#pls come home soon so i can drop this game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daenysthedreamersblog · 4 months

Text

STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

Freezer bride, your sweet divine

You devour like smoked bovine hide

How funny, I never considered myself tough

summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)

notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!

Blood splatters onto your face.

"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.

The crunch of a sternum bone.

Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.

It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.

Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.

"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.

"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.

A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.

You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.

The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.

You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.

Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.

You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.

More tears. More anger.

"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.

You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."

Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”

"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.

His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."

You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."

"Mr. President." He corrected.

"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.

His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.

"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"

A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.

He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.

He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.

His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.

6 months later

You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.

Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?

You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.

The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.

"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.

"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."

"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."

President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"

You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.

"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"

Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.

After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."

"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."

"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.

He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."

"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."

He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."

You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."

"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.

His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.

The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."

"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."

"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"

The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.

"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."

His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"

"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.

He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?

You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.

It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.

Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.

You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.

Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.

It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.

You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.

The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."

"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."

He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.

"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.

"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"

You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."

"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."

You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."

"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."

The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"

Don't stutter.

You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”

By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”

"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"

He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.

You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.

He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”

His grin was haunting as he left.

The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.

And then he would cum over your body.

You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.

It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.

Please!

The crunch of bone.

You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.

It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."

"I-I..."

Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."

Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”

"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.

He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"

You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.

He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."

Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.

"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.

"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.

He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."

He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.

PART TWO here!

(if you care)

#coriolanus snow #fanfic #dark fanfic #dark coriolanus snow #president snow #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus smut #coryo x you #dark fanfiction #smut #coriolanus x y/n #tom blyth #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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remuslovebot · 11 months

Note

rockstar!remus with clingy and drunk reader pls pls pls 🫶🫶🫶

of course!!! omg I love this idea

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐑.𝐋

summary : at one of the marauders after parties, you have a little too much to drink.

warnings : not proof read, major fluff

paring: remus lupin x fem!reader

Remus had just performed a sold out concert with his fellow band mates — the Marauders. Now, he was at an after party, filled to the brim with groupies, celebrities, music producers, etc. But he only wanted to find you, to take you home and sleep.

He was exhausted and as much as he loved being famous and well known, Remus enjoyed performing and making music more than going to parties.

The sandy haired boy attempted to find you in the crowd, but alas could not. Where did you go? He thought, turning every corner as if it was a labyrinth. With every part of Sirius’ mansion, more people were in his way.

Meanwhile, Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice had taken you after the concert. The girls wanted to get to the after party as soon as possible. Alice had her hopes up to see the new A-list actor, Frank Longbottom. Marlene and Dorcas, already together and in the music industry themselves, promised to introduce the two.

While Alice was chatting up Frank, and Marlene and Dorcas were busy making out in a broom closet, you had gotten bored and missed Remus. So you indulged in a few drinks.

…

Stepping outside, the cold night air made Remus smile. Inside the house was hot and sticky. He smiled when he spotted you, a red solo cup in your hand. You were laughing and Remus walked towards you.

“Hey love,” he said, a hand going on the small of your back. You turned to him and smiled drunkenly.

“Remus!” You exclaimed, a crooked smile taking over your face. “I missed you so much! I’ve been looking for you since the concert ended!”

The boy could tell that you’d had a few drinks and we’re definitely not sober.

“I’ve been looking for you too Y/n,” he replied. “Want to head home?” He asked.

“No!” You whined, your head dropping. “Wanna stay and play beer pong!” You smiled.

Remus could never say no to you and especially wouldn’t say no to the cute smile you wore at the moment.

“Alright lovie, one round of beer pong and then I’m taking you home,” he said, compromising.

You nodded, it only being fair. “Oh alright,” you said, standing up and almost losing you balance. But not to worry, Remus was there to catch you in an instant.

“Are you sure you can play beer pong like this?” He asked with a little smirk. You pouted and looked a little annoyed. The crinkle on your forehead—that Remus adored — showed.

“Yes. I can play.” You insisted.

One round of beer pong later, you had sobered up some but not entirely. Remus was by your side the entire game, helping you decide which shots to make. Which James wasn’t very happy about, seeing as competitive he was. Frank and Alice were near the table but not big fans of the game, as they were too busy falling in love. James won the game, winning over a kiss from Lily.

At the end of the game you were beat and still a little drunk. You wanted to go home. As you were leaning against Remus for support, he looked down at you.

“I think we should head home love,” he said, grabbing you by the waist and picking you up into his arms. You nudged your head into his neck. “Alright, Remmy,” you mumbled tiredly.

Once in the car, you passed out. Remus laughed to himself at your drunken state, knowing full well you would be hung over in the morning.

“Come on love, we’re home,” he said, unbuckling your seat belt. You woke up, a bit drowsy and super clingy.

“I’m tried Remmy,” you pouted, leaning into his strong body. He wrapped his arms around you and led you into the house.

“We’re going to get you to bed lovie. Promise,” he said, kissing your forehead.

Once at your bedroom, Remus sat you down on your shared bed and helped you into your sleep clothes. He gave you a glass of water aswell. All the while, you reached out for Remus’ touch.

“Wanna hold you,” you pouted, already in your night clothes. Which consisted of one of Remus’ old sweaters and sleep shorts.

Remus undressed himself and hopped into bed just wearing his boxers. He pulled you to him immediately, waisting no time in holding you.

“Well maybe I wanna hold you?” He teased, kissing your hair.

You turned to him and smiled lazily, sleepiness coming over you. “You did so well tonight Remus. Greatest rockstar ever!” You said, kissing his nose.

Remus wrapped you tighter in his arms and kissed your forehead. “Thanks Y/n, performed for you and only you,” he said, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Because you were.

A/n: hoped you liked this! Don’t forget to reblog and like, love you guys 🥹 also I’m slow with fulfilling requests but please still send them, I will get to them i promise <3

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calistrae · 1 year

Text

silent treatment. jude bellingham

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: jude bellingham x gn!reader

warnings: silent treatment, cold!jude

summary: jude after a bad match can be quite different from his usual self

notes: my first time writing something, don't be too harsh pls lol

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

what started off as a great match was gradually going downhill. it was dortmund against bayern and up until the 54th minute, dortmund was in the lead with two goals, one of them scored by your boyfriend of three months.

you loved to watch him on the field - his determination to bring the win to his team was admirable. especially today. it seemed he was set on winning, his chestnut eyes flaming with dedication. having only been dating for three months, it was your very first time coming to his game and everything seemed to be going as both you and him hoped for. well, until it wasn't.

bayern caught up and you could see jude getting more and more frustrated as the time ticked. you were on the edge of your seat as you watched intensely, not tearing your eyes off the game for a second. you swore you could feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach when bayern scored their third goal of the night. seeing as jude's jaw clenched while his eyes narrowed as the team had to admit their defeat, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. he had worked so hard the entire game and you knew he was probably beating himself up over this. nonetheless, you were proud of him. but it was evident he was not proud of himself, whatsoever.

while jude was still showering, you waited out in the halls of the arena, entertaining yourself on your phone. it didn't take too long for him to walk out, his duffel bag on his shoulder. "hi" you greeted and attempted to press a kiss to his cheek, but to your surprise, he pulled back. in your attempt to lighten his mood at least a little bit, you gave him a gentle smile "you did well, proud of you, darling." but he was not having it. he huffed and stuck his hands into his pockets " 't was shit. don't bloody sugarcoat it." he barked back.

you were taken aback by the way he spoke to you. you had never heard him snap like that, not off the field at least. you brushed it off, heading towards your car. of course there were fans on the parking lot, waiting for jude and he did his best to put up a nice smile for them, but you could tell he wanted to get away as quickly as humanly possible. as soon as he got in, you began the drive back to his place. the whole car ride was silent, you had tried to catch his attention by attempting to place your hand on his thigh or trying to spark a conversation but he remained nonchalant, even cold. it wasn't like jude and you didn't quite know how to react.

the energy in the car was full of negativity, anger practically radiating off your boyfriend while the air felt tense. if you had a choice, you would've walked out of the vehicle minutes ago. he seemed to be withdrawn from anything but even as time passed, his jaw remained clenched, his left hand balled up into a fist. his eyes weren't warm and inviting as usual, they were dark, distant almost. while you understood, why he was unhappy, he was genuinely scaring you on some level.

"do you still want me to come over to yours, love?" you questioned as you pulled up to his driveway and put the car on park. you looked towards him when you received silence as an answer and you couldn't help but scoff. "look, i'm sorry you lost. i understand you're mad but i'm not going to be your scapegoat. i don't expect you to be in the mood for kisses and cuddles and all that, but i need an answer to know if i should stay or head home."

"come on, then" the footballer shrugged and you allowed a sigh to leave your lips before you followed him into the house. were you supposed to be more understanding? you feared so. at the same time, you were getting a little worked up yourself but you decided it would be best to give him some space. so while he was lounging on the sofa, you settled on making him a cup of tea to help him relax a little. you made it exactly how he liked - with a little bit of milk and sugar. as quiet as a mouse, you placed the steaming beverage on the coffee table before settling on the armchair across the room.

with a book in hand, you paid no mind to your boyfriend as you decided it'd be better to allow him to come to you. whenever he decided the right time was. although you didn't enjoy the way he was behaving, you understood him regardless. it was a big game after all. and god, did he feel like shit.

he blamed it on himself mainly. believing he should've done more, should've been better. if only he hadn't allowed one of the bayern guys to tackle him and if only he had tried harder. but worse were the embarrassment and shame he felt. he had invited you, a person he adored, to watch him play and you had to witness him fail. that was the worst bit of it all. it made his skin crawl with anger and disappointment towards himself. losing was a normal part of his job, but losing in front of someone he wanted to prove himself to, was so much worse. that's why he couldn't even look at you properly but he knew he couldn't keep treating you like this. it was unfair. it wasn't you that he should be punishing with a childish silent treatment.

"i'm sorry."

you lifted your eyes from the book in your hand when you heard jude speak up from the couch but instead of responding verbally, you just hummed in question.

"i'm sorry for how i've been acting. jus' felt embarrassed." he admitted and you could see him fiddle his fingers nervously. "wanted to impress you but clearly, i failed. i was furious at myself, but i shouldn't have made you have to deal wit' it."

you nodded slowly as you listened and raised your eyebrow "wanted to impress me? love, we're dating. i think i've seen plenty of things that have left me impressed." your voice took a much more playful tone.

jude's face brightened in an instant and even a small smile appeared. however, he made no effort to sit up or change his position. the bitterness wasn't entirely gone, but he seemed to be talking to you again, which was a relief. you knew better than to jump onto him so you settled for the armchair for now. but let's just say it didn't take long for him to plead you to move onto his lap.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #football #fluff #angst #footballer #world cup #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #jude bellingham imagine #football one shot #football imagine #borussia dortmund #jude bellingham one shot #jb22 #bellingham

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fireinmoonshot · 10 months

Note

19. Picking up your partner and spinning them around in a hug to show them how much you missed them with jake pls

“So, when’s your girl coming home?” Javy said, handing his pool cue over to the next player and picking up his beer from the table.

Jake watched as the next player accidentally knocked the white ball into the pocket and chuckled to himself. “Not too sure yet, man. Next week if I’m lucky.”

You’d gone away for a few days back home to visit family, and then extended your trip to meet up with a few old friends from your college days. Jake was glad you were having fun, but he did miss the hell out of you.

Little did Jake know, you’d planned a surprise. Natasha was the only one that was in on it as you’d needed someone to keep an eye on Jake an update you with his whereabouts when you got home. Your flight had landed an hour ago and you’d made a small pitstop at home to drop off your suitcase before getting a taxi to the Hard Deck after getting Natasha’s text that he was there.

It wasn’t a surprise – the man frequented the place.

You spotted him as soon as you walked in the door, his blond hair and tall frame completely familiar to you. You also spotted Natasha, sitting at a table not far from him. She met your eye across the room and smiled, nodding towards Jake.

It was lucky it was a fairly busy night as it meant it was easy for you to slip through the crowd unnoticed by any of the other pilots there that knew you as they were all too busy in their own conversations and weren’t going to blow your cover before you got to Jake.

Jake had no idea that you were even in the room or the state as you crept up behind him, and even Javy didn’t see as he was too busy about to hit his ball in the game of pool that was going on.

You felt Jake stiffen as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He twisted around instantly, trying to figure out what stranger had decided it was okay to do that to him all of a sudden.

The sight of you, though, had his heart beating faster and his face breaking into a smile. He unhooked your arms from around his waist and then weaved his arms around you, effortlessly lifting you off the floor and spinning you around.

“What the hell are you doing here, baby?” His voice spoke into your ear. His words for you and you alone.

“Surprise,” you smiled, hugging him tightly as he spun you around again. You pulled back a little to see his face, see the bright smile on it at the sight of you. Back in the arms of the man you loved.

“You should’ve told me you were coming home. I’d have picked you up from the airport. Now I feel like a real jackass for making you travel all the way here alone, baby,” he sighed.

You shook your head. “It was worth it to see the look on your face. And I got here safely, so I’m okay Jake. I promise,” you smiled. “I’m just glad to be back home with you.”

Jake wasted no time in leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. He had no care in the world that others in the bar were watching you, or that it was now his turn in the game of pool because the only thing in the room that mattered was you. He held you tightly to his body as his lips moved against yours. A kiss to make up for the weeks he hadn’t been able to.

When the two of you broke apart, you were both a little breathless and very much caught up in the moment. It was only broken by Bob clearing his throat and reminding Jake that it was his turn in pool.

Jake gently set you back down on the ground but kept an arm firmly around you as he turned to the others. “You’re gonna have to finish the game without me, guys,” he said.

You looked at him, confused. “Jake, we can stay. I’m not tired yet.”

He shook his head at you and it was impossible not to see the mischief in his eyes. You knew exactly what he had planned. “I’m taking this one home. We have some catching up to do.”

Jake leant down so his lips were by your ear, so his words were only audible to you. “That kiss isn’t the only thing I have to make up for…”

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader

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greazyfloz · 1 year

Note

Can you do part 3 pls

Smut w/ Trevor Zegras

Wanna Try - Part 3

I got home from leaving Trevor’s and my cell phone rang as soon as I got into the house. I look down to see Trevor’s name light up my phone. I set the phone down on the kitchen counter then run a bath for myself before getting in.

I left my phone in the kitchen to allow myself to relax. I ended up falling asleep in the tub so when I woke up I was laying in the cold bath water, alarming me.

I got out of the tub and washed off then walked into the kitchen to get my phone before going to my room and getting changed. Once I was dressed I look down at my phone to see that I only missed two calls and three messages from Trevor.

Trev🤪🧡: you alright?

Trev🤪🧡: please tell me you are still coming over tonight

Trev🤪🧡: ??

Y/N: hey! Sorry I was in the bath. Let me get ready and I’ll be right over

After texting him back I went back into my room to do my hair and makeup again before grabbing my phone and making my way to Jamie and Trevor’s.

Once I get the I park my car and make my way inside. I knock first then twist the knob and the door opens. “Hello?” I yell out into their apartment

“Tv” I hear Trevor

I make my way into the apartment and over to the room that Trevor was in. It was only Trevor on the couch so I’m guessing it’s only Trevor and I here. “Where’s Jamie?” I ask him as I take a seat

“He just left” he says continuing to play his game, “put with mason I think”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“Nah” he says before turning his console off and looking over at me, “movie?” He asks and I nod, “here, you pick” he says throwing over the remote.

I press the Netflix button on the remote and click through the selections. As I browse the list, I notice Trevor staring at me as I am trying to find something for us to watch.

"What?" I ask him looking over his way, he swallows hard before making his way over to were I was sitting across from him and pulls me up to my feet so we are both standing. He awkwardly pauses before going any further but I knew where this was going.

I smashed my lips against his and we began making out. I wrap my arms around him over his shoulders then drop the remote still in my hands to the floor. Trevors hands form under my ass and lifts me up, so my legs wrap around his waist. He pulls away from the kiss and looks around to see where he is going before reattaching his lips to mine.

"Just fuck me here" I say to him into the kiss.

He becomes more hungry as the make out between us because more steamy while he lays me down on the couch. He pulls away and takes off his shirt as I lean up to do the same. Before he reaches to undo his pants he goes directly for mine as he begins making out with me again.

I lift my hips as his fingers hook on to my pants and he pulls them off quickly. He makes out with me as he positions me so I am laying across the couch before he kisses down my jaw, to my tits where he begins flicking his tongue against my nipple making my throw my head back against the arm of the couch.

"Mmm" I moan and I feel the smile creep on Trevor's face as he begins sucking on my tits.

His tongue trails down from my chest pathing a wet trail down my stomach until he gets close. I look down at him and he smiles up at me then slides his tongue up my slit while remaining eye contact. I shudder with the anticipation of whats to come.

Trevor then presses a kiss softly on my clit slowly, "D-don't tease" I moan making him chuckle.

I feel his slide two fingers inside of me suddenly making me moan softly at the new feeling. "Like that?" Trevor asks as his fingers slide in and out of me and he watches on

"Y-yeah" I stutter

His mouth makes his way to my clit and he begins sucking while his fingers start curling inside of me. His mouth, tongue and fingers are in sync as they perform making me weak.

"Oh my god" I whimper

He continues, eventually speeding up making me whimper a little louder having to cover my mouth with my hand. When he takes his fingers out of my pussy, he brings them up to my mouth making my suck them.

I suck my juices off his fingers and he then goes back down to my pussy. This time his fingers rub circles around my raw clit. I was close.

He continues rubbing circles as he watches me squirm as I try not to cum, but he involves his lips. He sucks on my pussy while his tongue enters inside of me making me throw my head back again.

"Fuck, I-I'm-" I start but can't form the words as Trevor's tongue begins flicking inside of me, "Oh my god!"

Trevor's tongue slides out of me and he pumps it back and forth a couple of times before he removes it. His lips kiss my pussy before he speaks: "I wanna taste" he says with his lips still pressed against my pussy. He enters his tongue back inside of me and begins flicking it once more.

I finally let myself go and cum on his tongue. He continues to eat me out throughout my orgasm, then pulls his lips away and replaces them with his fingers as he leans forward to make out with me again.

His fingers scoop inside of me collecting more of my cum before he pulls them out and breaks the kiss between us so he can bring his fingers to my lips. I grabbed onto the side of his hands and slowly slide his fingers inside my mouth, sucking myself off him as he watches with eyes dark with lust. I pull his fingers out, but not all the way before sliding them back in again.

Trevor's breathing gets heavy watching on, as I felt his cock become hard through his pants. I smile as I continue sucking back and forth on his finger before the sound of keys clinging from the hall makes us push off each other.

I shot up from the couch and grab as much of my clothes as possible that I could see, and my phone, before running into the bathroom. As I ran to the bathroom I heard the sound of a key unlocking the front door sound through the apartment. I shut the door and put on my panties and pants before realizing, I didn't grab my shirt.

"Hey" I hear Jamie say to Trevor as he walks into the room

"Hey"

"Scream?" Jamie questions, probably looking at the tv

"Y/n is just in the bathroom. She picked it" I hear Trevor respond as a pace back and forth shirtless in the bathroom

"I'll join, just let me put on something comfy" Jamie says, I hear his footsteps followed by his bedroom door down the hall opening and closing then poked my head out of the door.

"T!" I whisper loudly making him turn and look at me. I point over to the ground where my shirt lays half under the couch, "my shirt!"

He nods then picks it up, then walks over to me. He opens the door wider to come in but I bring one hand up to his chest to stop him and look up at him, "What are you doing?!" I ask him with wide eyes

"I need you to fix something" he says looking down at his bulge building up through his sweatpants as his lips come in to mine, but I pull away and take my shirt from his hands.

"Not now" I tell him as I quickly put my shirt on, "I don't want Jamie to know about any of this"

"Why you're my friend before his.."

"But I hang around with all of you"

"Well what am I suppose to do?" he says and I shrug my shoulders before I hear sound of Jamie's door opening making me push past Trevor and back into the room.

I sit on the couch then Jamie walks in shortly after me sitting on the recliner. Trevor sits next to me and starts the movie. As we sit next to each other I bring my hand over and slide it across Trevor, sliding it slower over his bulge before whispering in his ear, "You sure you wanna sit this close?"

He swallows hard then stands up, "I'll be right back" he says leaving the room quickly making Jamie look back at me questioningly. I laugh at Jamie's confused face then shrug

"I have no idea" I lied

#nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #nhl smut #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras

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thegettingbyp2 · 4 months

Note

can I pls req a Peeta fluff piece where it explores how, when it comes to the reader, they are the only one who can make him feel nervous with butterflies inside (different from how he presents himself on the Capitol media as charming)? maybe set after the initial movie or the second where he comes back home to district 12?

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A part of you was shocked when you found out that Peeta Mellark was going to be coming back home to District 12 after The Hunger Games. It’s not that you didn’t have any faith in him, you’d just seen some of the people he was up against. You didn’t know him that well but you’d say hello whenever you saw each other and you couldn’t help but think he was cute.

Even though you know that you would never work up the courage to ask him out yourself, or even to strike up a conversation with him, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed when you heard him talk about how he was in love with Katniss he’s been for years and watching their relationship bloom on screen was just what was needed for your heart to crack slightly.

That day you all stood in the town square when Peeta and Katniss both arrived back home, you could have sworn that when Peetas eyes swept over you, his smile widened on his lips. The moment you felt his eyes on yours, you felt your heart flutter in your chest, only for it to go crashing right back down to the pit of your stomach when he reached for Katniss’s hand.

After that day, you didn’t see Peeta for a couple of months, until the day before he and Katniss were supposed to leave for their Victors tour. You were making your way across the square when you bumped into him, shooting him a small smile before making to walk past him.

‘(Y/N), wait up,’ he called out, his hand loosely wrapping around your wrist, stopping you from moving any further. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.’

‘That’s what being in the games does,’ you joked, instantly regretting it as soon as the words slipped out of your mouth. ‘Sorry, bad joke. I meant that you’ve just been busy with moving into your new house and I’m sure you and Katniss are trying to spend as much time together as possible.’

The mention of him and Katniss had Peeta flinching slightly and he looked down, scuffing the toe of his shoes on the ground beneath him. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he mumbled quietly.

‘Peeta, is everything okay?’ you asked, noticing that he wouldn’t meet your eyes anymore and his cheeks were slightly flushed.

‘Yeah, everything’s fine,’ he started before stopping and starting again. ‘Actually, can I talk to you about something?’

‘Of course.’ Peeta gently took your hand in his as he began to lead you out of the town square and towards Victors Village. You couldn’t help but let your mouth drop open when you saw the rows of houses and realised that Peeta actually lived in one of those now. He led you up the stairs to his front door, only letting go of your hand once the door was firmly closed behind you both.

‘Peeta, what’s wrong, you’re starting to scare me.’

‘I’m not in love with Katniss,’ he practically blurted out, causing a wave of confusion washing over you.

‘What do you mean? We were all watching you two when - ’

‘I made it up during the interviews and then Katniss carried on with it in the arena. It was the only way we could get out of the arena alive,’ he explained as you struggled to wrap your head around what was happening. ‘I didn’t think we’d have to carry on with it once we were home but President Snow went to Katniss’s the other day and now we have to go do this Victors Tour and act madly in love when all I wanted to do was get back here so I could finally talk to you.’

‘Why did you want to talk to me?’ you asked, confused as the two of you had never really spoken before and now, here he was, spilling secrets to you.

‘Because the whole time I was in that arena, I was thinking of you, of how I had to get out so I could talk to you. I missed you in the arena. I know we never really spoke before but I always wanted to. At school, I’d always walk into class a little bit happier if I saw you sitting at your desk. I’ve just always been too nervous, and I knew that if I did talk to you, I’d make a fool of myself. A bit like I’m doing right now,’ he said, laughing nervously.

You were watching Peeta, slightly stunned at the sheer difference in his behaviour. When he was in the arena and being interviewed by the Capitol, he came across so confident and charming and now here he was, standing in front of you, fumbling over his words.

‘I missed you too,’ you said quietly. Peeta’s voice cut off abruptly, wanting to make sure that he heard what he thought he heard.

‘You did?’ he asked, his eyes filling with hope.

‘Yeah,’ you replied, shrugging shyly, ‘all that you just said, I’ve been feeling pretty much the same way and when you came back and I saw you and Katniss together, it hurt a bit. But I’m happy you made it out of the arena, even if you have to be tied to Katniss now.’

‘We could find a way to get around all of that,’ Peeta protested, shaking his head rapidly as he took a step towards you. ‘We can say that something happened, that Katniss and I no longer love each other.’

‘You’re insane if you think we can do that,’ you replied bluntly. ‘Look, I would love to be able to see where this can go but you know that President Snow would never let you and Katniss “break up”. And who knows what he’d do if he found out about all of this anyway.’ You felt a slight panic begin to set in the pit of your stomach, growing more and more paranoid that somehow your conversation was being listened in on. You looked back over at Peeta and the look on his face told you that he knew exactly what would happen if he went against President Snow.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered quietly. Giving him a sad smile, you stepped closer to him and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second when you felt his fingers grip your jacket.

‘You don’t have anything to be sorry about,’ you replied, stepping back and making your way to the door. You refused to look behind you, knowing that if you did, you would most probably cave and you couldn’t afford to get caught up in anything that could get you in trouble with the Capitol.

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #peeta mellark imagine #the hunger games

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unicorncornflakes · 5 months

Text

Summer Isles - Modern!Aemond x Reader | Modern!Aegonx Reader | Chapter 3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (As soon as posible)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After two years in the Summer Isles, Aemond returns from his international stay during his doctorate ready to be with the girl he left Westeros for.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: Not at this moment, maybe later :P This is the best I can write these days, sorry :( I have realised during my ausence that this is a Aegon x Reader too, so...

General Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus @hiddencurator @tempt-ress @watercolorskyy @tsujifreya @qyburnsghost @thetrueblackheart

Tag-List for this series (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @snh96 @zenka69 @darkenchantress

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5.5K

You grabbed your bag and stood up from the table where you were sitting. You lowered the short, violet dress you were wearing that night. It had too little fabric for your taste, but Alys had insisted that you had bought it toward two years for some special reason and she insisted that you wear it for her birthday celebration. You remembered Aemond murmuring that you were very pretty and your cheeks had flushed slightly.

At that moment you felt stupid watching him dance with Alys. She pressed her body against him on the dance floor of that exclusive club, where Aemond had gotten a VIP section for his girlfriend's birthday. For his beloved Alys and all her friends. That included you. However, after watching Alys rub her butt against Aemond's crotch for the twenty-third time that night you felt out of place. It wasn't that you had counted the times she had made that move, or that you had a game in which you used to take a drink every time she did it... how many hangovers hadn't been because of that move... No, really No. You wore very well than your best friend came out with the boy you liked since high school. You were doing terribly well. You were only going home because you couldn't stand those high heels or that short dress anymore. The atmosphere of that club. Crowded with people and with an oppressive temperature…

You said goodbye to all your friends on the pretext that your head hurt and Shiera and her bicolor eyes knew that you were lying, but she didn't give it any more importance. She was the only friend who had let you know that Alys' move had been too low when she started dating Aemond when it was obvious that you liked him. But did you like Aemond? Of course not. Of course not. You had always been friends and there was a sacred rule about not going out with friends. Things broke down and that's why you had never done anything... Right? Another lie that you always told yourself to calm your sad mood.

You left the club and found yourself on the street in the rain and Sound of the cars that were trying to drive under that unexpected temporary. The now muffled music coming out of that exclusive venue. That repetitive and strident sound. You grabbed your arms and thought about your options to get home. All your skin was crawling from the cold and humidity of the water and although you didn't realize it, the humidity there was frizzy that hairstyle that had cost you so much to do that night. The truth was that you knew that a small part of you had only acted like this to impress Aemond, although you would rather die than admit it. You had always found it pathetic that two women competed for the same man. You kept thinking about how to get back home.

You could order a taxi and have it drop you off at the King's Landing bus station. There was a bus that left there at one in the morning. It would take you about 45 minutes to arrive and you could take off that terrible dress and those uncomfortable shoes. You could also call your brother and stay the night at his apartment, but you knew he would end up arguing with his girlfriend like always. So you ruled it out. You could... call your father and ask him to come pick you up. But that would only mean having to explain why you had returned so soon from your supposed best friend's party.

“Hey, how come you're not inside? It's a terrible storm to be outside” you heard Alys' voice behind you and your brain ended up freezing completely. You weren't in the mood to pretend that everything was okay between you, because it hadn't been for three years. Everything was a supposed cordiality and sisterhood that in many cases ended up stressing you out, all because it wouldn't be obvious that you were just jealous. Terribly jealous.

"I'm going home. My head hurts a little” you responded with the best of your fake smiles and you only saw that she was still perfect even despite the humidity of the environment. She was always bloody perfect, with her makeup well applied, her hair perfectly combed, and her dress without a single wrinkle, despite having spent the whole night rubbing against Aemond. Sometimes you thought she even did it on purpose.

“Oh, come on, just wait a couple of hours and Aemond and I will take you home in his car,” she replied, trying to take your hand and go back to the party, but you just let go of her in a bad way, and you realized that such a violent and tiring gesture had managed to destroy the fragile facade of feigned happiness for her that you had managed to build over those hard three years. You weren't going to go home again while Aemond drove and Alys touched up in the passenger seat.

“I don't want to be a bother. Today is your birthday and I imagine you will go do your things after this” you sighed, your cheeks slightly blushing. You could still hear Alys' criticism of the fact that you still hadn't slept with anyone. Alys always patronized you and laughed amusingly as you both continued under the entrance to the club. You are much closer to the rain than she was.

“You mean I'm going to go fuck him after my birthday party?” She smiled at you, amused and arrogant, crossing his arms, knowing that that way of speaking always made you feel uncomfortable. Alys had never been known for being subtle or discreet. It was what you thought men liked about her. “Of course I will, but we can keep bringing you closer to home” she smiled again. She laughed in your face and found the sad face you had made when she had confirmed that she would sleep with Aemond that night even more amusing. You were so innocent that she always thought you had to imagine them playing house when you weren't with them.

“My head really hurts,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks blush. In that moment, you wished you were Alys and received all the attention Aemond gave her day after day. “And I just want to go home…”

“(Y/N), I'm not stupid, okay? I know you like Aemond, but, you have played your cards better” she laughed and you went pale. You saw her smirk as she hit the nail on the head. You had always considered yourself a good actress, but you weren't. You never had been. “This party is full of guys and you just need to get laid. My boyfriend would end up being a mere memory in your head if you did that” she could see how it had been a real stab that she referred to Aemond as her boyfriend and she just laughed, again. “Please, you and Aemond have always been in very different leagues, and you are still a child unable to get over your high school crush,” she laughed and you couldn't take it anymore. It almost seemed like Alys had always found pleasure in humiliating you. “Don't be pathetic. Go back to the party and go to the bathroom with the first one who invites you to a drink” She offered her hand for you to come back in and something inside your head seemed to click at that moment.

“Did you know I liked Aemond in high school?” you asked her and her smile faltered for the first time that night.

“Hey…” Alys started to shake her head. She had always known it. And your heart broke even more. What the hell had Alys been playing since then? “(Y/N), I…”

“It's a yes or a no. It's not that complicated,” you replied, feeling your whole body trembling as if you couldn't stand on your legs. And she bit her lips. She didn't want to answer you. She didn't want to do it because she had always known and never cared. She had only had one very clear goal with Aemond. "Brilliant. You knew it and you still screwed it.”

“You couldn't decide. It was stupid to see you” she blurted that out in your face as if it were a compelling enough reason and you didn't even stay to listen to the rest of the explanation. You just ran out of there, in the rain, your bag swinging on your bare shoulder and hugging yourself. “(Y/N), come back” she yelled at you. But, you were too sad to look back again and you just ran through the rain, almost not knowing where to go.

Alys saw your figure disappear and only turned to return to the club. At the door she met Aemond, who had come out to look for you. He asked her if everything was okay and she just kissed him and took him to the bathroom. That was the perfect way their relationship worked. She was sure he hadn't heard any of your conversation.

You kept walking until you ended up cold and soaked in a part of the city you didn't know. But, you felt too betrayed to be able to feel afraid. You weren't in a good neighborhood and fate was just capricious when you heard something moving in an alley.

At that moment, you realized where you were and you felt afraid. You saw the gazes of some of the passersby fix on you and one even whistled at you as you passed by him. “What is a girl as pretty and alone as you doing in a place like this?” He whispered to you as he grabbed your arm. That man only smelled of alcohol and you felt stupid for having rejected Alys' offer. How did you end up there?

A shadow appeared between the garbage cans in that alley and you never felt so happy to have seen Aegon in your life. He was in a sorry state, with an eyebrow and a split lower lip. He staggered and sighed as he tried to focus his eyes on the spectacle in front of his eyes. You thought he almost looked like he had just been beaten up and he just tried to smile at the sight of you.

That man who had grabbed you stood still, just like you. To that stranger, even in a state as pitiful as that, Aegon Targaryen was someone to be reckoned with. It was a name that could only bring trouble, and, yes, it was perfectly the kind of neighborhood where you'd imagine Aegon on a Saturday night.

“Hey, (Y/N), is this asshole bothering you?” he responded, clutching his ribs, sighing heavily and ending with a smile just as he finished exhaling. That guy looked you up and down, weighing whether the risk of facing Aegon was worth it, even if he was in that state so unbecoming of his family's name, as Aemond always said.

The same guy who had assaulted you let you go and left without saying anything else. Aegon leaned against the brick wall at the corner of the alley and smiled at you again. He made a pitiful sound again and you approached as if you had become active again, after the terror that had taken hold of you. "Are you OK?" you asked him, eyes full of concern and Aegon thought about how he liked your eyes when they looked at him like that. You were a good enough person to care about him. He thought you were even too good a person to be his brother's best friend. You always gave everything you had.

“I've had better nights. Also worse” he answered you while he continued clutching his ribs and took out the keys to his car that was parked at the door of that seedy dive. You didn't even want to ask him what activities were carried out there. You approached with concern and he tried to smile again. Aegon had always treated you cordially, even sympathetically, despite the relationship you had with Aemond. “Well, can I get you somewhere?” Because it's hard for me to leave you in a neighborhood like this alone,” he said with difficulty, banging the keys on the hood of the last Ferrari his parents had bought him. You knew how bad that had felt for Aemond. However, they paid for his very expensive and exclusive doctorate while his brother seemed to indulge that sinful life that only brought him problems.

“I think you should go to the hospital and have that bruise looked at,” you told him as you opened the passenger door. You knew Aemond was going to kill him when he found out whatever had happened to him, and you felt obligated to escort him, as if you had taken the same responsibility on your own of your best friend. You got into the car and Aegon smiled again at the same time he too opened his door.

“I'll go to the hospital right after I drop you off at your house or wherever you want,” he said, starting the car, without putting on his seat belt. At that moment he realized that you were soaked and that you had cried. He had made enough women cry to know the expression that was painted on your face. “Uhm, are you okay? Because you look terrible” he asked you with genuine concern and the greatest tact he had. Aegon had never been known for having good tact.

“Are you really asking me how I am doing when you have a possible broken rib?” you asked him, framing your eyebrows in a worried gesture and he just laughed.

"Believe me. I've had my ribs broken and they hurt more,” he answered honestly and you looked at your phone at that moment. Aemond had sent you a message. Alys none. And you didn't want to see what your best friend had written to you. You didn't think you were capable. You would end up crying. “I thought today was Alys's birthday,” Aegon murmured as he tapped the steering wheel as he began to drive through the city. You didn't even want to wonder if he was up to it, but you just sighed.

“Yes, it is,” you said, putting the phone back in your bag and Aegon just bit his inner cheek. Okay, it was better not to ask you about that topic. He knew enough about women to know that: one, that you had cried, and two, that you must have argued with Alys. The reasons for the discussion could be quite broad. To Aegon, Alys had always seemed as much of a cretin as his cretin of a brother. But Aemond was his little brother and he had no choice but to put up with him. He couldn't stand Alys and it showed. But, he was always the life of the party. He considered his brother's girlfriend so stupid that he thought that not even she must know. You had a sad face, but that was the face you had since Alys and Aemond had started dating. His brother had made a terrible mistake by not choosing you. A mistake Aegon was not willing to make. Maybe, he could sleep with you and see if things worked out…no, no. You were too good a girl for that.

“So… Shall I take you back to the party?” He asked and called himself stupid. You had to come from there, wrapped in tears and looking terrible. A sigh escaped your lips and you just rested your head against the car seat. Your eyes squeezed shut and a tear escaped them.

“No, leave it,” you quickly wiped away that tear with the back of your hand and Aegon felt violent. He had seen you cry before, but it had always been when you were younger, in Aemond's room and, of course, his brother had always been there for you. The eldest Targaryen only knew you in a much less intimate context. He found you quite nice considering the people Aemond usually chose as friends and Aegon had to confess that he had looked at your ass on more than one occasion at one of the parties they had at his house when his parents were away. He did like you somewhat, but he had imagined you as his sister-in-law until Alys appeared in Aemond's life. “Could you drop me off at the bus station?”

“Yes, of course,” Aegon drove in silence. So, yes, you had argued with Aemond's girlfriend. He didn't see you capable of crying about it, or about the situation. Your tears must have had another explanation. Aegon looked at the clock. It was quite late and you probably wanted to take the last bus that would take you to that small city so close to King's Landing. But, you weren't going to have time and that boy thought about whether it was advisable to leave you with such a short dress, such disastrous looks and such uncomfortable shoes in such a lonely season so late. He couldn't think of anything better than the stupid thing he said next. “Um… you could come to my apartment. Uhmmm, I would need someone to cure my lip and eyebrow…” he scratched the back of his neck while his other hand was still on the steering wheel. He thought it was better to keep you in his house with such a stupid ruse than to endure the scolding Aemond would give him if anything happened to you. Besides, a small part of Aegon, very small, actually worried that something might happen to you. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye and only saw you completely blushing. He would have killed to know what you were thinking, but your only mind was that it was the same apartment you had stayed the night in many other times, before Alys started dating Aemond. The couch had always seemed comfortable to you, although Aemond had always left you his bed and he had gone to sleep on the couch. How many nights had you slept there thinking that Aemond would show up in the middle of the night? But, he had never done it and you had never approached the sofa either. You were both too shy or stupid to do it. “Okay, it was stupid and…” Aegon started rambling and you just looked at his wounds. Maybe you could help him.

"OK. Alright. Let's go to the apartment” you replied as you relaxed in the passenger seat and brushed your arms again, freezing to death. Maybe it was better than spending the night waiting for the next bus. You would leave in the morning. You were sure that Aemond and Alys had booked a hotel room for that night. You wouldn't see them. Nothing would happen. You preferred to spend the night under the same roof as Aegon than alone and soaked at the station.

The next thing you remembered was Aegon shirtless. Sitting on the toilet bowl, drinking a bottle of Vodka. The same concoction you were using to rub on the wound on your eyebrow. It was quite deep and did not seem to slow down in its efforts to bleed scandalously. You weren't good at that. You've never had to heal a wound like that on anyone. You and Aemond had always been calm and smart enough to stay out of trouble, even when you were in high school.

Aegon let out another pitiful whimper as the cotton touched the wound again. You only came closer, but Aegon couldn't help but think that you smelled too good. He had your breasts at eye level and found them fascinating. He just took another sip from the bottle while he kept looking at them. You continued in silence, too focused to pay him any attention. Aemond had been an asshole for not telling you when it was obvious that he had had a crush on you all through high school. The eldest Targaryen moved again as the cotton touched the wound again and you just grabbed his chin.

“Please, if you don't stay still I'm not going to move forward with this” you whispered to him while you kept looking at the wound. He liked your worried eyes, your eyes fixed on him, even if it was to heal a simple wound. “I don't know why they did this to you, but it doesn't look good,” you murmured as you dipped a new cotton ball into the bottle that had finally been freed from his hands and he just chuckled.

“Well, at least they didn't kill me. If they had killed me, I wouldn't be able to pay them back the money I owe them” Aegon joked and you just narrowed your eyes while shaking your head. Not a single smile had appeared on your lips and that was almost a way to make Aegon vulnerable, or maybe it was just a strategy to get you into his bed that night. Aegon wasn't sure what was wrong with you. With you. On that one and first time that you were alone and showed genuine concern for him.

“Don't move,” you whispered, still focused on the wound. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped and keeping an eye on that was better than thinking about how ridiculous you had been at Alys's party. Aegon didn't move and just sighed, relaxing his muscles.

“I know I'm a fucking mess. "I'm sorry," Aegon replied. He bit his cheek and just looked at the ground. He would always be the biggest failure of all his brothers. The stupid. The headless one... the lost one... While you healed him in silence, he reflected on it. Would any of his friends cure him like you were doing? The answer was clear and he couldn't feel more of a failure than ever. Shirtless. Sitting in the bathroom. With a girl who was out of his league. “I guess you think I'm a failure…” he whispered and closed his eye, grimacing painfully before you put that stitches on him, and yet you stopped. He looked at you and saw only pity in your eyes.

It hadn't been an easy night for either of you.

“Why would I think that?” you told him, wrinkling your face, almost in a sneer at the image he must have of you, if he thought that you thought he was a failure.

“Well…” he shrugged his shoulders “I wasn't able to finish my degree, I haven't been able to keep a job for more than three months straight, and I just got beaten up for owing money in a cockfight…” he sighed and finished. smiling, almost in a pathetic way that made your heart ache, as if you had never seen him before as the human being he was, as more than just your best friend's older brother. “I'm never going to have a PhD or a girl who is always in love with me… I will never be as perfect as Aemond…” He looked straight into your eyes and you just looked at him with eyes full of tears. He had struck a chord.

He was right that you would always have a crush on Aemond. You quickly wiped away your tears and approached him again. You placed the stitch and he only pretended to moan in pain to make you laugh. “What a bad nurse you are” he whispered and made you laugh.

“You don't want to be as blind as Aemond,” you said in a whisper and he just laughed.

“Damn, he's one-eyed, what a way to say that…” he laughed, getting up from the toilet and you narrowed your eyes, separating yourself from him, ready to wash your hands in the sink. He looked at you smiling at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and you looked back at him with a half smile.

“You know that's not what I mean,” you told him and he just laughed again.

“I know, but the joke was there. I just saw the opportunity” he shrugged again and you came closer just to sniff him. He saw your face scrunching up and laughed loudly. “I should take a shower, would you like to come with me?” He asked in a joking, but suggestive tone and you just punched him in the chest, laughing for the first time that night.

“Can you take a shower, please?” you asked him and he just looked you up and down. That pretty, damaged dress. All your hair wet. You were a mess.

“Right now,” he said, leaving the bathroom, running towards his room. You didn't know whether to follow him and you ended up doing so, almost like a mother following a small child. Now you knew how Aemond felt every time he told you each of his older brother's crazy things. However, you arrived at his room to only see him with a tender smile and grabbing one of his old t-shirts. “You're soaked… and… you're going to end up catching a cold…” He offered you the shirt and that tender gesture broke your heart. Before, Aemond had always had those tender gestures with you, now... three years later... and with Alys... none of that existed.

You blushed and pushed him into the shower, laughing. How long had it been since you laughed like that?

“We're not going to watch a documentary about Ancient Valyria,” he screamed at you, while flipping through the many pay channels he had. You laughed and knelt on the couch, trying to get the controller away from him. You missed having that complicity with someone, and you wondered how you could have reached that intimate point with Aegon, wearing one of his shirts, sitting with him in the living room of his apartment... it almost seemed like you were back with Aemond and then, he came back to stretch your arm, separating the TV remote from your possible grip. You tried to grab him again, falling on top of him and Aegon just put his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face to his and... he simply kissed you, closing his eyes, while your eyes remained wide open. His lips landed on yours and he moved them energetically, feeling a kind of strange connection with you. You didn't close your eyes even once. You didn't believe what was happening, much less did you know how to react to that kiss that didn't upset you, but it didn't excite you either. How many times have you imagined Aemond kissing you on that couch while you were watching one of the documentaries he liked so much? Aegon finished and opened his eyes to only be met with your wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You looked down and he just laughed, feeling like a loser again… “Has it been that bad?” He asked, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he'd screwed up…because, that's how he always felt. That damn feeling of always screwing up.

However, you kissed him again. It was a childish and vindictive feeling, stupid and immature. You only remembered Alys's words. Maybe the problem was the same thing that Alys had told you at the entrance to that exclusive club, maybe... you just needed to get laid by the first person who had invited you to a drink, and Aegon had done much more than that.

He accepted all your kisses, feeling like a winner. He had surpassed Aemond for the first time in his life. He had the girl of his dreams and he planned to rub it in his face how good a match he was for you... Besides, you didn't see him as a loser, and that made his heart beat harder. Your kisses were proof of this.

You ended up sleeping with Aegon, without much more than a few kisses, in the same bed in his apartment, without him letting go of you all night. Hugging you and you felt a special connection with him... As if all the attention and care he needed fell on you... and, unbeknownst to you, Aegon began to think that you were his girlfriend that very night... you ended up cuddled up, with him hugging you. body, and you slept... Aegon was just a patch to alleviate your loneliness, but wasn't that what love was about?

“But… What are you doing here?” Alys closed the refrigerator door roughly and you woke up from the sleepy trance you were in. You had only gone for a glass of water to continue sleeping.

Your best friend crossed her arms. The nightgown that left little to the imagination contrasted with the old t-shirt Aegon had left you to sleep in. You were both in your underwear, although in a very different way. She looked you up and down, as if you were a real scumbag and you only spoke with the shyness that characterized you, with the fear that you had always really had of Alys, it wasn't about respect. It was about fear. She had always been better than you and had constantly reminded you of that. “I was coming for water,” you whispered. You looked at her as if she were an alien, as if you didn't want to have anything to do with her since the argument the night before, because you didn't want to see her again. Never more.

“Well, I imagine that's what you were coming for…” he told you, looking at you again, as if he were scanning you. “That shirt is Aegon's…” he whispered, grabbing one of the sleeves as if it would give him a rash and you blushed, breaking free of his grip.

“Why don't you go fuck Aemond? It's the only thing you know how to do” you whispered to her, angry, like you had never been before and she smiled contemptuously, as if everything was beginning to unfold in her head. You were angry and hurt, much more hurt than angry.

“Don't fuck with me, (Y/N). Are you fucking Aegon?” She smiled, with that smile so beautiful and evil at the same time. “Are you so pathetic that since you can't sleep with Aemond you end up fucking his loser brother? Oh really?" she smiled again.

“Leave me alone, bitch,” you said. The voice was icy and she paled. She would never have believed you capable of calling him that. “If you had been my friend, you wouldn't have fucked him,” you told her. A tear running down your face. “Because you knew I was in love with him… because you fucking knew it…” you whispered under your breath. You felt another tear running down your face. And it wasn't just because Aemond had chosen her, it was because she had always known... she had been your best friend... until that night...

“You will always be a pathetic, losing creature. “Did you want Aemond to end up with a loser like you?” She asked you and at that moment, you froze.

Aemond appeared there, without his sweater, without his eyepatch, and looked at you both as if that had been the revelation of his life... always so blind... he had heard everything and opened his mouth to say something, but you just walked out of the room. You headed towards Aegon's room and closed the door behind you. You had already made a decision.

Alys watched as her boyfriend nervously ran his hand through his hair. “Aemond…” she whispered, approaching him, trying to get him to take her into his arms again, but Aemond only pushed her away, closing his sole tightly. How could he have been so blind? Alys… Alys had always told him that you weren't interested and he… had believed her, because it was the easy way… to believe her… “Let's go to bed” she whispered, hugging him from behind, kissing his back while he tried to process everything, in complete silence. “She's always going to be a pathetic, losing creature…” she began whispering and Aemond couldn't take it anymore. It had been like this for too long.

“Go away,” he said in a firm voice and Alys stopped kissing his back. She pulled away and Aemond just turned away, not meeting her eyes. He repeated the same command “Go away.”

“But…” Alys started to speak, but Aemond just grabbed her arm and looked her straight in the eyes. His eyes seemed to have forgotten all the desire and adoration he had had for her during those three years.

“Go away,” he whispered again. At that moment he hated her, but above all he hated himself for having always been so blind. Alys left, and it took him two years away from you to clarify what he felt... He had always been selfish...

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #modern aegon x reader #modern aegon targaryen #modern aegon ii

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enhastolemyheart · 1 year

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YOU'RE ALL I WANT. — PARK SUNGHOON

PAIRING | sunghoon x reader

GENRE | exes au, uni au

SYNOPSIS | Sunghoon knows how life with you is, and he never wanted to change that. But in the end, he knows it's time to let go, even if you're all he wants.

WARNINGS | angst, swearing, mention of break up, lil bit of fluff too if u squint, proofread but pls do tell me if any mistakes.

WORD COUNT | 1.5k+

A/N | another one for y'all!! hope it's good, I had some block when writing this cause I didn't know how to execute the angst cus i wanted to write some really soul-crushing angst. but anyways, hope you enjoy!! Reblogs are highly appreciated!!

It was another typical day of school. Sunghoon walks into the campus with a bag on his back, hanging off of one shoulder. He makes his way to his locker and gets his stuff ready for his first class. He suddenly feels two hands hovering over his eyes, keeping them closed. 'Guess who?' The voice sings. He just laughs and turns around, embracing his girlfriend into a tight hug.

He notices her shivers under his touch, 'are you cold?' He asks. She just shakes her head, dismissing the boy. But if you need to know something about Sunghoon, it is that he never backs down until something goes his way. He takes off the varsity jacket he was wearing and gives it to her. She wears it with a happy smile and goes on her tippy toes to kiss him.

They both smile at each other with lovesick grins on their faces.

And all of this commotion does not go unnoticed by you.

You, who was once Sunghoon's everything.

It was chilly, the air feeling fresh yet ice cold. The streets have been layered with snow. You were sitting at your place in the library, waiting for your beloved boyfriend. You take interest upon some random fantasy novel you found to pass the time. Even though you layered in your clothing, it was still cold.

It was like your body can't adapt to the cold. It's comforting yet it makes you shiver to the bones. You hoped that Sunghoon would arrive soon, so you can go home together and make some hot chocolate and chill by the fireplace.

You were reaching the seventh chapter of the novel in front of you when a pair of ice cold hands covered your eyes. You couldn't help but laugh heartily when they ask You to guess who the person is. "My beloved Sunghoon, you know this game cannot work with you."

"What do you mean love?" He takes off his hands from your face, making his way to the seat opposite of you. He sits down and looks at you intently. You take his hands in yours and rub your fingers slowly over his knuckles.

“I mean, You have such ice cold hands, the game wouldn’t work on you. I would be able to tell instantly.” you kiss his fingertips, the nail of his fingers grazing your lips slightly as you do so.

He just chuckles lightly before taking your hand and walking out of the library to drop you off home.

You both walk the sidewalk, hand-in-hand, situated inside Sunghoon’s puffer jackets’ pocket. Snow slowly falling, showing a peaceful scenery as you walk. He noticed your shivers even though you wore a layer on top of your sweater. He stops and you follow, bodies turned to each other. He lets go of your hands to remove the puffer jacket he was wearing. You try to stop him but to no avail, he holds it out for you, helping you get engulfed into the material that is masked with his scent. He smiles as he tucks a hair behind your ear before cupping your cheeks in his icy yet warm hold. You look in his eyes, then glide your view down to his lips. He catches it and leans in, his warm breath hitting the lower part of your face. Your eyelids start to close slowly as his lips come in contact with yours. Fireworks burst in your stomach released by the butterflies. He slides one hand down to the side your waist before tilting his head to make the kiss deeper.

He pulls away but not before giving you a small pack on your forehead, “come one, lets go home and have some hot chocolate.”

You chuckle, “how’d you know I wanted some?” he just smirks before taking your small hand (compared to his) in his and stroll together in a comfortable silence unlike your fast beating hearts, rest of the way.

You go over to the vending machine that is situated near the library of the campus. You’ve been cramming for a test that is about to take place after two days and finally studying for about four hours, you decided to get the hell out of there and clear your mind.

You put the cash then punch in the code to get a strawberry ade, but for some reason the world does not want you to get satisfied too easily. You put in another note, hoping it will work this time and you definitely don’t skip on hitting the machine one or two times.

“Just give me what I want you dumb bitch.” you sneer as you hit the glass, trying to ignore the hissing pain.

Just then you hear a deep and low chuckle behind as you see a hand coming from behind you put some money into the machine for a strawberry ade. You know that chuckle, you were the cause of that chuckle one too many times. Your body tensed, you were scared to turn around and face him. The adrenaline rush made your feet stick to the floor. The lad in question goes around you to take the strawberry ade that was sitting in the slot, ready to be picked up. And that’s when you get a look of his face, the face you missed oh so much.

“Here."

your gaze shifts to his hands. Those hands that you held all day and night. When it was chilly, his hands were always eloped in yours despite his being very cold, he would always give you warmth. Those hands that held your face whenever you would get close and intimate with each other.

Your hands shake as you take the ade from him. Muttering a small 'thanks'. Before you could escape, he takes a hold of your elbow, keeping you in place, feet planted.

"Uh y/n..." he pauses letting go of your elbow before looking down, "can we talk?"

Your eyes finally had the courage to look into his. They were so dark and his lids looking dull. He looked paler if that's even possible. You couldn't help but whimper slightly, has he not been talking care of himself?

"What is there to talk about?"

He takes a step closer to you, "please y/n hear me out."

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Yes, but you don't seem like yourself." That makes you scoff.

"since when did you start caring about me?" Your vision starts to get blurry. You didn't want to be sucked into that hole again. It took alot of sweat and tears to bring yourself back up. Sunghoon was your everything. Your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first time, only boy to meet the parents the first time, everything.

"What do you mean y/n?" He takes a hold of your jaw and you let him, "I always cared about you."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "then why'd you leave?" His face gave a look of guilt, regret-ness for leaving when you needed him the most. He start, "y/n please I-"

"No." You drop his hand from your face, "you left me when I was at my lowest. You knew that I needed you and you promised me yet you just decide to walk out. How could you ever think that I will come back to you? After what- "

"I'm sorry y/n. I really am." You couldn’t help but look away, "If I could fix my mistake I would do it in a heartbeat. You avoided me for eleven months, please come back to me. Let me fix myself. Please. I love you. My life is fucked without you."

You sniffle as you take a hold of his hand, "I don't know if I can ever forgive you, but please don't beat yourself up hoon. And if you really do love me, then please, leave me be."

You give him back the drink that was in your hold and you turn and walk away. You wipe the tears running down your cheeks. They wouldn't stop running when you heard his silent cries. You wanted to hold him, tell him you love him back, kiss him and so much more. But, you know it's time to let go.

A/N | tysm for reading!! I hope you had fun. It actually didn't go as planned but I like how it ends that way and you jus have to imagine what's after lol. I feel like I shd make a part two to redeem maself lol pls lmk if you want one. Requests are open and so is the taglist!! Reblogs are highly appreciated!! Thank youu <33

Perm taglist: @jak-ey ; @wanna-live-yn-life ; @snoowhore ; @hsheart (ask or somment to be added!)

#enhastolemyheart #Sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon

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lyssismagical · 10 months

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we'll all be here forever

tw mention for dying/death, not quite suicidal ideation or purposeful self-harm but not taking care of yourself; panic attacks, small emetophobia, lotsa fighting and swearing

(pls pls pls be so nice and gentle I haven't written anything in like 3 years and idk if this fandom is even alive anymore but I found a WIP and had the inspiration to finish it)

read on ao3

The decline began when his principal mentioned, in passing, that Peter’s applications would look bare compared to a lot of applicants with his lack of extra-curriculars. Sure, he had Academic Decathlon and a Tony Stark Internship, but otherwise, that space of his college applications was empty.

So, he took the initiative in his Senior year to join a few extra clubs to bulk up his application. He started a campaign for student class president, joined the robotics club, and got on the football team. As well as all that, he started tutoring during his lunch hours both for volunteer hours and as an addition to his applications.

He needed to get into MIT. He didn’t think he could deal with any disappointment from anybody around him. Tony’s been talking about Peter’s future at SI after graduating MIT, May’s already preparing to sell the apartment and buy herself a smaller condo when he moves out, Ben always said Peter had to go to a school that challenged him like MIT would.

He wouldn’t let them down.

So he continued to squish his schedule as tight as he possibly could. AP classes, homework, four extra-curriculars, tutoring, Spider-Man, and the internship started leaving no time for himself. Sleeping at night started getting cut shorter and shorter, and he could barely make time to talk to his friends or May.

Tony notices first because he’s always been a genius and way too observant for his own good, so when Peter slides into his seat in the lab, dragging a hand through his hair, and tossing a couple textbooks in front of him, Tony almost immediately grabs his shoulder and stops him.

“You okay, kid? You look a little rough?” Tony says, eyes already narrowed in suspicion. One hand cups Peter’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“Just been busy.” Peter looks towards his homework. English, physics, biology, spanish, chemistry, history, the academic decathlon practice he’s supposed to go over, the speech he’s supposed to have done for the next debate for student class president.

Tony frowns, making his forehead crease. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, kid. This doesn’t just look like regular high school stress.”

“High school student slash superhero is more accurate.”

His watch continues ticking, the conversation wasting all of his precious time.

He needs to get his homework done during lab time so he can squeeze in some Spider-Manning before May gets home from her shift.

“Still,” Tony says petulantly. He crosses his arms and frowns at the work. “You can’t, I don’t know, take a break from all this shit?”

If Peter takes a break, he’ll have double as much to do the next day on top of football practice after school and robotics club after that. But he can’t say that or Tony would force him to drop some of his extra-curriculars.

“Pepper would kill you if she found out you were being a bad influence on me,” Peter says, but when it doesn’t get the reaction he wanted, he frowns and shakes his head. “I’m fine, Mister Stark, just a little tired. Don’t worry, the weekend’s coming up soon.”

Tony sighs overdramatically and moves back to his lab bench.

Peter purposefully fails to mention that he’s got a football game early morning on Saturday, enough time to squish in some patrolling before he has an Academic Decathlon meet at Ned’s house all afternoon, and enough homework to last him all night. And on Sunday, he has to finish his speech for the debate, he promised May he’d pick up his slack with chores, and he’s tutoring a freshman in math all afternoon.

He fails to mention that for him, the weekend doesn’t mean relaxation or a break from the stress of the week, it just means catch-up from everything he failed to do during the week and a time to pick up his slack.

* There’s something so fundamentally wrong about being beyond exhausted and yet, when given the chance, unable to get any real rest.

Peter’s brain is always moving too fast, always caught in the To Do List’s and the ideas of failure and disappointment if he doesn’t complete every task. Everything he could’ve done that day but hadn’t, all the things he did but could’ve done better, all the things that were pushed to the backburner with all the things he had to complete.

His eyes are closed and his breaths are even, room dark around him and quiet except for the TV that plays almost silently in the background. He’s comfortable and vaguely floating, not enough to be considered asleep but nowhere near conscious either.

Math homework sits only half complete on the coffee table, his academic decathlon cue cards are mixed with his debate notes on the floor, his history textbook is left open on the opposite couch.

He should’ve done more. He should be trying harder. He should be doing better.

No matter how hard he tries, no matter how much work he puts into everything he does, it’ll never be enough.

He can’t sleep, he got a B- on his last pop quiz in chemistry, Coach Wilson shouts at him every practice for his clumsy feet and his slow pace during warmups, Tony’s been staring at him with the same worried expression every time he goes over for lab days.

Even Flash has been worried about Peter.

“You okay, Parker?” Flash had sounded at least partially concerned before quickly tacking on, “Because I get your spot on Acadeca if you’re slacking.”

But it had been weeks since Flash had been mean to Peter, he hadn’t been tripping Peter in the hallways or spitting cruel words at him in class.

If Flash is being nice to Peter, that means there’s really a problem.

May slips into the living room, meaning it’s already three am, when she leaves for her occasional morning shifts at the hospital. She lifts the quilt off the back of the couch to drape over him.

“Have a good day at work,” Peter slurs, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Have a good day at school, honey.” She leans down and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “And thank you for helping out this weekend with chores. I’m really proud of you, you know that? And I’m really proud of you for your football game. I’ll see you tonight?”

Peter has to think for too long, scanning through his mental to do list. “Got football practice and then robotics till seven. And I said I’d walk MJ home first so I’ll only be home at nine or ten.”

“Michelle’s the opposite direction of here from school, isn’t she?”

“Mm,” Peter replies intelligently, the perfect image of a genius student planning on applying to MIT.

May kisses his forehead again. He knows she’s worried about him, he knows she wants to tell him to stop, or at least slow down, that he needs to take care of himself. But it’s not the time nor place for an argument like that. “Well, I’ll be asleep by the time you get back, but I’ll leave your dinner in the microwave. You’re too good, Peter.”

Peter barely manages to utter a goodbye and an I love you before his mouth stops working again, content to pretend to sleep for another two hours before he’s off to pick up MJ before school. She lives in a shadier part of town and she mentioned, quiet and more honest about herself than she normally is, that she gets nervous walking to school and back because of some people who have been trying to get her attention.

Without hesitation, Peter had offered to walk to and from school from now on. To keep her safe and comfortable. He is a superhero after all.

Just because that adds an extra hour and a half to his already hour-long trek to Midtown, doesn’t mean anything. He’s okay with waking up at five in the morning to get to school, and he’s okay with only making it home late after practices. If it means MJ’s safe, he’ll give up another chunk of his sleeping time for her.

MJ talks idly about academic decathlon for the majority of the long walk to school.

She keeps a hand firmly on his upper arm, as though scared he may keel over if she isn’t careful. Her eyes rarely leave his face, even if he barely offers any facial expressions let alone any words of wisdom. Easily, though, he answers every one of her decathlon practice questions from memory, proving that the sleeplessness and the stress hasn’t totally messed up his intelligence.

Or so he thinks.

He’s about to leave his history class when his teacher stops him.

She’s a nice woman who doesn’t assign a crazy amount of homework, no more than his other classes do, and she’s generally lenient with marking assignments. He wracks his head for any reason why she would stop him. He’s pretty positive he handed in his history assignment about one of the presidents at the end of the previous week, and he remembers being pretty confident in his answers to the pop quiz.

“Sit down for a second,” Miss Christie says, gesturing to the chair beside her desk. She has the decency to look sympathetic and confused when she tells him, “Your grades have dropped drastically since midterm, Peter.”

“What?” His brain’s moving a bit too slow through the sludge of his to do lists.

At midterm, he managed an eighty-eight on his test which brought his overall grade up to an eighty-five. Not his best grade, but certainly nowhere near worrying. He was just going to make sure to ace the exam, and he was sure he’d get a ninety out of the class.

“Your grade has gone from nearly a ninety down to barely passing, Peter,” Miss Christie explains, pulling open his file on the computer. “I normally wouldn’t worry too much about a sixty-five, it’s not too abnormal for lower grades in a history class for a STEM school, but this is concerning coming from a bright student like you.”

“I don’t understand.”

Miss Christie frowns, turning her monitor towards him and zooming into his grades. It shows all his assignments he’s submitted, all his grades slipping towards mid-fifties and lower. His pop quiz he only managed a thirty percent on.

“At this school, as you know, if you don’t make a sixty or higher for your final grade, you fail the class.”

Peter’s whole world feels like it’s crashing down around him.

“Now, I know how much potential you have, Peter, but I’ve taken a peek at the last assignment you submitted, and at this rate, you won’t be passing the class unless you put more effort in.”

More effort.

He doesn’t know where he has the time for more effort anywhere.

May’s going to kill him.

He might as well throw his MIT application down the drain if he fails history.

“I, uh, it’s just- Between my classes and my extra-curriculars and the internship, I just- I don’t have the time for much,” Peter admits. He’s not quite sure why he’s alright admitting his struggles to his history teacher and not to people like Tony or Ned or May, but the words fall from his tired mouth before he can stop them.

Miss Christie smiles like she understands his struggle. “I can give you another week to finish your last history project and I’ll assign an extra-credit assignment to get your grade up a little more, if that’s what you’d like. If all goes well with those two projects, future assignments, and your exam, I think you could pull off an eighty, Peter. Hope’s not lost.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her he doesn’t have time for two more big projects this week.

Football practices are longer because they have another game on Sunday, Academic Decathlon is getting harder because they have sectionals coming up, robotics club has a tournament in a few weeks so they need to put extra work into completing their robots, student class president debates are in a few days and then voting is coming up, he agreed to take on a project from the real Stark interns who need his help with their prototype, not to mention his actual homework.

“I just- Miss Christie, I need a good grade for college applications and I- My schedule is already as packed as possible, is there anyway I can get an extension-”

“I can’t start making exceptions for students, Peter. I’m already being generous by giving you more time for the first project.”

Peter swallows thickly, suddenly feeling very nauseas and dizzy. “Of course, Miss Christie. Thank you.”

He barely lets her finish giving her spiel on hard work equals good results before he races down the hallway towards the bathroom.

“You can’t tell May or Tony about this,” he begs, slumping against the wall, trying desperately to stop crying.

“Peter, this isn’t okay,” Ned says. His eyes are too wide and he looks shakier than Peter feels. He’s got a wad of damp paper towel and gently pats the sweat from Peter’s forehead.

MJ’s leaning against the sinks despite it being a boy’s bathroom. “Are you sick? Catch a stomach bug?”

“Panic attack.”

Apparently, that’s not the right answer because Ned cups Peter’s cheek and tips his head up, patting away his sweat and tears more insistently.

“I’m late for- for-” Peter’s vision swims as he stares at the watch, unable to comprehend the ticking hands or match it to his mental to do list.

“Tutoring. It’s lunch,” MJ supplies. She steps into the already-cramped stall and slides to the floor beside Peter. “Don’t worry, Flash is taking over for you. That kid already knows all she needs to know, though. She doesn’t really need Flash’s help.”

“We can’t hide this from May or Tony. You need help, Peter.” Ned finally gives up with the paper towel but his eyes are just as wide as he grabs Peter’s hand, hanging on to him.

Peter shrugs, eyeing MJ carefully before he lets his head fall on her shoulder. He closes his eyes, shutting himself off from further argument.

Nothing’s right.

The three friends are cramped together in a bathroom stall because Peter can’t hold himself together, because no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be enough.

He doesn’t say any of that, all the words getting clogged in his chest where all his self-loathing and pain sits. Instead, he murmurs a soft apology and lets his eyes fall shut.

Eventually, they have to drag themselves off the bathroom floor for class.

Ned rambles about how Peter should see the school nurse and go home for the rest of the day, and Peter makes up excuses about how he’s fine just a little stressed, how he’ll make sure to take the night easy and get some good rest and be back to normal by the next morning.

Even MJ tries to convince him to sit out of chemistry, even though Peter’s grade has dropped in that class too, even just to lie down in the nurse’s office for an hour.

But Peter throws on the most convincing smile he can muster and shakes his head, promising them that he’s fine.

And they trust him enough to take his word for it.

Maybe that’s a mistake.

May’s asleep by the time he gets home, so he grabs some money from his secret stash he’s been saving from some of the paid tutoring he’s been doing and grabs himself a few energy drinks from the bodega a block away.

And then he sets himself up at his desk with all the work he has to do laid out in front of him.

He was in for another long night.

It’s not like he has the option to stop.

It’s not that simple, it’s never been. Failing, at this point, would be the worst thing he’s ever done. The list of people he’d be letting down is too long, too many, he can’t do that. He can’t let down his loved ones like Tony and May, Ben, Mary and Richard, Pepper and the Avengers, his teachers, his friends, himself. He can’t do that.

Everything is resting on this.

May won’t be able to move out of the city, she’ll have to continue taking care of him when he’s unable to move, she’ll have to keep working to take care of him, she’ll have to keep worrying about him every night he goes out patrolling. He’ll continue dragging her down.

Tony and Pepper won’t be able to retire.

He’s heard them talking about that dream they have. The cabin, far away from everyone and everything, maybe a child down the line, a child of their own, not just some orphan kid they got saddled with. The garden, the lake, the pet, the baby, the ability to give up all the things tethering them down. Peter’s meant to take over SI when he graduates MIT. There’s never been an If with them. Like they couldn’t even imagine a world where Peter couldn’t do it.

Letting them down now?

He’d lose his second family. He’d lose Tony and Pepper, he’d lose his ties to the Avengers. How could he be Tony Stark’s prodigy if he couldn’t even get into MIT?

He has to work harder.

He has to do more.

He has to be better.

He has to.

MJ puts a hand on his knee in English class, everything between now and then is a confusing blur, but he’s suddenly grounded.

“You’ve been shaking all class,” she says. Her eyes are wide and worried, and she doesn’t take her hand off his leg. “When was the last time you slept?”

He takes another sip from his water bottle, filled with an energy drink. It makes his knee bounce under MJ’s hand. He tries to shake away how cloudy his mind is, trying to focus on what the teacher’s droning on about.

“Hey,” MJ says, elbowing him to get his attention. “If you don’t sleep at night, you’re never going to be able to focus.”

“I slept fine,” he snaps, pushing her hand off his leg.

The teacher’s talking about Shakespeare, going over the play they were asked to read earlier on. He knows it like the back of his hand, so it doesn’t matter that he zoned out for most of class.

“Don’t be a dick when I’m just trying to help.”

He shakes his head again, one hand lifting to tug at his hair, pain clearing a little bit of the fog.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds panicked, even to his own ears. He’s been fucking everything up, everywhere he goes, but he can’t lose his friends, he can’t fuck this up.

“It’s fine, dude, just…” She looks towards the teacher, who hasn’t seemed to notice their distraction, and slides her notebook across to him. She’s drawn a few sketches of him, all of which picture him with dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up every which way, and movement lines around his legs and fingers. There are some notes on Shakespeare between the sketches and some absent thoughts in the margins.

Peter doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m worried, okay?” she says so genuine that it hurts his chest. She reaches out to touch his leg again, seeming to understand how much the small gesture helps. “I know you’re stressed about college applications, but you’re falling apart, and I don’t know how much longer I can just watch you do that to yourself.”

“I have to get into MIT.”

“You have Tony Stark willing to write you a letter of recommendation, all this other stuff, football and student council, it’s not necessary. All it’s doing is destroying you.”

Peter’s voice drops to below a whisper. “I don’t want a stupid accident to be the reason I get in.”

“Accident?”

“Spider-Man! I can’t have… It’s unfair. I’ll spend my whole life wondering if it was just a fluke.”

“How is that a fluke?”

“I wandered off on a field trip and got bit by an experiment. I should be dead. It’s a complete fluke that I am who I am.”

“It’s not a fluke that Tony’s kept you around,” she argues. Her nails are digging into his leg a little, pressing the fabric of his jeans into his skin. Her voice almost raises, but she catches herself and glances back towards the teacher before whispering, “For a genius, you’re acting really fucking stupid.”

Peter takes a shuddering breath. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“It’s not. You know it’s not. You’re killing yourself for no good reason.”

“MJ, Peter, your attention please,” the teacher says. They both apologize quickly, and MJ sends him a look that says this isn’t over.

MJ practically drags him by the ear to the nearest bathroom once class is let out.

“You know I’ve got super strength, right?” he says, though he doesn’t even think he could access it through his exhaustion anyway, not that he’d try. He’d let MJ drag him wherever she pleases.

MJ lets him go when they’re safely inside the single-person bathroom and leans back against the sink, staring him down.

“If you’re going to reprimand me, can we get it over with? I’ve got things to do, Em.”

“We’re waiting for Ned. He’s on his way.”

Peter rolls his eyes and huffs out a sigh. “So this isn’t a reprimand, it’s an intervention?”

“You should be grateful it’s only going to be me and Ned. I could’ve pulled some strings and had Stark and May yell at you too.”

Peter winces. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t if you stop acting like an idiot.”

There’s a knock on the door, a rhythmic sound, and MJ opens it to let Ned in. Ned’s face is flushed and his eyes are a little too wide, and anger sparks in Peter’s chest, setting off a red-hot forest fire through his body.

“Did Flash say something to you?”

Ned only gets like this, red-faced and wringing hands, when someone insults him.

“It’s fine, Peter,” Ned says quickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! I’m going to kill him. What did he say?”

MJ puts a hand on his shoulder, almost like she’s ready to hold him in place, like he’ll shake out of his own skin. “Easy tiger. Getting in a fight with Flash is the last thing you need to be worrying about.”

Peter looks to Ned who already seems to have calmed down at least a little. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, dude. I’m fine. Flash is always going to be Flash. It’s really okay… What’s important is you right now. What’s going on with you? When was the last time you slept?”

“I have to get into MIT.”

MJ rolls her eyes and pulls away from him. She smells like vanilla and it makes him dizzy. “He thinks the whole Spider-Man and Tony Stark internship is an unfair advantage he shouldn’t be able to use in order to get in.”

Ned’s jaw drops open and he looks absolutely flabbergasted at the idea. “That’s insane! Do you really think that?”

“As I told MJ, I wandered on a field trip and suddenly I have things that most people could only dream of having. It’s not fair that Tony Stark can write me a letter because I wandered on a field trip. I can’t use Spider-Man like I’m better than everyone else because I wandered on a field trip. It’s not fair.”

“Just because it was an accident that it happened doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve the benefits that come from it,” Ned says. “You could’ve gotten those powers and done nothing. Nobody is making you use your abilities for good. You save people’s lives, you do everything you can to keep Queens and Midtown safe. You spend hours everyday getting knives or worse pointed at you to keep those people safe. And it’s just some fluke? I don’t think so.”

Peter shakes his head, shutting his eyes when he feels tears burn at them. “It’s not that simple. I’m Spider-Man, but Spider-Man isn’t me. Spider-Man isn’t some poor kid from Queens who has one and a half friends and can’t keep his grade up in History. Spider-Man isn’t some teenager who dumpster dives and reads graphic novels. Spider-Man isn’t Peter Parker. And because Spider-Man isn’t Peter Parker, anything that Spider-Man has can’t be mine. The acclaim, the ties to the Avengers, the internship, those all belong to Spider-Man, not me.”

Neither of them seem to have an answer for him.

Ned’s looking at him like Peter’s a stranger, confused and uncertain.

MJ’s looking at him like she finally realizes he can’t be helped. He’s too far down to be fixed by a simple pep talk in the bathroom.

“It’s not fair for me to use Spider-Man or Mister Stark as leverage for university. So, in order to get in, I have to beef up my application. I need extra curriculars, good grades, AP classes, I need this stuff in order to get into MIT. I can’t stop.”

Ned shakes his head. His eyes are misty and his face is still red. “Sure, okay, but if you stack up your day to be full of extra curriculars and homework, you have to drop Spider-Man patrols and internship nights and tutoring for the money, you can’t do everything.”

“I have to do everything. I’m still Spider-Man, even if Spider-Man isn’t me. I have a responsibility to this city, to try as hard as I can to keep people safe. And I have a responsibility to Mister Stark to be a protegee, to be his heir, so that he can finally retire, both from Stark Industries and from Iron Man. I have a responsibility to May to make her proud. I have a responsibility to my parents, to Ben, to do something great like MIT. I have a responsibility to May to get scholarships so I don’t rely on her for money she doesn’t have. I… I don’t have a choice. I can’t just give up.”

“You’re going to kill yourself!” MJ says, voice loud, and Peter’s head pounds.

“I’m going to get in and I’m going to graduate and then I can stop. It’s only six months. I can survive six months of this.”

“At this rate, you’ll be dead in a week.” She sounds so angry, so upset with him, and god it hurts to feel like despite all the effort he’s put in, he’s still managing to let people down. “Do you have any idea what sleep deprivation does to a person? Especially someone who enjoys swinging around hundreds of feet in the sky and fighting people with guns.”

Peter looks to Ned, tries to see if maybe his best friend will understand, will, at the very least, take a different approach, but Ned just stares back, eyes wet and jaw clenched.

Peter’s breaths have gone shaky, chest aching with the lack of oxygen. “I can’t just stop, Em.”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” she grounds out. “This ends now.”

“I can’t stop,” he repeats, tears blurring his vision. He falls back against the wall, head thumping against the bricks. “I can’t. It’ll look worse now if I was on the football team for two months before abruptly dropping out. Same for robotics or student council. Even if it’s for the betterment of my grades, it’ll still look bad on my application. I can’t stop seeing Mister Stark, he’ll know something’s up, he’ll try and convince me to stop working so hard, he’ll try and use his power to prove that I can get in even if I fail all my classes this term and that’s not fair. I can’t stop.”

MJ shakes her head. She’s made up her mind on this, and when MJ makes up her mind there’s no turning her around. “Then stop Spider-Manning. If you let yourself rest at night instead of swinging around Queens in spandex, maybe you could actually do everything else without falling apart.”

“If Spider-Man disappears, people will die. And it’ll be on me.”

“You can’t save everyone!” she shouts. Her fist hits the edge of the sink with an echoing thud. “And if you die, you won’t be able to save anyone.”

He can’t help but flinch, trying to shake his head, come up with anything, find an argument that makes sense, but he comes up blank, just failure ringing through his head.

“I can’t stop,” he repeats like it’ll make a difference.

Ned finally speaks up, “I’ll call May. I’ll tell her what you’ve been doing, how you’re failing history. How little sleep you’ve been getting. I’ll tell her.”

“And what’s she going to do,” Peter challenges. “Tie me to my bed? Force me to sleep? Take away the suit? Ground me? She’d have to invest in vibranium locks if she really wanted to keep me from going out.”

“You’re really going to fight all of us?” MJ says, disbelief and anger darkening her voice.

“I have to do this.”

“Well, I’m not going to stand by and watch.” She shakes her head at him, mouth set in a deep frown, and then she walks out of the bathroom and his life.

He looks at Ned, silently pleading for him to understand, and Ned stares back with wet eyes for a moment before turning away as well.

He’s left alone in that bathroom, ears ringing and head spinning and tears sliding down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw, lungs aching.

Is it possible to do this without his two best friends at his side? He isn’t sure but he’s convinced himself that there’s no going back now. The only way he’ll get them back is if he stops, and that’s not an option.

So it’ll just be him against the world. He can handle that. He has before.

It’ll all be worth it when he gets that shiny acceptance letter.

“Kid.”

Tony says it in a way that Peter instantly knows what’s happening. He’s sitting at the dining room table when Peter gets to the tower for Lab Night, hands crossed on the table, shoulders tight, mouth set in a firm line.

“I don’t need another fucking intervention.” He doesn’t know where the anger came from, seeping through the tired cracks. He’s pretty sure he’s never sworn at Tony before. He’s not surprised that MJ and Ned ratted on him, he knew they would after their fight in the bathroom, he just hoped Tony wouldn’t make a big deal of it.

Tony shakes his head, gesturing towards the pulled-out chair beside him, Peter doesn’t move from the hallway, just drops his backpack on the floor. “Kid.”

“If you’re going to lecture me, I’m going to pass. I have shit to do.” He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. There’s no filter left. All that’s left is hardened sharp edges and dark rings beneath his eyes and the ghost of who he was shaking its head at him.

“Peter-” Tony never calls him that, so Peter knows it’s serious. “-Please just come sit and we can talk about this. It’s not a lecture or- or an intervention, I just… I’m worried.”

He crosses his arms tight, curling into himself a little. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, kid, and I’m sorry I let it slide for too long, I should’ve said something sooner, but I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“I’m fine,” Peter grounds out again. “And I have shit to do.”

Tony stands slowly, hands open and fingers spread like Peter’s a feral animal. “You’re working yourself to the bone. You’re going to get hurt.”

Peter stays quiet, staring Tony down. The older hero takes a step closer and Peter steps back, keeping space between them.

“I’ve looked at Karen’s reports, kid-”

“You’re still spying on me?”

“I’m checking in.”

“I should’ve disabled those stupid protocols months ago.”

Tony doesn’t meet Peter’s fire with fire, though, he just looks… aged. He looks more exhausted than Peter feels, wrinkles set deeper than Peter remembers, streaks of grey in his hair standing out in the moonlight. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m fine, okay? I haven’t been to medical in weeks.”

“You’ve been averaging two hours of sleep a night. Do you know what that’ll do to your reflexes? Your fighting abilities?”

“How many fucking times do I have to say I’m fine?” Peter’s voice has raised a little, not much but it still feels like it echoes off the walls of the dark hallway, it rattles inside his head.

Tony sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “You’re working too hard. You’re not sleeping, you’re drinking an obscene amount of caffeine, you’re not eating enough, you’re stressed, you’re lashing out. You know who you sound like?”

“Exactly. Who are you to judge?”

“I’ve learned from those mistakes, Pete. And I don’t want you to make them too. You’re going to get yourself killed patrolling or have a caffeine overdose or hurt yourself in the lab or burn bridges or turn to something worse than caffeine to get you through the day.”

“I’m not you!” Peter snaps. He can feel tears in his throat, voice threatening to break, hands shaking so he curls them into fists and stuffs them in his pockets. “I’m fine, okay? I can handle it.”

Tony shakes his head again, people have been doing that a lot lately when they talk to him. “I spoke to your principal, Peter.”

He flinches, taking another step back into the dark hallway. His breaths are coming too quick and a headache is beginning to form behind his eyes and Tony’s eyes are following him, tracking every movement that cements his points, and he looks so fucking sympathetic, so hurt.

“I’m going to fix it, okay? I have a few more days to perfect that history assignment and I’ll get the grade up by finals. It’s going to be fine. I can fix it.”

“It’s not just history, Peter.” Tony keeps saying his name and Peter hates how it’s grounding him to the conversation, stopping his swirling to-do lists in their place to hear Tony’s words. “It’s history and it’s chemistry and it’s calculus and it’s gym and your football coach says-”

“I can fix it!” Peter pleads, voice trembling. “I just need to try harder, I just need to put more effort in, I just- I just need to do more.”

Peter’s starting to feel claustrophobic in the hallway, images of Toomes and dust and darkness seeping into his eyesight.

“There’s nothing more you can give,” Tony says, gentle despite tearing down Peter’s world with just his words. “There’s not enough time in the world.”

“Fuck you,” Peter spits, he takes another step back. He points a shaking finger at Tony. “Fuck you. And fuck Ned for telling you. And fuck Coach for thinking I’m not good enough. And fuck MJ for switching me to an alternate. And fuck Miss Christie for not giving me a chance. And- and fuck Oscorp for making that fucking spider and putting these responsibilities on me. And fuck for parents for putting this pressure on me. And- And-”

“Kid.” And he sounds so genuine and pained and soft. And Peter fucking hates him.

“This, all of this, is your fucking fault. Yours, and May’s, and my parents, and Pepper’s, and Ben’s, and Ned’s. It’s on you.”

Tony, for his credit, just sighs softly and nods. “I know what it’s like to be under that kind of pressure. To have people make it seem like their future for you is the only one that matters, that you have these insane expectations to live up to and what you do will never be enough. But, kid, we’re all proud of you already. You don’t have to go to MIT for us to be proud. I can’t speak for your parents or for your uncle, but me and May and Pepper, we’d be proud if you went to community college. Hell, we’d be proud if you didn’t go to college at all. You don’t need MIT to have our approval, Peter. And we certainly don’t want you to kill yourself trying to get there.”

Peter shakes his head, tears beginning to curl down his cheeks, no doubt bright red already. “What about your future? I’ve heard you talk about it. You and Pepper and that- a kid, a kid who’s actually yours, retiring, giving up Iron Man and Stark Industries. You can’t do that if I go to a fucking community college.”

“We’ll figure it out. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” he shouts, unable to stop himself, voice wavering. He clenches his teeth so hard that his head starts to pound. “I can’t let everyone down.”

“And I’m not going to lose you, Peter.”

“I can do it!”

“Kid.” He sounds so pained, strained, desperate. “You’re going to go out patrolling on zero sleep, hopped up on too much caffeine, and you’re not going to be able to dodge that bullet. I’m going to get the red alert that you’re hurt and I’m going to be the one to find you bleeding out in some shoddy alley. And I’m not going to be able to save you. I’m going to have to hold you as you die. I’m going to have to show up at May’s door at an unforgivable hour and give her the news. Is that really what you want?”

There are images of that night in his peripherals. The black of the gun, the grey of Ben’s jacket, the red on the pavement, the gold of the police officer’s badge, the red on his hands, the brown of the apartment complex, the red on his jeans, the green of their apartment door, the brown of May’s hair, the red of her eyes, the red on his sweater, the red on his shoes.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“I can do it!” He’s crying, choked back sobs making his whole body tremble. “Why doesn’t anybody think I can do it? I have to- I can’t stop-”

Tony shakes his head again and again. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t have the energy to stand anymore, pressing his back into the wall and sliding down it, knees pulling up to his chest. He curls into himself, as tight as he can, suddenly sobbing loudly into his knees.

“I can’t let everybody down. I can’t stop. I can’t give up,” he chokes out, pushing his hands into his hair and tugging until pain clouds his vision as much as his tears.

“I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, kid,” Tony says. “But I promised myself I wouldn’t let you become me. I swore after-” His voice breaks, guilt rushing into it. “After Toomes, that I wouldn’t make another mistake with you. So I can’t, I can’t let you do this.”

And Peter, he feels so small, so broken, so lost. “Are you going to take the suit?”

“If that’s what it takes to stop you from patrolling on no sleep, then yes, I have to.”

He bites his lip to stop the noise of despair from escaping him, metallic blood filling his mouth. He grabs his backpack from where he left it when all this started and throws it at Tony, too much superstrength behind his throw when it hits Tony in the chest with a solid noise.

“I wouldn’t have to if you dropped those extra-curriculars, Peter, or let me help with homework, or stopped tutoring or something. If I thought you could still be safe out there.” And he does sound genuinely guilty.

“Leave me alone.” He means to say it angrily, means to shout it from deep in his lungs, means to make it hurt, means to throw it like a dagger, but it just comes out small, weak, childish.

“Kid-”

“Please,” he says, looking up from his knees to meet Tony’s empathy with red eyes and wet eyelashes and a hoarse voice, to meet him with emptiness. “Leave me alone.”

Tony swallows loud enough for Peter to hear even through the rushing in his ears and then nods slowly. “Okay, kid. You know where to find me. And just so you know, I’m not doing this to be malicious. Everything I do is for you.”

“Go away.”

And he’s left alone. MJ, Ned, and now Tony. Gone.

He cries until he has nothing left to give. And then he curls up on the hardwood floor and cries some more.

When he wakes, there’s a blanket covering his body and a pillow underneath his head in the hallway, and a glass of water sits nearby. His head throbs something wicked and his back aches, but it’s probably the most sleep he’s gotten all week.

He drinks some water and then slowly rises to his feet, joints cracking at every move. He keeps the blanket tucked around his shoulders, hanging off him like a cape, and shuffles towards the kitchen.

See, he knows he’s in the wrong. He’s known since before MJ confronted him that what he was doing to himself was fucked up. He knows that this isn’t good or healthy or right, that he’s pushing everyone away like he wants to be killed and forgotten. He knows that Tony had every right to be pissed after yesterday. He knows that he hurt his friends and his family. He just doesn’t know how to stop anymore, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and he feels small, he wants his mom to run her fingers through his hair and tell him everything will be okay.

Instead, he puts on a pot of coffee.

He makes two cups, too much sugar in one and just a little milk in the other, and takes them down to the lab.

He hesitates just outside the glass doors. He knows Tony didn’t sleep last night. He knows Tony has every right to hate him. He knows Tony probably broke down the second he left Peter alone. He knows Tony probably had footage of him sleeping open all night. And Peter doesn’t know if he can fix this.

Tony looks up like he knows Peter’s there. His eyes are red-rimmed, a little wild from caffeine consumption, and his hair sticks up in every direction like he ran his hand through it a hundred times.

Peter walks into the lab cautiously, slowly, like he’s the one approaching a feral animal this time. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all, he just sets the coffee down in front of Tony and then backs off a few feet.

They stare at each other for a few moments.

“Hey, kid,” Tony finally says, looking like he might cry at any moment, Peter feels the same, on the edge of a precipice.

Peter’s hands are shaking so badly that his coffee is spilling. He sets it down on the lab bench, knowing it’ll make a ring and guilt rising just a little higher.

“Hi,” he squeaks, swallowing again and again. He doesn’t let himself clench his hands into fists, just lets them shake.

Tony takes a long sip of coffee, Peter watches every movement he makes like he’s scared Tony will lash out at him, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop and it could happen at any second.

“Kid,” Tony says again. But he doesn’t follow it up with any words of wisdom.

The apologies ball up in his throat, getting stuck, and his breathing starts to struggle around them.

Tony’s expression softens, shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s okay.”

And Peter’s the one to start shaking his head fervently now. “It’s not okay.”

“It’s okay,” Tony repeats gently, always so gentle like Peter’s made of fucking glass. “It’s going to be okay, kid.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Peter feels panicked, trapped, scared. He feels like he’s dying. Like the past weeks of pushing himself beyond what he’s capable of have finally caught up to him. All the caffeine, the sleepless nights, the stress, the fights, the anger, the nightmares, the headaches, the visions, the pressure, it all just caves in at once.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“I don’t want to die,” Peter chokes out. Because Tony was right, if he continued like this, he was going to die before he was able to make it to MIT, no ifs ands or buts. He would die. Even without the suit, he would die.

And he didn’t think it would bother him so much, the idea of dying, but with the work he’s put towards his future, is also the dreams of what could be. That future he’s planned for himself could be so exciting, so fulfilling, if he made it there.

“It’s going to be okay, bud. We’re going to figure it out.”

Peter doesn’t cry, he doesn’t think he has a single tear left in him, but his shoulders wrack with pain regardless. He reaches out for Tony with what strength he has when the whole world is caving in on him. And Tony moves quickly, standing and coming around the bench, wrapping Peter up in his arms, taking the weight of the world off his shoulders, burdening some of the pressure with him.

“I can’t give up,” Peter says, words muffled in Tony’s sweater.

“You don’t have to give up, buddy, but we have to make some changes.”

“I need MIT. I need Boston. I need scholarships. I need the grades and the extra-curriculars and the money, I need Spider-Man. How- How?”

Tony holds him up when his knees threaten to give out, cradles the back of his neck, a good pressure that alleviates a little bit of the pressure behind his eyes. “MJ told me how you feel. That what Spider-Man has doesn’t belong to you. That I, what we have, belongs to Spider-Man and not you, but you’re my kid, Peter Parker is, not Spider-Man.”

“We wouldn’t have met without the spider. We wouldn’t know each other. I wouldn’t have this internship, I wouldn’t have a spot in your life. Even if you like me for me and not my alter-ego, it still is because of him.”

“Even so, I wouldn’t have kept you around if I didn’t like you, kiddo. I wouldn’t have offered an internship, I wouldn’t have bought back this tower to stay nearby, I wouldn’t have wine nights with your aunt, I wouldn’t have movie nights with you, I wouldn’t go to your decathlon meets, I wouldn’t be handing over my company, I wouldn’t be planning out a room for you in my cabin, if it weren’t for you.”

“You are?”

“You’re my kid, Peter.”

“So it wouldn’t be wrong for me to use the internship on my application,” Peter says quietly, less of a question. “It wouldn’t be wrong for you to write me a letter of recommendation.”

“I have one written already. Had it written since you were fifteen.”

Peter breathes in the smell of metal and day-old cologne and coffee, and finally feels like his lungs accept the oxygen for the first time in what feels like forever. Tony will make it all okay.

“Hey… I’m sorry for what happened the other day,” he says, listening to the tinny sound of silence as he leaves a message on MJ’s phone. “I really am. I know you were just trying to help, I was just too far gone to accept it. I’m- I’m going to stop, relax, slow down. You were right, of course you were. I don’t know a time when you weren’t right. I’m dropping football and robotics and tutoring. I can’t do it all and Spider-Man. I’m taking a couple days off, a ‘mental health long weekend’ Tony’s calling it. If you… Maybe you’d think about coming by? I know you have no reason to forgive me, but- I just- I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. And thank you. Thank you for trying to help me, thank you for being a friend, thank you for putting up with me these past months, thank you for telling Mister Stark, thank you for everything. Alright, well… bye, MJ.”

May comes by that night. She cries when Tony tells her how bad it got, how little sleep Peter was getting, how much he was pushing himself. She cries and gathers Peter up in her arms like he’s still five-years-old.

“Peter, baby,” she says into his hair. And that’s all it takes for him to cry too. And she keeps saying it, “Peter, baby, I should’ve known, I should’ve seen it. I’ve been working too much and I…”

“I just wanted to make Ben proud,” he cries into her scrubs.

“Ben would be so proud of you, baby, so goddamn proud. You don’t need to do anything more than be you for him to be proud. I’m so sorry we ever made you think otherwise. He loved you so much and he just saw so much potential in you, we all do, that’s why- We never wanted to put you under so much pressure, just wanted to make sure you knew you could do anything you set your mind to.”

MJ and Ned come by. They exchange their apologies, even MJ says she’s sorry for being so angry that day.

They spend the day playing video games and talking and eating.

Peter feels like the balance has been restored in the universe.

When he finally applies to MIT as well as plenty of back-up schools, he doesn’t freak out. He thinks that it’ll be okay, whatever happens. If he has to do a lap year, so be it, if he goes to a college in Boston or New York for a year before reapplying, it’ll be okay.

His grades have steadily increased since The Intervention, and his caffeine intake has steadily declined. He hangs out with his friends more regularly, spends time with May, has relaxed nights with Tony instead of cramming them full of studying. He gets back his spot on the Academic Decathlon team and splits his responsibilities as student class president with his vice president.

Tony pats him on the shoulder and presses a kiss to his forehead when he hits the final submit button on his final application. He murmurs a quiet admission of pride into Peter’s hair.

Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.

MJ gets early acceptance to Harvard. Peter’s never seen her smile that wide before.

Ned gets accepted to MIT a few weeks later. He brings the letter to Peter’s apartment and says that they should wait until Peter gets his, but Peter shakes his head and tells him to open it now. Ned’s hands shake badly as he opens the letter. There’s a long moment of silence as Ned reads and Peter waits.

And then, “I got accepted.”

Ned doesn’t sound as happy as he should, sounds nervous even as he looks up at Peter.

“Dude!” Peter exclaims, jumping up from his seat. He grabs the letter from Ned’s hands and reads the congratulations. He throws his arms around Ned. “Holy shit!”

Ned hugs him tight but when they pull away, he still looks small. “You’re not… upset? I mean, if you don’t get it, I can wait to start, defer until next year-”

“Are you kidding?” Peter says, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “I’m so proud of you, dude. I’m so excited for you. You deserve it, man.”

And Ned finally smiles. “I can’t believe it.”

Peter pulls him into another hug.

Peter doesn’t hear anything for weeks.

There are a few nights where his anxiety gets the best of him. Sometimes, he heads over to Tony’s lab, knowing he’ll be up even at the odd hours. Sometimes, he swings over to MJ’s, lands on her fire escape and taps on her window. She’s always there to soothe his worries. She doesn’t have a doubt in her mind that he’ll get accepted, neither does May or Tony or Ned. But, worse case scenario, it’ll all work out. Nobody’s going to be upset or mad if he doesn’t go to MIT in the fall.

And then he gets it.

He’s studying at the dining room table with Ned and MJ, preparing for midterms in March, when May comes home from work with the mail. And sitting among them is the letter he was waiting for.

MIT.

“You ready?” MJ asks. She puts her hand over his on the letter.

“No matter what it says, it’ll be okay,” Ned reminds him. “No matter what.”

Tears burn his eyes all of a sudden. He puts the letter down on the table, unopened, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. They have a future planned out, the three of them. An apartment in Boston, road trips together back to New York whenever they can, MJ wants to get a cat. May’s had her two-week notice letter ready on the coffee table. Tony’s already started blueprints for that cabin he’ll build. He knows he keeps saying everything will be okay if he doesn’t get in, but…

“It will be,” MJ says like she knows what he was thinking. “You can still come to Boston with us if you don’t get in. Your future doesn’t rest on what this letter says.”

Peter believes her, that it’ll be okay, but slides the letter to her, silently asking her to do the honors, he can’t do it himself.

She nods and picks it up. She gives him one last reassuring smile before opening the envelope.

“Dear Peter Parker,” MJ reads.

#irondad #peter parker #may parker #aunt may #michelle jones #ned leeds #spider man #tony stark #iron man #lyss writes

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pricelessemotion · 5 months

Note

and when i say i need the insider info for all of these…

i’m jk but i wud love to hear abt ‘and your ex was their ROOMMATE’ ++ the one you’re most excited (to write or daydream HWJEUAHJSHA) about

WIP GAME

PLS 🫣🤭 you know you are ALWAYS welcome to all the insider info <3

'and your ex was their roommate' is a fic ive been writing on and off since june 😭. i actually opened the doc up again recently and was taken aback bc it’s semi-autobiographical 💀 BUT NOT RLLY!! but anyways it’s an eddie munson x reader fic. basically it’s a modern au and takes place in san francisco. eddie and reader had a bit of a situationship that didnt end well. reader is besties w steve and robin and shes helping them move into their new apartment and Gasp!! their third roommate is Eddie!!!! he's kind of an asshole in this one unfortunately,,, but im hoping that somehow I can redeem him LMFAO.

He begins strumming, lightly. Not enough to make actual noise, but just enough to create a lulling white noise that calms you. The chords sound familiar. “I never gave you permission to play my guitar.” “Just shut up and go to sleep.” The question pounds your head, or that might just be the sickness. Still, the loopy feeling the cough syrup gave you is enough to loosen your chapped lips. “Why are you being so nice to me?” The question comes out murmured and far more vulnerable than you would’ve liked. Your eyes are closed, so you can’t gauge Eddie’s reaction. No doubt, he’s coming up with a snarky remark.

the one im most excited about is ‘labyrinth’!! it's a javy machado x reader fic and it's a big departure frm ANYTHING i've ever written before. the reader is jake's widow and her and javy help each other navigate their grief n then they fall in loveee. it's angsty and filled with guilt and hope and it's been so fun to write so far.

You’ve missed this, you realize. There are a lot of things that you miss about Jake, specifically. But this: the simple act of being close to someone. The simple choice to be there for someone else to lean on. Joy and guilt are like lightning and thunder. When one comes the other will soon follow. You think about this from the outside looking in. Javy coming home, kissing your cheek, telling you about his day. Him cooking dinner while you do laundry. You doing the dishes while he does the crossword. The two of you, lying down on the couch after a long day and watching television together. The scene is exceedingly domestic in a way that makes your cheeks tingle and your chest ache. Your left thumb instinctually goes to caress the base of your ring finger, only to come up empty. Your heart drops to your stomach. Then, you remember. You always take off your rings when doing the dishes. It was best practice, to make sure that the delicate gems wouldn’t get unnecessarily tarnished. You’d never once forgotten to put them back on, though. You linger on the absence of the rings and the presence of the man sleeping soundly right beside you. Joy and guilt. Lightning and thunder.

#sunlitide #this became so LONG JFC #can u tell that i love angst sm and it's my fave thing to write and read #wip game #eddie munson x reader #javy machado x reader #mimi’s mail 💌

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missimbalance · 7 months

Note

corkscrew for the ask game pls

Corkscrew is: favorite folktale. Which is both the most fun and the hardest to answer. There are just so many great ones from all parts of the World. So, thank you for the opportunity to let out some of my love.

One of my favorite sub-genres is: someone is trying to accomplish something on the shortest night of the year.

* I've seen several rocks with origin story like: an evil magician/witch/lesser devil tries to destroy a town where people are just too good and too happy. So, on the first night of summer they try to drop this huge rock on this town, for the good folk to either perish or at least be not as happy anymore. But, since the night is too short, the magic fades away too soon, dropping the rock right on top of our villain, crushing them to death if they were mortal.

* My favorite one with a treasure only accessible on the first night of summer: there is a cave under a waterfall, thet you can only enter on one night, and only on hot summers. There, if you're brave enough to pass through numerous monsters and spooks with not a trace of fear in your heart, you will reach the innermost chamber, where a princess sleeps a magical sleep surrounded by all her treasure. There was but one man brave enough to pass through the labyrinth of caves and tunnels not even flinching at monsters growling at him or wights tugging at his clothes. He reached the princess, more beautiful than the tales he heard, sleeping soundly. At last he found a thorn of a poisonous plant in her foot and yanked it out--at which her eyes finally opened and filled with tears of pain. And this man, the bravest one ever, with no fear in his heart, startled at the sound of her cry. Which was enough for the monsters lurking in the dark to sense his fear and devour him. That year, once again, the river turned red from the blood of another brave young man.

But then, I've been researching more interesting pieces of werewolf lore lately, and I just can't not mention any of that.

* There's a story of a cursed wedding: all the guests as well as the young couple disappeared suddenly in the middle of the feast, no trace left of anyone. However, since that night a pack of wolves started roaming around the area. When some locals hunted one of them, it turned out that there are wedding clothes hidden under the wolf's pelt. They all got cursed by a neighbor who wasn't invited to the wedding and got mad about it.

* There's also one that is more literature than folklore, but it shaped my whole idea of what a werewolf story should be, so here it goes: a young man goes to war, leaving his fiancee behind, though she begged him not to leave before marrying her. He eased her worries though and promised to come back in a year. Year had passed with no sign from him, so the girl went to a witch, to ask if she had any means of seeing 'her lost brother'. "He's no brother to you, but a lover," the witch says, "and I can see him safe and healthy, with a lovely new wife".

The girl goes to see it all with her own eyes, and, exactly as the witch told her: a nice home, a lovely wife, and her unfaithful lover, who of course refuses to explain anything and pretends not to know her. So, in justified anger, she returns to the witch asking for a way to panish the asshole, and receives a talisman to hang around his neck. The moment she puts it on him, he turns into a wolf, kills his wife as well as his former fiancee, and in the end also finds and kills the witch.

I read it when I was 10 and it still lives rent-free in my mind.

I could open yet another door by explaining how Persian story of 'Amu Nouruz is connected to Bulgarian martenitsa, but I'll leave that for the first day of spring.

If you're still here, thanks for reading!

#anon ask #ask game #folklore #folk tales

0 notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

I fucking love mlb!harry and ceo!harry

Ur so talented

Erm i had an idea (pls feel free to ignore, i know u hv a busy schedule and life outside of tumblr) but what if mlb!harry played badly in a game (or less than how he expected he wld perform) and y/n makes him feel better

Ceo!harry loses an important deal and y/n makes him feel better

CRAMP

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warnings: smut; 18 +

YN knew it wasn’t going to be a fun time when Harry came home that night.

All four babies were fast asleep in their respective rooms and she was lounging on the couch, some cooking show on after she watched her husband play a rough game on ESPN.

He got hit with a fastball to his calf during the second inning and after that, his performance went downhill and he couldn’t get back on track.

He threw three homeruns and only made a few mediocre hits, trying to ignore the shooting pain in his lower leg.

In a typical Harry move, he refused to do the end of game handshakes with the opposing team and stormed off the field.

An interviewer chasing after him to ask him a question and Harry give her a dirty look before muttering, “Get away from me. I’m not answerin’ any questions,” before he disappears down the stairs.

YN knew just the thing that will cheer him up.

Harry trecks into the house with heavy feet and tense shoulders, his eyes are tired and frustrated as he drops his duffle on the ground carelessly.

“Hi,” YN murmurs when he steps into the living room, she was all curled up in a fluffy blanket with a surprise underneath.

“Hi,” He says back blandly, the frown unmoving from his face - almost like a pouty little kid.

“Can you come rub m’back?” She asks, feeling herself dampen a little bit with the excitement of what’s to come.

Harry scoffs, obviously in a sour mood, “I just finished a game, walked in the door, and tha’s the first thing I get is a demand?”

“Okay? And I just dealt with all four of your babies all day today. Ezra refused to be put down for more than five minutes straight,” She tries to bite down the smile, she shouldn’t find it funny when her husband’s bent out of shape.

That makes him melt a bit though, voice soften minutely, “Were the babies good today?”

“I’ll tell you about it after you rub my back.”

Harry grumbles, kicking off his trainers with a irritated edge, and heavy-footed as he makes his way to the couch.

“Take off the blanket and move on y’belly then,” He mutters, eyes boring into hers without reflecting the amusement that she has - if he was in a better mood he would have helped her along.

When she slips off the blanket and quickly moves on her stomach, burying her face in her arms when she hears him sucks in a breath.

“Wha’ are y’naked?” Harry demands, obviously trying to stay irritated because he deserved it for having such a shitty game.

YN makes sure her voice sounds airy and coy, “Just got hot is all.”

“S’fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” He rebukes but sits on the side of the couch with only a little room on the edge - his large hand coming to massage at her back muscles.

“Mmm,” She agrees noncommittally, feeling Harry’s hand wander curiously, further down her back to the lower curve before her bum.

“Y’trying to cheer m’up with sex,” Harry accuses, bent out of shape because he just wants to sulk in his poor performance but also he has the most beautiful woman in the world in front of him - bare and wet for him.

“I didn’t offer sex,” YN smirks, her husband falls into her to tricks every fucking time, no matter how much of bad mood he’s in.

Harry’s voice gets lower, more dangerous and gravely, “No? Just flashin’ y’ass at me for fun now? Decided for absolutely no reason to be waiting for m’to come home naked?”

“No reason at all,” She agrees, excitement building when his gentle massage turns rougher, hands kneading a little deeper into her muscles.

He shakes his head, eyes glued onto her backside where her cheeks are round and hiding what he really wants to see, “So if I dip m’fingers down between y’pretty thighs, your cunt won’t be soaking f’me?”

Harry’s skin prickles when his wife lets out a feathery, delicate moan at his words, he’s desperately trying to hold onto all of his negative feelings but he’s struggling because of the beauty that’s squirmy underneath him.

“Dry as the Sahara.”

It makes Harry finally break a little, letting out a belly laugh, and smacking her bum hard enough to make her squeak in delight.

His fingers travel down between her puffy folds, slipping into the heavenly heat of her where she is soaking his fingers.

In a filthy move, he pulls them back up and rubs them on his wife’s lips, “If y’not wet than what’s on y’lips, darlin’?”

Harry’s cock twitches when she lets out a quiet whine, pink tongue tracing her bottom lip before she laps at her husband’s thick fingers.

“Fuck,” He grunts, pressing down on her tongue,“Y’gonna let m’hit it from behind?”

When she can speak, she shakes her head, “No, want it on m’back.”

“Spoiled thing,” He murmurs, giving her one more smack before helping her flip back over, “Supposed t’be all about me, not you.”

YN’s eyes are sparkling, hand coming to tug lightly at his locks and pull him down into a kiss, her other hand wriggling his shorts down.

“All I had to do was take m’clothes off, didn’t even have to ask for it,” She giggles sweetly, teasingly, “Doesn’t matter what mood you’re in, always want to give it to me.”

“Best I’ve ever had, mama,” Harry replies against her lips, mumbled a bit as she grips him and leads him right to where she needs him most.

“Only one you ever had, only one you ever will have,” YN remarks confidently before throwing her head back when he bottoms out.

“Y’so fuckin’ hot when you’re possessive. You already know y’own me, darling. I bought you this big ole’ house, got four of m’babies sleepin’ upstairs, and got y’under me every night. I’m fucking yours. I have been since we met.”

“Harder, H,” She demands, nails digging into his strong shoulders as he fucks into her at a steady pace.

“Be quiet, let m’do it how I want,” He chides, keeping a slow but hard rhythm as he ducks down the suck at the hard peaks of her breasts before grazing them with his teeth.

“Do it how I want,” YN moans with an arrogant tone, it just drops with how confident she is that her husband is whipped for her. (He is).

But he’s already in a less than great mood so it has him flipping her, putting her onto all four as he wants, and slamming back in.

“We’re gonna do it ‘ow I want it,” He grunts in her ear, his hand gripping her cheek roughly enough to dimple and his other wrapping in her messy hair, “Y’absolutely soakin’ me, pet.”

“Oooh, fuck!” YN hisses but it doesn’t sound like a normal moan from her - Harry knows every sound his wife is able to make.

“Mama? Y’alright?” Harry checks, slowing down but not completely losing momentum as he loosens his grip on her hair.

“Cramp, I’m cramping. Want it on m’back,” YN whines, trying to shake out her leg and Harry obliges, helping her back down to their original position.

Again, Harry isn’t stupid.

As soon as she is back where she’s moaning lowly and with an airy hitch as she goes to pinch at one of her nipples.

“Y’such a spoiled brat,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’didnt have a leg cramp, y’just wanted to be a pillow princess.”

“Lies,” YN giggles, eyes bright and happy as she peers up at her husband who is looking down a her like she hung the fucking moon and stars.

No one would ever be able to convince him that she didn’t.

“M’the one who had the shit day. I’ve just spoiled you so fuckin’ rotten tha’ y’just a desperate slut,” He laughs meanly but it sends a full body zip of electricity through his wife and he knows it.

“Harry,” She chokes out, gripping his biceps hard.

“Hands to yourself,” He snaps, taking her hands and pinning them above her head with just one of his hands.

The other comes down and lands a smack right on her puffy folds, once..twice…three times before YN is coming on him.

“Easy f’me,” Harry hums with satisfaction, leaning down to kiss her moans quiet as he fucks in hard a handful on times before he’s filling her up, “There y’go, hm? Marking y’up as mine, all full of me.”

“Yeah, baby,” YN agrees dazed, dated as he comes to a halt as he softens and pulls out - wiping her down with his shirt as she whines, “Sensitive.”

“M’sorry, mama,” Her husband apologizes, trying to be careful around her nerves.

After, they lay on the couch - talking about their day until Briar’s monitor lights up from the side table with high pitched cries.

“Mama, mama, daddy,” The thirteen month old sobs as she sits up in her crib - unable to find her binky in the dark.

“I’ll go get the bub,” Harry offers, sitting up and tugging his briefs and shorts back on.

“Okay, she missed you a lot today. I’m going to go shower.”

When Harry steps into the room, Briar is looking expectantly at the door and her eyes widen when she spots her father.

“Daddy, dadada,” She babbles happily, standing up to clutch the railing of her crib with anticipation.

“Oh, there’s m’lil mama. Hi darling,” Harry coos softly, gathering her up into his arms and taking a step over to the rocking chair.

He pops her pacifier back between her lips and she looks up at him with heavy-lids, it doesn’t take long before her blinks get longer until her eyes shut close.

Harry doesn’t know what he did to deserve such an amazing life but he was sure fucking grateful.

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angelamajiki · 3 years

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PARINGS: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

CW: yandere, stalking, rape/noncon, pain kink, pain play, mild scent kink, home invasion, gags, restraints, virginity kink, scumbag aizawa, pet play, humiliation, cum stuffing, fingerings, snowballing, voice kink

SYNOPSIS: You have been calling the same phone sex operator for months, creating stalker and CNC fantasies. What happens when he rings true to his words?

AN: this is very dark, be warned! just had to make a fic out of the little idea I had <3

It’s always you who requests him. He can tell you're a virgin, the way your voice wavers when you feel like responding to him. Sometimes you don’t, letting your breathy moans do the talking for you.

“Good little girl.”

“Getting off to a phone call from your stalker? What a whore.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

”Do you like that, pretty little kitty?”

He never had a knack for giving nicknames, but he had to make it known that he remembers you. Remembers that voice. Hopefully, he’ll be able to remember your body one day.

Tracking you down was easy enough; you didn't bother to block your number and public records was just calling his name. God did he love untouched girls like yourself. So wet and pliant, so easily manipulated, so naive to believe everyone had good intentions.

Cameras were placed around your house so he could watch you when he couldn't hear you. If it was a stalker you wanted, he was going to give it to you.

You called often and asked for him always—such an obedient girl. The live feed from your bedroom streamed in front of him whenever you rang, but he was tired of playing games this week.

“Just look at the way you’re kneading yourself; you like to tease yourself. Don't you, kitty?”

Your breath hitched, but he knew it wasn't from pleasure. Looking around, he chuckled at your confused expression.

“You got a real cute face, you know that kitty? I can't wait to fuck it one day.”

Be rational, you told yourself. Its all part of the fantasy, right? He can’t actually see you.

“That’s a cute bed spread you got there, I didn’t take you for the type who liked lilies. You always keep roses in your kitchen vase.”

Okay, he was definitely listening to you now.

“Say, you live on 14th Street, don't you? Why don't I come down and give you an in person session?”

“What do you say, kitty? Or should I just break in like I always tell you I would?”

The phone hung up after that comment. Sure, you were up to the fantasy of being stalked and raped; that’s why you called him. It was too embarrassing to tell a partner your fantasies, not like you had one. Or roommates for that matter.

His voice is what soothed you after a hard day, but now it kept ringing in your ears. Listening to his breathy chuckles sent shivers down your spine, but you never expected to feel them there.

Three raps came from your bedroom door before it opened. You were buried in your sheets, hopelessly, desperately attempting to be asleep. Like that would stop him.

“I know you're awake.”

An “ah” of realization came from him.

“Unless you sleeping peacefully is part of the fantasy. This is new, but I can indulge you in that kitty.”

The bed dipped and creaked with his weight, fear sinking into your heart further as a hand smoothed itself over your shoulders.

“So tense.” He tutted. “I’ve got something that can help you relax.”

His tongue lapped at the outer shell of your ear; arm slung over your blanketed body.

“Such a naughty girl. Tell me, how many times did you get off to the sound of my voice telling you I was going to take your virginity by force.”

A hand snaked its way up to your throat, squeezing gently enough not to cause pain but enough to cut off part of your air.

“Tell me you want me to rape you, here and now. Or I’ll take you out to the alley and make a display of it.”

His voice barely reached above of a whisper the entire time, the same soft sound he used over the phone. Hot breaths tickled your ear and neck as you squirmed, gasping at straws for air.

“I promise to be gentle; I know you like a tender man who takes what he wants.”

Your throat restricted even more under the hand to the point where you felt light-headed.

“Please!” You gasped, using your nails to scratch at his wrapped fingers. The pressure withdrew.

“Please what, kitty? C’mon, you can do it.”

“P-Please rape me.”

A sharp laugh came from behind you.

“Is that any way to address me? I thought we were using special nicknames here.”

He let you have your moment, apparently amused to see you choke for air as he stroked your back.

“Please rape me...sir.”

“Atta girl.”

The hand made its way back to your throat, only resting there as the thumb stroked over your tender flesh. The other one snuck under the blanket and groped at your chest.

“You're a virgin, aren't you, kitty? Don't worry; your owner is going to talk you through it. Nice and slow so you feel everything I'm giving you.”

Fingers wiggled their way under your bra and began pinching at your nipples, tugging and pulling at the hardening nubs.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you up. You'll get your treat soon enough, kitty.”

You yelped after a particularly rough tug, tears springing in your eyes. His one hand managed to rip your bra apart, giving better access to his perverted fingers.

“I know you like it, the way I knead your pretty little breasts. Come, take your clothes off. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Everything came off before he instructed you to stand at the edge of the bed for him. He circled you like a predator, making inspections.

“I have to make sure my kitty is well-groomed and taking care of herself.”

The weight of his hot breath on your skin weighed down on you, pulling you further under his spell. He lifted your arms and smelled your scent.

“Lavender deodorant? What a shame; I wished I could have smelled your natural musk.”

Humiliation flushed your face hot. Disgusting pervert, it seemed he was into everything as long as it wasn't consensual.

“Sit down on the bed, legs spread.”

The baritone of his voice shook you to your core, but not in the pleasurable way you're used to.

“Don't make me ask twice, pet.”

His command was hard to ignore after following them for such a long time; it was practically instinctual to do as you were told. Shaking legs spread as you turned your head to the side. Another tut rolled off his tongue as he gripped your cheeks with one hand.

“Don't turn away from me. I want to see the look in yours when I take you and make you mine.”

You hadn't even realized before that he had brought a bag with him. From it, he took a bar spreader, rope, and a spider gag, all of which he put on you. The gag made your mouth uncomfortably wide, leaving nothing to his imagination.

Rough fingers pull you tongue from your mouth, his own coming down to lick at before spitting down the back of your throat.

“Swallow.”

You did.

“Good kitty.”

The name didn't comfort you anymore. Nothing about him comforted you anymore. Not his voice, not his nickname, and certainly not his breath, which you felt like was burning all over your body.

“I’m going to be nice and leave your throat alone today. However, if I give you a treat, you will swallow it. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded, terrified at the notion that he intended to come back after tonight. Crouching down in front of you, he inspected your wet pussy before spitting on it as well. Gingerly moving your lips, he circled your tight hole and stood up.

“That should do.”

Watching him undress himself seemed to make time move slower, knowing that he was about to take your virginity within minutes. His hard cock sprung out from his boxers and hit his happy trail, bobbing slightly against his abs. Not only was this man toned, but he was also huge.

“In we go, kitty.”

Not even taking the courtesy to gather some slick from you, he pushed in, taking his sweet time as he locked eyes with you. He went agonizing slow, grinning as you wailed in pain.

“Hurts, doesn't it? Let's see how painful we can make this.”

You were hardly prepped, only having wetness left behind from your previous phone call. It stung, and it stung bad. Your eyes wept as you looked up at him with a pleading gaze, hoping he would take mercy on you. He did no such thing, pinching your clit between his fingers and rolling it with intense pressure. Moaning, he watched as you convulsed and twitched in pain beneath him.

“Being such a good girl for me, kitty.”

Another glob of spit landed in the back of your throat, making you gasp and choke on your sobs. He loved that you were an ugly, messy crier. It only served to make his dick harder.

Once he bottomed out, he stayed there for a while, letting you feel the fullness of his thick cock.

“The name’s Shouta, by the way. I'm sure you must have been curious.”

He spoke so casually, so calmly. It made you furious how collected he was while you were a whimpering, sniffling mess.

“Don't worry; we’ll have all the time in the world once we’re done to get to know me.”

Goddamn, that voice. That hypnotizing, nauseating voice. It's the reason you're stuck here underneath a fucking phone sex operator that turned out to be your stalker. What a mess.

A tap to the temple pulled you back to the present.

“Keep your focus here, kitty.”

Hips drew back and snapped into you, not letting you take a moment to adjust as he set a brutal speed.

Oh, how you wished you could leave your body, but if anything, your senses were all the more enhanced, taking in every last drop of your surroundings. The sounds of the bed creaking under his pounding, his grunts and breaths, the skin slapping against skin, your own cries of misery. The feeling of his breath, how your once silk sheets now felt like sandpaper across your skin, the metal of your binds, and the burn of your rope. Everything and nothing all at once.

The minutes seemed to draw themselves out into hours as he continued his assault. He, or Shouta, you supposed, wasn't lasting very long. It didn't suit him; he seemed like a man of stamina. Maybe it was because he played out a sick fantasy of his that made him cum in minutes.

Unprotected, he came deep inside you before sliding out, giving your pussy a slap as he made his exit.

“Such a tight little kitty you've got there.”

Fingers at the ready, he stuffed his cum back inside you, toying with your clit all the while. He was quick to make you cum, making you see stars at the intensity of your orgasm.

“Don’t worry; I'll make you cum on my cock next time. I have plenty of games planned for us when I take you home.”

Pulling his fingers out, he pushed them down your throat to clean them before getting up and dressed again. He left you there, tied up and gone without a word.

In reality, he was just getting his car ready for you, but who was he to deny himself the pleasure of seeing your panicked face when he came back?

You were going to make a fine pet for him.

#yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #tw: noncon #tw stalking #yandere x reader #yandere

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Chapter 1: As the Day Turns Into Night

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A dark cantina. A tense friendship. A curious onlooker. A drink.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: T, some suggestive language, drinking, reference to smoking, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Cross-posted on AO3

One Very Good Night Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

You keep a fake smile on your face, brightening it even, as a slew of curses more suited for an underworld crime boss run through your head.

(Of course this is why we’re here. Dammit Jalween and your terrible taste in men.)

The night is cold and dry on Tatooine as you stand in the doorway of The Shipmate. It’s not the seediest cantina on the planet but it’s significantly coarser than the places you normally frequent. The dirt surrounding the entrance is dark from spilled drinks and spilled guts. A sputtering Dug slinks out the door before you enter, waving a hand and smiling in a way that’s too slimy to acknowledge. There’s still time to turn back, pretend you’re getting a call on your communicator, but then it’s a long walk home without something to warm your blood.

You internalize your frustration as best as you can, striding into the dim cantina over to your friend who is now waving with her whole arm. She looks out of place; dark hair looped on top of her head, a heavily reflective top catching the light of the ceiling fixtures, a black skirt rucked up high on her thighs. You wince at the idea of her bare legs on the barstool seat.

She scrambles down from her perch, her heels catching briefly on the bottom rung of the stool as she rushes over to you. You mimic her excited squeal, catching her up in a full-bodied hug. Jalween is the friend that makes you go out, the life of the party, the first to arrive and the last to leave. Most days you appreciate her whirlwind personality, but not as much tonight. Your eyes fall to her companion, now staring at you both with amusement.

He’s a Twi’lek with fine features and iridescent purple skin and the attitude of someone who belongs here. He’s her (incredibly predictable) type: handsome, a little trashy, and easily discarded. You smile at him, all teeth and crinkled eyes as Jalween plows forward with introductions. You completely forget his name before taking a seat next to her. Thankfully his attention drops as soon as you’re obscured by Jalween’s shoulder. Turning to the Gran bartender you order something strong – you’re going to need it for this evening – but wave off spotchka. The taste reminds you of wild nights when you were younger, sick off it with your head swirling between the stars and the sand.

You still feel out of place here, but the light amber drink the bartender presents eases a little tension out of your shoulders. It’s poor quality alcohol but not entirely unpleasant, doing its job with no frills. Between sips you survey the cantina, noting the tables half filled with quiet patrons, the sabacc game going on in the corner furthest from the door. A man is eating something with entirely too many legs and you’re happy that you had your fill of food before leaving work.

“So, what have you been up to?” Jalween asks, sipping on a purple drink. She places it next to several others on the bar. The Twi’lek waves for the bartender to replenish his cup.

(Not their first round then.)

“A few good things. The restaurant finally let me start helping with the dinner service, so I’ve been learning from the cook. He likes my bread-making skills, so he was happy to…” You trail off as the Twi’lek starts running his hand up and down Jalween’s arm and she looks over at him with gooey eyes.

“...to take me in as an apprentice. I’m starting with the stews - hard to mess those up - but then he said he’ll start giving me recipes to learn,” you soldier on, waiting for Jalween’s attention to come back around. The news sparks excitement in your chest; you’d been waiting for a chance to step up. You told Jalween your plans when the last kitchen assistant left.

“Just don’t be as shy as you are sometimes,” she had commented, pulling smoke through a glass tube before blowing it above her head. “That puppy-dog-eye loyalty act won’t pay your bills. As your friend, you can be annoying when you just…wait for shit to happen. Like get a move on.” You had coughed lightly at the smoke drifting down to blanket you, and it made a good excuse for why you blinked back tears.

You hadn’t started the new role yet, that was fast approaching, but you were bursting to share the news with your oldest friend. Even when her ‘advice’ sounds more like harsh criticism, you knew she would be happy for you (right?).

Her flavor of the week is now tracing her jaw with his fingers and nosing along her neck. Her eyes are half-closed as she hums in acknowledgement of your story. A brief frisson flits through your body at the display of affection (jealous?) but that settles into light annoyance.

A headache begins to thump dully behind your eyes as you scan the other side of the oblong bar. Every customer of this establishment looks like they don’t want to be seen, the empty stools between them buffers to confrontation. The lighting is minimal and high up, casting shadows under hoods and collars. Your companion glimmers in the dusk, too bright, not suited to the smoke in the air and the stickiness of the floor. You hadn’t been able to change before coming, the Shipmate too far from work to stop at home, but you feel more suited to the space in your dark pants and brown top with your heavy canvas jacket. It’s less stressful to be part of the furniture of this place, your outfit like armor without any of the actual protection.

Raising your voice in annoyance at how the night is progressing, you begin to ramble.

“Even better news, they’re letting me wrestle in the basement betting ring. I’ve made quite a name for myself. They call me…” you continue, seeing if Jalween is paying any attention. She might not be, but a breeze and a huff of a laugh passes to your right.

(Thank you, thank you, comedic genius, I know.)

You should just decline her invitations. This song and dance is getting old, just like the both of you, and your patience for it is waning. Especially now that you’re not even in a nice bar, hotel lobby, hell even a local watering hole with proper illumination and labeled bottles. You’re in a dirty dank cantina in a weird part of town where you assume most of the clientele have washed blood out of their clothes.

Jalween gives you one or two noncommittal noises as her Twi’lek boy gets handsier, his fingers skating along the skin of her inner thigh. Well, if she’s having fun you might as well too.

“Well, they used to call me ‘the woman’ because I was the only one in the ring, but once I started knocking out men three times my size the Gungan who runs the outfit started calling me ‘litta opadda.’ I told him he could call me anything as long as the credits keep coming.” You place one elbow on the bar and cock your eyebrow, leaning over in a conspiratorial way. Jalween hums at the pause in your story and you have to stifle a snort. It would be more fun if anyone was actually paying attention.

You lean back in your seat and cast your eyes back to the opposite side of the bar. An empty chair is now filled. And its occupant is looking right at you.

(Maybe someone is paying attention.)

Well, you thought they were looking at you, it was hard to tell with the helmet. You meant to continue the ruse, let the story be real for an evening, but the moment your eyes land on this new audience member you freeze up. You consider yourself to have some book smarts - literature is your transport when the furthest you can go is a few towns over - so you have an idea about who was sitting across from you.

(Mandalorian.)

The helmet is a dead giveaway. You’d never set eyes on a real-life tried-and-true Mandalorian, but you know the helmet and armor style from history books. The fall of Mandalor. The mass eradication of its people. The art depicting the mighty Mandalorian standing proud and vengeful. Yeah, definitely rang a hell of a bell.

This one, you believe, is watching you. Or at least has their head inclined in your direction. The broadness of their shoulders and the masculinity of the T-shaped visor made you think they’re male, but you know better to assume. Many fine female warriors wear armor that unsex them and you’ve admired their awe-inspiring figures.

Their body is spread wide across the bar as they lean back on the stool. A thick forearm with orange-tipped gloves rests on the counter, the other hand presumably in their lap as the large bicep disappears from your field of view. The numerous nicks and scratches on the reddish-colored chest plate catches some of the cantina lighting, the metal twinkling. The helmet’s shine is the most impressive, gleaming like a forge and angled into sharp features. They cock it at you like a curious massif as you spin your ridiculous tale, and if you weren’t mistaken when you say ‘litta opadda’ their shoulders shake briefly.

(A laugh?)

You swallow and huff a small laugh yourself at the attention. Their head rocks further to one side and tilts back, lazily watching you react to the unflinching gaze. You want to be the brave warrior that captures a Mandalorian’s attention, but this game is too high stakes. You bake bread and read books until late at night and wish for better things. Your eyes drop to your drink and you hurriedly bring it to your lips to gulp down a burning mouthful.

(too shy too quiet too meek Jal’s right)

“Holy shit, is that…?” Jalween finally says, straightening up and away from the Twi’lek’s sensual touches (not jealous). “Is that a kriffing Mando?” she sputters out, already getting up and out of her stool.

“Jal, wait, um, that’s not the best…” you try to say as she saunters around to the other side of the bar. The Twi’lek doesn’t follow and eyes the Mandalorian like a massiff pup – wanting for dominance but not willing to fight for it.

“Hey Mando! We don’t get many of you around here!” Jalween calls out and you cringe. She’s loud, bolstered by booze, and it makes you want to flee. This isn’t a place where a pretty thing can be carefree.

The Mandalorian doesn’t turn to her yet, waiting until she’s almost up against the stool before slowly rotating the visor. The music and conversation in the bar swallows up what she might be saying, but Jalween’s gestures make it as clear as if you could. Her hands pull at her top and points to the helmet (we match!). She leans over the bar with smouldering eyes and peppers off some quick sentences (what brings you here? Anything dangerous? I’ve only seen Mandos in books) which the Mandalorian seems to answer just as curtly with small tips and turns of the head.

As the conversation runs long the visor turns back to you and tilts forward. You can’t help but have your own silent conversation, mouthing the word ‘sorry’ with an apologetic smile. The Mandalorian shrugs, fingers drumming on the table. Each one looks thick but dexterous, tapping out a quick rhythm. You toss your head at Jalween – need help? The Mandalorian’s shoulders raise again as they shake their head, keeping Jalween entertained with short phrases you still can’t hear.

(Next one will be how big is your blaster? Oh Maker, don’t even think it, she would ask that.)

(Wait, why were YOU thinking that?)

The Twi’lek gets tired of Jalween’s lost attention and scoots his bar stool back, rounding the counter to her. His first steps are full of anger and frustration, but as he closes in he smooths his demeanor into sweet devotion with a hand on her upper arm and his mouth near her ear.

(Red kriffing flag)

You toss back the dregs of your drink. The burn has become a soft ache on your palate and helps chase away the tension headache threatening to make you irritable. The Twi’lek says something to Jalween and she straightens back up, waving goodbye to the Mandalorian who lifts two fingers off of the bar top in response. The helmet turns to the other end of the room, no longer pinning you down.

(would you like that? To be pinned down by him?) You cough suddenly, feeling heat creep up behind your ears.

“I never thought I’d ever talk to a Mando! Did you see that?” Jalween gushes as you put on an impressed smile. All the forced amusement is making your cheeks hurt. She’s still talking loud enough for the whole bar to hear, and you feel the Mandalorian’s gaze slide back on you.

(yeah you would like it)

(quit it)

“Do you want some water?” you ask, putting a hand up to catch the Gran bartender’s attention.

“His voice is soooo deep, it’s like…like…oooh, it was sexy!” she continues, the Twi’lek glowering beside her with a hand on her waist. “And did you see all that armor? He said he was a bounty hunter, isn’t that exciting? I wonder who he’s looking for…or what kind of tools he’s got on him…” She trails off and you laugh awkwardly as the Twi’lek hisses something much quieter in her ear. Jalween’s face goes from excited to devious in seconds. She turns back to you, all sweet and friendly (like always).

“So, we’ve got a quick thing to do then we’ll be right back. Benmar’s gotta meet with someone real fast, nothing crazy, just some work thing to wrap up. Keep drinking, we’ll be back quick enough they’ll think I’m trying for the Kessel run. But if the bartender comes around can you cover our drinks? I’ll get the next round!” Jalween’s face is placating and broadcasts complete honesty, but you know better. This is the end of the night for the three of you. You’re left footing the bill as they go off to do nothing you want to think about.

(kriff, it’s been too long since you’ve been touched)

“Sure, see you soon,” you reply, that practiced smile breaking your face. Your throat constricts just a little bit. You always hope the next time out will be better, that she’ll be kinder, less self-centered. As she’s whisked away by the Twi’lek (two weeks max shelf life) you’re left alone at the bar. Again.

You wait until they’re out of sight, Jalween turning back to blow a kiss, another part of the choreography, before releasing a sigh and rubbing the back of your neck. You don’t want to be here anymore, alone in this bar that you should never have come in, and now you don’t even have an escort back. You didn’t think you’d be noticed (invisible) or that you had anything to fear walking back (undesirable), but gathering the energy to do so felt insurmountable. Too many parts of you were too tight and several others didn’t want to cooperate either (stupid sex-starved brain).

You look across the bar and the Mandalorian’s seat is empty. You don’t know what you expected – the stranger didn’t say a word to you – but you felt even more alone, more wrung out than before. His presence was comforting, someone in on the joke of the night. As much as invisibility suited you, it felt nice to be seen for a moment.

The Gran bartender places another drink in front of you.

“Oh no, sorry, I’m going to settle up,” you say, waving your hands at the proffered drink.

“From the Mando,” he says, nodding to the space behind your left shoulder.

His presence is dark and warm as the Mandalorian scoots the stool next to you over before sitting in it. He needs the extra space; you could tell he was a broad man, but now on the same side of the bar his height and breadth become a wall blocking you from the rest of the clientele (safe, this makes you feel safe). The armor you observed is equally impressive close up and even more battle-worn, proof of his efficiency and lacking any braggadocio. He doesn’t order a drink, just settles on the stool with both arms on the bar top, facing forward.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, turning the drink with your thumb and middle finger. “Sorry again for my friend, she can be…a lot…” you continue, eyes locked on the amber liquid slowly spinning in the glass.

(Why did he get it for you? You should be the one buying him a drink after that fiasco.)

He doesn’t say anything, and all the muscles in your body tense at the silence. You pull your eyes away from the glass and he’s turned his head to look at you. Your throat clenches again; the black T of his helmet makes you feel like he’s watching you (appraising you). It’s a bad idea to be lingering, talking to someone whose life experiences couldn’t have any overlap with yours. Especially talking to one as mysterious and dangerous as this Mandalorian.

“Some friend,” he says simply, barely moving as you feel your arms and legs jitter. Jalween was right, his voice sounds deep but raked through processors and static. You’re too exposed, too seen with this helmet trained on you, your skin tight and itchy. You cough quietly and turn your head back to your glass, forcing a smile that feels wistful but could just be interpreted as small.

“Old friends are not always good friends,” you reply, lifting the glass in an attempt to calm your nerves. “Nothing for you?” The Mandalorian shakes his head and turns back to watch the room.

(Maybe he actually is a bounty hunter? Working?) You muse over the drink for a moment.

“Bad luck to drink alone, but worse luck not to toast a gifted drink,” you finally say, letting the person you are when you’re not in Jalween’s shadow peek through. “I can handle drinking alone, but not both. What do Mandalorians normally toast to?”

A pause, then, “To hopeful future prospects, and the memories of lost loved ones.”

(Finally, a sentence fragment from the metal man.)

“To that, and to not getting a space STD from these stools,” you say, which prompts the Mandalorian to snap his head to you in surprise. You crack a smile at him, a real one this time, with some mirth in your eyes. A deep rough chuckle filters through the helmet and he turns to face you.

“The alcohol should kill that,” he says, a tinge of laughter still in his voice. He turns his hand around and taps the back of his vambrance against the glass, a symbolic clinking of drinks. You swallow back a mouthful and feel your body relax.

(If nothing better comes from tonight, I can tell everyone I got a Mando to laugh at a dirty joke.)

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #mandalorian fanfic #prolix fics #i think of you series

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because-of-a-friend · 3 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers!Jeonghan

MASTERLIST

One day I will come up with titles for my works lol.

Hi Hannah!!!! Thanks for requesting! I loved doing this one! I went ahead and went with Jeonghan cuz I feel like he fits this trope best! Sorry you had to wait so long, this particular fic got deleted like... three times so it was a struggle lol. I hope it’s what you were looking for!

I hope this is a good one, I’m realizing I get real insecure about my writing anytime I’m not doing a bulletpoint or reaction fic, so I don’t feel great about this time. Also I only started recently putting actual detail into my kiss scenes and idk how I’m doing with those???? Like do they seem ok??? Also I feel like I make it so obvious that I am such a sucker for SVT having cute nicknames for siblings, friends, partners, etc in fics lol. Anyways...

Also, I really said: Jeonghan... but in different types of lighting

Remember I don’t own the gif! Link to OP is right there if you want to go give the creator some love!!!

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions eating, reader is using female pronouns (I will keep things gn unless you request differently), I think that’s it, pls let me know if I missed any

You’re not sure exactly how it happened. It was probably just an instance of getting off on the wrong foot, that led to more awkward interactions, giving both of you the wrong impression of each other. You knew this, you could rationalize it all. You were well aware that all it would take was one “I think we might have the wrong idea of each other” conversation and it would all be over. You could easily fix it all, but…

But his stupid smug face. The sarcastic jokes. The never-ending pranks that were not as funny as he thought they were. His ridiculous arrogance. His overall unapologetic nature towards all of it.

You couldn’t help but hate Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

“I don’t know, Wonnie…” you say uneasily over the phone. In previous years, you’d go over to the dorm without hesitation. You loved spending time with your brother and many of the other boys. But ever since you had officially met and begun interacting with Jeonghan…

“C’mon, [Y/N]! I bought that new game you were talking about! We can play it together on my gaming system!” Wonwoo began to persuade. You knew you’d give in; you always did. Your brother was far too sweet a person and far too comforting a presence to reject. The question was how long did you want to argue with him about going to the dorm.

You sighed, accepting defeat early to save time, “I’ll head over there in a bit.”

Wonwoo gives a small cry of victory, “Ok, I’ll have Gyu make extra ramen.” Wonwoo abruptly hangs up the phone right after, leaving you in silence to groan in regret of your decision.

You immediately straighten yourself out, though, trying to put yourself in a mindset of determination. What were you thinking? Just because you and that asshole didn’t get along meant you couldn’t go see your own twin brother without feeling uncomfortable? Screw that! If he wanted to keep the peace then he was going to have to start watching where he stepped around you.

*****

You knocked loud and clear on the door of their dorm, knowing that with thirteen people living inside, it was usually too noisy for them to hear someone signal their arrival. To your relief, Seungcheol opened the door just moments after you knocked and greeted you with a warm smile followed by a hand sneaking into your hair to ruffle it, “Hey there, kiddo! How’s it hanging?”

“Just fine,” you tilt your head down slightly in his direction as you pass him to enter the dorm. “How are things here?” As soon as you ask, your ears are met with the noise of someone dropping something in the kitchen, followed by Seungkwan crying in alarm.

“Same as always, I supposed,” Seungcheol sighs, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I think Mingyu and Wonwoo are already in the computer room, if you want to go ahead and see them!”

“Ok, thanks Cheol!” you call as you both rush off in different directions, him towards the kitchen and you towards the small room that would provide you solace from the possibility of having to see Yoon Jeonghan.

You were determined not to let things go how they usually did: you with your mouth clamped shut as Jeonghan spoke whatever teasing words he had saved up for you, and the most you can do to fight back is by rolling your eyes and finding any way to get away from him.

This time, you would still avoid contact with him, but if it happened, you’d speak your mind and not care what he thought, since that’s how he treated you.

But there was no sign of him or anyone else as you walked to the computer room. You could hear Mingyu and Wonwoo yelling and cheering at the game long before you opened the door. It was pitch black inside, the piercing light of the screen making you squint your eyes.

The two men inside both turn immediately to check who offended their dark space with the soft, yellow light from the hallway.

“Oh [Y/N], you came!” Mingyu beams up at you. You nod, matching his bright expression.

“How’s the game?” you ask simply, looking up to your brother.

“We like it so far,” Wonwoo’s smile is wide, he always gets excited about new games, whether they’re good or not. He leans over to grab a can of some sort of energy drink before gulping it down. “We left some ramen for you over there on the table. Eat first, then I’ll let you have a turn.”

You roll your eyes, though Wonwoo was only mere minutes older than you, he found those moments to be enough leverage to order you around and act like you should be dependent on his care. There were times when he even referred to himself as “oppa” to you and insisted that you do the same.

Most of the time you let it slide, especially when you weren’t in the mood to argue. However, there were times when you’d pull out the “We’re the same age,” “Even if you’re older, I’m smarter,” or “Don’t boss me around when I’m more mature than you” cards at the drop of a hat.

“Can you at least turn on the LEDs while I eat?” you ask, tip-toeing in the darkness towards the table at the back end of the room. You hear a click before a soft blue glow fills the room, finally giving you a clear view of your path. You pull the bowl of ramen towards you as you sit and resist the urge to comment on how little they left you. The dorm was filled with food anyways, you could find more later if you got hungry again.

Wonwoo and Mingyu begin to eagerly tell you what they like about the game as you eat. You listen happily, feeling safe in the presence of your brother and friend.

Then of course…

“Hey you two, Cheol wanted me to remind you that we have to get up early tomorrow,” you can’t help the sour expression that comes over your face as Jeonghan enters the room to speak to Wonwoo and Mingyu. “Oh, hey there cutie, I didn’t know you were here!” His smirk makes you sick.

“Don’t call me that,” you say bitterly into the nearly empty bowl.

Wonwoo looks nervously between you and his bandmate, well aware of the dislike you have for him. He’s grateful that you’ve always kept it so civil, but still feels bothered by the unrest between you.

Jeonghan lets out a little giggle in response, and Wonwoo feels a tug in the pit of his stomach, he wishes Jeonghan wouldn’t be so hard on you sometimes. He knows his hyung doesn’t mean anything by it, but you…

You feel your heart sink as Jeonghan steps fully into the room, striding to sit across from you at the table. You can only stare in wonder at his audacity as he slides the bowl towards himself and finishes off the ramen in one bite.

“I was eating that,” you try to keep your tone measured, attempting to keep within the balance of standing up for yourself but not starting any drama that would affect the boys.

“Go make more if you’re hungry, then,” Jeonghan says casually, making your anger positively flare.

You don’t even give your brother the chance to mediate, jumping up from your place and leaving the room, wanting to be anywhere but around that prick.

*****

“You’re leaving already?” Mingyu pouts at you.

“Gyu, I’ve been here for hours,” you laugh, stretching out your fingers as they start to prick from pain of slamming into a keyboard for so long. You had returned to the computer room but only after Jeonghan left. Part of you had wished you had done more to confront him; another part was glad you didn’t start a fight and put Wonwoo in an awkward position. “Besides all of you, as well as me have to get up early tomorrow, it’s already late. I need to get back home.”

“You can stay here,” Wonwoo was quick to offer.

You shook your head at him, “Then I’ll just have to get up even earlier, I’ll go back to my place.” Wonwoo nods almost reluctantly, standing to walk you out.

All of you run into Joshua on your way to the front door, he turns out to be the only one smart enough to ask how you got there.

“Oh, I took the bus,” you say slowly, knowing this is about to cause issues.

“Well, the last one would have already stopped running by now,” Mingyu says looking at the time on his phone.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Josh offers immediately.

You bring your hands up to shake them back and forth, “No, no, I can find a way home, you all need to go to bed.”

“[Y/N],” Wonwoo speaks up immediately in that stern voice you hate but also can’t help but listen to, “let Josh take you home. It’s either that or you stay here, I won’t have you walking around alone at night.” Wonwoo waits a moment to gauge your expression. He finally nods affirmatively, before speaking directly to Joshua, “Take her home, please.”

Joshua nods before walking off to grab his keys. You and Wonwoo send Mingyu off to bed. Once you’re alone, your brother pulls you in for a tight hug. “Do you want me to say something to him?” he asks lowly.

You shake your head, “I don’t want to cause any problems with you guys.” You sit in silence for a moment. “Come and stay over with me sometime, I miss our sleepovers.”

Joshua comes back and Wonwoo pulls away, “Thanks, hyung. Please get her home safe.” For the second time that night, your hair gets ruffled before your brother disappears to go off to bed.

The ride home with Joshua is comfortable. He speaks kindly to you and makes you smile.

You begin to wonder how amongst all these angels, there exists a person like Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

Wonwoo used the new game as leverage to guilt you into coming over quite often in the following weeks. You hadn’t realized how much you had limited your time at the dorm until you started going consistently once more. It was nice being able to spend time with the boys again. You hated that Jeonghan had become such an unbearable presence that it affected your relationship with the rest of your friends.

But ever since you had started to stand your ground and talk back, he had finally begun to avoid you. You supposed it was only fun for him when you sat there and took it.

It didn’t stop the two of you from bickering when you saw each other, but now both of you preferred to avoid each other instead of Jeonghan seeking you out to tease you.

The following weeks of visiting were fairly comfortable. Whenever Jeonghan wasn’t around, you got to spend plenty of time with the other boys and your brother. Plus, the new video game was even better than expected.

Jeonghan’s presence slowly became uncomfortable in a different way.

Instead of being smug and overbearing, he became strangely quiet around you. His facial expressions became more serious as he sent genuine glares your way before letting out bitter remarks and going on his way.

It made you even angrier.

Who the hell was he to torture you all this time and then act like a kicked puppy when you finally fought back???

Your anger and his bitterness slowly escalated the tension between you two. Although they were happening less frequently, the arguments between you became more serious and almost hurtful.

Whatever, you told yourself, he could do as he pleased, you wouldn’t let it affect you anymore.

*****

You stared down at your phone screen. Why? Why did it have to be here, while you were at the dorm?

The call was only five minutes. They didn’t even do it in person. Of course, they had warned that because of hard times, there’d be lay-offs soon. But they couldn’t even do it in person? And all you got was a simple “Sorry, come collect your things on Monday”??? You were a hard worker, passionate about the job, more efficient than most of your coworkers and this is how they treated you???

A part of you could’ve guessed, many of the employees your age had gotten in because of nepotism. But you didn’t want to believe that they’d just brush off all your years of hard work just to avoid stepping on the toes of higher-ups who had relative connections hired at the company.

You squatted against the wall of the hallway, still too in shock to move.

So, you simply sat in silence, for what seemed like forever.

“You good?” you had never felt worse than the exact moment his voice reached your ears.

“Go away,” you said sternly, knowing you’d be crying soon.

“Geez, forgive me for asking,” Jeonghan responds before turning to walk away. He stops abruptly after you sniffle. “So, you’re not ok?”

“No offense, Jeonghan,” you say hating the way your voice is shaking, “but you are the last person I want to speak to right now.”

There’s a heavy silence for a long moment. You silently pray that he’ll just leave. “Do you want me to get your brother?” he asks lightly.

You shake your head, “No, I don’t want to ruin the mood. I’m going to go home, just tell him I had a stomach ache.” You push yourself up and begin to walk briskly towards the door.

To your surprise, Jeonghan reaches out to stop you. You stare at his hand wrapped around your arm and wonder if you’ve ever even allowed him to touch you before. “It’s already late, let me give you a ride.”

You pull his hand off of you, “No, thanks.” You grab your coat and start to dig around in your purse to make sure you have all of your belongings.

“[Y/N],” Jeonghan’s voice rings clear in your head despite your brain feeling fuzzy. You don’t want to look at him. Who is this person that’s showing concern and speaking kindly? You don’t like it. It feels fake. It feels like a predator playing with a wounded prey. You’re just waiting for him to laugh or make a remark or do anything to make you feel worse than you already do.

But Jeonghan simply grabs the keys laying on the front table, grabs your arm once more, and leads you out to the car.

*****

The ride is suffocatingly silent. You wished he’d at least turn on some music to cover up the sound of your crying, but you remained in the quiet. You rolled down your window and stuck your head out, letting the warm night air and sound of wind comfort you. Since you were turned away from him completely, you didn’t see Jeonghan glancing over at you throughout the drive.

You couldn’t have left that car faster when you finally pulled up to your apartment.

To your dismay, Jeonghan also gets out, apparently intent on walking you up.

“You don’t have to-” you start but abruptly stop when he gives you a look telling you an emotion you don’t quite understand.

Jeonghan finally speaks when you’re riding the elevator up to your floor, “I don’t really mean it, you know.”

“Mean what?” you say weakly, starting to feel the exhaustion from crying so much.

“When I talk to you like that… I mean when I’m… rude,” he trails off, running a hand through his hair. “Usually it’s just teasing, but obviously I went too far with you. And I didn’t realize it until you started showing how upsetting it was for you. I should’ve known before that, though.”

“You seemed ruder after I started talking back,” you say, confused.

“I was just being petty and defensive. I kept telling myself things like: It’s her fault, isn’t it? She should have made it more clear from the beginning that it was upsetting her. How was I supposed to know? But that was just me being immature, I should’ve just talked to you.”

“Is that an… apology, Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, letting yourself be a little smug.

For the first time, you get a genuine smile out of him, “Maybe.”

There’s more silence for a second.

“It’s a two-way road, though,” you say finally.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean, I could have also come and talked to you instead of letting things escalate,” you say. “I played some part in all of this… unpleasantness. You can’t entirely blame yourself.”

Jeonghan smiles again, reaching out to ruffle your hair the way Seungcheol always did. Then he takes a dramatic deep breath and rolls his shoulders, “There! That feels better, doesn’t it? We can finally be friends!”

You roll your eyes in a playful manner, but you feel it too, a weight has been lifted.

*****

Wonwoo showed up at your door in the middle of the night that night. You took one look at his frantic face and groaned, “I told Jeonghan I would tell you myself.”

“You should have told me immediately!” your brother pouts as he passes you to walk into your apartment.

“I didn’t want to worry you so late, especially when all of you were having a good time. I was going to tell you tomorrow,” you close the door behind him. You watch as he turns on the TV and starts picking through your pantry. “Hmmm, yes it seems quite clear that you came here out of concern for me,” you can’t help but use a sarcastic tone.

Wonwoo sends a glare your way as he grabs snacks and settles on the couch. You sit next to him, grabbing your fair share of the food. You try to keep your attention on the show, but the feeling of Wonwoo staring straight at you is distracting.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry,” you sigh.

“Really? Because Jeonghan described you as an emotional wreck,” your brother scoffs.

“I was just shocked and upset. I’ll be ok. I have a good resume, I can find a new job,” you insist.

“I keep telling you, you don’t have to work-”

“I don’t care how much you make,” you interrupt. “I’m not going to depend on you. It’ll just make trouble for both of us.”

“Will you at least let me help out if there’s any problems before you find a new job?” Wonwoo kicks at your leg.

“Like I would even tell you if I was having trouble,” you return his kick.

“You just can’t help but be difficult,” your brother complains quietly.

You let the sound of the show take over the room for a few minutes. “I do have good news,” you finally speak up, wanting to give your brother some peace of mind about something. “Me and Jeonghan made up. We figured it out.”

Wonwoo bolts upright with a grin on his face, “Really??? It’s really all good now?”

“100%,” you say, unable to stop yourself from pinching your brother’s cheeks, finding his excited expression cute.

“Let’s celebrate soon then! We can have a big gaming party with all of the boys!” You agree to your brother’s proposal. You feel content in this moment, knowing you’ll wake up in the morning in an uncomfortable position, immediately kick at his legs and tell him to get his stinky feet away from you.

*****

Your time at the dorm increases with the weight of you and Jeonghan’s rivalry being gone. You’re enjoying getting to know him as a friend instead of constantly walking on eggshells around him. Going to visit the boys is once again a happy and comfortable experience.

You hadn’t realized how much Jeonghan had affected you until you two had worked things out. The world felt light again and you could breathe, no longer in constant worry of possibly ruining things between your brother and his bandmates.

You hoped things would remain without complications for a long time.

*****

“Seungkwan, you should come with us!” you begged. “The carnival only comes once a year; you can’t miss it!”

“But it’s so crowded and there are screaming kids everywhere,” Seungkwan complains.

“Oh, whatever,” Soonyoung interjects. “You love it every time we go.”

Seungkwan gives Soonyoung a look that has you laughing through your mouthful of ramen. “Oh, shoot,” you say feeling liquid start to dribble down your chin. “Can I get a napkin?”

“Here’s one,” you hear Jeonghan’s voice as he enters the room. You reach out to grab the napkin as Seungkwan and Soonyoung continue bickering. But instead of handing it to you, Jeonghan extends his hand not holding the napkin towards you. His fingers come to lightly touch your chin and turn you towards him. Jeonghan wipes your face with the napkin himself, taking the time to make sure it’s really all clean. “All better,” he smiles at you, running his thumb across your chin to check its cleanliness one last time.

As Jeonghan walks away, you turn to see if Seungkwan or Soonyoung saw what had happened. They were still arguing, though. The boys showing you physical touch or affection wasn’t really all that uncommon. But for some reason, the way Jeonghan had grabbed your chin just now… Why was your heart beating so hard?

*****

You couldn’t stop yourself from dragging Wonwoo all over the carnival. It was nice to get out in this environment, the lights, the laughter, the food, the games, the rides. You wanted to do everything, but not before you looked at all there was and took in the spectacle.

You could hear all the boys laughing excitedly behind you, you knew they’d want to try everything as well. You shook your head at Seungkwan’s bright expression, you couldn’t wait to play the ‘I told you so’ card later.

The night was a blur. All of you ran from games to rides to snacks and then all over again.

You couldn’t help but stop completely in your tracks as you passed a booth with a giant stuffie of your favorite animal as a prize. Your fascination with the plushie doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You want me to win it for you?” Jeonghan’s voice is suddenly speaking right into your ear. You jump after realizing he was right behind you. You grip your cotton candy a bit tighter and shyly nod. The way Jeonghan grins at you fills you with warmth.

You watch him walk over to the booth. His light hair and pink shirt were illuminated by the soft glow of the surrounding lights. Jeonghan takes his wallet out and hands some bills to the vendor. You step up closer to stand next to him as he plays the game. He laughs as he chats back and forth with the vendor. You watch in awe as Jeonghan clears the game, no problem.

“Anything from the top shelf!” the vendor exclaims happily.

“That one please,” Jeonghan points right at the stuffie you had been staring at.

“It’ll be a wonderful memory for your girlfriend,” the vendor smiles as he hands the prize directly to you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Of course!” Jeonghan interrupts you almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and starting to pull you away from the game. “We’ll cherish it for a long time! Thanks for the game!” The vendor waves kindly as you two walk away. After a moment, Jeonghan pulls his arm off of you, “Sorry, sometimes it’s just easier to agree than explain, you know?” You nod in agreement. “Wait a second,” he stops you by putting his hands on your shoulders and standing in front of you. Before you can ask what’s wrong, his hand comes up towards your face as it had earlier that day. He quickly swipes his thumb across your lips before pulling to back to show you remnants of your cotton candy. “Do you always eat this messily?” he grins and then, to your surprise, puts his thumb in his mouth to clean it off.

You stand there, frozen, unable to really comprehend what just happened as Jeonghan walks away towards the other boys.

“For the second time today?” Soonyoung is suddenly standing next to you.

“So you did see what happened earlier!” you exclaimed, hitting his arm lightly. “It was weird, right?!”

“Can’t tell yet,” Soonyoung replies cocking his head to the side and putting his hands in his pocket. “Sometimes Jeonghan is just sort of naturally flirtatious. But I’m not sure about you. I figured since you two didn’t get along at first, it’d take him awhile to warm up to you at that level. He seemed to get comfortable with you quite quickly.” Soonyoung turns and shrugs at you after his words.

“You’re no help at all,” you say emotionlessly. There’s a pause before both you and Soonyoung slowly look at each other and laugh at your quip.

You decide to brush off your new concerns about Jeonghan and enjoy this night with the boys. The vendor was right, it was a good memory, and you’re sure it’d last you for your whole lifetime.

*****

You hate yourself a bit for it, but you once again seem to be avoiding Jeonghan. He had made you so nervous that day, and the way your heart pounded… You didn’t want to get sucked into having a silly crush on him if he wasn’t actually trying to flirt with you.

No, from now on, interactions with Jeonghan would be friendly but short and appropriate.

You were stupid to think he wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t long before there came a night when Jeonghan insisted that he be the one to give you a ride home. You couldn’t help the way your nerves spiked at his determination to be the one to take you. You knew he most likely wanted to talk to you about your sudden distance from him.

The ride itself was nice, Jeonghan rolled the windows down for you, remembering that you enjoyed the warm night air of summer. You talked comfortably with one another. Jeonghan was always able to make you smile so easily.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. He was just wearing a t-shirt and sweats but… His blonde hair being illuminated in the moonlight as he ran his hands through it and his bright smile as he laughed...

He really was beautiful.

Once again, Jeonghan came with you to walk you to your door. And once again, he finally spoke up in the elevator, “You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart.” Your heart drops to your stomach at the nickname. “Is everything ok? Did I do something to make you mad again?”

You quickly shake your head and pull your hands up to shake them as well, “No! Not at all!”

“You sure?” he insists.

“Yoon Jeonghan, you really don’t think I’d tell you if you did?” you say.

He giggles, “Yeah, that’s true. You’d let me know the moment I messed up, wouldn’t you?” The elevator dings and opens up to your floor. You and Jeonghan step out together. “Is everything else ok, then? You don’t start avoiding people for no reason.”

You nod as casually as possible, “Everything is great.” Your tone isn’t convincing and Jeonghan nudges you. “I guess, I just got… nervous? I mean one moment we were like enemies and then the next we were suddenly really… close, and-”

“I made you uncomfortable?” Jeonghan’s voice is slightly panicked.

“No, you did nothing wrong! It’s all on me, I just got caught up in my emotions and-” you stop abruptly when you realize what you were about to do.

Jeonghan nods quietly as if to say he understands, but what it is he understands, you’re not sure. “Is it ok for us to remain close, or do you want me to back off?”

“I don’t want any more distance between us, but…” you trail off.

“But, what?” he prompts you again.

“I don’t want to get the wrong idea about anything…” you say, finally reaching your door.

Jeonghan watches as you slowly unlock your door and push it open, “You haven’t gotten the wrong idea about anything.” He avoids eye contact when you look up at him.

You’re shocked by his forwardness. But once he voices his thoughts out loud, you once again feel the feeling of a weight being lifted.

Jeonghan gestures for you to step inside, catching your arm once you fully pass him. He pulls you back to him, close enough for him to lean in and leave a quick kiss on your cheek, “Night, babe, I’ll see you later.”

You stand there, completely still, staring at your door that had shut closed in front of you. You can feel heat rise from the tip of your toes all the way up to your ears. You finally let yourself fall into a squatting position, covering your face with your hands, and letting out a squeal.

*****

Jeonghan invites you to meet up outside of the dorm. It’s a cute little coffee shop at a quiet part of the city. You’re already sitting when he walks in. Maybe one day, you won’t be completely caught off guard by his beauty… but today is not that day.

His whole person is bathed in the glow of the early morning light as he approaches you, the softest, most genuine smile gracing his face.

“No, don’t get up,” he says when you try to leave your chair, “I need to go off and order anyways.” Jeonghan leans down to kiss your forehead firmly. “I just wanted to come say hi first,” he whispers, holding your face close to his.

Your first date sets a wonderful precedent to the rest of your relationship. Jeonghan gets your heart racing with flirty comments and sweet touches. But he also makes you feel calm and content, easily keeping a smile on your face. You just feel… good throughout it all.

You insist on walking him back to the dorm, since they had schedules that day.

“So, we’ll be doing this again?” Jeonghan asks hopefully, as you reach the front door.

“Definitely,” you nod enthusiastically up at him, wondering how you had ever managed to despise the man that made you feel so whole and happy.

Jeonghan looks utterly happy and a tiny bit nervous as he stares down at you. His hand reaches up to brush back your hair before settling firmly against your face. Jeonghan looks at you so fondly as he leans in. His lips connect to yours… so softly… so sweetly. You can feel his nose nudge against your face to push it into a preferred position. He pulls back slightly after every little kiss to let out laughter so sweet, it sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of an angel. But he’s never far away for long, reconnecting to you quickly every time. You let him take the lead, allowing his lips to take care of yours, giving them the sweetest kind of attention. He pulls back for a moment longer to nuzzle his nose against yours, an action that has you gripping his shirt to keep him close. His hands keep themselves entertained by running across your face or through your hair.

He’s going back in to kiss you once again when he front door of the dorm opens, leaving you caught in the act. Wonwoo stares at you two for a long moment before making a single comment that causes you and Jeonghan to laugh.

“You know, when I said I wanted you two to have a better relationship, this isn’t exactly what I meant.”

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