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bisexualiteaa · 1 month

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Hi honey, I just discovered your Cooper fics today and oh my gods. They're incredible, I love the way you write him ❤️. I was wondering, if you're still taking requests that is (no pressure like), if you could do a sub! Cooper x reader? Preferably male!reader or with male genitalia, but fem is totally okay if you're not comfortable with that 😁. I just think Coop with a taller, more muscular partner is neat.

I'm thinking the reader was secretly married to Coop and Barb beforehand, but lost part of their memories after they became a ghoul and one of the best bounty hunters around, wearing a mask. And all they remember about Coop is how beautiful his eyes were (Walton Goggins has the most gorgeous eyes ever, I swear 😫) So the reader wants the head too and tags along with the gang, eventually getting closer to Cooper. During a fight, reader gets hurt and Coop comes over to help them, but reader is finally close enough to properly see his eyes and realises it's him. Coop takes off the mask, reader remembers, there's tears, kisses, and eventually super soft, subby sex.

So, really just really angsty, then fluffy when they find each other after 200 years. Reader taking care of our baby girl Coop, and him just accepting the love and being a pillow princess. Maybe a little overstim and edging if we're feeling spicy 😉.

I'm so sick for this man, it's unhealthy. Thanks again for your amazing work, love. I absolutely made my day better! (Sorry for how long this ask is 🙃).

It’s Been a Long, Long Time

Cooper Howard x Ghoul Fem Reader (angst-fluff!)

CW: pre-ghoul Cooper, established relationship, reader and Cooper were married and had a child together, character death, cursing, angst!! But don’t worry, it’s a happy ending, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviation from the TV series

AN: not me posting this at 3am before I leave for a trip for the weekend, I feel like I’ve depraved y’all! 😂 I wanted to post this to give y’all some good Cooper Content ™️ before I go on a three day hiatus for vacation! 🥺 Thank you all to the people who have submitted asks, I promise I am still working on them/towards getting to them! ❤️ In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this one! @kinatanhi I hope I did your request justice! I know it’s a little tweaked from what you sent in and forgive me, I wrote this literally an hour ago at 2am because it finally came to me what I wanted to write, but seeing as it was written at 2am, y’all please forgive me if it isn’t my best work, I tried my best lol. 😭❤️

You smiled happily as you danced with your husband in your shared, quaint little kitchen, his hands coming to rest at your waist as they always did, and your arms looped around his neck. You were thankful that the producers on set of his movie, as well as his agent, allowed him to come home early in order to celebrate your birthday with you. You stood smiling up at him as you two danced- well, more like swayed, to the slow music playing from the radio. You lay your head against his chest, smiling as your eyes set on the gorgeous flowers that were lying on the kitchen counter that he brought home just for you. You smiled up at him when you caught him staring down at you with nothing but love and adoration in his gaze. “What’s that look for, hmm?” You asked with a playful smile, making him chuckle and flash that gorgeous smile of his that you loved so much, almost as much as his eyes that you swore you could be lost in forever. “Nothin’, just that I’m lucky enough to have married the most beautiful woman on this earth” he said, making you hum appreciatively at his cute answer. “Oh stop it, you charmer you” you replied, making him scoff in fake offense, making you giggle at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know I don’t go throwin’ that ‘round willy-nilly, little lady” he assured, making you smile wider at him as you laughed. “I know, I’m a lucky woman to call you my husband” you replied sweetly, getting up on your tip toes to kiss him as you looped your arms around his neck once more.

Those were better days, days when things were so simple, times where all you had to worry about was nothing more than how long the pie was in the oven, or how your baby was doing. It was a pleasant memory, one you’d never forget as the last time you’d seen your husband since the war. That night flooded your memories each time you’d lay down to close your sunken in eyes, they were the only thing about you now that remained as human as they were back before you became a ghoul. You swore to yourself that you’d find him one day, swore that you would kill the bastards that started all this, that took your baby girl away from you before she had a chance at a good life and separated you from your husband. You prayed each and every night that he was still out there, still alive somewhere, roaming the wastelands like you were. You knew it was doubtful at best, maybe it was better if he wasn’t alive to live through the shit you have, to see the way you look, but one could only hope for the better things. You no longer looked the same way you used to back then. Your soft, nearly perfect skin was now marred and leathery, your teeth yellowed from radiation exposure, poor diet and lack of ability to actually care for them, and your nose was now missing completely from your face, a deep hole sitting where the cartilaginous appendage once did. You wondered if he would even love you still in this state, if he’d even recognize you. You couldn’t blame him if he didn’t, you weren’t that same woman anymore physically or emotionally. Anger and vengeance had a hold on your heart like a vice death grip, you were kind to those who deserved it sure, but to those who crossed you? Those who hurt you? Let’s just say there’s a reason you’re a feared bounty hunter out here in the wastelands and not in a vault somewhere.

You were walking into Filly one late morning, coming to pay a visit with Ma June to see if there was anything she needed, any bounty she may have had for you for some extra caps. Your supply of chems to keep you from going feral was running low, you were down to your last bottle in your inhaler, and in desperate need of more. As you strode into town, you pulled your bandana up over your nose, effectively covering your face below your eyes, your large hat casting a shadow on the rest. You weaved your way through the vendors as they were trying to shove goods at you and anyone who was behind or around you. As you waded though, your ears caught the sound of a deep, southern accent that sounded awfully familiar to you. “I ain’t interested unless you got RadAway” he spoke harshly to the vendor haggling him, and you had to do a double take. He sounded just like your husband. You turned in the hopes to place a body to the voice but by the time you could, he was already lost into the crowd, impossible to find amongst the sea of people now that he wasn’t speaking to anyone anymore.

You huffed to yourself, wondering if maybe you were just hearing things, or maybe you were just plain out delusional at this rate. It wouldn’t shock you, between the years of radiation exposure, radiation sickness, and everything in between, you wouldn’t be shocked to find out you’d gone mad. However you wanted ever so badly for it to have been him that was speaking. To run up to him, arms outstretched, tears down your face but a happy smile as you called his name. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t even find the man attached to the voice anymore so why make a fool and draw attention to yourself. No one took kindly to ghouls. So with a heavy heart, you pushed on, making it to the doorstep of Ma June’s shop when you heard him again. “50 caps? That’s just plain ridiculous. 30, take it or leave it” he bartered, making you turn around again, only this time you caught him. You spotted a man that was tall, around the same height as your husband, clad in a wild western style cowboy outfit. You thought it was familiar, from the hat all the way down to the boots, it reminded you of him but a lot of people out here in the wastes wore Wild West themed clothes, deeming themselves cowboys and cowgirls of the wild wastelands. You wished he would turn around, you needed to see his face, hell just his eyes would be enough to sate the curiosity that was eating away at you. You’d forever recognize those eyes, they were so unique, so him. So beneath the shade you stood, observing him from a distance to be safe. That was until Ma June saw you standing there through the window of her shop, and she had a job for you that was important so she couldn’t wait for you to be done with whatever it was your were doing before she drug you inside. “What are you standin’ around out here for? I got a job for you!” She exclaimed, grabbing you and pulling you inside right as the man turned to walk away. You groaned in frustration as your only chance at an answer was stolen from you, but little did you know that your commotion made him stop to watch curiously as you went inside. Something about that dress you were wearing looked awful familiar to him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he just kept walking.

As the next couple of days passed by, the curiosity was absolutely eating away at your mind. You wondered if you were on the brink of going feral with how your thoughts were screaming that it could have been him. You wished she would have waited until you could have gotten a better look at him than just his back and his clothes, though they felt familiar, akin to something he would have worn on the set to his movies, you just couldn’t be sure. So you continued on, traveling with a random person’s head in your bag, wrapped up in an old T-shirt that was soaked through with blood now as you were on your way back from your bounty for Ma June. It was a particularly hot day outside, one of those days where no matter how much water drank, you just couldn’t keep the heat away or the dehydration at bay. So as you sucked down the last of your water in your canteen, you did your best to stave off the coughing fit that was bubbling in the back of your throat like a horrible itch you just could never scratch. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t enough, and seeing as you hit your inhaler for the last of your supply yesterday, you were shit out of luck. Damn it, you were so close too, you felt it. You couldn’t go like this, not without finding him, not without avenging your child and going after those Vault-Tec bastards that stole her and your husband from you. “Damn it!” You choked out as you clutched your chest, your coughing fit sending you to your knees in the sand where you laid in the hopes that it would let up sometime soon and you could continue moving. This couldn’t be the end for you, it just couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it.

As you laid there, throat burning as you were hacking up your lungs, you saw a figure walking along the horizon in the distance. You wondered if maybe this was what they spoke of when people said their loved ones come and take them away right before they pass, or maybe it was just another hallucination, all you knew is that they were coming closer and closer to you. You reached for your gun with all the strength you could offer through your coughing fit and weakened state, unsure of whether they were a raider or someone with just plain ill intention. As they drew closer, you looked up to see another ghoul stabbing before you, his cowboy hat casting a slight shade over his face but even through the tears in your vision you could see his eyes. They were gorgeous, they looked just like how you remember your husband’s looked the last time you had a chance to look into them, making you look him over but it was so hard to tell. He was a man who had succumbed to the same fate you did, leathery skin, no nose, ruined ears, but his eyes…god they were so familiar. You saw him cock his head while looking at you, investigating your features, you could tell there was something about you that he was intrigued with.

“I feel your pain there, sister” he said, that southern drawl coming out sounding just like him, and god how it made your heart ache. He bent down to see you better, taking a better look at you. “I’ll be damned if somethin’ ‘bout you ain’t familiar though” he said, making you look up at him, and in that moment as he looked into your eyes, he could have sworn it was you, his long lost wife. He held hope it his heart, but it was a cruel world out here, he couldn’t be sure. “Your eyes, they look a lot like my wife’s did” he said, and you took that as your chance to see if it was really him. “C-Coo…per…?” You rasped out the best you could, needing to know if it was really him, needing to know if he was alive or if you were just going crazy. His eyes went wide for a moment before reaching for his gun, making your heart jump in your chest with anxiety. “How do you know my name?” He asked coldly, his eyes looking angrily upon you and it made your heart wrench in your chest but beat fast all the same to know it was him. “Tell me! How do you know my name?” He said angrily, making you raise your hands up to show you weren’t dangerous, you cursed your inability to speak properly or else you’d have answered his question already. “Be..cause…we were…Mar…ried” you rasped out once more, showing him your wedding ring that he bought you that rested on your ring finger, making him soften up for just a moment. “After two hundred years… could it really be?” he asked softly to himself in disbelief, but once again, he reminded himself that this world was a cruel place where people stoop to things lower than they ever did before. To him, you could have been anyone, maybe no more than a random stranger who pick pocketed that precious ring off of his wife, a total stranger playing as his beloved to get to his weakness. He pointed his gun at you once more, making tears come to your eyes even more now, had you said something wrong? Why was he mad at you? You hadn’t left on bad terms last you remember, but then again it’s hard to remember as far back as two centuries. “How do I know, huh?” He asked aggressively, and you figured it was a valid worry, you knew how awful this world was now, you couldn’t blame him for needing the reassurance. He needed to be sure it was truly you. “How do I know it’s really you?” He asked, waiting for you to stop coughing long enough to give him an answer. “What’s…that look…for?” You asked, something you always asked him when he stared at you in awe, or when he looked at you right before you two went to bed, it was like your signature phrase. You weakly removed the bandana covering your face, trying your best to show him any bit of your features left that you could use to show him it was really you. “It’s me…Coop. Y/N…” you rasped as saliva began to well in your mouth at the sight of him, slowly losing control over yourself as time passed. He’d never dropped his gun so fast, or fell to his knees so quick in his entire life than in that moment, the only other time was the moment he found out you were pregnant with his child, dropping to his knees to kiss your belly and place his hands on it excitedly. “Oh my god…Y/N” he said in utter shock and disbelief that you were here, you were alive. You were a ghoul now which hurt him to know you suffered the same pain as him, but you were alive and that’s what mattered most to him, finally having found you after all the years spent hoping you were still alive out here.

“Here baby, here, hold on. I gotchya” he said, quickly grabbing his inhaler with a vial of the chems you’d run out of last night, never needing it more than in this moment to keep you from turning feral on him. He pressed it to your lips, pushing the plunger on it to get the chems in your system. You inhaled it like a breath of fresh cool air, sending you coughing once more but that itch was slowly fading away, you could breathe again. You looked up at him as you laid there weakly, your head in his lap. “My hero” you said weakly, trying to be funny but he was too caught up in looking into your eyes, getting himself to believe what was right in front of him. “Two centuries I’ve spent looking for you…” you said, your eyes scanning him and his features to assure yourself too that this was real, that he really was sitting here before you, alive and well. Or as well as one could be as a ghoul in the wastelands. You smiled as you teared up, seeing the tears in his eyes as he looked down at you, pulling you up and into a hug. “Oh god…I can’t believe you’re alive” he said, hugging you tight and you did the same, burying your face into his shoulder. “I could say the same to you. I always knew you were stubborn, too stubborn to go out the way the rest of the world did” you said, making him chuckle as stray tears ran down your marred cheeks. “I’ve been dreaming of this day…dreaming of the day I’d get to see you and B/N again…” he said, making you grip his duster as the tears flooded down your face even more when he said your baby girl’s name. “Cooper…” you said, making him pull away from you but you weren’t far, he made sure of it. “She…she didn’t make it, honey…I’m so sorry. I tried everything, believe me I did, but it was too late…” you said, making his heart absolutely break in his chest knowing his baby was gone and that he would never have the chance to see her again.

“What was she like? She was so young when it all happened” He asked, holding your hands in his as you two shared in this moment together. You smiled as your hand cupped his cheek softly, your thumb rubbing along his skin that shared the same texture as your own. “Just like her daddy. She had your gorgeous eyes, your beautiful smile and that same stubborn attitude” you said through a laugh, making him chuckle with you as his hand came to hold the back of yours as it touched him. He missed your loving touch, and that beautiful smile that he swore could light up even the darkest rooms. He could hardly believe that you’d still even touch or speak to him now, with the way he looked. He knew you likely held a sympathy for it, knowing all too well yourself what it was like but the fact that you weren’t scared or hateful like others were towards him for it. “She was smart, funny, kind…she was daddy’s baby girl. You’d have loved that about her. It was like a little slice of you was there in her, keeping me going. She gave me hope when it felt like there wasn’t any left in this world to hold onto” you said, seeing a few stray tears stream down his cheeks as you spoke of her. His stomach was in knots, his heart filled with anger and pain to know the wastelands claimed one of his own. “I wish I coulda been there, for both of you. Maybe she’d be here if I was” he said somberly, guilt lacing his tone as he leaned his forehead against yours, not caring if your hats would come off. He needed this, he needed you. “Hey, don’t blame yourself for what happened, you had nothing to do with it. It’s those vile people at Vault-Tec who did this. They took our baby, not you. Don’t you ever think this is your fault” you assured him, holding him close to you as he expressed the most emotion he’s felt in nigh on two centuries.

“We made it pretty good all things considered, held our own well for ten years. I taught her how to use a gun when she turned eight to keep her safe should anything happen to me, did everything in my power to keep her safe, fed and hydrated even on the hard days where supplies were sparse” you explained. “The radiation just became too much for her little body to handle. She was ten years old, I could hardly believe it. It was like I woke up one day and she wasn’t a baby anymore, our little girl had just grown up so fast” you said, remembering those days as tears clouded your vision, streaming down your cheeks like small rivers, watching the droplets fall into the sand beneath you. “I’m sorry Cooper, I’m so sorry…” you apologized, making him hold you tight and hush you as you did. “I shoulda been better…if I was better maybe she’d still be here now” you said, taking the blame for something you knew you had no control over, but it left you guilty all the same. “Shh, don’t go thinkin’ like that. I’d say from the sounds of it, ya did a damn fine job managin’ that long out in this shit hole just the two of you. You always were a great mom, and an equally great wife” he said, making you sniffle as you smiled at him at that reassurance. “I did all I could, there was hell to pay for anyone who stood in my way, that’s for sure” you said, making him chuckle because that was exactly how you were before the war too. You always wanted what was best for your family, and you were willing to go great lengths to keep your husband and child happy. “I know you said you been lookin’ for me for a long time…but I ain’t the same man I was back then” he started. “But I got a feelin’ you ain’t exactly the same woman anymore either, so maybe we can still work this out, you and me” he said, making you chuckle. “No, I’m not. And if that means you don’t love me anymore I-“ you spoke but you were cut off by the feel of his lips against your own. They were thinner now, dry and marred by radiation just like yours were, but you could still feel the passion behind it, the love in it. No amount of radiation could ever take that away. “You lettin’ all the radiation get to that brain of yours? Of course I still love you. I lost ya once, I ain’t losin’ you again, that’s for damn sure” he said, making you laugh as more tears fell, only these ones were happier ones now. You squeezed his hand that was in your own as your heart raced in your chest. “You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear, Coop” you replied, kissing him once more with all the passion two hundred years of separation could hold behind it. “I love you, and I’ve missed you so damn much” you said, pressing your foreheads together once more as you fought the tears that began to turn into a sob. “I love you too darlin’, missed you like crazy. The world ain’t been the same without you” he said, making you sniffle as you felt the same way. “And if you’ll still have me, I’d like to make that a world of the past” he added, making you chuckle tearfully. “Of course I will” you said, allowing his heart to rest assured that you were still his girl, making him smile as he looked down at you, his thumb rubbing along your cheek to wipe away your tears.

You smiled back up at him, your hand coming to the back of his as you remembered the moment from your birthday again all those years ago, slow dancing in the kitchen with him. “What’s that look for, hmm?”You asked, just like you did that day, making him grin as he thought of the right words to say. “Nothin’ just that I’m lucky enough to have married the most beautiful person on this earth” he replied, making you chuckle. It was just what you’d been needing to hear all this time. “And how lucky I am to have her back in my arms where she belongs” he added, making you giggle before kissing you once more. Desert be damned, Cooper had his wife back after so long spent searching for her, and he was going to make damn sure she knew how much he missed her all these years.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #fallout #fallout x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #asks #request

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voxisdaddy · 26 days

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AGHHHHH- Now I need a part 3 of ice cream because I need to know what the fuck Velvette gonna do!!!! Like manipulative queen ain’t gonna just let you leave the store! And what even is her goal with reader? To date her again? (Kinda want toxic get back together feels fitting lol) Maybe Velvette wants to date the reader again just to break up with them. Or maybe she wants to make it so reader never leaves her! But reader seems soooo done with her but she also seems to kinda miss Velvette! BUT IF SHE GOES BACK TO VELVETTE?! Honestly they both seem to miss each other just as much as they hate each and don’t want to get back together.

Ice Cream

Pt.3 - FINAL

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Velvette x Reader

C/TW: cussing, use of Love Potion, implications of sex

Type: Headcanons

In which we see the new routine between ex's, Velvette and Reader.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She was like a drug. One you couldn't get enough of. That was evident enough to her associates Vox and Valentino. For nearly on a weekly basis they'd find a trail of clothes, yours and Velvettes, leading to a somewhat private room.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ How did things get here? Well, when you have two ex's who are so passionate about one another, love or hate, theirs gotta be some kind of release. Of course it doesn't have to lead to seeing each other regularly but...what were you supposed to do?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You never wanted to see her again. But apart of you craved her.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ When you'd find yourself back in your place at 2am, feeling hot, icky, and used, you'd often tell yourself that this isn't so bad. You're getting the best of both worlds, right? You get to satisfy the carnal need to be with her, and the satisfaction of not getting to see her most days. No strings attached. You made sure of this every single time it happened. No matter how tired you are, how much you may want to lay there forever with her. you always leave.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You didn't always feel like that though. Sometimes you really did loathe the times you'd be with her. You forgot just how much Velvette is. And how petty she could be. That was always most evident she'd invite you over during late nights.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Now what about Velvette? How is she doing with this new change of your relationship?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She thought she knew what she was doing when you guys started going out again. Well it's less going out and more...spending time in. Late at night. Maybe once a week. Where nothing you do is ever love. Where it never lasts that long. Where she always wakes up alone...yeah. She knows what she's doing.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She really thought she did, okay?!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ That day at the thrift store, she might have went in without a plan but she's quick on her feet. She's observant. She can take something and run with it. She's great at that. And it worked. Somehow she managed to get you to start seeing her again. And by somehow, well...

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She has a love potion, remember?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ That day when she offered you a drink, from her own cup so you weren't suspicious of it, she felt this rush. What should she do first? Convince you to get back with her then dump you? Make the score even? Lock you in a soul binding contract so you can never leave again?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She settled on your visits. It's more than enough. She gets a good fuck and doesn't get to see you for several days at a time. Win win.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Eventually the potion fades but fortunately for her, she doesn't need to sneak you the drug in order to get you back in her room. The love hate passion you have for one another is enough to bring you back most times. Occasionally she'll slip it in your drinks somehow if she needs to. Rest assured, when she does she doesn't take advantage of you though. It's more so to keep you hooked. To keep coming back.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ If you ever caught onto the use of the potion though, she's already a step ahead of you. Vox's hypnosis really comes in handy.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ "Make 'em forget." She'd grumble lowly to Vox.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Remember how I said she thought she knew what she was doing? The weekly sex was enough for her. In her control. SHe can take it wherever she wanted. Until her feelings started to come into play.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She was already acting out on her feelings-going after you and desperate to keep you in reach. She's not a chaser after all. She's a temptress.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But as more time went on, the more her more emotional feelings wanted to play. She could no longer pretend she didn't feel that heartache when you'd leave her bed as soon as you were both done your business. Those earlier times were easier to ignore unwanted feelings. For several weeks things have felt different. They've been different.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Sometimes she doesn't even leave her bed in the mornings. Those days she spends hugging the other pillow. The one you used to use when you stayed with her. When things were happy. When you were both happy.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Eventually your anniversary was around the corner. Your actual anniversary. Or it would be if you were still together. But you weren't now so... what do you guys even do?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You'd both contemplate this separately.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You guys weren't together. You both in your own ways made that clear. But it felt wrong to not do anything for that special day...

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The week before your anniversary, Velvette wanted to ask. She wanted to ask so bad.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But as usual, she just let you leave. This routine you've developed, with the help of the potion at times, seemed so set in stone. If anything changes then you could either be back together or separated for good.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It just so happened to be around that time where she'd have to sneak you the potion again, so you can keep coming back. But with your anniversary just days away, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She knew she shouldn't change this routine. Even if it left you both feeling awful. It still kept you in each others lives in an intimate way. Almost as if you're just a hair apart from being together again. Back when you'd always come back because you loved her.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But she wanted to know for sure if you'd come back on your own. No potion, no booty call, just Velvette being patient. You'd come, right?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ So the day of your anniversary she waited.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ And waited.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She wanted to text you so bad but knew that in order to get your answer, she had to wait.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She's not calling off work because she has other plans! It's just a needed day off, is all.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Would ordering in dinner for you both be too hopeful? She thought, scrolling through a restaurant menu.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Posting a pic of you and her is definitely too much.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She's only dressing up because she likes to look her best! She tells herself as she puts on a lovely dress that's far too special to be worn any other day.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This isn't the chapstick flavour you always liked her wearing when you'd kiss her. Her lips are just a little chapped.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She's just scrolling through your last anniversary sinstagram stories because she intends to delete them. She's not...missing you or anything.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Her hearts not breaking as more time passes...it's not.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ 12:00 A.M - MIDNIGHT

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Velvette holds back a sniffle as she takes another bite of ice cream.

IM SORRY PART 3 TOOK A MONTH. I deadass didn't know how to end it lmaoo I feel bad ending it off sad. I was gonna make it happy but honeslty a sad ending felt more fitting. Wanted to hurt Velvette more than reader today I guess lmaoo

sorry if some text cut off. I wrote this on PC and for some reason, I only get shown if words get cut off when I'm on mobile :c

also I wrote the last bit, starting from where Velvette wants to ask you about your anniversary, while listening to the sad version of Married Life from Up. I might've cried for this fic guys TvT

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #velvet #hazbin hotel velvet #velvette x reader #velvet x reader #break up #angst #headcanons

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hanlimz · 8 months

Text

lol i wrote this at 2am bc i love jungwon sm and i needed to word vomit so i can focus on this stupid essay i have to write 💔 be gentle w this bc it’s not that good haha !! pls enjoy ❤️

the incessant ringing of your phone is a cacophony of sound pressed against your ear as you wait with bated breath. it’s been a week since jungwon was last able to call, a week since you were able to hear his voice; and, it’s been even longer since you’ve been able to touch him (in any capacity). your palms are itching for the opportunity to cup his face, and your lips are yearning to pepper gentle kisses over the apples of his rounded cheeks.

so, you picked up your phone and clicked on his silly contact photo. while you wait, you count the ceiling tiles. you see how long you can go without blinking. you lose track of time, and you eventually try to freestyle over the stock ringtone. just as you rhyme sublime with you’re mine, the noise stops and jungwon begins to laugh. why he always manages catches you at your worst—you will never know.

“i hope that rap was about me,” he snorts airily, amusement having stolen his breath away. you can almost see his pretty face through the phone; the way the corners of his lips quirk up, his dimple deepening, the gentle reshaping of his eyes as they wane into two, umber crescents. laughter is so transformative, and you’re glad you can see it (even if only in your mind). “oh, [y/n], also—i just posted some selcas on we—” the phone cuts out, and the momentary silence slices at your heart.

“won? you still there?” you ask, tentatively, “i promise the rap was about you. cross my heart, hope to die.”

jungwon’s pseudo-presence floods your chest once more as he chuckles. “that’s good to know, babe—but, no dying on my watch, ‘kay?”

“bold of you to say when you’ve left me here,” you scoff.

“to die?” he inquires, another bout of giggles hiding behind his words.

“to die,” you answer, dramatically. “to wither, to waste away with no boyfriend to sing me to sleep and kiss me when i’m sad.”

the line goes quiet for a few seconds, and it’s almost a comfortable silence. something lurks behind this pregnant pause, however, and you can’t help but feel stifled by the heavy weight building in your stomach. jungwon is overthinking—the feeling is palpable. he’s chewing on his bottom lip and you can almost taste his vanilla chapstick; the nail of his thumb is worn down to the quick in the same way he’s bitten at the inside of his cheek.

“jungwon, you know i’m just joking, right?” there’s a hint of regret lacing your voice, a tinge of melancholy, but it mixes with a resolute affirmation of your love for him. “i miss you, but i couldn’t be more proud of you. watching those clips of you on stage, seeing you enjoy yourself—it all makes me love you even more. you’re doing so well.”

“i know,” he sighs, sounding exceedingly dejected. “i just feel like i can’t give you what you need—like i can’t be who you deserve from this far away.”

your jaw goes slack upon hearing his confession. his words shock you to your core; strong-willed yet so fragile-hearted, why your lover is so critical of himself—you will never know. in your eyes, jungwon is nothing short of angelic; ethereal in a way only known by beings of the heavens, jungwon brightens every room he walks into and makes your day better by merely existing. he is a sanctuary of sorts—warm and inviting and gentle.

“are you insane?” the question tumbled from your mouth before your brain could formulate a better response.

he hums, inquisitively, “i don’t think so?”

“okay, not exactly how i wanted that to come out,” you concede, “but—seriously, won—you’re my everything. you never have to worry about me wanting more, because you’re already who i want. who i need. and, honestly, i don’t know what i did to deserve you.” you know he’s flushed on the other side of the phone, cupping a sweater paw over his face while trying not to giggle and swing his feet like a schoolgirl. “yang jungwon, i love you very much, and i’m always so, so thankful for you … so, tell your brain to stop beating you up, or i’ll kick its slimy, little ass.”

“thank you, [y/n]. i love you, too.” he laughs for a moment, then stops himself, “wait—did you just say my brain was little?!”

#enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enha fluff #jungwon fluff #; — cass writes: soft n sweet #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon #enha x reader #jungwon reactions #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcanons #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader

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via-l0ve · 7 months

Note

OMG UR MIKE SCHMIDT HCS ARE PERFECT!!!!!!!!! pls do a part two 🙏🙏

(btw can I be 😾 anon? )

Dating Mike Schmidt Hcs PT. 2!❣️

a/n: ABSOLUTELY!!! thank you sm 😾 anon <3 i love u! this also includes just some general head cannons of him because he’s my baby.

warnings: nothing :)

mike drinks coffee and energy drinks all the time

his favorite flavor of monster is the original or the Strawberry dreams

if you like monster (i’m an addict) he buys you one every time he buys one for himself

when he was working at freddy’s you’d patch him up if he ever got hurt :(

you teach him how to bake so he can teach Abby

You’re the only person Abby likes her brother to be with

she incorporates you into her drawings after a while of knowing you

mike is so happy when he sees you drawn in because his sister’s approval means a lot to him even if she’s only ten

it takes a while for mike to open up to you

but when he does he kinda has to break it up into small bits

he’s surprised when you hug him and comfort him bc what no one’s ever done that before

his love language is most definitely words of affirmation and physical touch

mike is so stressed with his work schedule so he can’t always be there physically but he always, without fail, every. day. sends you a good morning and good night text.

that might not seem like much but it’s everything to me okay!!!!

“hey baby, good morning :) i love you the most and i hope you have an amazing day. im on my way to work now but when i get out ill text you and when i get home ill give you lots of kisses. i love you.”

that’s so fucking cute

you guys have frequent date nights that just consist of laying on the couch or in his bed and watching a movie while he lays on your lap or on your chest

Abby usually interrupts because she “can’t sleep” but we all know it’s just because she wants to watch the movie

Mike secretly has a savings account for the two of you

he wants the best for you and when he can give you the world he will

but for right now he’ll pay for some stuff and give you kisses afterwards

he makes playlists that remind him of you

he loves to give you his clothes

or, if you don’t want those, he gives you blankets of his that smell like him

Mike notices the little things

like if you told him a story about your cousin and how they pissed you off

and then you brought them up again

he would remember the incident but he wouldn’t remember their name

“oh isn’t that the cousin who did all of that stuff to you?”

you guys have deep talks at 2am while he lays on your stomach and you comb through his hair with your fingers and you guys just talk and make out

his lips are soft but his hands aren’t

you definitely flirt with him all the time to make him blush

he hates feet

like everyone wears socks in his house or he will shoot his eyes out

he also hates canned corn

don’t ask me why i think this is just do

he’s scared of being alone

he also most definitely uses “:) :( :/ .-.” instead of actual emojis

he laughs at all of your jokes

even if they’re just not funny

he dosent want you to get sad lol

he’s always scared he’s not enough for you

he works a lot and he’s constantly tired and he makes minimum wage so it’s not like he can take you out to fancy dates or anything

he opens up about how he feels and when you tell him how much you adore your little mundane activities he gets all teary eyed and just hugs you so tight

:(((

he just wants to be the best version of himself for you

he adores you

off topic - he’s a lightweight when he drinks

he’ll stumble into the house drunk and just clinging onto you like a sloth

poor baby

he just deserves the world

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #😾 anon #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt headcanons #i love this man #fnaf movie #fnaf #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson characters

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sylvies-chen · 2 months

Text

sweet nothing sleeping

summary: lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when she’s falling asleep

pairing: tim bradford/lucy chen

word count: short??? i wrote this on notes app don’t ask me to count

warnings: none

a/n: this was written at *many* a 2am but it was my coping mechanism for the chenford breakup so there will be nothing but fluff and happiness here!! but also sorry in advance for any typos. written for my @morganupstead who gave me this idea ages ago and I just took forever to write it LOL

••• ••• ••• •••

cause they said the end is coming

everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your

sweet nothings

She’s had a long day.

The list of grievances wracked up in a single shift has been nothing short of astounding. For example: a man no less than an hour into her first stretch of patrol who puked on her. A bar fight gone horribly wrong, and he was drunk out of his mind so when she showed up at the tail end of a swift punch to the drunkard’s gut then… well, you can figure out the rest. Then another man threatened to sue her and the entire LAPD Mid Wilshire division because he refused to be told by a woman to stop ejaculating in public. Nothing but insufferable misdemeanours one after the other, without end. The robbery homicide tailing the end of her shift was the worst. Lucy doesn’t know what’s more horrible: how violent the young married couple’s death was, or how her first thought was that she wished she could have been the detective on a flashy case like this. Knowing she was even capable of putting her career before her compassion and duty left her gutted.

It leaves her now with a bitter aftertaste of guilt and shame. That coupled with the exhaustion and ridicule of her other calls makes for a particularly dreadful combination. Normally she can see Tim in passing and vent to him about things, but he’d been stuck in some new Metro training program all day. Updated protocol or tactical practice, or whatever they wanted to call it. Based on the state she sees Tim in at the end of one of those days, she’d call it something more akin to torture. It also means she had no support system throughout the day whatsoever apart from Nolan’s typical words of encouragement, which were swell but never substantive.

Since Tamara’s moved out, things have been lonely too. She misses her old roommate. If nothing else, at the end of the day Lucy still had a young and vulnerable kid she had to feed and house and clothe. Cooking for them always felt like a backup ritual, a healing sort of constancy, and that’s gone too.

So she heads to Tim’s. Her foot feels like lead on the gas, pushing down hard and inching dangerously closer to speeding the closer she gets to his place. It’s like her heart can feel the distance closing and misses him even more, the weight of her bad day crushing her heart and leaving spider fractures. A magnetic pull is always at its strongest the minute before contact, after all.

For the most part, Lucy’s been able to hold it together. She’s kept things professional, never complained, held her head high. And even as she trembles with anticipation as she knocks on the door, there’s a part of her refusing to let go of that facade.

She knocks at the door, but there’s no answer. Three louder knocks after a minute of waiting, and still nothing. Only after a third round of knocking does she think to use the spare key he’d given her last month.

“Hi,” Lucy calls out as she enters his place. No immediate response, but that’s no matter. She puts the keys down in his key bowl and hangs up her jacket.

The sound of nails skidding against the floor alert her only seconds in advance to Kojo’s presence. He runs up to her full speed but comes to a screeching halt when he reaches her. With his tail still waving fervently, he tries to sit down. (Tim’s trained him to understand that petting and general affection from guests is contingent upon his very handsome sitting.)

“Kojo! Hey there buddy,” she greets him with a soft laugh, like an old friend. Lucy knows by now, even having owned him once, to scratch him behind his ears. The gesture earns her a right good lick from chin to cheek on the left side of her face.

“Yeah, you’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’re a good boy,” she tells him as she keeps petting him. “Now where’s our Tim?”

She looks around half expecting Tim to appear in the hallway, but no sign of him is to be seen anywhere, save for the sound of his television from the next room. Football. Figures.

“Alright, Sir Kojo, King of the Canines,” she declares, patting him on the head and gently urging him forward by the collar, “let’s see what your dad’s watching.”

The two of them make their way to the family room to see what he’s up to. For a football game, Lucy’s already surprised that he isn’t shouting at the TV and jumping up and down like he normally does.

When she enters the room though, she doesn’t see him watching sports. Instead, she sees a passed-out Tim on the couch, snoring in his Rams jersey, remote loosely balanced in his hand. She tilts her head, curiously soaking in the scene.

She should have expected this. He’s been working as hard as she has lately. Though she isn’t entirely sure as to why, he’s been taking on extra shifts and doing double overtime these past two weeks. God knows he didn’t have the steam for a full game of football. Tack on her unexpected company, and she’s sure she’ll tire him out even more.

But the look of him. The television emits a soft glow that flashes hues of green and blue across his stubbled cheekbones. His head hangs back completely crooked on the headrest, and with the positioning of his arms, Tim’s posed like a dramatic renaissance painting. She can’t help but let out a soft giggle under her breath, and then silences into the brightest of smiles she can give after a day like hers, because nothing about this is funny anymore.

Even drooling, his mere presence soothes her. Lying there, entirely disarmed and peaceful. The world and all its troubles just melt away, dissolve in her mind until only a faint trace of what remains lingers like dust. It’s a beautiful haze Lucy can get stuck in, just standing there and watching him. The tight corners of his mouth, his eyes shut gently, the curve of his neck, the way his hair’s a little shorter right now.

Oh hell. Who is she to disrupt him anyways.

She tiptoes over to the couch and carefully extracts the remote from his hand. Turning the television off to avoid more light and sound will definitely help him sleep. Whether Tim’s asleep or awake, it doesn’t matter. Lucy always sleeps better when she’s next to him.

What doesn’t help Tim sleep, apparently, is Kojo. Having followed Lucy into the room, though she will defend him ferociously and say his heart is in the right place, Kojo makes a beeline for the couch and starts pulling at Tim’s jeans with his sharp canine teeth.

“No! No, Kojo! Bad Kojo, stay back,” she pleads in a whisper pushed out through gritted teeth.

Kojo seems to only get more excited— a sort of escalation which Lucy saw all too frequently in her calls from today. Tim jolts awake almost immediately.

“What the-“ he sits up and pulls his jeans away from Kojo, but then looks up at Lucy, still hovering over him guilty as ever. “Lucy?”

“Sorry.” She winces, finally shooing Kojo away enough to give them more space. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to put a blanket over you but Kojo got excited.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her, though he’s still rubbing at his eyes. Lucy’s almost certain he’s still half asleep and hasn’t registered the whole situation before him. “I gave you a key for a reason. What are you doing here?”

“I…” She tries to explain it rationally to him, to go through each bad happening chronologically, to compartmentalize. But then, his voice. His sweet, low, milky, humming voice like the pulse of a heart being soothed into a slower rhythm. It’s so steady, so calm. Something about hearing it unlocks a valve within her. She cracks, as she knew she would when she decided to come, and before she knows it she’s crying.

“Hey, hey,” Tim hushes gently, immediately sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh nothing,” she sobs. “I just had a crappy day. I got puked on and yelled at and all this nonsense which I can normally handle but I don’t even know why I’m… why I’m…”

“Don’t question it too much,” he tells her. “Just let it out.”

“Okay.”

And so she does. For a little bit, she just cries. Surprisingly, it’s not sad. The world isn’t ending, nothing is going to go wrong. There is no other shoe about to drop, no real heartbreak, no evil around. These tears are but a release, and there’s a safety to them.

Once she’s done, she wipes at her tears with her sleeves and sniffles.

“Better?”

“Better,” she says, and can really mean it, genuine smile and all. “Thanks.”

“You never have to thank me.”

She nods, but switches the subject. “You never told me how you’re Metro seminar went today.”

“Eh, it was alright,” he says. “Apart from being exhausted and sore all over, of course. We’ve got some new recruits who are… eager.”

She looks at him with loving suspicion. “You went full Tim 1.0 on them, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he admits with a big huff of relief. “I ran through the drills and protocol updates 36 times because they couldn’t get it right. I didn’t have the heart to just demote them from my team.”

“Tim Bradford not having the heart for a tough love moment? Who are you?” She teases. “Where was this energy 6 years ago?”

“Waiting for you to come along and change it, I guess,” he sighs wistfully. “Always just waiting for you.”

“You’ve gone soft, Sergeant Bradford.” She shakes her head. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, and it only deepens for a moment, then plateauing into a pleasant and chaste hum before release. His arms pull her into his side and her head finds that perfect spot on his chest to nestle into.

The sigh she lets out is almost a song. “This feels good, being here with you. Feeling at peace.”

“Just wait for it.”

“Huh?”

Lucy doesn’t know how Tim saw this coming, but before even asking she’s given an answer. Kojo jumps up onto the couch and steps on Lucy’s lap to lick her and Tim all over their tired, sweaty faces.

“Argh! Kojo, off!” She squeals, though not so gravely that she can’t laugh in the process. Eventually, with enough shooing, Kojo calms down. He doesn’t leave the couch, but lies down next to them, choosing to rest his head on her lap and make happy little sighs.

“Told you.”

“How did you know he would do that?”

Tim shrugs. “He’s happier when you’re around. Like me.”

Lucy smiles, even when pushing Kojo off of them. “I love you.”

Tim doesn’t respond. Too much time passes. A beat, and then another. She gets worried.

“Tim?”

“Oh so you weren’t talking to the dog then?”

She giggles and smacks him playfully across the chest with the back of her hand. “No! Well I do love him, but he drools. And you’re—“

“Human?”

“The love of my life.”

She watches the ripple of those words dance across his face. Tim smiles, his cheeks turning all shades of pink and red. Though he doesn’t seem scared off by her comment, the surprise of it still shows in his raised eyebrows and subsequent lines in his forehead. The way his head tilts, like he can’t quite believe it. But, above all else, the love in his eyes. And that way he’s looking at her now… sometimes she thinks that’s what life’s all about.

“I know I don’t have to be yours,” she continues. “You know, having been married before and all, but—“

“Don’t think for a second you aren’t,” he lets out, almost like the words couldn’t contain themselves. “You are.”

“Good.” Her turn now: the ridiculous blushing, the smile, the love in her eyes. So much joy.

So much fatigue too though. Being around him, getting to decompress like this, it’s making her crash fast. She yawns, and Tim yawns in subconscious response, and out of his own fatigue.

“I should get going,” Lucy tells him, though her face is still nestled into his sweater and has no intention of leaving. “I really only came over to feel some comfort and decompress but I didn’t bring a change of clothes or anything.”

“Mmm,” he groans in disapproval of the idea. “Stay for a bit.”

“No. No, I’ve… gotta…” She sucks in a deep breath, Tim’s woody scent catching onto her nose. Her eyes flutter and her muscles start to release their tension as the hand which isn’t sprawled across Tim’s chest starts to massage the spot behind Kojo’s ear.

“Oh, maybe just a few minutes…” she tells him hesitantly. “But keep me talking, I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Ok. What about the rest of your day? You never finished telling me all the things that had you so upset.”

“Well it started when the air conditioning in the shop nearly exploded on me, and then I immediately took my first call at this dive bar before I could get it fixed. But oh, you won’t believe what this one guy did…”

Lucy goes on and on, her eyes growing heavy and her voice growing layers of drowsy rasp, fighting sleep to tell all her stories of woe. The drunkards, the sexist pigs, the violence. Part of her registers Tim’s lack of response or reaction as she tells her stories. Time passes. She talks, and he listens.

“I think it’s better not to dwell on it though,” she concludes eventually. “I’ve felt all I can feel about it for one day. And anyways I… I can barely remember my own anguish now. It feels so far aw—“

She looks up to see him passed out, his breathing a low rumble that threatens snoring. The soft fur under her other hand feels alarmingly still as well, until she looks to the other side and sees Kojo sleeping on her lap.

So much for leaving. She supposes that’s exactly how she wants things anyway. The heartbeats of these two precious boys at the tips of her fingers, nestled right next to hers. Giving her strength, steadying her scattered mind. Under these dim lights and warm blankets and beloved company, she wouldn’t dare move a muscle.

“Oh hell, who was I kidding,” she whispers to him. “I was always going to end up here anyways. With you.”

She rests her head on his chest once more. The last thing she remembers is the rise and fall of Tim’s chest against her hand and the feel of Kojo’s soft fur against her other.

This isn’t a big moment. No fireworks, no heartfelt confessions, no twirls or kisses in the rain. But even as the day ends and the lights go out, she feels love where it dwells best: in a quiet room. And it remains that Lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when she’s falling asleep.

#the rookie #chenford #abby writes #lucy chen #tim bradford #kojo #lucy x tim #tim x lucy #chenford fanfic

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

Note

Hello Again Friend,

I wanted to thank you for your kind response to my last submission - it has given me the encouragement to actually start this outrageously large fic that I have going on in my head. We shall see if at least part of it will be ready for AO3 by the end of the year😅

I have been considering sending you a snippet I was working on but it’s not nearly as flushed out as the first scenario (emotional Dream kneeling fic idea, just to confirm) I submitted to you. (read: I haven’t had a 2am anxiety-induced writing frenzy over it lol). But seeing your reblog of deviantly-inspired’s post made me feel like I could share it with you no matter how unfinished. The concept in my mind is similar and is also inspired by multiple fandom headcanons/fic readings so here goes nothing~

*****

Before Dream begs Hob not to love him, before he kneels at the power Hob’s love has over him, and even before he allowed their relationship to slip unacknowledged past “just friends” into “what are we?,” territory, Dream had ignored his growing feelings for Hob. They had been friends seeing each other quite regularly for the better part of a year when Hob invited him upstairs to get away from the rambunctious new college graduates swarming the inn. Dream blamed their drunkenly hopeful and untamed dreams for the excitement he felt at following Hob to his private quarters. Of course, it was just a friendly invite considering Dream’s dislike for crowds and it was just a regular apartment for all intents and purposes. Except that it wasn’t. It was Hob’s apartment filled with Hob’s things and it was cozy and welcoming just like The New Inn. So how could Dream resist when Hob suggested they move future meetings there. “For the convenience, ya know? Less bothering the staff and saving money eating out ya know?” Hob is only rational so why disagree. “Not that you ever were an expensive date, ha! Seeing as I don’t think you ever ate at one of our meetings when I think about it. Hmm, do you even eat?”

Dream meets his eyes from where he sits across the couch: “If you mean do I need to consume sustenance for energy than no I don’t need to eat. But I usually abstain because like all things I consume I can sense the dreams of their creators which is unsatisfying in most cases.”

Hob’s eyes widen, “Unsatisfying because the dreams are bad or…?”

“Some. Often, the wishes are for riches or fame in cooking and sometimes they are dreams of being delicious or fulfilling which I find gratifying. But usually they are simply wishes to go home and rest which I believe you could see my hesitance for eating them in your company.” Dream smiles that tiny one-sided smile of his and Hob brightens up because he has a new goal based on what Dream said. He’s going to cook him a meal to enjoy just for him.

*Spongebob meme voice: Three Weeks Later”

Dream smells everything before he even knocks on the door of Hob’s flat. Hob has a bright smile despite the sweat on his face and he bows mockingly to say: “Your highness, dinner is served.”

Dream arches an eyebrow ready to decline the invite but even he knows it would be rude to deny as a guest. Especially when he can see Hob put a substantial amount of effort into the steaming pot he is currently scooping from. The drone of the oven fan fills the silent camaraderie of the moment as Dream sits at the small table set with two spoons and two glasses of wine. ‘How intimate,’ he thinks and is glad his embarrassed flush is covered up by Hob placing a gently steaming bowl in front of him and sitting across the table. “It’s just some beef stew but I hope you’ll like it. And it’s a totally odd companion dessert but I made some chocolate chip cookies to go with it. I’m just preheating the oven now.” Hob gives Dream a blindingly kind smile before he starts to eat and launches into a story about his Tuesday class.

The lack of pressure to eat or even talk is one of the things Dream appreciates about his friend. But to return this kindness he chooses to at least politely take a few bites before outright denying the cookies. On sight the stew is nothing more than dark gravy with hefty chunks of tender beef, soft carrots, fluffy potatoes, and translucent onions. A good hearty stew to be sure but nothing crazy for the palette and definitely not anything worth writing home about.

Dream scoops a single spoonful into his mouth and freezes. His natural stillness allows the moment to go unnoticed by Hob but the entire collective unconsciousness comes to a halt. The simple stew resonates with a multitude of wishes that coalesce into one overarching dream. The single most important dream of its creator imbued into every molecule and Dream can more than taste it. Run his human tongue over it, crush it between his teeth, and swallow it into the empty cavern of hunger too large for this human form to possess. The oven beeps so Hob excuses himself to quickly shape some cookies and get them into the oven. In the meantime, Dream is allowed to continue being overwhelmed in private.

He stares at where his spoon disappears into the comforting brown stew until his vision starts to blur. Tears are starting to well up in his eyes and though he has not been breathing this entire time his hands begin to shake. Shake with want, he wants to eat the entire bowl stew and all. The dream buried within that bowl begins to call to him and the intense fervor with which he wants to consume it all almost scares him. He wants to grab the still simmering cast iron pot and absorb it’s entirety into his being. Is it rude to eat Hob’s remainder? Could he lick the remaining flavor from within Hob’s lips so that he may always know it’s flavors? Is it too much to feel this way for a friend’s kindness? Is it too much for him to beg Hob for more sustenance? Is it too much to admit to Hob he is starving and only this will nourish him? What taste will his longing tears add to the broth? What more would Hob give him when he had nothing to offer in return?

The oven door shuts and suddenly the thought of an even sweeter food causes Dream to take in a lungful of air in fear. It would be too much to bear. It would be too much because he is too much.

“Are you okay, Dream? You look a little shaken.” Shaken? Yes, he is shaken to his core. The stinging tears threaten to fall but Dream blinks them back with immeasureable control because he cannot lose control. Not here.

“It is of no matter. My apologies for your efforts but I do not believe I could partake in your dessert. Thank you however, for the stew.” Dream carefully says only the truth. He does not say that it was ambrosia and the only reason he does not gorge himself on it is fear that there will be no more left. That’s not true, he fears acknowledging it would mean no more would come. Better to take this single bite now and have many singular bites in meetings to follow than to choke it all down now and never be able to feast again. He returns the spoon carefully to where it was initially set and puts his hands into his lap to hide their trembling.

“Of course, it’s totally fine, Dream! I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want. Besides, I’ll eat all of this myself eventually,” Hob smiles and tries not to let it be strained. He had hoped pouring all of his emotions into this meal would show Dream that he wanted to have more than just friendship with him but he must have misunderstood. It’s just plain soup after all and the cookies are the Tollhouse recipe so what was he expecting? A dramatic and mutual love confession? Was he thinking Dream would fall to his knees and rejoice in Hob’s regard? No! Of course, he would only stare at the soup with his starry eyes and take a singular bite before denying more. Maybe eating was painful and that’s why he had a pained expression on his face. Maybe Dream did know what feelings Hob put into the stew and was kindly ignoring them to allow Hob to save face and for that he was grateful. For that, he could continue their friendship without shame and choke down his soup and two cookies while still trying to play that he wasn’t bothered. He knew once Dream left the food would be thrown away.

Dream waited patiently for Hob to finish his stew and eat his warm cookies a little too soon after pulling them from the oven. Hob barely avoided choking on the burning dough through a series of undignified swearing about the temperature and blowing puffs of hot air from his open mouth. If Dream weren’t so caught up in his mind he would have done more than laugh his braying laugh. When Hob finishes they retire back to the perfectly worn out couch and Dream takes a last glimpse at the pot on the stove.

In that pot was a stew filled with unfathomable care and gentle regard for Dream. Every morsel flavored with warm feelings of positivity and each piece a wish for nourishment. The time taken imbued every spoonful with a wish for happiness. The mixture of textures and wishes gave the stew a singular flavor, a singular dream that Dream could not ignore. The stew, because its creator created it so, dreamed of comfort for Dream. A dream so beautiful and heartfelt it filled him with tears to be so cared for. It would be torture then to taste the cookies and know he could never have Hob. To know that he should not have Hob.

They said their goodnights and Hob packed away the stew because he couldn’t really bear to waste a perfectly good few meals. He did however, throw away the remaining cookie dough because it felt wrong to eat them or give them away when he made it for Dream. When he imagined Dream’s laugh with every scoop of flour, when he imagined the stars in Dream’s dark eyes for every grain of salt, the baking soda his smirk, the egg yolks his sunny small smiles, the white sugar his pale human skin, the brown sugar his dark unruly hair, the vanilla extract his unique scent, when every stir was a loving caress he longed to give and with every chocolate chip a sweet kiss. He would throw this declaration of love away if only to keep their friendship.

Dream returned to the Dreaming in a sweep of sand and he was glad to be away from Hob. From his flat’s intoxicating warmth and his easy smiles if only so he could think. He had to stop this from going further. He could not love Hob. It would ruin him. He would not let himself do that to his dearest friend…his only friend. He would not love Hob and it would be okay. Because they could be friends! Because it would be enough.

It will be okay because Hob does not love him.

****

You know, I am so sorry for coming to you a second time and just dropping my long ass scenarios on you lol. I just can’t get the imagine of Hob making Dream something yummy and it being so full of care that it makes Dream well up with tears. He has never been loved so quietly before, so patiently, so unobtrusively and I just want that for him. Hopefully, this will get worked into the same fic and hopefully one day we’ll all be able to read it lol. Once again, my apologies for dropping this on you but I hope you have a good day!!!!!!!!!!!!! ❤️

Sincerely,

🧶Anon

Oh beloved 🧶 anon!!! I'm so glad to hear that you felt encouraged by my last response, I'm absolutely thrilled and so excited by the prospect of reading what you create! Even if it takes some time, I promise that the effort will be worth it.

I'm absolutely obsessed with what you've done with Dream and food and love here. It's so beautiful and it's one of my favourite things to think about. How does Dream interpret love, as an Endless being with access to the entire collective unconsciousness of humanity? He seems very much to feel emotions in the same way that we do - perhaps even in a more heightened way. I'm so interested in the way a home cooked meal imbued with all of Hob’s thoughts and good intentions and love would make him feel. How overwhelming would it be to have those things directed at him specifically for once? Hob’s love is not overwhelming, in itself. It's an ember that's burned softly for many years, and nothing can put it out. But even though it is so gentle, Dream just can't... hold it. Not without coming apart.

And Hob, oh bless him. I'm totally in the "food is Hob’s love language" camp. I'm so emotional about the idea of him sadly throwing out the cookie dough, respectful of Dream’s wishes but still feeling a little bruised that his love doesn't seem to be enough. I think that he won't stop trying, though. That little ember isn't going anywhere.

So, once again: thank you for sharing this. You are wonderful and you're going to make a wonderful fic. I hope you have a great day, my friend!

#🧶 anon #the sandman #dreamling

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alexsoenomel · 2 years

Text

A Perfect Puzzle Piece (Sam Winchester x Reader fluff)

Request:

More Sam Winchester Fluff pwease? I need more soft boy Sam lol. I’ll leave the story up to you

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: I mean period pains I guess? Other then that just fluff :)

Word count: 837

Note: Wrote this few years ago. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

Your head hit the soft pillow as your tired body went under the freshly washed covers of the bed you shared with your other puzzle piece. Sadly he wasn’t there to spread his arms so you could fit into his body perfectly. Out and about, he was working with his big brother, trying to find a way to stop The Darkness from completely destroying the world you once saw as beautiful. The truth was the world was now nothing but ugly and dark, you were just lucky to have found a little bit of light in Sam and Dean. You would always go with them but being a woman came with one little thing-periods and period craps. Every month you’d have those sharp waves of pain that were at times unbearable. Today was one of those days…you woke up and immediately wanted to die. It was a perfect morning….

The pain, the ugly feeling knowing a pad is between your legs and the feeling like you were heavier twice your actually weight plus the unexpected acne…It was like that time you almost got killed by a demon. The motherfucker got you good until Sam jammed a knife in his heart. Ah good times…

You were in so much pain you couldn’t get up, and you tried. At one point you were crying wishing desperately you were a man but it was useless. You took the pain meds and even took a shower hoping hot water would calm the situation but it didn’t. Sam and Dean got worried as always, even though you told them a million times first days were always the most painful for you. Finally you convinced them to go and do their research wherever that might be and just to leave you to sleep off this whole situation. And that’s what you did…Spending a whole day in bed with Sam’s scent all over the sheets wasn’t so bad after all. You hugged his pillow inhaled the sweet smell of his shampoo not thinking of the blood war between your legs, and for just few minutes the pain stopped and you got to close your eyes, drifting to dream land faster than Dean running towards pie. After you woke up, you were pain free but still alone. Even though he was out for only a couple of hours you missed him and the loneliness kicked in.

“When will you come home? I miss you.” You texted him.

Few seconds later your phone buzzed. “Tonight. We can’t find Crowley, this whole trip was useless. I miss you too. How’re you feeling?”

“The pain is gone for now but I’m sad and I don’t know why.” You press send.

Few seconds later… “It’s okay to be sad. We will be home soon, I promise.”

“I love you Sammy.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

That was at 6pm that day.

The rest of the day you, of course, spent in bed watching old movies on Sam’s laptop until you got a headache and decided to go and sleep at 2am. It felt like you had spent that whole day working; you were drained, still sad and just done with life and motherfucking nature. You just needed Sam and his hugs.

At the end he kept his promise. He came back with Dean at around 3am while you were already fast asleep. He took a quick shower got into his pajamas and without a sound joined you. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you slowly drifted back to reality. He placed small kissed on your neck sending shivers all over your body. When you realized your perfect puzzle piece was back you slowly opened your eyes and turned around to face him, snuggling against his warm body.

“You’re back.” You mumbled, feeling a genuine wave of happiness consuming you.

“Hey.” He smiled. “Sorry I woke you up. How’re you feeling?”

“I’m glad you did. Still feel like crap, but better. How was the trip?”

“Useless and tiring. “ He said as his long fingers were playing with your messy and now tangled bed hair. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Feeling safest as you can possibly be, right there in his arms, with your heart beating fast and your cheeks blushing uncontrollably, your legs went between his as your body climbed on top of him while your lips kissed him hungrily. “Cuddle me.”

Sam gasped by surprise and laughed, feeling your body against his. That’s how pure bliss and comfort looks. That’s how love looks like. It was dark as it can possibly be, but you could still see the beautiful lines on his face and his breath taking hazel eyes glowed in the same darkness. The same could be said about him, your features and silhouette were still visible. His hand brushed away your hair so he could study you more.

“I love you.” He said. “I can’t believe I found you.”

“To the moon and back Sammy.” You said and kissed him again.

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meiozis · 2 years

Text

parallels & almosts

♡ pairing: vernon x reader

♡ genre: friends to lovers, light angst

♡ word count: 10k

♡ warnings: slight description of panic attacks, alcohol consumption, slow burn-ish lol, occasional cursing, a little sad bc i wrote it in winter, yearning

a/n: i wrote this last christmas inspired by my first sem at uni, and finally got around to proofreading :) hope you like it, and if you have any thoughts about it id love to know <3

masterlist

♡ ♡ ♡

One day you’ll inevitably fall for someone. Someone, who will touch you for the first time like no one ever did before, and maybe no one ever will again. Full of love, admiration, and tenderness. Your chest is going to fill with pain and unending yearning, a fleeting moment that’s going to feel like nothing and everything whenever you think about it. And you’ll fall hard, hard enough that if any of it was real it might break your body in unspeakable ways.

When you wake up the next day you realise you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

Then it’s over.

You’re sitting in the bathroom, staring at the uneven paint where the tiles meet the wall, wondering if you could ever manage to crawl into one of the cracks there and disappear forever. No clichéd metaphor seems fitting enough, even though you understand you are not the first, and you won’t be the last either, to experience heartbreak quite like this. Something that squishes your heart until it feels numb, catches in your throat in a way that you can’t even find the words to explain the pain, a constant gloss over your eyes, like tears you can’t blink away.

Your upstairs neighbour is just a little too loud, the static of the tv humming just a little too much, drunk people screaming outside just a little too close, and it all feels so overbearing. You close your eyes, skin buzzing with all the loudness of the inside and outside combined. It’s hard to focus on one thing when it feels like the whole world is happening at once without you in it.

Then the phone rings.

The world stops, but your breathing quickens as panic takes over. It’s all so much in a way that seems impossible to deal with. At least for now, in this passing moment, even if it feels like an eternity. The ringing gets more and more deafening, your breaths quickening, and you know it won’t stop. It never really does. The cacophony of sounds slowly fades out, the only thing you can hear is your own body; your heartbeat, your own breaths, tired gasps for air. It’s okay. You claw at your skin, anything to distract yourself from the ongoing panic attack, even if you know it won’t help. It never does.

It’s okay.

Tears burn the corners of your eyes, even though you don’t know how long you’ve been crying. The world is slowly closing in, and it’s just you on the cold bathroom floor at 2am.

Is it okay?

It’s silent. So suddenly and so loudly, it almost knocks the air back into your lungs, as if the ground is being pulled from underneath your feet. The hot tears suddenly feel ice cold against your burning skin, and exhaustion crashes down on you. The sink is dripping again.

You’ll have to get it fixed.

Everything.

It’s a slow process to drag yourself from the bathroom to bed. The rain knocks politely on the window and you’re tempted to let it in, but instead just stare out into the cold night. The snow is slowly melting away, and you wish it washed away all the thoughts plaguing your mind too. It’s never that easy, you’ve always found it hard to let go of routines. The habit of waking up, turning over to give him a kiss, making coffee together. You don’t even like coffee that much, but for him you would’ve learned to love anything. For him, you even learned to love him. With all the pain and hurt.

Despite him, you loved him.

It’s all gone, and it’s okay.

“You didn’t pick up all weekend,” Vernon says in his usual nonchalant tone without as much as looking in your direction.

After you finally managed to calm down, sleep seemed much more inviting than looking at your phone. The next few days felt so peaceful in isolation, that it wouldn’t have been right to disturb it.

“Sorry.”

He only hums in response, quietly scribbling away in his notebook next to you. His hair is hidden behind one of his many beanies, one earphone in his ear, the other one between the two of you on the desk as a silent offering from his part. It’s the middle of the lecture, but you wordlessly take it anyway, knowing well that you won’t pay attention today no matter what.

Vernon is hard to read, even if you’ve been friends for a few years now. He mostly keeps to himself, barely showing if something is going on in his life. He occasionally lets you in on the big things, like when his sister graduated high school, or when his family got a new cat. You weren’t completely sure if he shared these things with you out of common courtesy - you were glad when he did anyway. He was a little more curious and attentive when you told him about something, but never asked on his own.

Vernon knows your coffee and takeout orders by heart, and you do his. Even if he’s a worse texter than talker, you still very much enjoy his company, and mostly the ability to exist together in comfortable silence.

You get lost in thought, only coming back to reality when your favourite song quietly starts playing in your ear. Vernon is putting his phone back down, giving you a small smile before returning to the paper in front of him. His eyes twinkle in the cheap fluorescent light of the lecture hall, and even if the thought makes your chest feel tight, he does look beautiful even at 9am on a Monday.

He furrows his eyebrows, tapping his pen against the desk to the beat of the music. You rest your head on top of your barely started notes, glancing at Vernon from the corner of your eye before getting lost in thought for the rest of the lecture. You only notice that it’s over when the boy next to you is already leaving, gently tapping your shoulder and giving you a small wave before walking off into the cold fog of the morning. The professor starts turning the lights off, and you scurry to gather your belongings, making your way to the exit. Suddenly you hear music in your ear once again, and you realise you forgot to give Vernon his earphones back.

However, music means he’s near, so you try and remember which way he went, and spot him a few benches over in front of the building. He’s standing in a lopsided circle with his friends, their laughter visible in the crisp air. You shuffle over to the group, standing a little awkwardly next to Vernon, who’s too invested in whatever conversation they’re having to notice your arrival. One of the boys spots you, and you give him a brief smile before deciding to finally tap Vernon’s shoulder. He quickly turns to you, the corners of his lips quirking up just enough for you to notice. You don’t want to overstay your welcome, so you quickly take the earphone and hand it back to him. His mouth turns into an O shape, and you can feel your cheeks warming up, so you look back down at your palm to avoid staring at his face even longer. He takes it from your hand, his cold fingers igniting fire in their wake. His eyes search for yours, and as soon as they meet you feel a little wobbly, a little warm, and a lot vulnerable.

You only decided on attending any classes you had that day to avoid sitting at home even longer, stewing in your own sadness and tears. When sitting in your bed that morning you felt as if you’d be okay, as if you’ll be able to get through all this without anyone knowing or noticing. As Vernon’s eyes bore into yours, you just knew that he could see everything. You were never sure how close he considered you, and you were always too scared to assume that you are close in the first place.

Your knees feel like they’re about to give out, so you shake your head a little, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks behind your scarf.

“There’s gonna be a party later tonight, if you uh- If you wanna come,” Vernon tells you.

“It’s Monday,” it almost comes out as a question, eliciting a laugh from the boy.

“I’ll text you the address later, in case you change your mind. I’ll be there.”

His smile always makes everything a little easier, so you nod and turn to leave. For a second he looks like he might say something else, a concerned look on his face, but he fades back into the conversation instead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot Vernon’s got multiple curious eyes on him, waiting for some sort of an explanation. They all know you to some degree of course, but they haven’t seen their friend like this in quite some time.

“Dude,” Seungkwan is the first one to voice his thoughts.

“What?”

“Did we miss something?'' His tone is enough to make Vernon’s eyes widen. “Just a heads up, I’m gonna keep an eye on you tonight. And I’m gonna be updating the group chat constantly, too.”

A round of laughter and general agreement follows Seungkwan’s statement, and though Vernon loves his friends, he has to admit that they can be too much sometimes. Even if he considers himself a private person, he does still keep them up to date most of the time, except at times like this. At times when not only his feelings are concerned.

He could see even during class how out of it you were, certainly he could, but he didn’t want to bring up something you were not comfortable sharing on your own. So all he did was slide a lone earphone over, and put on a playlist he made for you. Of course, he would never tell you that - or anyone for that matter. His feelings and his playlist were kept as his most treasured secrets, even if they’re only meaningful to him. He would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the crush he’s been nursing on you since you met in your first Monday morning class, sitting in the same spot as today. He immediately memorised your name during the quick introduction game the professor insisted on, making use of it as much as he could during class, and right after, too. Grabbing coffee seemed like the logical choice at the time, texting all his friends for recommendations as soon as he could. Once class was over he made his move, striking up conversation with you, albeit a little awkwardly. Surprisingly even to him, you agreed, and shortly after you found yourselves at a small café just off campus. The impromptu hangout felt almost too comfortable for it to be your first time meeting, and Vernon couldn’t think about the way you laughed at his terrible jokes without getting butterflies in his stomach, not even years later.

He later had to face the fact that you’re taken, and even if it broke his heart a little, he enjoyed your company a lot more than for something like this to keep him from you. So here you are, almost 3 years later, still looking at each other with the same unmistakable tenderness that only you two seem to ignore. Always smiling brighter, laughing louder, and whispering even more quietly when the other is around.

You are his first love, even if he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself.

The dim orange street light illuminates the kitchen in a way that squeezes your soul just a little too tight, making you feel nostalgic for things that maybe never really happened. Snowflakes land on the window and melt away slowly, racing down the glass. Lately it only snows at night, so you decide to stay up late, the party Vernon invited you to long forgotten.

Tonight it’s a little different somehow. The air feels heavier than usual, and the streets are fully empty, which is an exceptionally rare sight this close to campus. You open the window, and climb up to sit on the sill, dangling your feet into the night. The crippling pressure on your chest doesn’t seem to cease, and you wish to be able to cry and scream, let it all out while it’s dark and quiet.

In the distance you spot a figure slowly treading through the snow, dressed in all black with their hands in their pockets. Their steps are completely silent except for the occasional crunch of the fresh snow. The knowledge that someone else is just this restless at the same time as you brings an odd sense of peace. Wordless company on such a lonely night.

For a fleeting moment you feel like everything’s going to be okay.

That night you fall asleep wondering what it’d be like to hold Vernon’s hands on a 2am walk. You dream about your kitchen window being gone.

Vernon waits for you patiently at the party that night, checking his phone way too often to make sure he doesn’t miss any of your calls or texts. A few drinks and too much teasing from his friends later he’s already getting ready to leave when some girl sidles up to him, giggling drunkenly right into his face. He remembers her from one of his classes, but not her name, and he doesn’t bother asking either.

“Heeey,” the girl chimes. “Are you uh- are you here uh- alone?” She stumbles a little, both with her words and her steps.

Vernon hesitates, but nods anyway.

“Really? So am I, that’s uh-” Vernon gets nervous that the girl might end up ruining his shoes. “That’s so cool. Wanna, do you wanna-”

She closes her eyes for a second and blindly reaches out for something to steady herself, so he grabs her arms on instinct.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re sooo cute, come with me, please?” She tries to pout at Vernon, but it comes out as almost every other emotion instead.

He shuffles through his choices mentally, deciding to make his way back into the living room with the girl clinging to him for dear life. The mind numbing music makes him wince a little, and he makes his way upstairs as fast as possible to get away from the hardcore party scene, not really in the mood for the smell of sweat and alcohol combined with the loudest room he could imagine in this moment. He manages to find an empty room on the third try, having seen a lot more naked people than he’s comfortable with in the span of the past few minutes.

He helps the girl lay down, and she mumbles something similar to a “don’t go, you’re so cute”, which Vernon decides to ignore, and turns her on her side instead - just in case she gets sick. He quickly makes his leave, and he can hear retching from the other side of the closed door as soon as he’s outside. It makes him wanna leave as soon as possible, so he does just that, bidding bye to some of his friends before vanishing into the dark. He’s never been so happy about silence before.

The night is tranquil, even his own footsteps barely audible as he makes his way home. When he hears rustling he looks around to find the source, finding someone climbing into the windowsill in a nearby building. He gets worried, immediately wondering if he should call someone, or maybe yell out to the stranger to stop, the 5th floor is a long way from the ground, it’s not worth it. He decides against it when he sees the stranger quietly settle down, but watches for a bit longer anyway before deciding to continue his journey.

That night he falls asleep wondering if he should’ve texted you, if you’re even okay.

He dreams about the stranger falling from the window in slow motion, and wakes up in cold sweat before they could hit the ground.

You find yourself spending more and more nights in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the fridge and lone passersby keeping you company as you watch the world go by. It was peaceful in a terrible way, one which you were sure was no good for you. That window became your survival, even if it made your chest ache with the sights it presented occasionally. Some nights were different. Some nights your phone buzzed to life with a new text from Vernon, asking about your day or just trying to make conversation. With how unavailable you made yourself he suddenly became better at texting than talking. You had to admit that it always made you a little sad when you didn’t receive his almost routinely ‘hey :)’ just a little past midnight. You always started by scowling him for being up late again, to which he responded by telling you the same.

It’s around 1am when your phone almost buzzes off the countertop.

Vernon: hey :)

Vernon: its finally snowing!!

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that the snowfall at night has been almost the only constant in your life lately.

Vernon: where r u???

Vernon: i know ur up we’re gonna go build a snowman

Vernon: dress warm!!

You’re about to force yourself to lie and turn him down, but something snaps inside of you and you find yourself asking for a location before hurriedly pulling on some warmer clothes. To your surprise he asks to meet in the park about a block from your complex, so you make your way over, waiting a few minutes for Vernon to arrive too.

He greets you with a warm smile, barely half his face visible from his beanie and scarf, his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

“Why are you even up this late?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“My roommates threw a party,” he closes his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, his breath drawing the prettiest shapes in the crisp air. “But I could be asking the same.”

“You could, but don’t,” he laughs at your response. “It’s really fucking cold tonight though, so let’s hurry up with that snowman.”

He grins at you and gently bumps his elbow into yours as you set off to find a good patch of snow. It starts out mellow, rolling snowballs around until you get to a size you’re happy with. However, Vernon gets bored quickly and decides to start targeting you with his snowballs instead. The park is quickly filled with your laughter and screaming, chasing each other around until you’re both too tired to run anymore. He flops down into the snow onto his back, sprawling all his limbs out. He’s still laughing quietly, interrupting himself with a scream when you throw one last snowball at his chest, half of the snow ending up in his face as it falls apart on impact. Your eyes widen as he jumps to his feet, an excited squeal leaving your lips when he sets off running in your direction. You try to make your escape, but of course he’s quicker and tackles you to the ground almost immediately. You both end up on your backs, your heads almost touching and the quiet night comes to life as you burst out in giggles almost in perfect harmony.

“I think there’s a convenience store a few blocks away,” Vernon says once he’s calmed down enough to talk, and turns his head towards you.

“You hungry?” You move your gaze towards him, and suddenly his face is way too close - you could count his eyelashes or maybe get lost in his eyes forever. For a brief second it’s silent except for the pounding of your heart that you’re sure even he can hear.

“Yeah,” he whispers in response, not breaking eye contact. You swallow nervously and your eyes flicker to his lips. “I- Let’s go.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. Neither of you move.

You feel like even the world stops moving for a second, out of politeness, to give you time to think about what to do. You wonder what you’re so scared of, what is it about him that makes your brain short circuit with a single look. The thought of ruining your friendship with Vernon climbs to the front of your mind and suddenly it’s all you can think about. Your body moves on its own as you finally get up, dusting your clothes off and reaching down to help Vernon up. He stares at you dumbfounded, but takes your hand anyway and stands in front you in silence, watching you chew anxiously on your lower lip. Even if he doesn’t know all that’s been bothering you the past few weeks, he can clearly see that something isn’t quite right.

Suddenly you find himself in his embrace, his head squished to yours and his fingers tangled in the back of your coat. He holds you like this for a bit, playfully ruffling your hair when he finally pulls away.

“There’s nothing convenience store ramen can’t fix,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Especially since you’re paying,” you grin at him, and he only laughs at you, shaking his head a little. You never want this night to end.

The walk is quick and goes by in comfortable silence, only stealing glances at each other occasionally. You’re sitting under the flickering neon sign of the store, waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, Vernon almost falling asleep over his food. You offer him your couch for the night, but he politely declines, since surely the party must be over by now. You give him a small nod, poking away impatiently at your noodles, deciding to dig in whether it’s done or not, too hungry and tired to care. The clock above the cashier reads a little past 4am.

With your stomachs full you’re standing outside the shop, mesmerised by the way the green neon highlights Vernon’s face. Even like this, he looks tired and almost a little sad. Your thoughts wander to how little he has said since you left the park, and it leaves a weird taste in your mouth.

“Thank you.” You spot the perplexed look in his eyes. “For tonight. It was… nice. So, thank you.”

He has way too much to say and way too little consciousness left in him for the night. He tries to string his thoughts together in an order so that they make sense, but the lack of sleep takes over and he only manages a tired smile. He can see something in your eyes that’s new to him, but he decides to save that conversation for another time.

Once you say your goodbyes you slowly make your way home, walking past the half finished snowman. Once you reach the other end of the park you let out a sigh and turn around. You pull your freezing hands from your pockets and get to work once again, rolling a head for the snowman and looking around for some twigs for the arms. You put on a few pebbles as decorations, a smile adorning the snowman’s face now. You take your phone and quickly snap a picture to send to Vernon, even though you’re sure he’s already fast asleep.

It’s past 5am once you get home, managing to fall asleep without tossing and turning for the first time in weeks. You don’t have a dream that night.

When Vernon stumbles through the front door he’s greeted by Seungkwan and Soonyoung watching some movie in the living room, probably half asleep as they don’t seem to notice his arrival. He takes off his shoes and coat, quietly moving towards his room when he hears a tired yawn from the couch. Seungkwan blinks at him sleepily, Vernon greeting him with a small wave that either goes unnoticed, or the boy really was asleep.

“You missed movie night,” Seungkwan croaks out. “What time is it anyways?”

“It’s really, really late. I just had to check on a friend.”

“A friend…” Seungkwan studies Vernon’s face. “You look like shit, dude.”

Vernon only looks back at him with a tired expression, letting out a low sigh before disappearing into his room. He flops down on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He thinks back to your face so close to his, all the things he could’ve said and done. The moon peeks through his blinds, and he wonders if he kissed you would you have kissed him back.

He dreams about the feeling of your lips on his.

Vernon never replies to your finished snowman, and somehow it bothers you a lot more than it should. For the first time this winter the snow didn’t end up melting by the morning, and it’s even there covering the ground in a plush white layer a few days later.

It’s one of those nights again where the dark amplifies your loneliness, and you find yourself in the park again, sitting on a bench in front of your snowman. It’s leaning to the side a little, the daytime sun not taking mercy on it. You stare into its pebble eyes, your elbows resting on your knees and your chin in your palms - almost studying the little creature you made. You know it's going to melt and be gone in a few days, and the thought puts a frown on your face. You wish you never got attached to something so impermanent.

You check your phone for the time, but instead have to face a missed call and a message from Vernon. All it reads is “r u up?”, and you mentally cringe at the tinder-esque nature of his texting habits. You decide not to reply.

You get up to leave, but fix the snowman up before you do so, wrapping your scarf around its neck. You zip your coat up as high as possible and set off with silent steps. Being alone feels suffocating, even though you’re the one who turned Vernon down once again. It’s been weird seeing him around at school, only being able to think about how pretty he looks under cheap neon lights. He doesn’t make much of an effort to reach out either.

Later that week one of his friends invites you to some party he’s hosting, but you politely turn the offer down. You do end up buying a bottle of the cheapest grapefruit soju you can find that very same night, laying drunkenly on the floor and singing along to every song that comes on. You are glad that your phone is dead and you are too out of it to get up for the charger, because all you can think about is texting Vernon. It’s way past midnight when you finally feel well enough to get up, realising that you’ve been ignoring how hungry you are for the past few hours. The kitchen sounds like the worst place to be, so you get dressed and decide on the convenience store that Vernon showed you.

Vernon isn’t much for parties, but he realises that he’s in dire need of some socialisation, so when Mingyu invites him over he says yes without thinking. He regrets it just a little when he can hear the blaring music from outside the house, giving himself a mental pep talk before walking inside. He’s immediately met with a crowded room, barely able to squeeze past the swarm of sweaty bodies. Finding any of his friends seems impossible, but the kitchen is right on the other side of the living room, so he beelines there. He grabs a beer from the fridge, and almost jumps out of his skin when he closes the door to find someone standing right next to it, expectantly looking at him. The girl is familiar, but he can’t quite remember her.

“Hey,” she says with a shy smile. “I don’t think we’ve met, at least not when I’m sober.”

The memory suddenly hits him, and the look of realisation on his face makes the girl laugh. She does look different when she’s not about to throw up all over Vernon’s shoes and the floor.

“Oh yeah, that was… A night, for sure. Hi. I’m Vernon, by the way.”

He leans against the counter next to her and cracks his beer open. The girl reaches a free hand towards him, the other cradling a cup of something, and introduces herself as Seohyun. They make small talk for a while, both of them finishing their drinks before she asks Vernon if he wants to dance. He hesitates a little, but nods anyway, and she immediately grabs his hand with a giggle before pulling him into the crowd.

They dance like that, bodies pressed a little too close together, laughing over the music and singing along to every song they know. Vernon feels weird anyway, like something is missing, even if he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

He has no idea how long he’s been there when he finally spots Seungkwan in the kitchen, mixing multiple drinks at once. He excuses himself for a second from Seohyun and makes his way over to his friend to greet him. Seungkwan only nods at him, and the response puzzles Vernon.

“What?” Seungkwan asks when he notices Vernon silently staring at him.

“Nothing. Having fun?”

Once again, he only nods. Vernon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but doesn’t press on, knowing fully well that Seungkwan will eventually tell him whatever is going on.

“Have you seen Mingyu?” Vernon shakes his head no and watches as Seungkwan somehow lifts all the cups at once and disappears out of sight without as much as a bye. He wonders if he should’ve stayed home to sleep instead.

He finds Seohyun on the couch, her head lazily thrown back and her eyes glistening in the dim light. She flashes a small smile when she spots Vernon, gesturing for him to sit down.

“I’m getting kind of hungry,” she pouts at him, and he feels like this is his chance to get out.

“I know just the place.”

You’re waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, sitting in the window of the convenience store with the neon lights lazily blinking down at you. Those 5 minutes feel like forever, but you’re not hungry enough to eat raw noodles.

The street in front of you is peaceful, even though there’s barely any snow left outside once again. You wonder how your snowman is doing. You wonder how Vernon is doing.

You look up at the clock above the cashier and notice that your food is finally done. Loud giggling grabs your attention from outside the store, and you wish you got more drunk so that you couldn’t be sitting here right now. Vernon’s eyes bore into your own through the glass, an unreadable expression on his face. The girl next to him is obviously lost as to what she’s witnessing, but doesn’t say anything. You quickly gather your belongings, grabbing your dinner too, before rushing out of the store. You glance at the boy one more time, and even though he’s clearly about to say something you rush off home. Tears blur your vision and leave burning trails along your face, but you just want to be home already.

Vernon is too stunned to move, only coming back to reality when he hears Seohyun’s voice.

“Who was that?”

“Just a friend.” A friend. “Let’s go eat.”

Seohyun beams at him, but he wishes he ran after you.

New Year’s Eve comes a lot quicker than you wish it did. Fireworks start going off way before midnight, and you can’t help but be annoyed. Maybe more sad than anything else, not really knowing how to feel excited about the new year. It used to be something you found exciting, but over the years it turned into peak isolation and anxiety season for you. Not out of choice, of course, life just happens sometimes.

You haven’t talked to Vernon at all since the convenience store. You haven’t really talked to anyone lately, except for a short call with your family to wish them happy holidays. You weren’t sure what went wrong, or where, but winter always brings a crippling feeling of cosmic insignificance into your life. Loneliness slowly turns into a black hole that absorbs all light and happiness in your life, and you find it harder and harder with each passing day to reach out. By the end of the year the light is barely a pinhole, and you’re sitting in the kitchen once again, watching the fireworks in silence.

Vernon can barely recognize their apartment after Seungkwan and Soonyoung are done with decorating, even less once it’s filled with music and all their friends. He doesn’t know most of them, but for one night he can find it in himself to be okay with this arrangement. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he finds a text from Seohyun telling him that she’s outside. Vernon takes the elevator down to the first floor to let the girl in. He unlocks the door for her, and she hugs him with the brightest smile on her face. Guilt immediately floods Vernon’s chest, but he doesn’t want to back away now, after all he was the one who invited Seohyun to this party. They make their way up in silence and enter the bustling apartment, Seohyun finding Vernon’s hand quickly at the overwhelming sight.

It’s still a few hours until midnight and Vernon wonders why he ever thought this to be a good idea.

A few drinks and a lot more dancing later he already feels worn out. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that there’s people doing the worst thing imaginable in his room, and the thought alone makes him want to leave for the rest of the night. He’s way too close to actually ditching all his friends and his sort-of-date, when Seungkwan suddenly yells over the music and the crowd, telling everyone to get to the rooftop. Vernon’s never been so relieved to hear his friend yell. He lets the crowd go out first, Seohyun still by his side. They leave last, Vernon making sure to close the door behind them. He catches a mischievous glint in Seohyun’s eyes, and she challenges him to a race to the staircase at the other end of the building. He lets out a tired sigh, but the girl tugs on his arm - and possibly his heartstrings - in a way he can’t resist. So they run, giggling and being just a little too loud.

It’s only a few minutes until the new year when they finally join the others, out of breath and still laughing. He can see Seohyun’s lips moving, but can’t make out any of it over the noise of all other people present. Suddenly the cacophony turns into clear chanting, and he can faintly recognise Seungkwan who yells “ten” first. They join in to the countdown, fireworks already going off in the distance.

Three. Two. One.

The crowd erupts in cheers, fireworks going off all around them as they enter a new year. Seohyun looks up into Vernon’s eyes, getting on her tiptoes and gently grabbing the collar of his coat. It feels wrong, so wrong, to lead someone on like this, and somehow Vernon still decides to kiss her, his hands settling on her waist as their lips meet. She smiles into the kiss, one of her hands gently moving up to rest on his cheek.

“Happy new year,” Seohyun whispers, still out of breath, resting her forehead against Vernon’s. He doesn’t say it back.

His phone buzzes away on the kitchen counter, your name weakly flashing on the screen. The call disconnects, and the house falls into darkness, before lighting up once again, this time with a text.

“happy new year”

Then it’s dark again.

Soon the days start getting longer and you finally say goodbye to snowy nights. You still dream about draping your scarf around Vernon, late night grocery runs, a kitchen window that’s brighter and doesn’t make you feel like the shell of who you used to be.

However, sleep still doesn’t come easy, it never really did. You occasionally find yourself looking out the same window, the sight comforting you with its continuity. Sometimes all you have is the view and the sill where you dangle your feet into a reality where you don't feel so left behind by life.

Tonight is no different, a blanket over your shoulders as you watch over the city. The distant noise of buzzing life makes you feel at peace, and you’re about to crawl back inside when you hear someone yelling your name. The word almost sounds unfamiliar, not having heard it in a while. You look around for the source of the sound, finally spotting Vernon who blends into the night in his usual all black outfit.

“Hey,” he yells once again, and he continues before you can stop him. “Come down? Please?”

You quickly climb inside, Vernon’s voice drowned out by your heart hammering in your chest. You only put on some slippers as you run out of your apartment, fuzzy sucks on your feet and the same blanket still over your shoulder. The elevator ride seems to take forever, but you finally get down, finding Vernon right outside the building sitting on the stairs. He scrambles to his feet when he hears the door behind him open, staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Even though it’s dark, you can see he looks different somehow. Maybe more tired, maybe a little more sad.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out almost as a whisper.

“I recognized your socks. That sounded a little weird, I’m sorry, I just… Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It’s true, you were focused on your exams and skipped most of your classes whenever you didn’t feel like leaving your apartment for the day. It’s also true that Vernon never called you back or replied to your text since new year’s. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes after kissing Seohyun, even though he told her everything a few days later. She was very understanding, albeit understandably sad, and they did find good friends in each other with Vernon after all that happened.

“Is that my scarf?” You step closer to him, gently touching the soft fabric.

“I found it in the park. I was gonna bring it back, but then things kind of… happened,” His voice is barely above a whisper and he looks a little too deep into your eyes.

“How’s Seohyun?” You take a step back, and Vernon visibly gulps. Somehow he just knows that you’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“I think she’s got a girlfriend now, actually. How’s your boyfriend?”

You’re taken aback by his question, his words sharp and purposeful, making you wince. He doesn’t say anything else, holding your stare as if it was a challenge. You feel the tears welling in your eyes, but neither of you move.

“Happy with someone else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You called me down for this? Really, Vernon?” You snap at him, unwinding the scarf from his neck, tears freely racing down your face and you almost miss the front door as you push it open.

“Fuck you,” you spit at him before slamming the door shut.

Monday morning classes roll around once again, and you find yourself in your usual spot in the lecture hall. For a few weeks you sit alone, Vernon vanishing out of your life along with winter. It’s not until spring finally arrives that a familiar head of messy hair is occupying the seat next to yours by the time you arrive. You quietly settle into your chair, choosing to look everywhere except for the boy next to you. There’s still time until class starts, and you consider leaving to avoid whatever is about to happen, but Vernon is quicker, sliding a lone earphone in front of you on the desk. He patiently waits for you to pick it up and place it in your ear, one of your favourite songs already softly playing. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class, doodling away in his notebook as usual, and it feels like winter again. When class is over Vernon hurries to leave, but you proceed to stop him in his tracks to give him the earphone back. He almost looks disappointed.

For a moment it’s only the two of you, getting lost in each other’s eyes and wondering when things turned like this, so distant and unfamiliar.

“Wanna go grab some coffee?” Vernon asks suddenly, even though he sounds a little unsure himself. It all feels like the first Monday you met.

The walk is quiet, but not in the comfortable way you’re used to. He still knows your order by heart, and somehow it just makes your chest feel even more tight. Vernon feels like a stranger and your dearest friend at the same time. Sometimes when you look at him too much you go back to the night where things still felt okay and you wonder if he ever thinks about it - about how badly you wanted to hold his hands, kiss him still lying in the snow.

“Your face is gonna stay like that if you frown so much,” he says nonchalantly as he hands you a to-go paper cup.

“I wish,” your words make him snort into his drink as he’s about to take a sip, and it makes you smile too.

You let Vernon lead the way through the neighbourhood, making small talk about all the things you missed in each other’s lives, although you don’t have much to offer having mostly sat at home. You end up on a park bench next to a small lake, and you watch as the ducks peacefully swim along. You wonder if the water isn’t still too cold for them. Vernon is still fiddling with his cup, almost looking somewhat nervous.

“I missed you,” he says quietly.

“You could’ve texted me.” He doesn’t reply. You do your best not to raise your voice. “At least say something now.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? Confess my undying love for you? Tell you how I think about you every single day? How guilty I feel that I can’t even bring myself to look you in the eyes?” He’s looking for something, anything in your eyes, but you’re too angry to give it to him that easily.

“Maybe.”

“Oh you’re one to talk, like you’d ever tell me any of it!”

Vernon lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the cup in his hands until it buckles. His words fill your head, then your whole body, and you feel like your whole being is vibrating and slowly vanishing at the edges.

Maybe you’ve already fallen hard, hard enough that it did break your body in unspeakable ways. You get up to leave, barely standing on shaky legs, not completely aware of your surroundings. The ringing in your ears gets louder and the air feels a little too thick and the sink is dripping again, and you know you’ll have to get it fixed.

Cold hands come to rest on your face, Vernon’s forehead against yours and you wonder if love is supposed to hurt like this. You close your eyes, the snow is falling and your snowman is smiling at you warmly, your scarf around its neck. A teardrop rolls down your face and you open your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?”

“Kiss me.”

A sad smile appears on his lips, his hands moving from your face and he wraps his arm around you instead, tucking your face into his neck.

“I promise I will,” He pulls away just enough to see your face. “Another time.”

Your head is still buzzing as he walks you home, gently holding your hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You’re reluctant to let go when you reach your building, and your hesitation draws a faint smile on Vernon’s face.

He leaves a kiss on your forehead before saying bye.

That night you dream about being a duck, floating on glimmering ponds in the early spring sunset. You wake up crying at 2am.

You’re on your way home after a late night grocery run when your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. Vernon’s incoming call confuses you at such an odd hour, but you pick it up anyway. It’s loud on the other end of the line, loud music and even louder screaming drowning out Vernon’s voice almost completely.

“Where are you?” He yells into the phone.

“Out. Why?” You’re not sure if he’s sober.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then suddenly it’s entirely quiet. You check if he’s ended the call. A loud bang reassures you that he’s still there.

“Someone’s having the worst sex I’ve ever witnessed right in my room. Are you free?” The distress in his voice makes you laugh, and you can imagine the frown on his face too well.

“You can come over if you want to, I’ll be home in a bit.”

He doesn’t need much convincing, so you hang up to finally focus on your groceries, grabbing a few extra drinks and snacks for your sudden guest. He’s sitting on the stairs in front of the building when you get home, listening to music that you can faintly make out from his headphones. He notices you as you halt to a stop right in front of him, a tired look on his face as he looks up at you. He smiles at you still and you can’t help but return the gesture.

You blindly reach into your bag, shuffling around for a can of cola that you bought for him. Your fingers finally wrap around the cold metal, and you hand the drink to Vernon, taking another one out for yourself. You take a seat on the stairs next to him, your knees slightly touching - he doesn’t move, so you don’t, either. The wind quietly shakes the barely-there leaves on the trees, and it moves something within you, too.

“I thought you like parties,” you tease him.

“You don’t know what I saw there. Consider yourself lucky, honestly.”

“I mean, you’re lucky that I’m nice enough to offer you my couch for the night.” He scoffs in response, and bumps his knee into yours.

You wonder if Vernon only exists on Mondays and at night.

His profile is sharp and soft at the same time in the flickering, orange light blinking at you from a nearby street lamp. He seems lost in thought and you don’t have it in yourself to bother him right now, not when everything feels so at peace for once. A few faint stars twinkle in the sky, and the moon looks as full as your heart feels. Spring always knew how to take your troubles away - it even happened a little too easily, the ice around your heart melting with the first golden rays of sunshine.

You know you’re going to be okay.

Almost on instinct you lean your head on Vernon’s shoulder, and you feel his arm circling your waist and squeezing gently, his head coming to rest on top of yours.

Maybe he could help you fix the dripping sink in your bathroom, too.

The lack of sleep finally finds you, the gentle breeze making both of you shiver just enough for you to make your way inside. The elevator has never felt so slow as you wait for it, but when Vernon carefully takes your hand in his, you don’t mind as much anymore. You can feel your face heating up a little, thankful when the elevator dings open. Vernon doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can also tell that his eyes are barely open, so you do your best not to think too much of it even if your skin feels like it’s on fire. You put in your passcode and walk into the small apartment, both of you kicking off your shoes before you lead him into the living room, where he collapses on the couch immediately.

It’s a little endearing somehow, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he struggles to keep his eyes. You fetch him a blanket and leave a toothbrush on the side of the sink, but he’s fast asleep by the time you get back, a throw pillow tucked under his head. You gently cover him with the blanket, and leave to get ready for bed after whispering a “good night” into the dark room.

You have a hard time falling asleep, wondering if he’s going to be there in the morning.

You dream about having his toothbrush in your cup next to yours.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, worry flooding your mind before you remember that it’s most likely just Vernon. You slowly open your door, peeking into the kitchen to see him in front of the stove, fumbling with a pan and a pair of chopsticks.

“Smells good,” your sudden voice makes him jump, and he almost drops the pan.

“Just because I don’t know how to unlock the front door you don’t get to scare me to death.”

His focus is back on the eggs in front of him, so you slip into the bathroom to brush your teeth. You grab everything without even looking, but the toothbrush feels foreign in your hand. You look at yourself in the mirror and realise that you’re holding the one that you left out for Vernon last night. Then it hits you, he put it in the cup himself.

You quickly finish your morning routine and walk back into the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table, two plates of food set out for both of you. The sun filters in through the sheer curtain, painting everything golden, and you feel like your heart might rip out of your chest with how it’s hammering away.

Breakfast is quiet and peaceful, Vernon showing no signs of being in a hurry. You thank him for making you food as you place the dishes in the sink, only to find him staring at you when you turn back around. His eyes are soft, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and you feel almost naked under his gaze.

“What?” You know you’re blushing, but you have nowhere to hide in the small kitchen.

“Nothing.”

The smile doesn’t leave his lips still, and you quickly excuse yourself as you rush into your room, feeling too overwhelmed. It’s weird to have someone, especially him, in your kitchen, looking so domestic and so pretty in the early morning sunlight. You can hear him doing the dishes in the other room and it almost makes you cry. By the time you gather yourself enough to face him again he’s getting ready to leave, one of his shoes already on his feet. You watch in silence, and unlock the door for him when he stands up straight.

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back around and presses a kiss to your cheek; your mouth opens and closes as you try to say something. Vernon says bye with a laugh and leaves you standing there, way too flustered to even close the door.

A neighbour appears in the hallway which prompts you to slam the door shut way too quickly and loudly, pressing your back against it and sliding to the floor.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

You’re running late to your morning class, having missed your alarm, feeling kind of asleep still. The seat next to yours is empty when you arrive just a few seconds before the professor, and you wish you went back to bed instead of running all the way to school.

The class is halfway through when the door quietly opens and Vernon slips in, two to-go cups in his hands. He looks completely unbothered by the fact that he’s this late as he takes his usual seat. He slides one of the drinks in front of you, your name scribbled on the side of the paper cup. You give him a confused look, but he only nods at you before taking a sip of his coffee. You do the same, quickly realising that he bought you your favourite. Maybe coming to class wasn’t the worst idea.

You leave the lecture together, coming to a halt in front of the building as Vernon spots his friends huddled together in their usual circle.

“There’s gonna be a party tonight,” he turns to you suddenly. “I want you to come.”

His eyes are intense and it makes your heart flutter.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you for the drink.” You give him a soft smile.

“I was gonna be late anyway, so I figured why not.” It’s obvious that he’s not telling the truth, his cheeks turning red along with his ears. It makes you feel warm inside. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Will you watch the sunset with me before?”

With the way you’re looking at him, he doesn’t think he could say no to you, so he nods and turns to say bye. You stop him, your fingers wrapping around his arm, and you press a quick kiss to his cheek before walking away. He looks even more flustered, his feet glued in place as he watches you disappear into the morning mist.

You can hear his friends faintly as they cheer for him from afar.

It’s already getting dark when you rush out of your apartment towards the address that Vernon texted you. The air is crisp against your skin, and you realise you didn’t dress nearly warm enough to be sitting out in the cold, but it’s too late to go back home. You will yourself to a jogging speed, finally spotting Vernon in front of his complex.

“Please tell me the elevator is working,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “My body was not made for this.”

“Well…” Vernon starts, but the look in your eyes makes him burst out in laughter. “I’m just fucking with you, it’s fine.”

“You better hope it’s fine, or you’ll get to carry me up to the rooftop on your back,” it’s his turn to give you a distraught look.

Lucky for both of you, the elevator is in working condition, so you only have to take the stairs on the last two floors. Vernon makes a show of opening the door leading up to the rooftop, a fond look on his face as he watches you take in the view. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, muttering a “thank you” into his coat. The pink sky, along with the last few rays of sunshine make Vernon look even more angelic than you usually find him, and you wonder if he too can hear how fast and loud your heart is beating. He says something that you can’t hear from being lost in thought, but before you can ask him to repeat himself he’s pulling a blanket from his backpack and putting it down on the ground. You both take a seat, sitting close enough that your thighs are touching, your head almost immediately coming to rest on his shoulder.

The city is quietly buzzing away in the distance, glass buildings glistening pink, birds flying across the horizon. Vernon feels warm and familiar, his head on top of yours and his arm around you. You don’t remember the last time you felt so at peace.

The top of the sky is fading into blue, the last bit of sun still poking out from behind the city, but the stars are already visible. It feels like a moment you’ll remember forever.

You’re getting ready to leave, Vernon reaching a hand towards you to help you up. You watch him fold and put the blanket away in silence, and he freezes when he turns around, his backpack in his hands, finally noticing that you’re looking at him.

“What?”

He looks confused, but you simply step closer instead of replying. Your mind is a mess of incomprehensible thoughts no matter how hard you try to regain control over yourself.

“Can you kiss me?” It’s barely a whisper, your thoughts somewhere far away, somewhere where you’re lying in the snow, eating ramen under neon lights. Somehow, Vernon looks the same kind of dazed.

His bag lands on the ground with a thud, his hands cupping your face as he leans in without thinking, his lips crashing against yours almost hungrily. Your fingers find his collars easily even with your eyes closed, pulling him closer, closer, closer. Your lips move perfectly together, your hearts beating in unison. He tastes like how it feels to wake up next to someone you love, and even though his lips are cold, a warm feeling floods your whole body. You only pull away when your lungs beg you for air, and as your eyes find Vernon’s you can’t help but smile. With his hands still gently resting on your face he wipes away a few stray tears, and you turn your head to the side to press your lips against his palm.

The air feels thick from all the words left unsaid, but they can wait. For now, you’re okay with this.

“I don’t wanna go to that party anymore.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

You’re sitting at your usual table under the flickering neon lights at the convenience store, already having finished your food. For the first time in months, your chest feels light, and you’re not sure if it’s because of spring or Vernon. You don’t mind either way.

He walks you home, almost kisses you goodnight, but you pull away. He looks at you anxiously, waiting for something to happen.

“Sleep over,” you say in a small voice.

“Your couch isn’t that comfortable,” he’s only half joking, a smirk on his lips and his hands reaching to find yours.

“But my bed is.”

The smile vanishes off his face, his eyes widening, and you’re about to make up an excuse, say that you were only joking, when you notice that he’s blushing. Suddenly he nods, beaming at you, and you mimic his expression, pulling him towards the entrance.

It’s odd, having him this close, especially in your own home after having been alone in it for so long. He smells like your shampoo, and tastes like your toothpaste, and it makes you nervous and excited at the same time, your heart feeling too big for your chest.

You watch with a fond look on your face as he moves around in the apartment, and somehow it feels like this is how it’s always been, his comfortable presence filling a void you weren’t even fully aware of..

In the dark of your room, under the warm covers, he holds you against his chest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His question makes you let out an airy laugh, but he waits for your answer patiently.

“Only if you promise that you’ll do it again.”

With that, his lips are on yours, softly and slowly. He’s touching you like no one did before, with so much love and patience, that you can’t help but think about how this will break your body in unspeakable ways.

When you wake up, his bag is in the corner of your room, his toothbrush is still next to yours in the cup, and the sink isn’t dripping anymore. He’s still asleep, and you trace his features in your mind, trying to memorise how beautiful he looks even like this.

You know you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

A fleeting moment of everything and nothing.

#seventeen fanfic #vernon fanfic #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt drabbles #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #peach.fuzz #httplastic

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danielfuckingricciardo · 2 years

Text

First Kisses - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count - 900

Content Warnings - nothing, just fluff

Synopsis - You and Charles are both in love with each other, only you are both too oblivious too see it. That is, until Charles realises just how good you look in red, and what a perfect match you truly are.

Author’s Note - Even though this isn’t what I wanted to give you all this evening (or morning I suppose it is 2am lol) I got the desperate urge to write some fluff and so here it is, the second instalment of this series! I hope you enjoy it!

“Whaddya think?” You ask, twirling around and sending your skirts in a swirl, the delicate fabric floating around your body like a swarm of red butterflies.

“Oh, a- you look ah- amazing,” Charles stutters, attempting to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

It was no secret to everyone around you that Charles was head-over-heels in love with you. Despite his tendencies to become awestruck whenever in your presence, and to become utterly stupid and barely able to talk whenever you were around, you were completely oblivious to his feelings.

This was due, in part, to the fact that you too were completely in love with him too, you just couldn’t believe that he would ever feel the same way about you. And so the two of you spent most of your time together pining over the other, both unable to notice the desire that burned within you and ached for escape.

“Isabelle picked such wonderful bridesmaid dresses didn’t she! I can’t wait to watch her walk down the aisle next week!” You exclaim, gently patting the silk fabric that draped elegantly by your thighs.

“The red, it really suits you,” Charles says, and you struggle to fight off the blush that crept up your own cheeks.

“We’d make quite a pair, in red together,” You say, too absorbed in the feeling of the fabric to realise that you had not actually intended to say those words out loud.

“Wha-?” Charles exclaims, his face now Ferrari red at the compliment.

“I mean- uh- red is your colour too, I suppose, you know Ferrari and stuff…” You trail off, your face as red as Charles’ as you try and justify your words to throw him off the scent of your embarrassing crush.

“I should get you a team shirt, actually, I don’t know why I haven’t given you one already. I have a spare, if you’d like it?” Charles asks, taking a tentative step over to where you stood before the mirror in Charles’ bedroom.

“That would be really sweet of you Charles, I’d love to be able to wear your number on my shirt next time I come and watch you race.” You say, turning to face the man who was much closer behind you than you had anticipated. You almost bump into him as you do so, and you both chuckle awkwardly as Charles takes a step back to give you some room.

He snaps out of his trance and disappears into his wardrobe, shuffling around in the rails and opening various boxes before you hear a triumphant ‘aha!” And he returns to you, a red shirt in his hands.

“You should try it on, make sure it fits. If not I can get you a different one,” He says, handing you the shirt and returning to his position behind you in the mirror.

You slide the shirt over your head, not caring to change out of your red bridesmaid dress, and observe yourself in the mirror. “It’s perfect,” you utter, “thank you.” It isn’t a perfect fit - it’s slightly ill-fitting but you didn’t care. It smelt like Charles, it had belonged to him, and that made it perfect.

Charles thought you looked perfect in it. He loved the thought of you walking around the paddock, his name and number on the shirt you wore, claiming you as his and no one else’s.

His hand somehow finds your shoulder, moving almost of its own devices as he’s sure he didn’t give it permission to do so. He doesn’t regret it, however, as you turn around to face him, the distance between you a lot smaller than a comfortable distance between friends.

His touch on your shoulder, the sensation of the shirt clinging to your body, and Charles’ eyes roaming your body in clear view encourage you to do something you had been wanting to do for some time. You kiss him. It’s short, and sweet. A quick peck on the lips before your brain can catch up with your innermost desires which had taken over control of your body.

Charles just stands there for a moment, unsure exactly of how to react. Had you really just kissed him? Does that mean you felt the same way about him as he felt about you? As all these thoughts rushed through his mind, he realised that he was, in fact, just standing there, unmoving.

Now fully aware and in control, he kisses you back, mimicking your action by returning the short sweet kiss to your lips.

You both let out a small synchronised chuckle, unsure exactly as to what to do next.

“So, that just happened,” You say, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Yeah, it did, huh?” Charles says, offering you a small smile in return.

“What should we do now?” You ask, your eyes flashing up to make eye contact with him for the first time since the second kiss.

“We should… do it again, maybe?” Charles asks, and you nod, smiling sweetly at him before he once again claims your lips with his own, this time, for a much longer period as the two of you finally get what you had been longing for all this time.

#Charles Leclerc x reader #charles Leclerc x you #charles Leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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pullhisteeth · 9 months

Note

Hi! I saw your "Wise Words" fic and got so excited because it was inspired by one of my favorite songs by miss blondie herself 🤣 And I loved your writing so much I thought I could request for a fic if that's okay 🥹

So the "Vigilante Shit" performance in the Eras Tour has been stuck on my mind for AGES (and for good reason) and I was thinking...what if reader is a dancer and is besties with Eddie, and he sees her perform like THAT for the first time...I wonder how he would react and keep his shit together lmaooo

Can't wait to read whatever masterpiece you come up with! Ahhh thank you and ilysm ❤️

oh this one was lethal. checked my notifs at like 10pm and bam! I was off!!! and now it’s like 2am lol. I loved writing this - I took some creative liberties because I do not know a damn thing about dance but I hope it’s okay! thank you for the request (and your lovely kind words) ♡

contains fem!reader, dancer!reader, best friend!Eddie, best friends to lovers, bad knowledge of dance (it shows), fluff. 3k-ish

The heat beneath your cheeks can’t be kept at bay. You’re all flushed, palms clammy the way they used to get before recitals.

It has been years since stage fright could even try to get the better of you. Too many hours spent in front of crowds - whether they be three people small, parents and siblings crammed into your living room, or hundreds big, it doesn't matter to you anymore. You know this is all there is for you, moving across a stage like you own it.

Today is an exception. You’re standing - hiding - behind the curtain, nose inches from the deep blue velvet, right on cue but without your guts or your confidence. There’s a gaping hollowness there instead. You’re nervous.

It’s not like nerves have completely escaped you before now. On stage you’re stoic, but in life you’re… Less than self-assured. Especially when it comes to boys, or rather one boy in particular.

“Hey,” someone whispers to your left, “you’re up in five.”

Seconds. She means five seconds. Soon, the curtain will lift, and you’ll be released into the open arms of cheering onlookers, and you’ll have to try your hardest not to look for him among them.

You hear the familiar rattle of the rope mechanism somewhere distant, the lowering sandbag and the gear up high, and then the light descends at your feet. The fluorescence is blinding as the curtain lifts above your face, but this is easy. Comparatively, holding yourself together here, on this stage, is child’s play. Holding yourself together in front of him? Not so much.

“I thought you’d be happy!”

Eddie stands at the foot of your bed with his hands on his hips. You’re recoiling, knees up at your chin, at the headboard, whinging something cruel about this surprise he’s been keeping from you.

“I am, it’s just-”

“What are you hiding from me?” he asks, smiling, coy like he knows already.

He doesn’t. If it goes your way, he never will.

“Nothing!” you exclaim, too enthusiastically. “Nothing, I just…”

“Just what?” He’s getting impatient; he’s started pacing again.

“It’s nothing, Eds. I am happy. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, grinning. It’s a smile you love dearly, and if this is something that encourages it, so be it. “Nance is coming, too. We got four tickets, so Rob and Steve are gonna try and get the night off.”

Before you can protest he’s throwing himself onto your bed, chest-first, his arms winding around your calves and squeezing a shriek out of you.

“I’m so excited,” he tells you, muffled, face stuffed into the comforter by your feet. “How’ve we been friends all this time’n I’ve never seen you dance?”

“You have,” you respond, absentmindedly threading your fingers through his hair, nails gentle on his scalp. You feel him relax into your mattress and you smile.

“The club doesn’t count,” he says, turning onto his cheek to look up at you. “I don’t even know what kinda dancing it is.”

“You bought a ticket,” you giggle, “surely you saw the name?”

“Yeah,” he says, a little confused, “but what the fuck is chair dancing?”

Before Eddie even makes it inside the club, he knows he’s sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Nance,” he whispers, bending ever so slightly so he’s closer to her ear, “where the fuck are we?”

“Shut up,” she says, laughing her breezy laugh and lifting her shoulder to brush him off playfully.

He’s out of his depth, surrounded by a strange concoction of people - plenty of gaggles of young women, sashes reading bride to be or birthday girl, as well as innocuous older men, distinguished in their suits and pressed shirts, speaking to each other in hushed tones.

Where the fuck is he?

The line gets shorter, and inside the door, once they’re past the lacklustre bouncers, Nancy hands their tickets over and Robin takes her by the arm, giggling with her as they descend the stairs.

Eddie eyes the posters along the walls - comedy shows, open mics, oddly themed club nights - but doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

The four of them emerge into a dimly lit room, where small tables hold even smaller lamps and are surrounded by leather chairs. He feels a firm hand on his shoulder and turns to see Steve looking at Nancy and Robin.

“Okay, girls, find us a seat, me’n Eddie’ll get us drinks.”

Eddie follows him wordlessly through to the bar, where a cheerful - and very pretty - woman takes their order from Steve, who turns to him as she wanders off.

“Hey,” he murmurs, dipping closer, “what’s up with you?”

Eddie groans and holds his head in both hands, elbows on the bar. “I don’t know,” he says into his palms.

Steve’s hand is back on his shoulder, firm again, grounding. “She’s great, you know.”

Eddie twists to peek at him. “You’ve seen her before?”

“Only practising. I was over at their apartment and she was in the living room.”

Eddie groans again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I feel… Nervous, for some reason.”

Beside him, Steve laughs, boisterous and accompanied by a squeeze at his shoulder.

“You should be,” he tells him, “she’s hot shit, Munson. Better be careful, or she’ll be gone before you can catch her.”

The music is your favourite part of dancing.

The dancing itself is fun, of course, but it’s nothing without the bass beneath your feet, the smooth curves of sound that seem to run straight through you like a livewire. You like all of it: jazz, rock, country, even metal, when Eddie’s playing it. But there’s something about that sultry kind of pop, the darkness and the sharpness, that turns you into some type of marionette, moving almost without thinking to the sound of gutsy women.

That’s doing yourself a disservice, of course; you’re a good dancer. You’re an excellent dancer. Eddie’s just never seen it before, and suddenly you’re quite sure you’re about to trip over your own feet.

The thrumming bassline distracts you for a flash, and you look over at the other dancers. You move seamlessly between one another, bare legs weaving and feet precise. Your hands lift in the air and run down your body, feeling the intricate beading of the handmade bodice gifted to you by the director. Every nerve is on fire, hyper-responsive and humming with energy. You flip your hair, bend at the hips, move your mouth in time with the lyrics.

Your hand curls around the cold metal of the chair at the front of the stage, and as you lift your leg, planting a heel firmly on the seat, you forget there’s anyone watching, let alone him.

Eddie’s knee stopped bouncing the moment that the curtain shifted.

He loves music, but while you’ve made him listen to his fair share of pop, he’s never heard anything like this. It’s darker than the other stuff. Sexier, even.

His mind empties as the bass kicks in and the curtain hits its peak. There’s a line of dancers, each one beautiful and sparkling under the spotlights, but once his eyes find you there may as well be no one else in the room.

He knows what it’s like to be on a stage - the lights are too bright, the act of performing too consuming; trying to spot someone in a crowd is almost futile. And yet, for the first time in his life, he feels that insatiable urge to be noticed. For you to look over, meet his eye, and shoot him a wink or smile at him the way you do when he picks you up from work.

The way you move up there is unlike anything he has ever seen before. He knows you’ve been dancing your whole life, and when you’re out with friends you still move effortlessly, often emboldened by liquid courage and a good song, but even his wildest dreams - of which there have been many - could not have prepared him for this.

Your body moves with its curves, swaying and bending in a way that seems so natural on you. There’s a confidence he’s rarely seen before, and it’s electrifying, lighting him up from the inside.

“Isn’t she amazing?!” Nancy whispers beside him.

“Yeah,” he breathes, eyes tied to you. Every move you make is slow, methodical, intentional. You lift your legs, tilt your hips, curl your arm upwards like you’re made of water, and Eddie is thirsty.

He feels the warmth of Steve’s chest pressing into his shoulder. “Dude,” he whispers in Eddie’s ear, “shut your mouth. Gonna catch flies or something.”

Three songs isn’t many, but holding your own body weight the way you have to takes its toll, and the oppressive warmth of the dressing rooms only make you sweatier. So you race through your post-show routine, saying quick goodbyes to your friends and hanging the bodice carefully on the hanger with your nametag. On quick but tired feet you race through the dimly lit corridors, thankful for the simplicity of your sneakers, in search of the fire escape and some fresh air.

You know he’ll be out here. Part of you longs to linger inside, wait it out until you think he might have left with the rest of them, but you know it’s no use. He’d wait for you all night if you made him, and you’re not in the business of making Eddie Munson wait.

With your bag slung over one shoulder, you push firmly on the bar across the fire door and emerge into the dark alley, the air crisp - just the way you like it. The smell of pot and cigarette smoke drifts and you hear the familiar hum of late-night conversation from around the corner, so you close the door softly and follow it.

As you round the front of the small building, you’re met by thick, strong arms around your middle, lifting you into the air with a force you couldn’t fight even before a full dance routine. You squeal, your feet kicking up behind you, finding the shoulders of your friendly attacker.

“Here she is!” Steve booms, his voice a little muffled by your stomach.

“Steve,” you pant, grinning too wide to make the v sound properly, “let me down.”

He gives you one last squeeze and relents, lowering you slowly until your feet hit solid ground. You’re still grinning and he is, too, beaming at you so wide you can hardly bear it.

“You did good, kid,” he tells you, foregoing his boisterous grip around your waist for a gentle squeeze to your bicep.

“Thanks,” you breathe, eyes drifting as Robin and Nancy weave between the two of you and descend, fawning over you, giggling like children.

“You were so good!”

“Why’d you never tell us you could do that?”

“And that suit, oh my god-”

“Y’know the redhead? Do you think you could maybe-”

“Robin, stop it-”

“What?! She was hot! I'm only asking.”

“Hey,” Nance suddenly hisses, smiling something cruel and cunning, “someone else wants to congratulate you.”

She looks quickly over her left shoulder and you follow her eye line, finding Eddie standing a few feet away with his back to the wall and a cigarette at his mouth.

“We’re gonna head over there,” she tells you, nodding at a bar across the street. “Come find us, yeah?”

They saunter away, looking smug as ever, arms looped as they cross the street. You watch them go until you feel the phantom of someone behind you. It comes with the distinct scent of smoke, and underneath it you catch the bright, fresh smell of his washing powder.

“Hi,” you whisper as you turn to him. He looms over you a little, his head blocking the streetlamp so he looks like a haloed angel.

“Hey,” he says and you’re taken aback, because there’s a waver there. Something like nerves, except this is Eddie, and Eddie doesn’t get nervous. You do enough of that for the both of you. “You, uh… You were really good.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling.

“I mean it,” he says, the words coming out all together like he might have stopped himself if he’d taken too long. “So good. I had no idea you… I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

“It makes me a bit nervous, I guess.”

“It shouldn’t,” he says without a beat. “You looked amazing.”

You smile at him, a little lost in this sea of nice words. Standing on the sidewalk outside a dingy dance club, under the gaze of your lovely best friend, what are you supposed to say?

“I saw you,” you tell him, voice quiet.

“Huh?”

“I was obviously concentrating, it was just a second, but you looked… Entertained.”

He looks down at his shoes, at where the toes of his boots meet your sneakers, and scratches the back of his neck. You dip your head down slightly to catch him forcing down a smile.

“It’s okay,” you laugh, “it’s kinda the point.”

“I know,” he says, laughing too, though it’s a nervous, unsure sound. “I know, I just…”

He can’t meet your eye. It’s worrying you, pulling your gut apart to make space for that black hole of panic. You stand back up straight and pull your bag up further onto your shoulder.

“I, uh, they went over there,” you tell him coldly. He looks up at you, still stooped a little like he’s being told off. “I’m gonna go meet them, um… You coming?”

You’re backing away on uncertain feet, suddenly acutely aware of the aches buried deep within your muscles and the burn of the soles of your feet.

“Wait,” he says, reaching out to wrap his fingers around your arms. You stop moving but look away, too filled with those wretched nerves to face him.

“Wait a second, I just…” He’s panting, stumbling, and you have no idea why. “I can’t… Fuck, sweets, I need to-”

“Eddie,” you snap, patience wearing thin.

He looks at you again, and you see it: the wavering of nerves in his eyes, though they’re hiding from you in the dark, dissipates into something deeper. Some miniscule movement of muscle in his face tells you everything, and yet you hang onto every word regardless.

“I lost my shit when you came out from behind that curtain,” he begins, a hand on each of your bent arms now, shifting lower to cradle your elbows. “I couldn’t… It was like my head went empty, except all that was bouncing around in there was this, like… Bouncy ball of regret.”

You can’t help but giggle. This fucking boy.

“I know, I know,” he says, smiling again, slowly stitching the rip in your anxious gut back together, “but it’s true, I can’t… I can’t believe I left it this long, and I can’t fucking believe it took me seeing you like that to get it together, I… I feel like a fucking teenager. But I just… I need you to know you looked so fucking hot up there.”

He’s as close as he can be without crashing into you. His hands are drifting and returning, like he’s restraining himself, but he has managed to walk you backwards so you’re sandwiched between his body and the wall.

“I-” you begin, though you’re the one with the empty head now and you have no intention of finishing your sentence.

“You can head over there,” he says, tilting his head just so towards the bar, “no questions asked. And I’ll go home and leave you alone for a while, if that’s what you want. I just…” He lets his left hand leave your arm finally, and you let out a weak breath. He hovers over your hip, not touching but definitely there.

You hear him, but you don’t move, aside from letting your arm straighten so your bag can drop to the floor. There are people hovering around, loitering after the show, but you couldn’t care less, because Eddie’s knee is knocking yours and his hand has finally landed on your hip and his mouth is so close to your ear you could die.

“Eddie,” you breathe.

“Yeah, sweets?”

Looking down at you like this, Eddie doesn’t know how he’s kept his composure all these years. He really did feel quite stupid for being moved to act by seeing you on stage like that, but now that he’s this close, so close he could kiss you, he’s not feeling too bothered anymore. You’re looking back at him with wide eyes and your mouth’s in a slight pout and, god, maybe he could kiss you after all.

You crane your neck and lift up on tiptoes until your nose bumps his. You feel him smile and you smile back, until his lips brush yours and you’re knocked silly.

This feels a lot like dancing. Less like the dancing you do now; more like the dancing you did when you were younger, the more traditional kind shared between two people. A duet of movement that, once perfected, feels completely natural.

You’re no traditionalist, but you’re happy to let Eddie lead this one.

When he finally gives in and bridges the gap you whimper, because his knee is settled between both of yours and his hands are spread wide across either side of your hips, and you feel just as warm as you had running through the corridors. There’s the same sense of relief, though, that you’d felt opening that door.

He doesn’t linger, pulling back after only a few seconds.

“Thanks,” you say. He laughs.

“What, for that?”

“No,” you respond, smiling again. It won’t go away; maybe you’re stuck with it. You think about your grandfather and how he told you that if the wind changed, you’d be stuck making that face forever. “For coming to see me.”

He leans back in and kisses you again, more playful this time, firm at first and then dotting them like bursting stars around your mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he says. “So amazing.”

“So you’ll come see me again?”

“Every night, if you’ll have me.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson requests #eddie munson request #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie fanfic #eddie imagine #eddie fic

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