdrawal headaches when you don’t have enough time to drink your coffee.
“Have you talked to your primary care provider about it?” He asks, standing up to flash his penlight in your eyes and dilate your pupils. He grips your chin and turns your head to check lateral eye movement, but you stop him.
“Julian, I’m fine. I didn’t have a stroke.”
“Don’t tell me you’re fine if you’re not fine,” he orders. “I can see there’s something wrong. You're pale and clammy.” He pulls out his big leather chair and guides you to sit in it. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
You look up at him, at this kind eyed, two sided man, and can’t do it. You can’t tell him to stop sending you gifts or buying you food, because you don’t want to be an asshole and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. Your nerves die along with your resolve.
“There, see, you look like you’re feeling better already. I’ll go buy you some water.”
“No, you don’t-“ he’s already gone halfway down the hall with those mile long legs.
You decide to take all the expensive gifts and shove them in the bottom of your closet to avoid feeling guilty when looking at them. But that doesn’t change the fact that you still have to look at Dr. Mercer and endure his caring, golden retriever persona.
This is what happens when you lie to yourself. You swear off relationships, move to a different part of the country, and then decide to go on a date—idiot—and these are the consequences for it. You feel like you have absolutely betrayed that girl that packed up her whole life to come to LA for a fresh start, and you’re sure she’s not forgiving you this time.
“No more,” you say to yourself, pushing the gift boxes to the back of the cobwebby closet. “No more dates, no more men. No more heartbreak. You stupid bitch. Yes, that includes Tom Ludlow. Shut up. I said. No. Tom. Ludlow.”
You end up screaming into a pillow, then calling your sister. She doesn’t answer, which is typical—probably on the road or using again or even dead in a ditch for all you know.
“Hey, Aggie, it’s me, gimme a call.” You play the voicemail back and then decide to delete it and hang up. You’re not exactly on speaking terms, but that ebbs and flows from one year to the next, so you’re not sure what she’ll think or do when she sees your name on her phone screen.
Your friend, Sheila, doesn’t answer either; she’s probably at work.
It sucks. You could really use some reassurance and comfort that you’re not alone or unwanted in this fucked up little world. Maybe that’s why you end up with your finger hovering over Tom Ludlow’s number while you sit on the floor of your bedroom. You stare at those digits for a long time, then tuck your phone away and cry.
You only get a chance to dive a little bit into this self pity session before your phone rings from your pocket. It’s not Aggie, nor Sheila, but a number you’ve unintentionally memorized nonetheless.
Now, you really have to fight with every piece of yourself not to answer Tom Ludlow. The lecture you just monologued becomes irrelevant next to the burning, awful fucking desire to hear him talk. You almost pick it up. Almost.
Watching your phone ring and ring, his name emblazoned on the screen, without answering feels like cutting out your heart and crushing it under your heel.
It goes to voicemail, but he hangs up before leaving a message.
A part of you that you didn’t even know that you need dies.
Good. Good riddance. Your heart only gets you into huge fucking trouble anyway.
You wait for your inner strength to return over the days that go by afterwards. Tom continues to call. You keep declining to answer. For some reason, you feel worse and worse every time the phone ceases to ring.
Where is you fucking girl power now?
All you really feel, is empty, and that is the vulnerable state Julian finds you in one late night at the nurses station.
“Y/n,” he greets you, leaning on the counter, looking down at you with a glimmer of something dangerous in his dark eyes. It’s a look he almost never lets out of the box while at the hospital, and suddenly your heart is in your throat.
“Doctor.”
For some reason this causes him to smile down at you, a slight curl of lips that unleashes a handful of fluttering butterflies in your belly.
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
You recall the massive bouquet of pure white lilies he had sent to your door yesterday, and believe him.
“Julian…”
He comes around the counter, smooth as a dark lake, reminding you of when he jumped over the couch and chased you like he was a wolf rather than a golden retriever. Your pussy gives a timid little throb at this, almost as if she’s asking for permission to come out after days of being punished, locked away in her gilded cage while you dealt with other, more pressing emotions, like the one that stabs you repeatedly in the chest while you let Tom Ludlow’s number go to voicemail.
“I can’t stop-“ he clears his throat, chin up as if he’s trying not to be nervous, and brushes some wispy, rogue hair off your neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” You can tell by the black matte of his eyes he means more than just platonically.
Every hair on your body stands at attention for that hungry, eat you alive look on the handsome Doctor’s face. Part of you, and it’s a bigger part than you’d like to admit, wants to have a gag stuffed down your throat and a tight slip knot holding it in place so that he can do whatever he wants without you ruining things with your fat mouth again.
“We’re just. We’re really not—Fuck.” You slap your forehead into your hands, and he takes it out, ever so gently with a big, shiver-inducing palm at the back of your neck, gripped softly in your hair, not exactly pulling, but lifting your face up to look at him nonetheless.
“Please, just hear me out.” It doesn’t sound like he’s used that first word very often—maybe not ever, or at least not for a very long time. Dr. Mercer’s picture is in the dictionary under the word ‘Polite’, but he practically runs this hospital, and with that responsibility comes a certain authoritative entitlement.
“Julian, we’re at work.” You don’t know how he manages to get you on the desk without alerting anyone around. The way he can just lift you easy and gentle has a familiar desire bubbling hot in your hips, and you can’t decide if you’re glad that you chose to chart in a more secluded area of the floor tonight or not.
“I can’t help it.” It sounds like he’s honest about that, voice splintering and needy as he presses his hard torso between your soft thighs. “I know that I fucked up, but if I don’t get a second chance to at least try and rectify this…” He’s not usually a man that doesn’t know what he wants to say.
This whole swearing off men thing? How is it supposed to fucking work if the men look and act like Julian? How are you supposed to do the whole proverbial keep it in your pants bit when a sexy, tall, beautiful doctor wants—desperately—to string you up to his bed and do horrible things to your body?
You can’t believe these words are coming out of your traitor's mouth as you bend under his will: “what kind of a second chance?”
He kisses you in response, long and slow, tongue slipping teasingly against the sensitive inner sanctum of your mouth. It leaves your toes curling, your chest rising quick and rapid, your white knuckles clutching the polished counter. He’s not exactly nice about it, pressing you back into the lip of the granite, holding the entire side of your face in his hard grip, turning your mouth red and swollen.
You’re going to have to bleach wipe this desk after all of this is done, because the insistent need of his mouth is making your comfy cotton underwear damp and warm like a humid summer night back at home.
“Let me take you to the club. Let me show you…let me help you understand.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Isn’t that the fucking understatement of the century? It sounds like a terrible idea. But, you were the one that wanted to understand him better. “When?”
The thrill seeker, she’ll never die. She needs blood, she’s thirsty, she doesn’t want a boring life of reading and watching the news. She wants to go to a BDSM club in Venice with a fine ass doctor and probably ruin your—her life in the process.
“When are you off next?” The grin on Julian’s face is all Mr. Hyde.
#Julian Mercer x Reader#tom ludlow x reader#tom ludlow#street kings#keanuverse fic#keanuverse#something’s gotta give#Sorry spooky more Julian 🙂↕️
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out of curiosity what's the moment being a hardcore Ruben stan really clicked for you
Really good question, thank you for asking.
I enjoyed when he was onscreen, even on first watch, but that's not exceptional. Brennan does great voices etc, he's a very funny presence, but all this can apply to Gertie, or a billion other NPCs. His art is so huggable, but that wouldn't be it on its own.
He kept growing on me slowly every time I went back through scenes to fact check and he was there. Even when we actually had the episode where we found out about Jace's involvement in his life and the confrontation with Henry, I got more engaged with his character but I wouldn't say I reached my full tipping point quite yet.
But what happened was, there were a couple posts where people thought it might be a trick, and that Henry was being inappropriate. Jace snapped because he was under stress, but ultimately he wasn't wrong in telling Henry to butt out, kind of thing.
I don't want to shame anyone for having that idea, it's a mystery season and I think it's normal and fine to reach for possibilities that stretch what's likely sometimes. But ya know, I went back through the scene to double-check my memories, and get the quote about Jace saying that he didn't even read all of Henry's concerns. (Which I feel like made Jace pretty clearly Wrong in that scene, even if he had turned out to just be a shitty teacher/administrator and not Ankarna-connected.)
And as I was again going back through his scenes and he kept growing on me, I was making more posts about him and realizing how few other people were posting about him in the tag. I got to thinking about it, like
"well hang on, we have this character with a great design. he's presented a lot like the emo equivalent of Zayn's caricature of gothness in season one. they've already investigated and found out he doesn't have a history of being toxic to anyone even though he's famous now and has the opportunities. and we just got huge evidence that the 'maybe some of the RGs are being manipulated and actually fine' that people wanted for Oisin in particular might actually be true for him."
and my first instinct was to check myself and go like "well remember just bc you're super invested in small NPCs doesn't mean anyone else would be, he's actually very minor and has little screentime-HANG ON A MINUTE. he's had more screentime than any other Rat Grinder! So then why-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
And idk something about this kid who had more people going "maybe his uncle is evil for trying to protect him" than "oh damn we just found out he needs to be protected" made me go you know what. if nobody else is gonna take this corner of fandom than somebody gotta
And I rolled up my sleeves.
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Do the traffic cones have any basic knowledge like shapes and colors or do they have to learn all that from road wiz?
They have a school session every week
#the road wiz#myart#sqwonks#they’re teaching the smaller ones because they’ve been brought to life last#fact check me if i got that fact wrong though
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hi! ur thoughts on gregor/yi sang?
I LOVE GREGOR YI SANG!!!! (gregsang?)
I think I mentioned it before but the milk scene from hell's chicken rewrote my brain and I want to see more of yi sang, gregor, and heathcliff all hanging out now!
I don't feel like I know enough about Yi Sang (ch 4 is soon though AAAAAAAA excitement!) but i like some ideas around them?
Yi Sang spent probably a lot of his life in a lab doing research so he is one of the only people on the bus. That makes his relationship to Gregor and how he grew up in a lab very interesting for me to think about!!
Going to keep things under read more for leviathan and limbus spoilers!
I think there's some fun potential crunch between Yi Sang being a researcher and Gregor's experience with researchers being a traumatic presence in his childhood!
There's also lighter tones the pairing could take on - they have that good potential range!! (Like most pairings do, given how dire the setting is lol) I'll talk about crunchy ideas first, then sillier ones after!
Everyone knows 'oh Gregor grew up in a lab, some bad shit happened there' but no one Knows what it is like in a formal lab setting like Yi Sang might?
We see Yi sang is smiling and happy in the preview - but like we have Seen what happens to many well meaning researchers or inventors through L-Corp. It is very hard to try and develop anything and test it in the city without it causing harm to others! When that happened and how much Yi Sang might have known about it is up in the air but at some point to test the reflection mirror tech Someone had to try it out. And it probably didn't end well given what happens to all the kids in leviathan. We know from Leviathan their tech was being built based off of what Yi Sang's team developed!
All that to say there's potentially some discomfort on Gregor's end of things he'd need to deal with! The present Yi Sang in limbus doesn't talk about his research or anything related to his past at all. Gregor might not Know that he used to be in a lab research team! At some point it will come up and depending on how Gregor handles it the relationship could get some very crunchy tones for fanfiction there!
Not to say that wouldn't work out between them! But that Yi Sang might have the closest understanding of what Gregor went through outside of Gregor potentially telling someone else about the details. And that could be pretty helpful in a relationship if Gregor didn't have to explain a lot of trauma to someone else - that's hard!
We also don't know how the group split up that Yi Sang used to work for! We know that he used to be a little less sleep deprived and smiled at some point there from the preview. The narration makes me assume he was happy working there at some point! So how did it all fall apart? Yi Sang might also have some issues to navigate on his end with Gregor setting off reminders unintentionally. They are crunchy on both ends like this.
It's one of those things I could see being a tension point if Yi Sang suddenly uses some vocabulary of that time and Gregor has to suddenly realize his silly spoiled milk drinking buddy did the same thing as what those awful people did to him and his sister. Maybe talking about it brings up some betrayal that happened on Yi Sang's end. Maybe they both hate how the city corrupts research and science and tramples on people to make progress? That gets a high potential for some real emo fanfiction to explore everything and I eat that shit up!!
On a lighter note - Yi Sang is a silly guy and he's great! I think most of the sinners seem comfortable around each other by the time Hells Chicken and Dante's Notes scene 2 roll around! We know he seems accepting of most people and overall pretty chill.
Gregor seems exasperated sometimes in the intro dealing with all the tension on the bus. Tension is always going to be present! It's a tense world! I think it's nice there could be someone for Gregor to hang out with who is pretty low stress most of the time!
I think Yi Sang was one of the people who acted once or twice supportively or protectively over Sinclair in ch3 and I am always a fan of someone in a relationship trying to stick up for Gregor! He's had a rough time :,)
on the flip side i feel like Gregor would watch out for Yi Sang and enjoy hanging out with him. I just want both of them to be normal silly guys having a good time laughing and eating dinner together. And now we know they canonically do!! hell yea hell yea!!
I personally like the hyper positive outlook on the pairing where Yi Sang's lab experience is not something directly upsetting to Gregor but is something that ends up being an interest point between them - and as they talk through it they get closer together and trust each other on a deeper level. They could have both a light an fun relationship most of the time while having the deeper more meaningful understanding and desire to care for each other!
They could be silly! They could fall asleep together - Yi Sang could wake up early and make the Worst Breakfast that is basically poisonous. Gregor could cook for him and he would happily eat probably anything. When Gregor is too down Yi Sang can make silly jokes and lighten the mood. When Yi Sang is spacing out too hard Gregor can ground him and help him feel more involved.
There's a lot of fluffy ideas I like coming up with between them! They're fun to think about!
Ultimately - they're both good and I want them both to be happy!
#kickguyreply#gregsang#i didn't double check any facts mentioned so maybe im remembering something wrong?#they're silly guys but also they got that Unfortunate Trauma Overlap#i always focus on Da Trauma though in pairings if its interesting enough#how people communicate through issues and other things makes or breaks relationships for me!#They seem very friendly in casual times and if they handle the tense times well they will probably sit in my mind for a long time!!#waiting patiently for PM to write gregor's reactions to all of the lab themed things in ch4 and if not i will think them up on my own hadfk#this is probably very rambly and barely coherent but i am in da headache zone so i am not editing that hard dhfgkjhadfg
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every couple days i see something about amogus and i'm like 'oh i should play that again, it was so fun' like the game didn't make me absolutely feral
#just me hi#fun fact. that game is half the reason i named Rave that hfhvhbv#that is his favorite place in the world! Rave Unleashed#/but yeah 2019-21 i played it All The Time and got really good at it#and i also lost All conventions so i definitely enjoyed the apeshizz time#but also not sure if that could be good for me longterm hvhhfbvh#/ALSO i think that game helped me learn how to just make up a whole story on a whim hhvhfhbvf#i'd be covering for me and my brother and making up a Whole Thing along with it#70% success rate don't check that#i stopped playing when it started asking for emails though and didn't accept the one i gave it so i couldn't play :/#also like every other server was people on discord ?? if it's a discord server why not make it private ???#kinda rude i think but overall it was fun lol#/holy funk and that game Also made me realize i wasn't cis ffvfvbfhsjv#i'd get Super happy when people assumed i was the wrong gender. incredibly psyched! ignored it then but oh Boy did it open my eyes later lo#//yeah i should definitely play it again hvhfh#or Should I [squints]#hmmm#well if it'll run on my emulator i'll take it as a sign loll#:>
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#my cat has been hating when i touch her back for the last MONTH#and i thought it was just because she was sensitive#because that’s what the explanation was on google when i looked it up 😭#and i also switched her food near the same time so i thought maybe it was an allergic reaction#but i started to get concerned because it seemed like she was in pain#so i got my mom to check her out bc mom’s know best blah blah#and apparently eggs are literally in her fur and the same bugs have biting her 🧍♀️#so she’s literally been in itching pain for a little over a month bc i was stupid and thought her back was just sensitive#and the fact that i can’t help her immediately is killing me#the only upside is that i finally know what’s wrong with her and what to do about it#also i feel so bad bc i have the worst fear of contamination and infestation so i keep turning her away when she wants to cuddle 😭😭#i’m gonna have to get over it though i mean she’s been in my lap a bunch of times in the last month so what’s a couple extra days gonna do#any tips on how to make my cat feel better temporarily will be very much appreciated thank you#i had to rant about this because it’s ten o’clock in the morning on Saturday and i can’t do anything for her until Monday#i hate BUGS idc if they’re a vital part of our ecosystem the ones who prey on cats should be moved to antarctica
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This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.
The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.
I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!
DISCLAIMERS:
Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations!
—
OVERVIEW:
There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically.
The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.
Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.
Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.
All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.
The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.
—
SET DRESSING:
Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations. And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.
Foreground:
In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again.
I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life.
White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”. It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy.
Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways? I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later.
The Flood:
Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.
White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.
Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light.
Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel. But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.
And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it?
Furnishings from Home:
I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.
Gaming Setup:
The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing.
That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy.
Nostalgia Corner:
On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch. If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines.
This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by.
The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.
The Hanging Mobile:
Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.
This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space.
IV Stand:
Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.
Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence.
Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:
“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”
As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover.
Window:
Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.
Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together.
Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.
To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.
A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief.
On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!
Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story.
Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside.
Bed:
And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it.
In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.
The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him.
Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.
—
CONCLUSION:
There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die.
#technoblade#Technoblade never dies#Technoblade fanart#techno fanart#sleepy bois inc#tommyinnit#philza#wilbur soot#qsmp chayanne#skeppy#dream#mcyt#mcyt fanart#fan art#purplealmonds#2023
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Teen Dad (OP81)
(Part 1 of the Blind Item Series)
(Part 1 of the Teen Dad OP AU)
Summary: Rumors are flying about a young driver with kids
Seeing the rumor, and various other tweets commenting on the matter, first thing this morning was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. Oscar immediately sat up, frightening his fiancée who was asleep next to him a moment before.
“What? What's wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up.
“Fuck this is not good.” He mumbled as he looked through more tweets. He knew he had minutes before his PR team started messaging him on how best to proceed.
“Osc, you are really scaring me. What is going on?” His fiancée asked again. After 5 years together and two kids, she knew him well enough to know that Oscar isn’t easily woken up. While he usually wakes up early to train or help the kids, on days like today where he has the chance to sleep in, he will usually take it. But the amount of notifications he started getting were enough to get him to check his phone and once he saw the severity of the situation he was awake and alarmed.
“A blind item about a ‘younger f1 driver with two kids he had as a teen’ just went up. No confirmation on who but it seems they have gotten it down to only a few of us. They don’t know yet but I am sure they will know soon.”
He was grateful they hadn’t clocked in on him but Oscar was sure with a bit more time to dig people would put two and two together. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he was a teen dad, not anymore at least. When he was even more so an up and coming driver, he kept it hush because he was nervous being 18 with two kids would lead teams to reconsider where his priorities were, his family or his career. That wouldn’t have been crazy of them to do though, as important as racing was to Oscar, he would always pick his family first. Luckily, though, he had a great enough support system so he didn't have to choose.
Most people in Oscar’s life knew. Any teams apart from Prema, Mclaren, and Alpine were none the wiser but why would they need to know? Not all drivers knew either, some who he had become closer to were let in on the secret, especially Logan, who had been there the entirety of his kids' lives. Annoyingly, at least in Oscar’s opinion, he has been titled ‘the cool uncle’ from day one.
“What do we do?” his fiancée asked, snapping him out of his spiraling.
“I imagine it is up to my team to figure that one out. I’ll message them now. Get the kids ready and I’ll be done in time to help with breakfast.” He said as he got up.
After a long, pretty impromptu, call, it was decided Oscar would make a statement about it before it was revealed to be him. He wasn’t too happy about not getting to really do it on his own terms but this is the way it worked out, and hey, Oscar would be lying if he said he wasn’t already planning which race he was going to bring his kids to first.
oscarpiastri
liked by mclaren, logansargeant, landonorris, and 518,294 others
oscarpiastri This is of course not how I wanted to do this. I had hoped to have more time before I had to let the peace of privacy go but these things happen when you are in the spotlight. So yes, I am a father of two great kids and I have been since I was 18. I am not ashamed by the fact I was a teen dad, and am certainly not hiding my kids out of anything but love. I hadn’t realized I could truly love anything or anyone more than racing but then these two came into my life and I realized I would give it all up for them. Luckily, with the support of their mother (who is my fiancée) and my family, I didn’t have to give it up. My four person family means more to me than anything and I count my lucky stars each night that I have been blessed with them. I ask that you please respect our privacy. This isn’t the end of you seeing the Piastri twins but I, being the over protective father I am, am not ready to throw two 3 year olds into the chaos of the motorsport world just yet.
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Part 2: A Much Needed Interview out now!
#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#oscar piastri x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#oscar piastri#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 fluff#op81 fic#op81
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Hi hope you‘re doing well!!! I wanted to ask if you could write a scenario with Gojo and fem reader where she‘s lying on the bed reading and he wants her attention and she just grabs him and let‘s him cuddle her while she‘s reading I CAN‘T STOP THINKING ABT THIS
used to it — gojo satoru x gn!reader
despite all your complains, huffs, and eye rolls, you never truly found satoru’s affection bothersome. in fact, you found it very endearing and cute how he can be so openly infatuated with you.
in the beginning, you thought that perhaps his theatrics were blown out of proportion. that while yes he did want your attention, he surely didn’t want it that much.
but you were wrong, so very wrong.
you remember that one time you had left early to get some groceries, leaving satoru in the bed alone. in your defense, you were going as quickly as you could.
“I gotta go back before satoru realizes I am not in bed!”
you underestimated him. because the very moment he woke up, he looked around for you, under the bed, in the cupboards, and even in the chimney. his brows furrowed when there was no sign of you.
he whispered, eyes going through the room once again, but to no avail, “yn?”
his lips quickly formed into a pout and he whined—loudly, “y/n?!”
you instantly got a call from one very sad gojo satoru who was whining and complaining about how you left him all alone to fend for himself for hours and hours on end. you had checked the time right after that.
it had been 20 minutes.
anyways, you’re not new to gojo’s massive need for love and affection. you can also proudly say that you learned how to satiate him while not troubling yourself.
let’s take today as an example.
the new volume of your favorite book had finally dropped. so you sent a text to satoru telling him that you would be busy for tonight.
of course, that is unacceptable in his book so he told you that he would go to your house after he was done with his mission.
you were able to finish a couple of chapters before he finally burst through the door, exclaiming, “the world’s most eligible bachelor is here!”
you send a small smile his way and swiftly continue reading your book. he pouts, sulky about the lack of attention, “babe?”
“mhm?”
getting a mic out from god knows where, he clears his throat and delivers the best performance of his life, “I want your love and I want your revenge—“
silently, you pull him into your arms.
satoru tends to forget how strong you’re—especially because of all the things you go through as a sorcerer—,but he happily buries his face in the crook of your neck with a smile plastered on his pretty face, “you don’t want me to serenade you?”
you chuckle, “not really, and with bad romance out of everything?”
he gasps, offended, “I will have you know that lady gaga is an absolute icon!”
with a roll of your eyes, you continue silently reading while resting the book on his back—you doubt it weights anything to him though.
a few beats pass before satoru gazes up at your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “how was your day, pretty?”
“good,” you murmur then you kiss the top of his head and push it back to your chest. he welcomes it before he slightly turns his head and mumbles, “okay, so I should shut up?”
a giggle escapes your lips as you nod and start carding your fingers through his hair. he hums, murmuring a small ‘i love you’, before falling silent once again.
you assume that he is asleep. a soft sigh leaves your lips as you hug him a little tighter and gladly continue reading your book.
a grin breaks out on your face; you’re finally getting to the good part!
you quickly turn the page and your eyes dart to the beginning of the page in unbelievable speed. a gasp almost escapes your lips as you realize that the character has—
“y/n, how many chickens would it take to be able to kill a lion?”
the character has had enough of the husband and is about to murder him in his sleep.
“I mean like have you ever thought about—wait, babe, I am sorry, don’t hurt me—“
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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo imagine#jjk x you#gojo x you#gojo x reader#jjk imagines#jjk gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk gojo x y/n#gojo satoru imagine#gojo satoru fluff
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Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy. Steddie, modern au, no upside down
Steve had been feeling pretty good. He’d gone out, had a nice conversation with a girl at the bar and gotten her number. He didn’t feel sparks but she was nice and cute. They didn’t talk about anything too deep but when Steve had asked for her number she put it in and then left with her friends.
He tried not to be too desperate. But he wanted to let her know he was serious and that he would (eventually) be good boyfriend material. So a little before midnight, he shot a text to her to make sure she was alright.
[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂
He had debated on the emoji but figured it was harmless and innocent in the end. He put his phone down and got ready for bed, expecting her to text back after a couple of minutes. Unless she didn’t get home safely. Steve tried not to think about that.
After changing his clothes and brushing his teeth he checked his phone. He lit up when he saw that Misty had replied.
(11:52) Sure did Steve-o
(11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡
Misty texted a little different from the way she talked. A bit more…well he wasn’t sure how to describe it. Misty seemed like a really straight-laced woman. She was in the process of getting her education degree.
Steve shot back another message, saying that he had a good time tonight and he really hoped to see her again. There it was. A clear intention. If she responded positively, he’d ask her out right then. But the reply didn’t come as quick as he wanted. When it got around 12:30, Steve finally called it a night. Misty had probably gone to sleep as well.
-------------------------------------------
[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂
Eddie stared at the text he just received. He racked his brain for whoever Steve must be and what he had done all day today, wondering if he met someone but their name just slipped his mind.
But nope. He had spent this lovely Saturday at home, lounging around in his apartment on his day off. He hadn’t gone out. And he hadn’t met anyone named Steve. The message came when he was in the middle of making his near-midnight dinner of mac and cheese. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly checking in on someone.
Eddie looked at his surroundings. Decent place, a bit cramped but big enough for just him and for anyone who needed to crash on his couch. He had popped out earlier to get some cigs and he had in fact made it back safely.
(11:52) Sure did Steve-o
(11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡
And who said he didn’t have impulse control? He thought about it for at least two minutes before sending the message.
[11:55] I had a nice time tonight. Hope to see you again.
Eddie looked at the new text, his chewing slowing to a stop. This Steve guy had met someone, spent some time with them, and was now trying to set up another date. There were a few ways to go about this. For just a moment he considered what a rational person would do, just a moment though.
A rational person might’ve said right away ‘wrong number’ or ‘wires crossed’. But Eddie’s brain didn’t function on rationality. So even though Steve clearly meant to text someone else, Eddie thought of the best way to reply. It did take him a bit to send it, the macaroni was calling to him. But by 1, Eddie had sent something back.
(1:07) You saw me?
(1:09) From my apartment?
(1:10) Creepy
He went to bed, thinking he’d wake up to a very confused man and when morning came he wasn’t disappointed.
[8:13] What are you talking about? It’s Steve? From the bar?
Eddie checked his clock. It was ten in the morning. Who got up at eight on a Sunday? Eddie’s first thought was a church-goer. Those folks were early risers. But they didn’t frequent bars too much.
(10:29) Sorry man
(10:30) I think you got the wrong number
(10:30) I didn’t go to a bar last night.
Once he sent it, Eddie belatedly hoped the words weren’t too blunt. It couldn’t feel nice, getting a number error. But after a moment of thinking, he started coming around to the idea that maybe Steve wasn’t such a catch. People didn’t give wrong numbers after a good time. Maybe he actually was a creep.
[10:36] Oh. Well, I’m sorry to bother you.
Eddie rolled from his back onto his stomach. Curse his soft heart. He didn’t know anything about this man and somehow he felt sorry for him. But he wasn’t about to go gushing to a stranger. Who knows what kind of interactions Steve had with this mystery number? So instead, he went the typical Eddie route and tried to lighten the mood.
(10:38) Probably dodged a bullet
(10:38) They could’ve been a serial killer
(10:39) Or worse someone who jogs in the morning
He put that little dig there just to feel out Steve. If he wasn’t at church, maybe he was the kind to go and workout in the morning. In the middle of making his coffee, Eddie realized he was trying to learn about the dude and thought he might be courting danger. Then he heard a ‘ping!’ and any ideas of caution were thrown to the wind.
Leaning against the counter, the only sound was the percolating as he read what Steve had said.
[10:46] Okay confession. I did actually go for a jog this morning. Is that weird?
Eddie started to visualize this man and another alarm went off in his mind that he promptly shooed away.
(10:47) No not weird at all
(10:47) It’s perfectly natural for an insane person
(10:48) Didn’t you go drinking last night?
(10:48) And then you went for a jog this morning?
(10:49) You might just be more scary than a murderer
(10:50) Scratch that
(10:50) This seems like text book serial killer behavior
(10:51) Bet this is how you scope out your targets
The coffee finished brewing and Eddie starting pouring it and it was only then he realized the wall he’d sent Steve accusing him of being a killer. It looked like texts from a crazy person. He looked crazy. His friends had complained more than once about him sending these streams of texts instead of keeping it all in one response. Steve was going to see that and leave him on read, or just block his number.
[10:57] Damn guess I better come up with a new tactic.
Eddie didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until he tried to drink and spilled hot coffee on himself. Alarms were ringing in his head again but he might as well be deaf.
Part 2
#apo writes#stranger things#fanfiction#steddie#lemme know what yall think of the text format#im still figurin it out
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Your and Astarion's Son Gets His Babyfangs
Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, nose boop, kissing, family fluff, Astarion is a good dad
A/N: Written for @animeopal66! I should write more fluffy family fics. I gotta get some more ideas.
Your son has been really fussy for the past week and neither you or Astarion could figure out why that was. He got all his needed hours of sleep, he always had his toys at hand, both you and Astarion spent time with him, played with him and always came running when he cried and he wasn't hungry either. In fact you were feeding him right now.
He was a little sleepy but you held him against your chest while Astarion waited, watching you both with a dreamy look. There was a time, a long time that he never thought he would have a family of any kind, much less both a wife and a son.
"Maybe he's a little drama queen like his dad." You only half joked when you said that.
"Me? A drama queen? That hurts to hear darling." Astarion reached over the table and booped you on the nose. His finger was slightly cold, but you noticed that your son's temperature was more like your own.
His ears however were like Astarion's, so was his hair. His eyes though? Your color, which according to your husband was a much better outcome, he liked your eyes.
You couldn't lean over to kiss him unfortunately but you could blow him an air kiss, "You know you're a- ouch!" You looked down to your son, he was still latching onto your breast like nothing was wrong.
"What's wrong?!" Astarion nearly jumped from his chair in alarm.
"He bit me." You pouted before realizing what that mean, "Astarion, he bit me. Hold on." As soon as you pushed your son away from the source of his food he got fussy and teary eyed, which was to be expected. "Shhh, it's okay little guy. Your dad and I want to check for something."
"Let me see, let me see. Has he already-?" Astarion knelt down and tilted his son's head up, his eyes widening with happiness when he saw the smallest fangs. "Oh my gods! So cute!" Your husband nearly started crying. Yup, drama queen.
Okay, not so much because you were on the verge of tears too. "I guess that explains his fussiness lately. You're growing up so fast." You cupped your son's cheek and kissed the other, making him giggle since the two of you were now giggling. "Astarion, we're not trying for another one, stop looking at me like that."
"Looking at you like what? I'm just so happy to have you two in my life." Astarion kissed you quickly, deliberately sounding out the 'mwah' which made your son giggle even more.
#astarion x you#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion headcanons#astarion fluff#baldur's gate 3 x reader#bg3 x reader#bg3 x you#baldur's gate 3 x you#astarion fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#baldur's gate fanfiction#astarion x female reader#baldur's gate x female reader#bg3 x female reader#fluff drabble#fluff blurb
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Knock, Knock
Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader x Stu Macher
(NSFW)
This is my first time writing oneshot, let alone smut. English is not my first language so bear with me.
Warning: Reader is a Virgin, Cussing, alot of cursing, knife play, mask kink, bondage, fingering, cunnilingus, deep throat, anal, threesome, and double penetration.
*Bold - Voice modulator, Italic - inner voice
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't recognize this deep voice talking to you.
“Who’s this?” Instead of hanging up, your gut feeling tells you to continue the conversation with this stranger. Maybe you’ll get something out of it.
“You don’t need to know about me. I just want to talk to you.”
“Now why should I do that? Stranger danger. Didn’t your parents teach you that?” You saunter around the kitchen counter and stare at the sets of kitchen knives. You pull out a cleaver and wait for them to reply.
The stranger chuckled, amused with your response.
“Just want to call you so I get to know you better.”
You poked your tongue inside your cheek. You put the knife back in its place, humming to yourself.
“Alright, Mr Stranger. You got my attention and I'm bored as hell. Shoot your million dollar question.” You leaned your back on the counter, hand in pocket while another's still holding the phone.
“Tell me, do you like scary movies?”
“Uhh, yeah.”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
“Does The Addams Family count? 1991 is the best.” You shrugged, checking your nails. The voice grumbled, annoyed with your movie choice.
“That’s not even a scary movie. And it’s a kid show.”
“Excuse me, that movie is my fave and you don’t get to judge my beloved Morticia Addams just because I watch a ‘kid show’. Besides, that movie is still considered horror okay. Take examples like Tim Burton’s production. Even though most of his movies are suitable for children, he still wants to insert horror elements so they could find comfort and won’t make them feel scared anymore. You should try Nightmare before Christmas or maybe Edward Scissorhand for starters.” you jested.
“Not my kind of style. Edward is weird as fuck.”
“Oh now you’re crossing the line Mr. Nobody. Fun fact for you, Johnny Deep with or without heavy makeup is hot as fuck. Hell, if there’s any Johnny copycat out there, I’ll ride his dick straight away.” you mused. The audacity of this guy.
The stranger hummed.
Is it creepy that I can see him smiling through the phone?
“You should be careful what you wish for. It might come true.”
“Then, Amen for that. I ain’t regret what I said so if you have a problem with it, you jerked your tiny dick somewhere else.”
He chuckled darkly.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?”
"What if I have one? Or maybe a girlfriend? What ya gonna do about it?” You rolled your eyes.
The phone went dead silent until a deep growl came out on the line. His voice changed to menacing.
“You don’t have a boyfriend. You’re not even lesbian.”
“Slow down tiger. I can change my preference wherever I want. Anyway, congratulations! You’re successful become from a total stranger to a fucking creep. Now no more games with me. What do you want?” You huffed, getting annoyed and a little creep out with his manic voice.
“Oh baby, you think this is a game? I’ll play a real game for ya. Knock, Knock.”
You yelped when you heard someone banging on your front door.
Shit. Wrong move.
You pull out a metal bat under the counter like you knew this would gonna happen and check around, especially every closed door inside the house. You already watched too many horror movies with Randy that you even know where the killer always comes out from.
“I ask you want more time. What the hell do you want from me?”
“You wanna know, you have to play the game with me.”
You jumped when you heard another banging. And this time, at your backyard.
“Knock. Knock.”
You gulped and took a glimpse at your back. As you saw nobody's there, you pressed your back on the wall and focused on the front door.
“Who’s there?”
You make sure all the doors and windows are already locked as your father went out training with his buddies. He says he will be coming home late.
Double. Shit.
“Johnny.”
You innerly scoffed. Oh he likes this game too much.
“Johnny where?”
“Clever girl. Guess.”
You rushed to the front door and took a look outside from the window. No one was there. You blurted out the answer.
“The backyard.”
“Wrong.”
You shrieked as the sound of a crash came out from the living room. You ran there to see a big gape hole at your now shattered window. You scanned the whole room. Only one wooden chair and shattered glass all over the floor.
He couldn’t make it inside that fast. You raised the phone as you heard his voice.
“I give you a second chance. Knock, knock.”
“Oh fuck you with your knock knock shit game! What do you want from me?!”
“I want you…to ride me.”
You inhaled sharply at his answer as you turned around with a bat raised in front of you.
“You’re messing with the wrong person here.” You spitted. He chuckled mockingly, amazed that you still have a bit of spite even though you know you're about to lose the game.
“You should be asking where I am, (Y/N).” He enunciated your name deeply.
Sweat trickle down your temple as you took a step back one at the time. This stranger knowing your name just shot up your nerve haywire.
“Where the fuck are you shithead.”
“Behind you.”
You turned around and hit the phone right to the side of his face.
His Ghostface leather mask to be exact.
He covered his head from the hit with his gloved hand and you took that opportunity to bash his head with your metal bat. He doubles in pain as you hit his back with more force and knocks his feet to the floor. He lay on his back, gripping his back painfully as you stepped on his body.
“Now let’s see who's behind the mask.”
Before you could bend down to grab his mask, the air got knocked out from you as someone rammed from your side. Your head got slam on the floor hard followed by a body that stumbled right above you.
There’s two of them?!
You tried to pry him off from you but it was no use. You could see from your blurred vision that two masked men were now crowded right in front of you.
The first guy above your head took both of your hands and held them tight, giving out a painful moan from you, while the other one sat on top of your low waist between his thighs, securing your legs from moving.
You tried to trash your body only to feel a sharp knife under your throat. You looked up to see the second guy shaking his head.
A warning.
“Looks like you lost the game.” Second ghostface seems satisfied seeing you beneath him. The knife in his hand trailed lower and lower to your neck. You could feel a prick of pain as the knife cut deep at your collarbone.
“Losers need to pay the price.” The first ghostface giggled, bringing out a rope from his black robe and tied your hand above your head.
“Two against one? Really fair, does it?” You gritted your teeth. Even though you’re already at their mercy, your mouth still runs like a goddamn sailor.
“Didn’t know this should be a fair game.” Second ghostface shrugged, still lingering his knife around your neck area.
“So what? You gonna kill me?”
“Careful, you shouldn’t challenge a killer with a knife. Now you said it, that does sound tempting.” The killer dragged down his knife to your waist. The cold of his blade sent chills down your spine as it put pressure on your stomach, emphasizing his words.
You gulped as you eyed the two ghostface. The one that sat on top of you seems like a person you don’t want to mess with. The way his voice held authority, meaning if he wants to kill you, he’ll make sure you’re good as dead. Even though he’s wearing a mask, you could feel his hot gaze on your throat to your collarbone that already bleed out from the small cut. His gloved hand reached out, smearing your oozing blood with his thumb. He loves it, you can tell.
Another one above your head, however he's a different kind of persona. He seems to like goofing around and having fun stabbing his victim. More sadistic, more of an unhinged bastard. If he takes his mask off, you bet he'll be that funny, easy going guy. His head tilted to the side, staring at your body in awe. Like you'll become his biggest meal tonight.
"But since you beat my friend here, I'll give you a chance. If you want to live, you need to do something for me." He hinted at the end of his sentence. The first Ghostface started to laugh hysterically.
Somehow you know what he meant, knowing what they're gonna do to you.
"What do you mean?" You shuddered.
In a split second, he pulled your body and switched position, making you on top of him. You could feel the bulge between your legs as his hands gripped your waist.
"You know what I meant."
Your whole body shivered in fear and excitement. You don’t know why your body react that way. Fear, yes but also excites you?
You already soaked in your panties, though it was the adrenaline of the chase.
You subtly rubbed yourself on his groin. He sighed in content as you kept rubbing his hard on.
“That’s it, babe.” His breath ragged as both his hands moved your hips and pressed deeper to his crotch. His hips thrust to your core, making you let out a soft moan.
You feel someone's hand held the back of your head, turning you to meet the first Ghostface. His gloves were already gone from both hands, as he’s working on to half-done his zipper jeans.
“Open your mouth, kitten." He slipped his thumb, pressing your lips to open. He inserted two fingers in and out as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. They were so long that you gagged as it reached at the back of your throat. When he pulled out his fingers, a string of saliva coated them.
“I’ve never done this before.” Your face was red, embarrassing to admit that you never had sex before.
“We know you’re a virgin.” He whispered. His thumb stroking your lower lip, his mask titled to the side.
“Don't worry about that. We promise to make you feel good, m'okay?" The Ghostface under you sat up, his hand tugged teasingly at your waistband while the other one caressed your cheek. His deep voice is surprisingly tender, luring you in like a moth to his flame.
Without thinking, you nodded at his words.
Beneath those masks, their smirk grew wider, finally getting you hooked with them.
"Lift your hips for me, baby."
He tore his gloves from his hands and guided your hips upward. As you stand on your knees, he tugged down your shorts and panties in one go. You gasped at how rough, desperate he wanted to strip you naked.
He took out his knife and started to rip them in half. You shiver from the cold as your clothes discard aside.
A pair of hands from behind reach out to your breast and fondle them. You whimpered as he pulled and squeezed your nipples. Another hand slipped to your wet cunt, thumb circling your clit.
"Gosh, your pussy is so wet for us. We're just getting started." He mused. Slowly, he inserted two fingers inside you, thumb still rubbing your clit. You shuddered, your back laid on someone's chest, who still continued grasping your breast.
"Look at you, seeking pleasure from two psychotic serial killers. Ain't ya a dirty little slut." The one from behind cackled in manic, enjoying seeing you completely vulnerable for him.
You subconsciously ride your hips with his fingers inside you, reaching your high. Your tied arms pressed in front of his chest as his friend from behind starts to dry hump your ass. You could imagine how big their dicks are, one pressing from the back while the other one underneath your pussy, still finger fuck you.
As if they knew you're about to come, he pulled out his fingers. You let out a small whine, feeling the loss of your pussy to be filled. He dip his finger beneath his mask, groaning in pleasure as he tasted your juices with a mix of blood.
Your hair got clutched from behind and dived you to his tent. When he pulled down his boxer, you were awestruck at how thick and veiny his hard rod is. He tapped his dick on your mouth, precum smeared at your lower lips.
"Like what you see?" He chuckled, seeing you looking at his cock like that got him more turned on.
You flustered, eyeing the two black holes resemble eyes staring at you, silently to gain his permission. He nodded, pushing his tip further into your lips.
You subtly open your mouth, licking his precum and heard his deep groan in return. This made you sucked and licked his tip and moved your hand up and down his length.
He tilted his head back. Though you couldn't see with his mask on, a sense of pride grew in you, pleased to see him feel that way.
"You're sure this is your first time? Fuck, this feels amazing." He bucked his hips in your mouth.
"Open your mouth wide open, tongue down. I'm a deep throat till you swallow all of my cum." You do as he said. He thrust his dick deep in your throat, making you gagged but you held it in.
He fucked your mouth relentless, both his hands keeping you in place. Tears pooling down your face as saliva spilling from your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You tapped his thigh, coughing up when he pulled out his dick from your swollen lips.
You're too focused on the man in front of you, that your ass was raised in the air and gasped as you felt a tongue licking at your entrance.
"Damn I can eat this pussy all day." He growled from behind, licking and biting your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tongue does wonders to you.
You gagged as he pounds in and out of your mouth, while from behind a tongue lick deep in your entrance. His nose teasing your clit, earning you a moan vibrating through the dick in your mouth. Both of them release low moans, reaching their high.
You tap his thigh, pull you away from his dick as you feel a knot in your stomach.
"I-I some-something d-down there." You cried out, feel his friend's wet tongue thrust in and out of your cunt. You gasped from sensation, as he's licked your rim hole.
"Then cum all over his mouth, princess. Let him taste every drop." He strokes his dick as you stick your tongue out to his tip. You feel your release as the man behind lapping your juices clean.
"God, she tastes so good. I wanna fuck her wet cunt till she's scream."
The killer in front of you didn't say a word, staring at his friend
"You can't have her. She beat you up, remember?"
"The fuck that's supposed to mean? We won, she lost."
"Correction, you get beat to a pulp and I'm the one stopping it. So, I get the prize and you just, I don't know. Enjoy the show?"
"I'm already hard and you’re telling me just to watch you all over her? Hell no man!"
They way they're talking about you like you aren't there bothers you, but at the same time kind of hot.
You could tell his friend was frustrated, agitated while him with you on his lap stroking his tip to your folds. You whimpered as he nudged his face mask closer to your neck. You could feel his wet tongue licking and sucking at the cut he gave you.
Deep down you know your choice terrifies you but you don't want his friend left behind.
"There's two holes for a reason, ya know." You mumbled low, but somehow both killers caught on to what you said. They both were stunned. Not long after, the one you sit on his lap snickered darkly.
"You're one dirty little virgin. Didn't know you're into that." He gripped your hips closer to his already hard crotch. You blushed at his indication.
Truth is, you stumbled upon a porn magazine from Stu's wardrobe, asking you for his sweatpants as he was in the bathroom. Curiosity kills you when you open the magazine, the page showed a blond woman penetrated by two men, dick in her cunt while another in her ass.
The image haunted you yet deep down you want to know how it feels like, to get banged by two. As you stare at her lustful face, you jump when you hear Billy's voice from outside Stu's room. So, you threw away the magazine and hastily grabbed his shorts. When Billy enters the room, he stares at you intensely. He always does every time you're in his sight. He raised an eyebrow as you gave the shorts, muttered, "Give it to Stu, he wants it." and you made a mad dash out of his room.
You know for the fact that the chances you're getting DP is slim to none. But seeing as of now, your fuzzy brain was like why not.
"You're an angel, you know that? That's why you're perfect for us." The frustrated Ghostface was now like he's in cloud nine when you told him that, hugging you from behind.
"You're meant for us, (Y/N). Remember that." The one with you on his lap was now laying down on the floor, bringing you with him so that your pussy was placed right on his outstretched cock. As his tip penetrated your entrance, you whimpered as the slight discomfort got you. As your tied arms gripped the black cloth of his front, his hand teasing your clit, trying to distract you from the pain.
As he is completely inside you, the discomfort was replaced slowly with pleasure, fullness from his thick length. His sighed in relief, loving his dick snug deep in your pussy like a vice.
"Fuck you're so tight, baby." He rasped as he helped adjust his length inside you. When he felt you ready, he slowly thrust in and out of you, making you moan.
"You like that? You like riding this cock?" His slow thrust became erratic as he rammed your throbbing cunt. Your mouth gaped open, couldn't reform words when he hit you at the right spot.
"Y-yes, right there. Shit! You're so big." You uttered breathlessly, bouncing his dick as he thrust deeper in you.
As you ride him, you feel another one trying to penetrate your asshole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, stopping you as he continued to push in, hissing at your shoulder.
"S-shit! My cock gonna cut in half if you keep squeezing me like that." He buried his face on your neck as he roughly thrust you in one go, making you scream.
"M'sorry babe. Can't help it."
You try to glare at his face, or more precisely his mask. You could imagine his stupid grin, staring at you adoringly.
This is too much. For you, a virgin and never been fuck let alone anal, this is a lot to take in. You could feel their dicks stretched inside every hole of you down there. You try adjusting to this new stimulation. They’re both moving in sync, in and out of you, feeling both of their dicks rubbing your wall one at the time. It makes you see stars as they fasten their phase.
Skin slapping filled the room, with your moan and their groan in a mix.
“Fuck fuck fuck I’mma cum!” You feel his hand gripping your hips as his thrust turns sloppy. Your body started to shake as the one beneath encircled his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest as he slammed you hard on your g-spot.
You nearly scream from pleasure as orgasm washed over you, followed by the one behind, pumping his seed into your throbbing asshole. Your pussy tightens is all it needs from the one beneath you to paint his cum on your walls.
He gave his one hard, second thrust at your asshole then pulled out his softened cock. The way he stared at his cum spilling from your ass stirred something inside him.
His fingers subconsciously slipped his overflow cum inside your hole. For some reason, he doesn’t want a single drop of his seed leaking out of you.
You take a deep inhale as your eyes flutter close, trying to calm from your euphoric state. You could hear his heartbeat thumping as your head laid on his chest, with him too catching his breath.
The only thing you remember is feeling a peck on your forehead and a kiss from your nape, with a deep raspy voice you manage to hear before exhaustion overtook your body.
“That’s my good girl.”
After you pass out…
“Man, that’s the best thing happen in my life!” Stu sighed, satisfied as he pulled off his Ghostface mask and slipped in his now soft dick in his pants. He looked over at his friend who was still lying on the ground with their favorite girl on top of him.
“You're lucky I came up with this plan. Knew it our girl had same fantasies like us.” He grinned, smiling like an idiot, while Billy too slowly took off the mask.
“If you didn’t pull out that porn magazine, she wouldn’t even think about it, genius.” He murmured as he stroked your arm. He sighed in relief with his eyes closed, hearing your soft snores calmed him.
Maybe they could pay you another visit, and it will be on nice bed this time.
And sure as hell he'll make sure of that.
#billy loomis#stu macher#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#ghostface x reader#poly ghostface x reader#billy loomis x reader x stu macher#billy loomis x stu macher x reader#scream 1996#scream fanfic
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Did I make a mistake?
As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why.
I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner.
They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long.
Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long.
There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹
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daybreak | jjk | oneshot
Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.
pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader
genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional
rating/warnings: M | alcohol consumption, lots of swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t be all willy nilly with this tho!!!), dig bick jk lmfao, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, multiple orgasms.
a/n: inspired by my faaaaaave movie before sunrise bc if there’s anything namjoon and i have in common, it’s that we are yearners 🤝 and SURPRISE! she's here a lil earlier than promised <3
word count: ~10.1k
The longest string of curses you ever muttered in your life escaped your lips as your tense eyes focused on the words CANCELED obnoxiously displayed on the monitor indicating the status of your flight, which was supposed to take you back to the comfort of your home in Seoul. This is ignoring the fact that you also had a big presentation to prepare for a client but you got pulled into this conference last minute by your boss – lucky you.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, all flights have been temporarily suspended due to emergency maintenance as a result of the aircraft recall. The most I can offer is to book you on the next available flight scheduled…” The poor airline employee offered with an apologetic smile. You stepped back as you realized this very employee had to face the brunt of the crowd who also suffered the same fate as you.
You swallowed your anger, empathetic to this person who was merely a messenger. “Okay, when is the next flight?”
“It will be tomorrow at 10:15AM. That’s the earliest we can do, unfortunately. I can have you booked on that flight and you’ll have the details emailed to you shortly.”
Sighing, you nodded your head. “Cool, thank you… but will the airline be able to provide a place to stay since –”
You were cut off by an angry – and entitled – middle-aged woman. “Excuse me but what is the airline going to do about this? I’m supposed to be in Seoul by 10PM on the 24th. How is this airline going to ensure that? Do you know how much I paid for this?”
You were at your wits end as you watched other passengers try to come down on the woman as you walked away. At least you were in “The City that Never Sleeps” so finding something to do won’t be that difficult. You jerked your carry-on bag along as you tried to exit from the commotion of your gate however you did not get far as you were stopped by someone who stood before you amongst another fleet of passengers dealing with the same issue as your flight. You recognized that signature, worn leather jacket and stickered guitar case from miles away.
“Jungkook?”
The call of his name pulled him back into reality as it appeared as though he himself was checking if this was actually happening. Your mind started racing as you couldn’t help the shock that washed over you. So many questions flashed by as his surprised gaze met yours.
“Hey…” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “...Having flight issues too?”
Sitting at a coffee shop in the terminal across from each other, it was… awkward, you both could not deny.
Jungkook cradled his iced americano while your now empty vanilla latte cup rested there. A funny representation of both of your approaches to life. It was also a point of teasing that Jungkook previously used to his advantage during the days of shared kisses and intimate dates. Times when you and Jungkook would lie shoulder to shoulder on a bed of grass in open fields and wish upon shooting stars.
“This sucks, doesn’t it?” You tried to break the ice, seeing Jungkook’s uncharacteristic silence. Perhaps these years have changed you both.
“The flight thing or us sitting across from each other like this?” Jungkook cracked and you let out a breath of laugh.
Toying with your empty cup, you nodded at nothing in particular. “Definitely the flight thing, and regarding right now… not sure. But I can’t lie that it’s nice to see a familiar face amid this chaos.”
His shoulders slacked as if tension melted away and Jungkook sat up more confidently in his seat. “Yeah, I bet. And wait…” He paused before leaning towards you in surprise. “Are you here in NYC alone? What brings you here?”
You waved off his worry, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “I came here for a 2-day work conference so I was strictly here on business.” Funny to think that reaction was almost impulse despite the passage of time between you both.
“Have you been to New York before? Did you at least get a chance to explore the city after your conference?”
“No, and no, honestly. It took a lot out of me and the company is pinching pennies by only giving me a short window here outside of the conference. What about you, what brings you here? Is this your first time stuck here?” You rested your head on your hand that was propped up on the table.
Jungkook’s unforgettable grin made its appearance as he noticed your growing ease at the situation. “The band’s here on tour. We’re about to start our Europe leg but of course… shit had to hit the fan with the airplane scandals. And nope, this is our third time in New York. We were first here on tour a couple of years ago.”
You smiled at this. “That’s right. I’m sure you’re a seasoned professional being on the road and all with the SNAFUs that come up… Congrats though, I hear the band has really taken off. You guys deserve all the success.”
“You don’t know how much that means to me,” Jungkook started, grinning wide as ever. “No seriously, it means a lot coming from you.”
“You’re messing with me.” You frowned in jest.
“No, not at all. You were that push to get my head on straight, y’know? Even before we … ended things… you were one of the few people who genuinely believed in us. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”
Feeling your face get warm, you shook your head in a humble gesture. “I only saw and believed in the obvious. I mean look at you guys now, touring the US and now even Europe? This success was all in the making.”
“But enough about the band! How’re you? Being all professional going abroad on conferences and stuff. What are you up to?” Jungkook took a sip from his Americano where the ice had become significantly smaller.
“I’m a product manager, and so that keeps me busy 9-5 on the weekdays.” You joked. “But other than that, just floating along. Hanging out with friends, taking life a day at a time, y’know? I’m nowhere as interesting as you, Mr. Rock Star… Living in LA and all.”
Jungkook laughed as he slipped off his leather jacket and revealed an entire sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. You eyed them curiously as he had always talked about wanting tattoos in your younger days. It was good to see that he was able to have that aspiration come to fruition. Another reminder of the passage of time between you both.
“Don’t say that, I think you’re one of the coolest people ever. No one approaches life the way you do, Taehyung-hyung might be a close second… but he doesn’t have the flare that you do.” He started then his smile turned slightly void as he followed up. “Would it be awkward to ask how things are with…”
“...Who? Oh, Seokjin?” You casually asked, truthfully you had not said that name since your eventual breakup almost a year ago. TL;DR you both weren’t compatible because you weren’t ready to settle down for whatever reason despite him being ready to take you both to city hall at the drop of a hat. “Uh… we ended things a while ago actually.”
“Right, yeah,” Jungkook responded vaguely. “Sorry if that was weird, it’s just that he and Yoongi-hyung are friends and you haven’t come up in a while whenever Hyung mentions him but sorry if I’m prying and sorry if I am especially making this awkward but –” He was rambling. Cute.
“Jungkook,” You rested a hand on his forearm, ignoring the surge of electricity that unknowingly jolted you both. “I get it, no worries.”
You both couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your faces.
“So what about you? Seeing anyone?”
He looked almost offended by the question but brushed it off. “Me? Nope, life’s been too hectic with the band these past two years to be seriously involved with someone.”
“Uh huh,” you mused before Jungkook cocked his brow in confusion at your response.
“What?”
“‘Seriously involved’? So you have been dabbling in some rockstar tendencies.” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly. The 21-year-old in you aches, but today you are 28 and not exactly that same old person as before.
Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I don’t want to discuss that with you of all people. And besides, we haven’t made it to the big leagues yet. We’re just tadpoles in a lake, we still gotta work our way to bigger waters.”
You only laughed, and Jungkook let you with his arms folded over his chest – basking in this moment he never thought would happen.
However, it was interrupted as an aproned barista approached you both, being the only patrons left as the coffee shop was getting ready to close for the day. The freckled teen awkwardly cleared his throat with a broom in hand. You then observed the fact that the chairs were already perched upon tables – a clear sign that the establishment was closed for business. You both hadn’t realized how much time had passed in chatting. “Hello, I’m sorry but we’re closing for the day. You are welcome to take your drinks with you to the gates though.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No worries, my bad.”
You and Jungkook apologized at the same time while hurriedly gathering your belongings.
Walking out, Jungkook sighed as he held the handle of his guitar case in his tattooed hand. “I can’t believe a place in the airport closes at fucking 5PM.”
“Jungkook, it’s a coffee shop. Closing at 5PM is considered late for that industry already and besides, this isn’t Seoul.” You laughed.
“True… but…” Jungkook cast you a sideways glance. “What are you going to do until your flight tomorrow morning?”
You could only shrug. “Not sure, I was just going to camp out here at JFK.”
A moment of silence passed as you both walked on in no particular direction, only the sound of the wheels of your carry-on suitcase and the heavy footsteps from Jungkook’s combat boots. Despite the 7 years that passed, you could still tell Jungkook was mulling over something. This fact honestly surprised you.
“Penny for your thoughts?” You offered gingerly.
“Now, this is going to sound crazy,” he spoke, his mind clearly running miles a minute and barely able to keep his once stable walking pace. “Hear me out all the way through, okay?”
“Sure.” You shrugged.
“So, my manager got each of us a hotel room not too far from the airport –”
“Jungkook.” You interrupted him incredulously, on the verge of seeing red. Offense, disrespect, anger… it all pulsed through you at once. By this point, you both had stopped in the middle of the wide airport corridor between gates. “Are you fucking serious –”
He held his hands up in defense. “You said you would hear me out!”
“...fine.” Arms crossed over your chest defensively, and you took a step back.
“Like I said, I have this hotel room so what if we kept our stuff there and we explore NYC tonight? Then when morning comes, you could grab your things and head back to Seoul and get back to your routine.” Jungkook now positioned himself where he stood directly before you, eyes connected to yours. “You said it yourself you didn’t get to see NYC. And I’ve been here before, so it all works out.”
You obviously still looked unconvinced with arms crossed over your chest defensively.
“Okay, how about this: there’s a Smart Carte baggage drop-off in Terminal 4 of JFK. Forget stopping by my hotel room, you can drop off your things here so by morning we can both be here for our flights. I’ll be on my way to Vienna and you’ll be headed back to Seoul. How does that sound?” Jungkook negotiated. “Listen, Y/N. It’s just been so nice to hang out with you and I don’t know but there’s something in me that can’t pass up this opportunity to at least help you see the magic of NYC… and to spend a few more hours with you.”
“I…”
Jungkook stepped forward with a pleading stare. “Please, I promise it’ll be worth your while. I feel like you would regret this not happening as much as I would. And if it convinces you, I promise that we can forget that this night ever happened after the fact. I swear…”
A smirk broke out on your face after a tense beat of silence and mulling over his words. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Jungkook could not fight the smile that reached his eyes as he breathed a sigh of relief and then turned, gesturing for you to start off what would be your journey of the evening together.
By the time you both made it into Manhattan proper, it was prime dinner time. You felt the grumble of your stomach as you and Jungkook sat in the back seat of an iconic yellow taxi. Embarrassedly, you put your hand over your stomach in a feeble attempt to keep it quiet.
“So, y’all are headed to Katz’s?” The taxi driver asked as he glanced at the two of you through the rearview mirror. He was an elderly man wearing a newsboy cap and the taxi itself smelled of the endless cups of coffee he consumed during his day on the clock.
“Yup, we’re hoping the dinner rush isn’t as bad,” Jungkook responded in a friendly manner. “It may be a Tuesday but it’s Katz’s after all.”
The driver chuckled as the traffic was beginning to chip away and the taxi started to speed up on the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you watched the city sky begin its transition into an orangey-pink sunset. “I’m assuming this fella over here has been to the City before, but is this your first time, Miss?”
You nodded your head. “Yes, actually I came for a conference but have limited time here.”
“Oh? When do you head back to…” he trailed off, not sure how to continue the sentence.
Jungkook took the chance to chime in. “Seoul… in Korea. She heads back tomorrow actually.”
The driver let out a low whistle. “That’s a crazy turnaround time. But listen, New York is a magical place – despite whatever those bozos not even from the city have to say. It has character, and so much can happen in the City that Never Sleeps. It is a land of possibility. And here, thirty years ago, is actually where I met the woman who became my wife. It’s a special place, for sure.”
“I bet.” Jungkook grinned as he looked out the drawn window, taking in the newly warm springtime breeze.
Jungkook let you take the ride in silence, unsure of what was going through your head about this whole situation and in all honestly cursing himself for possibly pressuring you into doing something you weren't comfortable with in the first place. He kept casting cautious glances your way when you weren’t looking.
Eventually, the taxi came to a halt.
“Alrighty, here we are!” The driver pulled up on the busy intersection and you were in awe by the throngs of people despite it being one of the earlier weekdays and the very end of rush hour. Jungkook paid for the ride and ushered you both out of the taxi respectfully.
“Thank you for the ride!” You called out as you exited the vehicle.
“Enjoy New York and all she has to offer!” the driver bid you two before driving off to find his next patron of the evening.
Jungkook almost choked mid-bite of the huge signature pastrami sandwich you both decided to split as you continued to share about that one time your mutual friend back in Seoul, Hoseok, had accidentally cussed out an innocent employee at a haunted house.
“No way.” He barely managed to get out between his mix of coughs and laughs, grabbing the attention of worried customers inside the establishment. He grabbed his cup of water to ease his throat.
“Yes, way! Afterward, he kept bowing in apology. I felt so bad but Namjoon and I were too busy laughing to step in to help.” You put your spoon down, making a good decision to not have a bite of the shared chicken noodle soup as you giggled at the memory.
Once Jungkook calmed down and took a sip of his water, he looked at you in amusement. “Classic Hobi.”
“I know right? But regardless, he’ll always be an angel. Despite that, he doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body.”
Jungkook nodded in agreement. “I miss that guy a lot, man.”
You smiled up at him. “He misses you, too – I’m sure.”
He rested his sandwich on the plate. “Let me know if I’m being weird… but I missed this.”
Your smile faltered as it grew slightly wary. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, genuine. “I just feel like you’ve always been someone I easily get along with and y’know… considering our past and how things aren’t super awkward now. In all honestly, I thought you were just going to ignore me and keep walking away at the airport due to the possibility that you might’ve hated me… I wouldn’t have blamed you, though. I was a bit of an asshole when we ended things. And I am sorry about that. Genuinely.”
You could easily recall that night.
You looked at him, confused. “What?”
“I said I don’t think we should continue seeing each other.” Jungkook stood his ground despite the internal turmoil. “I… just feel like I’m holding you back.”
“You can’t be the only one to decide that, Jungkook.” His words finally started to settle in your bones and it felt like a thousand cuts.
“Listen, you deserve a lot more… and we both know that.”
“Jungkook, you aren’t listening. You can’t just pre-emptively end things like this over something like that – not without discussing it with me too.”
You tried to reason with him by resting a hand on his arm. He finally looked at you with tears in his eyes. You knew at that point, there was no talking him out of it. He firmly believed this was the right choice for you, no matter how inherently selfish he didn’t realize he was being. Being kind to a fault in true Jeon Jungkook fashion.
He was breaking up with you.
You smiled bittersweetly at the memory. “Yeah… that is a fair thought. But you know, we were young. Barely 21 years old. And while that was only 7 years ago, we were different people. I can’t imagine making the same decisions we did back then now.”
“I guess we were.” Jungkook offered, understanding that this was your way of accepting his apology.
“And!” You picked up your spoon again to scoop yourself a spoonful of some chicken noodle soup. “That was before we had developed prefrontal cortexes. And besides, I could never hate you now… I finished with that when I turned 23.” You joked but he froze slightly at your words.
Jungkook made sure to make direct eye contact with you filled with something that could move mountains. “I never intended to hurt you, I really didn’t.”
Your tone also went serious yet understanding. “I know, I know now. And I appreciate you for telling me.”
Despite the bustle of that tiny deli in the middle of the dinner rush, all you could see was Jungkook and all he could see was you. The understanding weighing upon you both now.
“Thank you for also trusting me with taking you out tonight, that means a lot to me.”
“Me too.” You nodded up at him. “I doubt there’s anyone else who would be able to get me out here like this either. I can’t even remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter… it was probably when we were still in undergrad.” The two of you shared a laugh that was abruptly interrupted.
“FINAL CALL! Final call for order number 72!” The person working the counter exclaimed with the order bill in his hands. No one went up to the counter so the employee shook his head to himself in disapproval before proceeding to keep it pushing.
The scene had finally calmed so you turned to Jungkook expectantly. “Alright, we had dinner. So where are we headed now?”
Jungkook wiped the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin as he said, “One of my favorite bars in the city! The vibes are so nice and they often have open mic nights so you get to see some local talent”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Oh, it will be,” Jungkook promised.
“I have to go to the bathroom real quick before we head out, though.” You said as you got up.
He nodded his head as he motioned for you to go. “Do what you gotta do.”
Inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, unable to grasp how this whole thing could have happened. One second you are about to cry from how cruel the universe was to sitting at a historic deli with Jeon-freaking-Jungkook.
Once you returned, you saw him writing on a napkin which he then folded up and placed in the pocket of his jeans at the sight of you approaching.
“What’s that?”
“Just some thoughts for a possible song that came to me.” Jungkook got up and left some cash for the tip on the table. “C’mon. Let’s head to our next destination!”
Sitting on the subway, thigh to thigh with Jungkook taking the aisle seat and you on the window seat, he told you that he doesn’t remember the name of this favorite bar but just how to get there. He said that, apparently, was all that mattered as you sat on the A Line train. Trying your best to ignore the close proximity due to the seat and Jungkook’s broad frame, you both took turns taking shy stolen glances at each other – hoping each other would notice just as much as you both wish you wouldn’t. The warm and slightly stagnant air made you both run a little hot, your cardigan resting in your lap and Jungkook’s leather jacket in his.
However, the car of the train started to get packed to the point where people had to step into the aisle right next to Jungkook. The sudden stops causing people to bump into the shaggy-haired singer. You scooted to be more flush against the wall of the car, motioning for Jungkook to get closer to avoid more hits from the rough ride and sudden backpack attack. He looked at you sheepishly as he accepted the invitation, where his arm went around the top of your seat and shoulders to make room for his wide build.
“I hope this is okay.” He gave as he rested against you.
“Yeah, no worries.” You had a smile of reassurance that he mirrored.
It was hard to avoid each other eyes at this point.
You wondered how long it had been since you were last nested against him and why you didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you thought you’d be despite all those years. However, this was no surprise as Jungkook always had that weird effect on you.
“Pardon me, is it cool if I stand here next to you?” A tall, handsome figure appeared from your left side. You peered over your shoulder at the sudden question. It was about an hour before Epik High was supposed to be on stage but you entered the venue early since you wanted a good place to stand on the floor. There were pockets of people but surely not enough where someone had to approach you and ask like that.
Promptly, you had to bring yourself back to reality as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, sure… no worries.”
A bunny-toothed dazzling smile appeared and you watched as his eyes curiously traveled down to the long-sleeved tour shirt you held. A purchase to remember this concert. “Thanks. And oh! I was tempted to get that shirt too. It’s pretty sick.”
Feeling a little self-conscious you avoided his fixed gaze, “Yeah. Their designer for this tour’s merch did an awesome job…”
Jungkook nodded mostly to himself, believing that he was making you uncomfortable. “Listen, sorry if I’m making this awkward but my name’s Jungkook, and I think you seem really cool. But if I’m bothering you, totally let me know and I can give you your space! No hard feelings or anything.”
You smiled at his frankness and shook your head at this. “No, no. Sorry, I think you seem cool too, and I don’t mind at all.” You said before giving your name as well.
“That’s a pretty name,” he responded. “It suits you.”
You politely laughed off the subtle compliment. “Thank you, and I hope so.”
Steadily, you and Jungkook became deeply immersed in conversation – talking about how long you both had been fans of the artist, why you both ended up attending this concert alone, and getting to know each other generally. Most significantly, you found out that you both attended the same university and were the same age among the many things discussed. The conversation flowed comfortably after that initial interaction. That hour before showtime had passed so quickly that you hadn’t noticed how much the venue had filled up and gradually forced you and Jungkook to be shoulder to shoulder from how packed it had become. By the time the venue fell dark and signaling that Epik High was about to set foot on stage, the crowd had slightly pushed forward, forcing you to be closer than ever to Jungkook.
“Sorry, I hope this is okay.” He spoke sheepishly at the proximity.
“No worries.” You smiled at him and at that moment the pyrotechnics of the stage went off, as the concert began – strangely calm despite having only met the man not too long before and cheers erupting from the crowd that surrounded you. There was just something about him.
There was always something so human (as cliche as it was) about open mic nights. People stand on stage and recite poems where they bare their souls or sing original songs written about the throes of life. A little appreciation for the small things that you and Jungkook shared. You both enjoyed the local buskers back in Seoul during undergrad, especially around springtime when things overall seemed brighter and full of life.
You sat with your pineapple tequila as Jungkook went for his whiskey on the rocks, occasionally shaking the ice cubes around in the glass between sips. You both sat at a booth off to the side of the stage where you could get a decent view of the performers.
“So…” Jungkook started.
You tore your gaze away from the current performer, a girl singing a cover of a Laufey song, to find Jungkook staring at you with a glint in his eye. “...So?”
“I’m honestly surprised you took my offer to spend time with me tonight – with some negotiating, of course but surprised nevertheless.” Jungkook chuckled as he took another sip of his drink. “What was it that convinced you?”
You toyed with a loose strand of hair in contemplation of his words.
What did convince you? Was it the frustration from the flight fiasco? The fact that you were in New York for the first time? This was a question you only recently started to ponder because saying yes felt so right but you couldn’t explain why.
“I just trust you. And it’s been so long since we’ve been in the same place at the same time.” You began, noting how his eyes have softened at your words. “I honestly didn’t know what to think when you first stood there in front of me, y’know? I kind of thought I was hallucinating. I thought that maybe the stress from all the flight mess was getting to me.
“I honestly never thought I would cross paths with you ever again, considering how the trajectory of our lives headed. You live in LA, working full-time on your music and touring. I live back in Seoul, where there’s always a deadline looming over me and I have to set off to meet some client. And besides…” You held his stare where there was a gentle smile on his face. “I knew I wanted to spend more time to catch up with you the second we sat back in that coffee shop at the airport.”
Relief and something else that you couldn’t place washed over his face. Was it regret? Was it longing? You didn’t know exactly but you felt his free hand reach for yours from across the booth. The calloused fingers of his hand from hours of playing guitar caressed yours as he stared at the way they connected. Still a perfect fit. Your first real bit of physical connection since that fateful day when you were both 21 and young and dumb and lost.
“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook started. “But for me, it was the moment before you even saw me. When my eyes found you at the gate, I seriously couldn’t believe it.”
You laughed at this. “Well, I hope that time has done me well since you last saw me.”
Jungkook chuckled as well as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you kidding? You look phenomenal. I’m convinced you always will.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re trying to butter me up.” You joked but deep down, the intensity of the intimacy scared you. It was like a fireplace left dormant for so long had finally lit up. It surged through your whole body and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. You withdrew your hand back slowly and instantly regretted the coldness from the loss of contact. However, it frightened you with all things considered. “You’ve always been such a charmer.”
Jungkook’s expression faltered when you fully pulled back your hand but he tried his best to hide it. Holding your hand just felt so right, like it was the divine providence of the universe – written in the stars and made to fit. No other body could bring the warmth he felt from when he was around you. He was convinced that with your every step, flowers bloomed and skies cleared. He was always a goner for you, and that still stands true to this day.
How funny the universe was, Jungkook thought to himself, that it could create someone so wonderful but have them exist on a different path from his.
“Alright, alright! That was a fantastic cover from Gina. Let’s give her a round of applause, everyone!” The MC and presumed owner of the bar stepped on stage and spoke into the mic, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Now, we have a guest singer that I saw sign up, his name is JK Jeon. Let’s give him a warm welcome!”
You whipped your head to face a sheepish Jungkook finishing the last bits of his whiskey before he patted you on the head and headed towards the stage. “When did he…”
The leather-jacketed, confident lead singer Jeon Jungkook of Bring the Soul appeared before you as he adjusted the mic stand and introduced himself in perfect, unaccented English. “Hi everyone, my name is JK. I signed up because this is one of my favorite places in New York so I thought I’d sing something for you, especially because there’s also someone important here with me today.”
His eyes locked with yours in that moment and you forgot to breathe for a second. He looked so otherworldly in that bar, he had the aura to make the dingiest stage look like some elaborate arena. He was born to perform.
Your second pineapple tequila arrived and it was a much heavier pour from the bartender. However, you were grateful as the surge of emotions overcame you. Everything was feeling surreal again and you definitely needed this drink despite being a little bit of a lightweight.
“So, this song is titled ‘seasons’ by a band called wave to earth. Hope you enjoy it.”
With that, he signaled for the song to start and the first keys of a piano filled the dim bar. Not once did Jungkook’s eyes leave yours as he sang. You were absolutely bewitched as the song progressed, and so was the rest of the bar. A couple across the room embraced each other, two friends shared a toast of their drinks with a lively clank, and the bartender even paused to take in Jungkook’s singing… all these people were brought together by his undeniable talent. Your heart was so full and you were so proud, and distracted until you really started to listen to the lyrics of the song.
But I'll pray for you all the time
If I could be by your side
I'll give you all my life, my seasons
By your side, I'll be your seasons
My love
A thunderous applause surged through the bar as Jungkook thanked the audience and stepped off the stage fluidly before heading straight for the booth where you still sat. However, instead of sitting across from you, he slid into the bench where you were and settled right next to you.
“How was that?” Jungkook’s arm naturally went around your shoulders and you swore you were soaring.
You rested your head on his bicep as you gazed up at him, and Jungkook was swooning at how adorable you looked then. The dim, soft lights make you look ethereal to him. “It was amazing, as always.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.” Jungkook stroked your hair as you continued to rest your head on his arm. He could tell you were beginning to feel your drinks in your system since you had long finished your two pineapple tequilas and were now babysitting a pint of beer.
“Hey, Jungkook.” He barely caught it as you basically whispered it out. “Y’know, I’m going to be really sad about everything once morning comes.”
His eyes widened as he shared the same sentiments. “Yeah… me, too.”
“But!” You suddenly shot upright in posture and surprised him as you grabbed your drink by its handle. “None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.
Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out at the sudden shift in mood. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning time?”
“What people always say at that time – ‘good morning’ and not goodbye. Let’s make it a nice ending for us, I feel like that would do us both justice.” Your gaze was too hazy to see the seriousness that lined his face but he shook it off and plastered his signature smile despite the storm in his heart. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want to be sad in those last minutes with you.”
“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.” You missed how tight-lipped his grin was.
“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Alright, follow me!” Jungkook called from over his shoulder as he jogged to catch the door to the rooftop of some swanky highrise apartment complex that you two managed to sneak into.
He held the door open for you, with his free hand exaggeratedly ushering you to go first like a medieval knight. “After you, m’lady.”
By this time, the alcohol had flushed out of your system on the twenty-minute walk Jungkook had brought you on after hearing about how much you wanted to see the skyline but didn’t want to pay a ridiculous amount for a view. And this is where it led you: on the lounge rooftop of a luxury apartment building. The twinkling lights of the city sparked beneath you. The haphazard spacing of the lights from nearby buildings were windows into the lives of the people who occupied the space. Then, you had the great Empire State Building literally blocks away, its spire brightly illuminating the night. To your right, there was a patch of darkness that was Central Park.
You were breathless at the sight before you. Suddenly, you felt connected with every fiber of your being. The light midnight breeze that swam between your loose strands of hair felt like a glass of fresh water as it revitalized you. There you were, in New York City – looking at it from a bird’s eye point of view. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this.
You then felt Jungkook stand close next to you as he bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. “How is it?”
“It’s so beautiful.” It took everything in you to tear your gaze away from the view to look at Jungkook. “How did you know about this place?”
He snickered mischievously. “One of the label’s former execs used to live in this building. He used to talk about it all the time and I couldn’t help but remember it. Glad it lived up to all the talk though, it is gorgeous up here.”
And with that, he began to walk over to the outdoor couch hidden behind the privacy of a cabana in front of a fire pit. He turned it on effortlessly before plopping down on the couch right beside the glass-protected edge of the building for what you assumed to be a maximum viewing experience. You followed and sat down, his arm naturally finding its way wrapped behind your shoulders.
“I never thought I would be able to experience something like this,” you marveled at the night skyline with an at-ease smile on your face, letting your body fit into a nook created by Jungkook’s. “Never would I think feeling so small like this would be so comforting. I don’t regret this at all.”
Absentmindedly, Jungkook’s hand began to play with one of the strands of your hair. “Yeah, same. I regret a lot of things, but this definitely wouldn’t be one – not by a long shot.”
“Oh? Like what kind of regrets?” You asked him, scared to look into his eyes at that moment.
“Letting my insecurities and tendencies for perfectionism get the best of me. There were so many times when it got in the way of being present. Whether it be with the band, my life… and you.” His hand froze as he cleared his throat. “I regret letting you go. And I feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth, y’know? I thought that I had to be successful to be worthy of your love. To be worthy of someone so utterly beautiful inside and out. You were truly my morning light. And I hurt you. I hurt you because I was insecure and so lost in my head.” He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “And Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how much it kills me to sit here with you knowing I did that. And I think that’s because my heart will always be yours, y’know. And I know I’m rambling but I’ve been meditating on this for the past few years because it always bothered me to hear how great and peachy things were for you with that Seokjin guy from Yoongi-hyung, I… don’t know…”
You sat up and finally made eye contact with Jungkook at his confession, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “Jungkook, can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” You whispered as Seokjin stood before you under a streetlight at the park not too far from his apartment.
“My love, I just can’t do this anymore. I love you so much but it’s time we both be honest.” Seokjin reached for your gloved hand. It was the tail end of autumn and the first signs of winter were beginning to make its appearance. “I don’t think we should meet anymore.”
Tears lined your eyes but the rush of the emotion present was so foreign to you. You knew you should have been sadder and while you were sad... However, at that point, you realized that you were more sorrowful about losing Seokjin as a person in your life than your actual romantic relationship ending. That’s when it hit you, the tears falling. “How did you…”
“My love, you're one of the most intelligent people I know but I don’t think you even realized it yourself. But your heart isn’t in it with me. And that’s okay, I’ll always have a soft spot for you and I’m sure you know that.” Seokjin sighed as he respectfully let go of your hand and took a definitive step back, still handsome and composed. “I’m afraid I just can’t keep fighting like this for a love that was never meant to be mine in the first place.”
“I think that it will always be you.” You whispered, at this point your lips just mere centimeters from Jungkook’s.
“It’ll always be you, too,” Jungkook responded, too drunk in your perfume and the feeling of your being so close to his. “Y/N, can I tell you something now?”
“Of course.”
“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”
Wordlessly, you closed the gap between you two. The second your lips connected, it felt a lot like a warm summer day. Electricity turned static force kept you connected like that. Soon, lips moved in sync like rolling ocean waves during low tide. Hands lost in hair and tracing all the valleys of each other’s bodies, leaving goosebumps at they traversed every familiar inch. Jungkook’s plush lips felt so homey and so right. Your hand went right back to resting on his chest, feeling the intense beating of his heart. A pace set for you only.
It hurt so much to have to disconnect so you both could catch your breath.
“Wow…” Jungkook licked the last taste of you off his lips, savoring the moment with his eyes closed and forehead rested upon yours. “I missed this so fucking much. I missed you so much.”
“Please kiss me again...” Your eyes gazed into his and he obliged happily.
And your lips found each other again just like that.
Hands grew more adventurous as the kiss grew more heated. Jungkook’s calloused and cold hands made their way under your shirt, cupping your tender breasts through your bra. At this, you gently pushed him to sit back further on the couch so you could climb on top. The second you straddled his hips, you began to grind down onto his clothed dick, earning you a grunt of satisfaction. His hands grew impatient as he then pushed your shirt and bra up to reveal perky nipples, the chill of the night making them more erect.
“You look a little cold, baby. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He said before taking one nipple into his mouth and his free hand making sure the other wasn’t left unattended. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as he was living up to his words.
You reached down between your bodies and slipped them into his denim jeans, feeling his hot and heavy dick in the palm of your hands. This got you another grunt from Jungkook, suddenly you were on your back lying down on the couch and Jungkook flashed you his charismatic smile. “Getting a little handsy, I see.” He leaned down and began kissing your neck, remembering your sweet spot despite your time apart. It was his turn for his hand to slip into your pants, gathering your slick between his fingers to play with your clit. “Baby, let me eat you out, okay?”
You could have easily come right then and there.
You barely managed a nod as you felt him pull down your jeans and panties in tow after kicking off your sneakers. Once off, Jungkook sat back as he in the sight of your sprawled like that before him. Snapping out of his daze, he crouched down and just lost all sense of shame the second his mouth tasted you. Sucking rhythmically on your clit, rubbing circles on your inner thigh, it was all too much. The sloppy sounds of his saliva mixing in with your wetness were all you could focus on as you felt your walls tighten on nothing.
“Jungkook, baby, your fingers…”
He didn’t need to be told twice as he continued his string of slurps on your pussy and inserted one finger, beginning to stretch you out. The loudest moan escaped you embarrassingly considering you both were in a public place. However Jungkook didn’t care, he was making up for lost time after all. And then another long digit went inside you, pumping wildly and that was it.
The threads of the rope in your stomach were wound so tight that the fine fibers were beginning to give. Jungkook knew your undoing was near so he continued his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers. Soon enough, the rope snapped, your eyes sealed shut as you saw white and your jaw went slack while you continued to leak out. Your body felt utterly buoyant, among the clouds, and your mind far ahead of your physical being. How long had it been since you came like that?
Jungkook happily lapped up your cum like a man who had gone without water. “You look so fucking beautiful, so beautiful.”
“Need you… inside…” You finally said as you came to and began to remove Jungkook’s leather jacket and his white tee. “More, I want more of you…”
His smile shined as the bottom half of his face was proudly covered in your slick. That dazed smile stayed plastered as he undid the bucket of his belt, the jingle of his pants and boxers hitting his ankles had you in anticipation.
“Your wish is my command, baby. All yours… I’m all yours” He continued to toy with your already sensitive clit as he began to gently push himself inside your tight core. Both your eyes went wide with how good the tight fit was. It took everything in Jungkook to not come at that moment. His eyes only got a glimpse of the delectable scene of where he entered you before he had to screw them shut in concentration. “You feel so good as always, could die like this.”
You began to move around him, wanting friction and he took that as his sign to start moving as well. What started as slow and steady, became desperate and erratic. He hovered over you, his lips on the valley of your neck and hand gripping onto your breast as you felt every single velvet inch of him fuck you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him closer if that was even possible. It was all-consuming, it was otherworldly. He hit you in all the right places and it was so good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.
“Jungkook, just like that, baby. Let’s come together, okay?” You spoke into his ears which kicked him into overdrive. You were so full of him. His hand fondling your painfully erect nipple, his mouth right on the spot he knew would have you, and Jungkook groaned as you clenched him so tight, having him reach his own undoing. A sheen of sweat lined Jungkook’s forehead as he cocked a focused brow. He drank in the fucked out image of you, encouraging him to thrust into you even more sporadically despite how sensitive you both were.
It felt so right to be filled up with his cum, with his dick, with him.
The two of you sat there in that fucked out state for a couple more minutes to catch your breath again.
Eventually, Jungkook got up with that dopey smile still on his face as he began to dress you despite still lying on the couch and straighten your clothes. He punctuated each movement with a peck on your swollen lips. His movements were more delicate and tender compared to the heated desperation from moments ago. Once he was dressed as well, he collapsed with you on the couch with his arm slung around you.
“You’re so beautiful.” He made eye contact again, however his airy smile faltered at seeing your bittersweet expression make another appearance. “Hey, baby… what’s wrong?”
“Where do we go from here, Jungkook?” You asked as you reached for his face, caressing a cheek with your thumb. “Because now I’m going to be even more sad when morning comes…”
Fuck. Jungkook had been so caught up in that moment that he didn’t realize what the consequences would be after the fact. While he sure as hell didn’t regret what happened, he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.
“It doesn’t have to be like that… we can work something out. I can figure something out. I just – I just don’t want you to regret this, regret us… Just give me some time to think and I can –”
You quietly stopped him with a shake of your head, letting him know that it was okay. “It’s okay, you belong in LA, where your life is now. And I belong in Seoul, where my life is now – I know that much. I can’t ask you to uproot your life and give up the band, nor could I leave Seoul given everything happening at home. Just know that I don’t regret this, not at all. However, it’ll be quite sad when morning comes.”
Jungkook could only nod at the heaviness of your words. While they were a hard pill to swallow, they were correct. Both those things rang true in his head. He ached for you so much now he had another taste of life with you, but you both knew there was nowhere to go from here. By late noon, you’ll already be on a flight back to Seoul and he’ll be headed to Vienna to start the European leg of Bring the Soul’s tour.
“I’ll be sad when morning comes, too. Irrevocably sad.” Jungkook knew that would be the extent of all he could say then.
Silently, he sat upright where he led you to rest your head in his lap. He looked down at you fondly, a matching bittersweet expression on his face as he began to stroke your hair. A quiet promise was exchanged between you both to enjoy these last moments of intimacy before the sun rose.
You both had fallen asleep on that rooftop lounge. Then you woke up around 6AM to Jungkook trying to get you up, talking about taking you to one more place before the night was officially over. Eventually, you both were jogging out of the luxury apartment building, hand in hand, as the two of you entered the subway station to head southwest to the piers to catch the sunrise.
It was a solemn train ride, to say the least. Both of you avoided each other’s eyes on the ride, like anxious teenage lovers who experienced their first quarrel. It was hell, and the time when you both got off at your correct stop couldn’t have come sooner. His hands still intertwined with yours as you walked off into the morning world, the sun beginning to make its appearance known. The morning’s dew still coated the patches of grass as you both traveled to the edge of the pier which overlooked the water.
At this point, the blue hour had long passed as the bright star that is our sun began to peek through the horizon. The sky turned from midnight blue to a vibrant yellow with hints of orange. That’s it. This is it…
The morning had officially come.
You cursed every cliched metaphor referencing the elusiveness of time… the grains of sand slipping through fingertips, the ticking of clock hands that echo in the back of your head, the passage of breezes, and the eventual rising of the morning sun.
Jungkook smiled gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb which you didn’t even feel form as it fell down your cheek. “Don’t worry.”
“I just want you to know that I loved being in this moment. Sharing this night with you, that tonight it felt like New York was all ours. I could have never seen its beauty and experienced its magic the way I did with you.” Barely managing through your cries, you gasped for a breath as you tried to make out the next words. “But why did things have to turn out this way?”
The loud caws of the seagulls as they flew over the pier and the cold morning air fell onto forgotten senses as the only thing you could feel was the intensity of Jungkook’s stare on you. From your forehead that he placed a tender kiss upon, to your eyes that mirrored that silent longing his contained, the nose that he nuzzled against his, and chin that he held softly in his rough hand… It was like he was taking a picture of you at that moment. A moment where he was not rockstar Jeon Jungkook, but the Jungkook who always found a way to make you laugh and the Jungkook you dreamed of sharing matching rings with. And you were not the person living too fast for anyone to keep up with, but a person who could find the beauty in anything and the person that Jungkook could write a million and one songs about.
“Shh,” he comforted you as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I really can’t thank you enough for tonight… I’ve never hated to see morning as much as I do now.” He chuckled dryly at the irony of all.
You pulled back, surprising the man who towered over you. You held his confused face in your hands and smiled. “Me, too. I hope you know that.”
“I do now…” He whispered as though louder words could break the moment before placing a chaste kiss on one of the hands that cupped his face.
“Now what?” Your hands fell from his face and rested on his chest.
Jungkook sighed in contemplation as he peered past you into the blossoming orange horizon before recentering his eyes on you and grin losing its warmth, being replaced with sadness. “Good morning, I guess.”
The gravity of the situation settled upon you both silently.
“None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.
Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning?”
“What people always say at that time – ‘good morning’ and not goodbye. Let’s make it a nice ending for us, I feel like that would do us both justice.” Your gaze was too hazy to see the seriousness that lined his face but he shook it off and plastered his signature smile despite the storm in his heart. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want to be sad in those last minutes with you.”
“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Good morning, Jungkook.” No matter how dazzling your smile was, Jungkook could never be distracted from the tears that lined your gorgeous eyes.
No physical closeness could ever combat the weight of what daybreak meant for you both.
“For JK?” The driver of the Uber called out of the window as he pulled up.
You and Jungkook stood before each other again, hand in hand for the final time. You squeezed his rough hand, a wordless command of it’s time to let go. And just like that, his hand – despite its hesitation – followed and released its grip on yours. No matter how disheveled you both may have looked from the sleepless night of journeying, it all felt surreal.
“Good morning, Y/N.”
“Good morning, Jungkook.”
Then one more quick kiss before you had gotten into the car he ordered for you and began the journey back to your life. A life without Jeon Jungkook. You rode with the window down, taking the sight of New York in a new day’s light. It felt so foreign and so different from the New York you experienced in the last fifteen hours with Jungkook. That taxi driver was right, you were convinced, that New York was a magical place and had so much more to offer.
You abruptly felt something wrinkle in the pocket of your jeans as you adjusted yourself in the backseat of the car. Reaching in, you fished out a Katz’s Deli napkin and remembered how Jungkook was writing on it when you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You carefully unfolded the napkin and read what was written on it: I’m sure by the time you’ll see this, you would’ve given me the most memorable night I could never forget even if someone were to beat it out of me. I’m dreading sunrise as I write this right now. Though, I’ll hold close what tonight has in store for us. I don’t know if our paths will ever cross again, but I’m sure that this was the most beautiful sunrise I could ever experience because it was with you.
You pondered the possibilities as the heartache fully set in from reading his note. What if you told this Uber to turn around right now? What if you stayed longer? What if you took Jungkook’s offer to figure something out? What if you didn’t have to say goodbye on that forsakenly beautiful pier? What if?
However, it no longer mattered.
This was the reality you both lived in.
You had the connection, felt it again, and let it take its course.
That was what mattered. No what ifs, maybes, or perhapses. What matters is only what happened and that it, in fact, did happen.
Jungkook watched your car disappear into the morning traffic commute, gone was the warmth that you both shared on that chilly spring morning. He began to laugh at himself, at how cruel the universe was. It could have been perfect. It could have been the ultimate love story. It all could’ve.
Jungkook kicked a random pebble in his path as he finally looked at his phone log after putting his phone on Do Not Disturb for the whole duration with you.
Min Yoongi | 2 Missed Calls
FROM: Min Yoongi | Where the fuck did you run off to?
Park Jimin | 6 Missed Calls
FROM: Park Jimin | Yah, where’d you go??
FROM: Park Jimin | Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid I swear to god Jeon Jungkook
Kim Taehyung | 5 Missed Calls
FROM: Kim Taehyung | You bastard, don’t tell me you went off to explore New York on your own
FROM: Kim Taehyung | Broooo, you didn’t even check in to your hotel room? You should’ve told meeeeeee
FROM: Kim Taehyung | You’re so foul for leaving me just to be bored while you went on a night adventure of the city that never sleeps smfh
Manager Sejin | 13 Missed calls
FROM: Manager Sejin | Kid, where the HELL did you go? Call me back asap
FROM: Manager Sejin | Jungkook this isn’t funny
Jungkook laughed at the missed notifications from the group and his manager before giving Yoongi a call back, reasoning that he would be the most level-headed given all the missed notifications after sending a quick message.
TO GROUP: Bring the Soul | Hey, I’m ok lol. I’m at the pier
The caller's ring sounded twice before Yoongi picked up groggily, but still picked up nonetheless. “Where the hell did you go last night?”
“Just hanging around. New York is a magical place, hyung.” Jungkook responded vaguely but Yoongi caught the hint of bittersweetness in the younger’s tone.
“Alright… We’re about to get breakfast at a restaurant close to you. I’ll text you the address. Meet us there by 9AM.”
“Sounds good, hyung.”
“Okay. And uh… are you alright?”
Damn Yoongi’s intuition, Jungkook thought to himself and sighed into the receiver of his cell phone.
“Yeah… it’s a damn good morning after all.”
© bbangtans | please do not re-distribute in any way without permission.
#bbangtans ff#jungkook#bts fanfic#bbangtans jk ff#bts#jungkook x y/n#bts x reader#bts fanfiction#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook bts#jungkook fluff#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagine#jungkook x you#jungkook fic
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