#thinking about trying to do booths with friends at events
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after hours (jwy) | one shot.
—summary: an invitation to wooyoung’s event leads to the unexpected— a night of revelation that deeply blurs the lines between harmless fun and the thrill of exploring something more.
—pairing: dj!wooyoung x f!reader
—genre: (18+ - minors dni) fwb to lovers | smut, fluff
—word count: 5k
—content/warnings: cussing/mature language, dj wooyo playing his first club event!, songs in wooyoung’s setlist can get pretty explicit so pls proceed with caution, throwing some ass back at the club lol, alcohol consumption and intoxication, hella chemistry between these two, friends with benefits but with lots of feelings lol, oc x woo are in denial tho hehe, lots of teasing and flirting, kisses, making out, praising, marking, pet names (baby, babygirl, love), unprotected sex, oral (f. & m. receiving), hand job, woo gets slightly rough, nipple play, missionary, doggy, sorry if i missed anything!!
—a/n: this piece came super randomly, but i was inspired by needs x tinashe / after hours x kehlani and needed to whip this baby out ASAP. enjoy!!
💿 wooyoung's setlist 💿
“Thank you.” You sweetly smile at the security guard at the door, brushing your way past the hefty line that ran down the block with your bestfriend, Yeosang. The club is already incredibly packed from wall to wall, the music’s vibrations felt at the base of your feet. For a minute, you didn’t actually think you’d make it inside in time. The security guard at the door wasn’t taking your sweet smiles, frowning as you bat your eyelashes in hopes of letting you skip the line simply because you knew the DJ. He definitely didn’t believe you, nor was he trying to give you the time of day. You didn’t let up though, and as if on cue, he received confirmation from the team inside that you and Yeosang were a part of the DJ’s crew.
Thank god.
Because that line was not it.
“It’s so fucking loud in here!” Yeosang yells as he turns back to look at you amidst the crowd chaos.
“We’re almost there!” You squeeze his hand as he platonically holds onto yours, leading you to the front of the crowd and up to the DJ booth.
“Never invite me out again if you just plan on seeing your boyfriend or whatever.”
“Not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, whatever. Close enough.” You laugh when you finally approach the steps up to the stage, the security guard letting you slip through with Yeosang right at your hip. Heading up to the stage, you greet your friends Mingi, San and Yunho as they dance around with a few other familiar faces and sip on their drinks. Wooyoung is the main DJ for tonight’s event, and he’s having the time of his life— doing what he loves to do, with the people he loves most around him. The crowd is feeding into his energy as he smoothly transitions into the next song, dancing and singing along before finally breaking contact from his mixer and glancing over at you.
“Woo!”
“Whattup! You made it.” He smiles, bringing you flush against him for a hug and a chaste kiss to the temple. You blush at his attempt to subtly squeeze at your side, biting on his bottom lip before shifting his headphones enough to partially cover his ear. The thing about Wooyoung is that you adore him. You adore him because he’s been one of your good friends for some time now. You adore him because he brings you happiness, because he’s a good time. You adore him because of these unspoken feelings, that unlabeled ‘friends with benefits but everyone knows you two are feeling each other so why hide’ kinda thing. You haven’t done much besides innocently flirt around, make out a few times, dance at events together, engage in a few heated conversations over the phone, full send with the thirst traps. The chemistry is well and alive; you suppose by now you and Wooyoung would’ve figured things out since it was too obvious to your friends already, but the both of you seem to brush it off, still shying away from it— afraid of ruining the dynamic that’s already there with said label. Something that started off so fun, so innocent, ended up digging a little space in your heart, making you feel things you shouldn’t for your ‘lil past-time.
But, Wooyoung would move mountains for you, just so you know. He’s dying to make this different. Different from the others, different from anything he’s ever dealt with. Because you are different, and he’ll show you every chance he gets.
“Aw, look at you supporting Woo at his event.” Yunho pinches your cheek, his own painted with a red tint from the alcohol he’s been downing.
“Of course. He was so excited about it, ever since he started planning it out and everything.”
“You guys make things so complicated for no reason.” Yunho laughs. “Despite the friends with benefits bullshit, you know we can tell you two actually have feelings for each other, right?”
“Wow, I didn’t know I came to the club to be lectured by Jeong Yunho.” You laugh, gently pinching at his arm. “We don’t like each other. That’s all we are.” He rolls his eyes.
“Continue to convince yourself if that’s easiest, Y/N. Just want you two to be happy.” You lick your lips, jolting at the sudden roar that comes from the crowd when Woo transitions into another hype, upbeat song.
“Aye, can we get some shots, please? Gotta take one with Yeo and the pretty ‘lil thing right there.” He signals by making a glass-shape with his hand, tilting it back a few times until the bartender off to the side throws him a thumbs up. He looks at you with a smirk, quickly winking before he’s grabbing the mic and hyping the crowd up some more.
The shots turn into two, three, five maybe, before the world is spinning a little more than usual; off-balance and vision slightly blurry. You’re still coherent, and you’re still able to make sense of your surroundings. But the one thing you do find yourself struggling with is how good Wooyoung looks at the table. You try to brush it off, dancing around with your friends and loudly singing along to the songs that blast through the speakers.
“Having fun?” Wooyoung sets the headphones off to the side and steps back from the table to enjoy some company for a bit.
“Yeah, you’re not so bad after all.” You playfully punch him on the bicep and he laughs.
“You look so good tonight.” He says in your ear, pulling you flush against his body again— hand resting on the small of your back. “Gonna give me a bit of your time?”
“I don’t know, should I?”
“Tease. All those pictures and you can’t even spare me a minute.” He taps your nose and heads back to the table. It’s a few more minutes of Wooyoung hyping the crowd, San and Mingi both welcoming lapdances from a few cuties they met throughout the night while exploring out on the floor. Before you know it, you’re pulled mid-conversation with Yeo and Yunho— familiar hands resting on your waist. You feel Wooyoung push against you, guiding your hips against him for a dance. You love dancing with Woo because it’s fun, and there’s no pressure or expectation to be a certain way with him.
You live for that shit.
And tonight, you need him a little more than usual. In more ways than usual. Tippy-toeing into dangerous territory that makes you wanna act on your feelings.
You’re having to hold onto the edge of the table as Wooyoung bends you over ever so slightly, letting you work your ass against him to the music. He bites onto his bottom lip as he focuses on you, only you, matching your rhythm to the beat. You change your position, no longer leaning onto the edge of the table; back only inches away from Wooyoung. You lean to the side in order to get a better view of him from over your shoulder as you work your ass in slow, circular motions against him. The both of you let out a few laughs in between, focused on each other as if no one else was around. The grip on your hip tightens when Wooyoung’s free hand glides down your back in an effort to bend you over again. Your hands fall to your knees, picking up your pace to match the new song that comes on.
Wooyoung matches your energy so well it’s no wonder you never want to dance with anyone else the same way you do with him.
The dancing with Wooyoung continues for a bit more before he’s tapping out, tapping your hips once the song finishes. You stand to put some distance between you two, but he keeps you close; arm wrapped around your waist when you turn to look at him.
“I swear to God, Y/N.” He leans into your ear. “You make everything so difficult for me.”
“Doubt that.” He chuckles.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“The DJ is being fake and forgetting his set!” San teases. You blush and push him away, allowing him to get back to his craft in the meantime.
The next two and a half hours go by with a breeze, and you find your energy diminishing as the night continues to go on. You find yourself hugging closer to the wall behind the stage, leaning your head against Yeo’s shoulder— watching as San and Mingi continue to dance around and find a few pretties to get to know. Wooyoung turns over his shoulder a few times, tugging on your hand, flirting with you in a way he knows will get you to fold so quick; buckle at the knees, shyly giggle against him from all the cute ‘lil compliments that slip from his lips.
“Tryna go soon?” Yeosang asks near your ear. “Kinda over it.” He laughs.
“Yeah, I am, too! Let me just say goodbye to everyone.” You head to Yunho first, giving him a bear hug before letting San and Mingi playfully hug you and spin you around. “Hey.” You tug on Wooyoung’s hand, causing him to shift the headphones up so he could hear you.
“You’re leaving?” He frowns a bit.
“Yeah! Time for us to head out.” You smile, but he pouts.
“Where are you going?” He looks down at you, brushing the hair away from your face. “Don’t wanna stick around to grab a bite to eat with everyone after?”
“No, I’m tired. Yeo and I are probably just gonna grab something quick on the road before he drops me off.” He pouts even more.
“Gonna make me miss you.”
“Don’t say stuff like that, Woo.” He continues to pout anyway, hand coming to squeeze your side again in an endearing way.
“Can I text you later, then?”
“If I’m up.”
“I need you to be up. Please?”
“For what, exactly?” You chuckle.
“Your company.” He puckers his lips. “Tryna give me a kiss before you head out?”
“Get out.” You laugh.
“Just fuck and get together already!” Mingi says loudly with a hearty laugh. Woo turns to flip him off before shifting his attention back to you.
“Okay, please?” He repeats. “Promise me you’ll be up?”
“Get back to the crowd. I’ll be up.” You reassure him, gently pushing him towards the table. He nibbles at this bottom lip before heading back to his set. You nod over to Yeosang and start making your way out of the club, holding onto his hand as he leads the way again. Once you get outside, the cold air feels good against your sticky, warm skin. You let out a deep breath, keeping your body close to your bestfriend to keep some kind of warmth.
“I don’t know why you just don’t tell him.” Yeosang says as he continues to walk alongside you on the way to the car parked on the opposite end of the block.
“I have nothing to tell him.”
“Y/N, please.” Yeosang chuckles. “We know.” You roll your eyes and sigh.
“Why is everyone on my case about him tonight?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you two should just quit the act and get together already?” He snorts. “You should at least try when you guys get some alone time later.”
“Who said we will?”
“I know you, you’ll stay up for him.” Yeosang gives you a look before gently nudging you. “Until then, what do you wanna stop by for?”
“I don’t know, I’m not too hungry. Truthfully, I’d be satisfied with some good ol’ fries and an ice cream cone.” You laugh and Yeo nods while swinging his keys around his finger.
“Got it.” He unlocks the door. “Get in princess, we need to get your fries and ice cream before Woo comes over.” You scold him as you settle into the passenger’s seat, recalling some events from the night as he drives off to the nearest fast food joint for the best fries nearby.
When Yeosang finally drops you off at home, you’ve completely devoured your fries and ice cream cone, and you find yourself slowly dragging yourself up to your studio. The club had just closed, so you weren’t expecting to hear from Wooyoung for awhile. You let out a satisfied sigh when you slip out of your shoes, kicking them off to the side before tossing your bag and keys onto the table. You make a beeline for the shower, more than ready to wash off the club and get into something comfortable. It’s a quick one, though; a good 10 minutes under the hot water with that coconut body scrub you love so much before stepping out and lathering up with some body cream. You toss on an oversized shirt and crash onto your bed, feeling incredibly happy to be in your own safe space.
You wonder what Wooyoung is doing.
It’s crazy because at this point, it feels like the universe is listening closely to your thoughts— especially when a ding comes through on your phone and puts a big smile on your face.
wooyo: cutiepie
wooyo: are you up 🥺 say yes
you: lol yeah i am.
wooyo: fuck yeah! you kept your promise!
you: excuse, since when did i ever break a promise with you?
wooyo: never, that’s why you’re perfect for me
you: shut up lol
wooyo: lol 😙 can i slide through and hang out for a bit?
you: mhm! what happened to eating out with the boys?
wooyo: bruh san got too fucked up so we all ended up going our separate ways
you: wooooow hahah hope he’s good though?
wooyo: he’ll be fine. did u and yeo actually get some stuff to eat?
you: yeah we did. you should grab something for yourself before heading over
wooyo: nah it’s all good. i don’t care too much for it, just need your company. be there in 15?
you: sounds good! front door’s unlocked
wooyo: hot, she can’t wait either
you: stop while you’re ahead jung wooyoung
wooyo: oop hehe woops 🤭
It wasn’t anything new to have Wooyoung come over, but he usually comes to hang out for an hour or so before he’s leaving to head back to his own place. The good thing about Wooyoung is that even though there’s this deep chemistry, this longing for each other, he never forces anything. Never pressures you.
So, he comes through. He gives you a few kisses and gives you a few laughs from his jokes. He cuddles you for a bit before he’s saying his goodbyes and struggling to get himself out of the door.
It’ll probably be the same tonight, maybe.
It feels different because you loved seeing him in his element, and you loved having fun with him. It also feels different because your friends were all up in your case about him— now, you can’t really get the idea out of your head. That maybe, you do really, really want something with Wooyoung and you’re afraid to admit it. Afraid he might not feel the same even though he’s never done anything to hurt you or show you otherwise.
Maybe, you’ll finally take that leap tonight and just go for it.
Say fuck it.
In the end, at least you could say you tried, right?
Amidst all your overthinking, you surprisingly do fall asleep in those 15-20 minutes. You’re awoken by your front door closing, along with Wooyoung’s loud ass keys dangling from his keychain and hitting his thigh with every step he takes.
“Did you fall asleep?” He giggles when tosses his belongings onto your desk and plops onto your bed.
“I did fall asleep for a bit.” You yawn and fix your position a bit, Wooyoung laying next to you on his tummy.
“I didn’t even take that long, did I?”
“No, but I can’t be tired?! Damn.” He snorts.
“Sorry, sorry.” He kisses the tip of your nose, his arm draped over you. Hand caressing your side under your shirt. His hand is warm, but it tickles against your skin and raises a few goosebumps at how smooth his touch is. He looks at you for a split second before he leans in to peck you on the lips, smiling into the kiss just as he pulls back. “So, did you have fun?”
“I did. You played a good set tonight, Woo.”
“I did, huh?” You laugh.
“Did you have fun?”
“It was so fucking fun.” He laughs. “I just wished you stayed ‘till the end. Everyone seemed boo’d up and I was just the lonely ass DJ playing for the crowd.”
“Please. I’m sure you still had fun until then.”
“I did, but it wasn’t the same without you.” You give him a tiny, toothless smile, hand brushing through his soft black hair.
“When’s your next one?”
“Why, huh?” He smirks. “An excuse to dance up on me again?”
“Excuse you, you pulled me for a dance!” You playfully swat him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, and? I’ll do it again at the next one.” He pulls out his phone. “I’m doing something next weekend with a few other DJs. Wanna come?”
“Sure. I don’t think Yeo would go, though. I practically dragged his ass out for this one.”
“Okay.” Wooyoung types something on his phone before tossing it aside, full attention on you again. “Promise me you’ll actually stay until the end. Gimme a chance to show you off, too.”
“Wooyoung.” You giggle. He tickles your sides, causing you to squeal and kick your feet before he lets you breathe. You find Wooyoung staring at you again, and it causes your heart to do major flips.
“You’re so pretty, Y/N. You looked so damn good tonight.”
“You did too, I guess.” You tease and he bites onto his bottom lip, leaning forward for another kiss.
“Tease. Hate it.” He presses his lips against yours, holding it for as long as he can before he pulls back. “Why don’t you wanna kiss me in front of our friends, hm?” He presses another kiss to your lips, edging closer to your body so he could comfortably throw his arm around you.
“Because we aren’t together.” You giggle.
“Shouldn’t we change that?”
“Don’t say shit like that, Wooyoung. I told you.”
“I mean it. Why can’t we be? I don’t necessarily have anything to hide.” Wooyoung kisses at the corner of your lips. “Unless you do?”
“I don’t.”
“So, tell me. Why can’t we be?” He asks again, close to a whisper, lips grazing the surface of yours. You don’t say anything, no. Instead, you feel like your actions could do the talking for tonight. Your actions could tell Wooyoung what you’ve been feeling all this time, your actions could tell Wooyoung how much you’ve been longing for him— longing for something more, longing for something deeper than the surface.
You make the first move and push into his lips, instantly deepening the kiss. Your hands tug at the ends of his hair as the two of you fit in each other’s molds so perfectly; teeth clashing against each other in a fit of desperate need, tongues fighting for dominance. Hoping the answer would be evident in the way you move so well with him. “Fuck, baby.” Wooyoung breathily responds as you bite onto his bottom lip. He moves down to your neck and licks across the surface, gently nipping and sucking faint marks down the column. You feel Wooyoung’s hand squeeze at your hip before he pauses at the material of your panties, threatening to slip them down and toss them off. Everything suddenly feels so heated, too intense, too quick— you’re afraid there isn’t a way to come back from this anymore. “Y/N, if you tell me to stop right now, I’ll stop.” He feels your hesitancy, almost hears you thinking outloud. “Whatever you wanna do.”
“N-no. Keep going.”
“You sure? Cause if I keep going, I won’t be able to stop, you know that, right?” He gently nips at your chin while teasing the edge of your panties. “Been wanting this for so long, I won’t be able to help myself.”
“I want this too.”
“Yeah?” He smirks while finally pulling your panties down and tossing them onto the floor. “Gonna let me finally take care of you?” He kisses you once more before shifting his position to be in between your thighs, hands gripping at ‘em while he presses light kisses in your inner thighs. He smirks to himself and bites onto his bottom lip when he sees you bare underneath the shirt, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks.
“Woo.” You shyly throw an arm over your face.
“Don’t do that.” He chuckles and gently tugs on your elbow. “You’re so fucking beautiful, shit feels too fucking good to be true right now.” In a blink of an eye, Wooyoung presses a light kiss against your pussy— sending tingles straight down your spine. He indulges in how reactive you are, gently easing himself back down onto your heat to give you what you deserve. You let out a breathy moan when Wooyoung latches back on and continues his work on you; tongue working up and down, licking in between your folds. The pleasure makes your back arch in response, another moan slipping from your lips and sounding like music to Wooyoung’s ears.
“Oh my god.” You let out with a silent moan. You whimper when Wooyoung slips in two digits, pumping into you at a quick pace while his mouth continues to lap at your clit, sucking in between to taste every single drop of you. When he pulls out, you take the opportunity to grind against his mouth; aching to feel the friction you so desperately need, want, from him. “Oh fuck, Woo.” Your moan is a little louder this time, causing him to groan against you as a way to egg you on towards the finish line. “Just like that, please. I’m gonna—” You whine, repeatedly cursing to yourself until you feel that coil within you suddenly snap and throw you off guard. Your moans bounce off the walls and Wooyoung is sure the couple upstairs can hear it loud and clear.
Oh well.
“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He kisses your inner thigh, leading a trail up to your knee. He sits back onto his knees and removes his shirt, the tent in his sweats making you drool the more you fixate on it.
“Woo.” You look at him with a tiny pout. “Can I?” You sit up in order to reach him and palm hin gently.
“Mm, baby.” He lets out a small moan. “You don’t have to, I just—”
“Please?” You beg with those eyes and Wooyoung can’t help buckle at the knees. You’re already helping him out his sweats, and he feels the urge, the desire, to find out how your pretty lips feel wrapped around his dick.
The image alone drives him to insanity, and he can’t wait to see you sucking him off like the good girl you are.
He swallows the lump in his throat when he watches you pump him slowly, taking your lips to his tip. He hisses when you lick away at the pre-cum pooling at the top of the head before lowering your mouth down his length.
And, fuck.
Wooyoung feels like he’ll lose himself right at this moment. He tilts his head back in pleasure, letting out a small, guttural moan when you work your mouth [and hands] on him. He gently tugs at your hair, pushing you a little further down his length just to test the waters. But, you take him anyway, and Wooyoung wants to fucking combust. You look so, so pretty with your lips around him, and it doesn’t help his cause when he feels his dick hit the back of your throat; pushing him to the highest of highs, purest ecstasy.
“Fuck—fuck.” He groans. “Baby, wait. You’ll make me cum.” He lets out a breath, eyes focusing on you. He pulls you back just a bit, caressing your cheek when he sees a faint tear streak coating the surface. “I need to be in you. Now.” You bite onto your bottom lip and settle back onto your back as Wooyoung slots himself back in between your legs. He takes your shirt off at the same time, tongue licking a stripe up your cleavage before leaving wet kisses along the swell of your breasts. He quickly pops a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the puffy bud before repeating the motions with the other.
“Shit.” You hiss. “Wooyoung, please.”
“Please, what?” He teases. He has that shit-eating smirk on his face as he sits back and watches you squirm, pumping himself slowly while he waits for you to respond. “Hm, sweet girl?”
“Need you.”
“Where? Care to tell me again?”
“I swear to God if you aren’t fucking me in the next 2 minutes—” He laughs as he lowers himself back down, just enough to hover over your body and plant a feathery kiss on your lips.
“Say please.” He smiles. “Besides, do you have a condom? I swear I haven’t been messy or anything, you know this. But I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m on the pill, so please.”
“You sure?” You nod, hands resting on his shoulders. He does a subtle nod before he lines himself up at your entrance and eases in— the both of you letting out gasps while adjusting to the feeling. It already feels too good with the way he fills you up and makes you feel full. For Wooyoung, it’s the way your walls wrap around him so nicely that makes him truly believe you were made just for him.
Only him.
Once he bottoms out, he sits in the position for a second before he slowly rocks against you. Wooyoung begins to pick up the pace when he feels a little more comfortable, pressing kisses on every inch of your skin that he possibly can while whispering sweet nothings against the surface. He praises you so, so well, it has you whimpering a mess underneath him— only wanting more of Wooyoung, only wanting to feel every bit of his soul intertwined with yours at this very moment.
Only him.
“God, you feel so good Y/N.” He lets out a breathy moan into your mouth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. Everything about you is so perfect.” He moans. “So pretty and so perfect.” He picks up his pace, hips working a little sloppier, a little harder. “Just for me.” He sits back and rests his hand on your hips, pounding into you in such a majestic way, it almost has you seeing stars right then and there. You continue to praise him, letting him know how good he’s making you feel, and how you need him just like this.
Only him.
“Switch for me.” He removes himself quickly and directs you to your fours. He wastes no time slipping himself back into you, the new position and angle enough to make you two crave more and more of each other. Once he buries himself to the hilt, he keeps a steady pace as his hands explore every curve of your body, pressing kisses against the base of your neck;
Shoulders.
Back.
Tracing your spine.
“Feels too good.” You mewl, Wooyoung’s name slipping from your lips repeatedly like a song, a mantra. He continues to pound into your from behind— ass cheeks sore and red from the impact, from Wooyoung’s hands.
“Wanna make you mine.” He moans in your ear as he thrusts a ‘lil harder, a ‘lil rougher than the last. “Can I, babygirl?”
“Y-Yes.” Your response is almost broken by a cry that’s released, an immediate reaction to how hard Wooyoung is fucking into you.
“Say it louder. Can’t hear you. Can I make you mine, baby?” He repeats, thrusting even harder than the last. His hand glides down your back as you fall onto your chest with your cheek deep into the pillow; ass up and pressed against him so beautifully every time he fucks into you.
“Yes, fuck!” You let out, hand coming down to rub at your sensitive nub to push you over the edge one last time for tonight.
“Oh shit, gonna cum—” Woooyoung pants. “Where do you want me?”
“Inside.”
“So fucking hot—” He groans while sloppily working his hips until the very end. You feel him fill you up, coating your walls so deliciously it’s enough to push you to your own high. Wooyoung hisses and grunts a few times when he feels you squeeze him, feeling a bit sensitive from his own release.
“God.” You try to regulate your breathing when you come back down from cloud nine, body falling limp against the mattress with Wooyoung plopping next to you.
“Come here, pretty.” He chuckles, swooping you onto his chest with his hand coming up to stroke your hair and massage your scalp. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
“Okay. But, first. Can you stay tonight?” You look up at him and he smiles brightly.
“Why would I leave my baby’s side?” He kisses your forehead. “Let’s go. If you’re good, I’ll let you take me in the shower.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“The real after hours after party.” Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows as he watches you climb over and start making your way to the bathroom.
“You’re so sick for that.” You laugh, squealing as he smacks your ass and follows you into the bathroom, getting his way with you once more under the steaming hot water.
💿 taglist: @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts
#wooyoung x reader#jung wooyoung x reader#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#wooyoung fanfic#jung wooyoung imagines#wooyoung imagines#jung wooyoung#wooyoung#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez smut#ateez fluff#wooyoung smut#wooyoung fluff#jung wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung fluff#kpop imagines#hwaslayer: after hours
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We've got the Gay, Bi, and Lesbian flags here.
Usual disclaimer If you use them for anything please give design credit (and also @ me because I would like to see). Intended for personal use only.
#bi#bisexual#lesbian#gay#mlm#heart#anatomical heart#organs#pixel art#cross stitch#I was listening to body horror songs when I decided to make these#lgbtqia#lgbtq+#pride#thinking about trying to do booths with friends at events#I guess if I do and they go well maybe I'd actually try selling things online eventually#I like the in person stuff better though
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Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader
Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie since you joined Hellfire Club. Too bad he's crushing on Chrissy Cunningham...right?
Warnings: angst to fluff, idiots in love, super cheesy but it's Valentine's Day so idc
WC: 1.6k
A/N: My entry for @corroded-hellfire's This is Music! event!
Divider credit to @saradika
Eddie’s looking at her again.
You can’t blame him; he’d be crazy not to stare at Chrissy Cunningham, clad in her tiny cheerleading uniform with a bouncy blonde ponytail and sugar-sweet giggle. If you just ignore him, act like he isn’t imagining sweeping her off of her feet–
“Do you think I should send her one of those candy gram things?”
Almost instinctively, Dustin’s eyes flicker to you, but he turns back to Eddie before anyone can notice. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he stammers, scrambling for an excuse. “She and Jason, like, just broke up.”
This information doesn’t deter Eddie in the slightest. “Exactly. She’s probably heartbroken from getting dumped right before Valentine’s Day. I could be her…Freak in Shining Armor.” He grins at his spin on the unwanted nickname, pausing for a half-second before turning to you and asking, “You’re a girl. What do you think?”
The question is almost laughable. What do you think? You think he should stop pining over Chrissy and start seeing you in that same light.
With a painful swallow, you force a strained smile. “If you like her, you should go for it.”
That’s all of the motivation Eddie needs. He slams his palm on the table and proudly declares, “All right, I’m doin’ it.”
Tears bite at your lash line as he strides across the cafeteria over to where the student council has set up the candy gram booth. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you glance over to see Dustin offering you a sympathetic look.
“He’s an idiot,” he says, low enough so that his words are inaudible to other Hellfire members. “He’ll figure it out one day, but you shouldn’t sit around waiting for it to happen.”
Logic tells you that he’s right, but moving on is easier said than done. Especially when he’s one of your closest friends.
Determined to avoid any inquiring from the other guys, you do your best to assimilate into their conversation about beating this week’s campaign.
Chrissy received Eddie’s candy gram on Valentine’s Day. To his dismay, she also got one from Jason Carver.
“Of course she went back to him,” Eddie mutters, tossing his tin lunch box on the cafeteria table with a harsh clang. He heaves a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you with his big, beautiful eyes. “Am I gonna be alone forever?”
“Probably.” You muster a tense laugh and brush a tendril of his hair off of your cheek. “Maybe you can try sending out a message in a bottle and see if anyone bites.”
He harrumphs and slumps over, burying his face in his palms. “She told me she ‘appreciates my friendship.’” He shakes his head. “Fucking humiliating.”
The irony of his statement is too much to bear, and you slip away from the table with a half-hearted excuse about needing to study for the history test you have next period.
The walk to the library feels like it takes decades, silent tears falling as soon as you find an empty table among the stacks of books.
Chrissy wanted Jason the way Eddie wanted Chrissy, which was the same way you wanted Eddie.
And no one wanted you.
A few minutes pass before Jeff slides into the seat next to you. “We’re in the same history class. Figured it would make your lie more believable if I had to study, too.” He shrugs. “Plus, I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe you, you know he doesn’t. Embarrassment is written all over your face, both at your abrupt exit from the cafeteria and your pathetic crush on Eddie.
Jeff takes a deep breath. “Look, Eddie doesn’t know what he wants.”
“Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants Chrissy,” you say wryly, twirling a pen between your fingers.
“No…I mean, yeah. But that’s because she’s, like, safe.”
You scoff. “Asking out the Queen of Hawkins High is safe?”
“Sounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out.” Jeff leans in a bit closer so he can whisper to you. “She’s not part of our group, so he doesn’t have to worry about constantly hanging out with her. Plus, she’s nice enough to not publicly destroy his ego. I’m sure she didn’t tell Jason about the candy gram, or else he would’ve announced it to the whole school by now.”
You nod in reluctant agreement.
“And speaking of that jackass,” Jeff continues, “how many times have they broken up and gotten back together?”
“Too many to count.” Their relationship is like one of the novelas you watch when you’re stuck at home with a fever.
“Exactly.” Jeff exhales. “Chrissy paid a little bit of attention to Eddie because she wanted some weed for a party, and now he’s head over heels for her. Because he can be. Because her rejection stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to how being rejected by you would feel.”
Wiping at your tear-dampened cheeks, you shake your head. “I don’t think he cares about being rejected by me.”
He mumbles something under his breath but doesn’t say another word until the bell rings, and the two of you walk to class together.
Thank God you don’t actually have a test today; you wouldn’t be able to focus long enough to answer a single question. All you think about is what Jeff had implied: that Eddie does like you but is afraid to ruin your friendship.
You brush off the idea as ridiculous. Why would Eddie choose you over the gorgeous head cheerleader?
Uneasiness builds within you until it’s impossible to ignore, and you scrawl a note in the back of your composition notebook before you can fully think it through.
Eddie–
I’m sorry that Chrissy turned you down. Trust me when I say that I know what it’s like to feel unwanted by the person you want the most. It sucks, but you’ll move on and realize that she was the one who missed out, not you.
You sign your name and add a P.S. Fuck Valentine’s Day for good measure, folding the paper in fourths and slipping it into his locker between class periods. Not quite a confession, but it’ll do.
Eddie’s waiting by your locker after the last bell rings, scraping a front tooth against his bottom lip and fiddling with something. As you get closer, you realize that something is your note.
“Who is he?” Eddie demands to know, sighing impatiently when you raise your brows in confusion. “This mystery guy who doesn’t want you. Who is he?”
“No one. It’s fine,” you say quickly, refusing to make eye contact with him as you twist open the lock. “It was just to let you know that you’re not alone in this, okay?”
He shakes his head and chuckles tersely. “Nah, not okay. I’ve gotta kick his ass.” He shuffles from foot to foot, already anticipating a fight.
“Well, you can’t.”
“And why not?” Eddie scoffs. “I know I’m scrawny, but I’m pretty damn scr–”
“Because you’d be kicking your own ass!” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your blood runs cold and your pulse thuds in your ears when you realize what you’ve said. “I’m sorry. That was too much, especially with what happened with Chrissy today.”
You start to leave, but you’re tugged back in place by his gentle grasp on your wrist. “Follow me,” he murmurs. He makes a beeline for the Hellfire room with you right on his heels. As soon as you walk in, he closes the door. “Repeat that? Because I don’t think I heard you right.”
“You’re the guy who doesn’t want me,” you manage through the lump in your throat, “and it’s okay, because we can’t help who we like and who we don’t. I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything like that.”
You’re rambling, and you tuck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from talking yourself in circles.
Silence seeps into the room, the only noise is the hum from the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally, Eddie speaks again. “Do you know why I asked you to join Hellfire?”
You swivel your head back and forth in a definite no.
“Yeah, I tried to keep it that way,” he says with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “So, um, I kinda had a massive crush on you. And I figured that we’d get to know each other here and then I’d ask you out or whatever, but I kept chickening out. So…there ya have it.” He shifts his hands as if to say ta-da.
“And now you like Chrissy.” Out with the old, in with the new.
Eddie takes a small step closer, one ring-clad hand taking yours. “Not the way I like you,” he breathes, his other thumb tracing a faint line over your jaw. “Not even close.”
You close the gap between you, tilting your head so your lips meet his. The fear that he’ll hesitate or turn his head altogether disappears as soon as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tucks behind your ear, and he leaves it there until you both have to break away for air.
The two of you wear matching smiles, shy but relieved. Eddie leans in to kiss you once again, only to be interrupted by the rest of the club’s musings.
“Took them long enough.”
“Seriously, I thought we were just gonna have to watch them pine over each other forever.”
“Crap, do you think they can hear us?”
“Yeah, shit-heads, we can hear you,” Eddie calls out with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to you.
“Now, where were we?”
--
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie x you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#eddie munson angst
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Blind Date || Theodore Nott x Reader
Warnings: swearing, Draco trying to play matchmaker
Summary: Y/N and Theo's friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they've secretly been dating.
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The dim glow of Madam Pudifoot's teashop enveloped the small, intricately decorated table where Theodore Nott and Y/N L/N found themselves seated. The atmosphere was filled with the scent of freshly baked pastries and the soft murmur of whispered conversations. It was a setup, a blind date orchestrated by their well-meaning, yet slightly misguided friends.
Unbeknownst to them, the couple in question had been keeping a secret for the past year. A secret that bound them together in a well concealed relationship, away from the prying eyes of their fellow students. As Theo sipped his tea, his eyes met Y/N's, and a burst of laughter escaped them both. The absurdity of the situation hit them like a spell gone awry, and the tension that typically accompanied blind dates dissipated into the air.
The teashop patrons looked over at the unexpected outburst, eyebrows raised in curiosity. Theo and Y/N, however, couldn't contain their laughter. Theo wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye, and Y/N's smile widened, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
"Fucking hell, this is not what I expected," Y/N shook her head in amusement.
"Neither did I, love." Theo agreed, his laughter subsiding into a warm smile.
"Clearly, those idiots don't know us as well as they think they do," Y/N replied, chuckling. "But it's kind of sweet, in a mischievous sort of way."
Theo nodded, his eyes gleaming. "How about we head somewhere more… comfortable?"
Y/N smirked, playfully raising an eyebrow. "I know just the place."
Leaving Madam Pudifoot's behind, the two Slytherins strolled through the dimly lit streets of Hogsmeade, the cool night air turning their cheeks a deeper red. As they approached the warm glow of the Three Broomsticks, Theo couldn't help but press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. He recalled stolen moments and shared laughter that had been kept a secret from their friends.
Finding a cozy corner booth in the Three Broomsticks, Theo and Y/N settled in. The atmosphere was lively, with the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful banter filling the air. They ordered butterbeer and raised their glasses in a silent toast to the peculiar turn of events that had brought them to the popular wizarding pub.
Meanwhile, their friends back at Madam Puddifoot's had realized the unintended consequences of their matchmaking adventures. Draco Malfoy, the mastermind behind the blind date scheme, furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched Theo and Y/N leave the teashop together.
"Shit, did we miss something?" Pansy asked, glancing around at the other friends who were equally perplexed.
Blaise shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Seems like our Slytherin lovebirds have their own plans."
Back at the Three Broomsticks, as Theo and Y/N continued to enjoy each other's company, a group of familiar faces burst through the door. The Slytherins looked around, spotting the couple in the corner booth. The surprise on their faces quickly morphed into amusement.
"Well, well, well, look who we have here," Mattheo teased, a sly grin playing on his face. "Our little Slytherin lovebirds on a secret rendezvous."
Theo and Y/N exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter once again. It seemed their friends had unwittingly orchestrated a reunion rather than a blind date.
"We've been dating for a year you fucking idiots." Theo exclaimed, wrapping his arm around a giggling Y/N.
Draco raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. "Well, we might need to brush up on our matchmaking skills."
Pansy raised a brow at him. “Bitch, you mean you need to brush up on your matchmaking skills.”
The group rolled their eyes as Draco and Pansy continued bickering. Squeezing in, they all joined the couple in their booth and The Three Broomsticks became a backdrop for the Slytherins.
Amidst the shared laughter and clinking of glasses, Enzo raised his butterbeer in a toast. "To unexpected surprises and these two lovey-dovey pieces of shit!" He winked at them.
The sentiment was met with cheers and smiles from the group. Theo and Y/N exchanged a glance, their hearts swelling up.
As the night drew to a close, the group left the Three Broomsticks. Theo and Y/N walked side by side, their fingers entwined, grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought their hidden relationship into the open.
The moon hung high in the sky as they made their way back to Hogwarts, the castle standing tall against the night. Theo squeezed Y/N's hand, and they exchanged a silent understanding that their secret was now a shared treasure among their friends.
#Theodore Nott#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#Pansy Parkinson#Draco Malfoy#Lorenzo Berkshire#Blaise Zabini#Mattheo Riddle#Y/n L/n#xReader#Theodore Nott x reader#Theodore Nott x y/n#Fanfiction#Blind Date#Harry Potter#The Three Brookmsticks#Madam Puddifoots#slytherin gang#Secret relationship#theodore nott x reader
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#001 SUDDENLY, COLORS 𖧧 NEXT: #002 PLAYING DOMINO ꒰ series masterlist ꒱
꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — sae gets more than he bargained for when he decides to entertain you. and then suddenly, maybe he isn’t so indifferent to everything after all.
content: itoshi sae x female reader. bllk guys here are all pro players now. profanity, complicated relationships, reader is a working adult, implied ex-fwb situation with otoya, minorly questionable work ethics, mention of infidelity. word count: 3.8k.
༝༚༝༚ first chapter ! (bear with me because we’re gonna be in the early stages of sae & y/n getting to know each other) i hope you guys like this one as much as infy >_< the dynamic between yn & sae here is slightly different heh :) if you’re reading this: ily <3 + will add little mini extra facts at the end of each chapter ^_^
lights flashing, red carpets, familiar faces that feel so out of reach.
there’s an entire life out here that people like you, should you have been without connections, won’t get to experience in your lifetime. it’s eye-opening, and more than you bargained for. sure, when you heard that this is a party thrown by one of the japan’s national soccer team’s sponsors, you expected a lot of a-list names, but to think it’s this many.
beautiful, handsome people litter every corner of the destination, enough to fill anyone with a year’s worth of anxieties just simply looking at them. to think, this is the kind of life they live in the regular; photographed by everyone, welcomed and greeted like royalty by staff and strangers alike.
it’s nothing you can ever get used to. luckily, you don’t have to.
you stand at the top of the stairs in the venue, looking around as you try to spot your friend. on the ground floor, you see many people huddled in different groups, smiles plastered together as they catch up with one another. all you can hear are everyone’s voice and laughters muffled together and melding into one giant mess. many movie stars, models, athletes all gathered in one place, commanding the attention of everyone in the room as well as those who are watching the livestreams from home. that’s to be expected though, considering this is a party thrown by the top sports brand in japan—surely supporters and fans alike are tuning in from all over just to see their favourite celebrities.
you bet the chat is getting blown up with comments about how the captain of the soccer team looks absolutely handsome when he cleans up, or how the up and coming setter in the volleyball team is a quiet assassin if looks could kill.
there’s a vibration in your purse, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you fish your phone out to see that it’s from eita.
you slowly make your way down the stairs, carefully so that you don’t accidentally catch your heels against the bright red fabric under you. it’s not everyday you get invited to events like this, and it’s certainly not everyday you get to wear something this nice—you don’t want to end up falling face flat in front of all these important (and famous, or infamous) people.
you make a mental note to yourself to thank eita again for getting you this dress.
as you look around the floor, trying to spot whatever private booth eita’s in, your eyes flick across the top of someone’s head. somebody that could catch anyone’s attention. those alluring eyes and that tall frame. you catch your breath.
eita can wait. maybe you should take a detour first.
as you’re drawing closer to him, you can’t help but think how much more handsome he is in person; all you’d been able to see of him thus far is whatever you saw through the screen, or in paper from the photoshoots he’d been a part of. now that you’re looking at him in the flesh, you don’t think they do him justice. not by a long shot. he’s still handsome as hell in whichever form of media he’s in, but in real life, they have nothing on his actual person.
his lips look soft and pink right there in front of you, and his lashes frame his eyes just perfectly that you’re almost envious.
in all fairness, you’re not used to talking to mega huge celebrities like him. he’s a pro-athlete, but his popularity is in the millions, his talent for being japan’s best offensive midfielder skyrocketing him to fame at the young age of eighteen.
nearly ten years later and he’s somehow still topping the lists for most popular male athletes from japan.
opportunities like this don’t come easy, especially for people like you—you’re not stupid enough to not take it. with a deep breath, you put your game face on; he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t have to know the real you, just the you that you want to show him.
somehow, he manages to make your heart beat faster than anyone else in the room, and he hasn’t even looked your way. half of you is telling yourself you’re doing this for a friend, but the other half of you is selfish, it wants to see what this is all about.
“what are you having?”
the moment you set your purse down on the bar, choosing to stand beside him instead of being a normal person and settling in front of the bartender to get his attention for your drinks, sae finds himself perplexed.
there are many reasons people would want to talk to him for. if you’re from the sponsor’s team, then you’d want to run a collaboration idea by him. if you’re another celebrity, then you’d probably be asking for a picture. if you’re press, well, your occupation is an answer in and of itself.
for the first time, sae’s eyes land on you. on that smile, on your eyes.
dim lights, violets and pinks bouncing off the disco ball, and somehow you do look pretty in spite all that. he’s never seen you before, but then again, he doesn’t pay attention enough to anything in the media for him to be able to know all the celebrities in japan. you have to be one, right? he doesn’t see the press card around your neck.
your dress hugs your body nicely. it’s all black, and a one-shoulder. your thin gold necklace holds a feather charm at the end. the way you tuck your hair carefully behind your ear unveils your matching earrings. you’re pretty, very pretty. but he thinks you’re about to be a pain soon enough. and that probably cancels it out.
“water.”
maybe if he’s boring enough, you’ll leave him alone. maybe if he’s rude enough, he’ll drive you away. that’s the whole point of why he’s here anyway, to escape those pointless conversations with these media… acquaintances, and oliver and the others were being nuisances in the booth anyway. so much so that he needed a breather.
unless you’re offering an escape, he won’t entertain anything.
“do you have a game tomorrow?” you ask, setting your phone down on the tabletop. a measly excuse for a conversation starter but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to see where you’re going with this.
is that why you think he’s drinking water? he shakes his head, “no.”
what do you want with him?
“don’t tell me you’re a lightweight,” you guess, smirking at him.
sae can’t figure you out; where other people are easy to guess, he can’t make heads or tails about you. why hasn’t he asked you to leave him alone yet? better yet, why hasn’t his own two feet walked away like he intended to before you came and smiled at him?
“just didn’t feel like drinking,” sae tells you. (you actually guessed right, but there’s no way he’s going to admit to that out of the blue.)
you hum in contemplation, your head resting against your balled fist as you look at him, pursing your lips like you’re thinking of something. he finds himself wondering exactly that: what the fuck are you thinking?
right now, you’re a mix between being interesting and annoying and he’s kind of leaning towards the latter.
all of a sudden, you fish a coin out of your purse, grinning.
“you look like you want me to leave you alone,” you tell him, sighing, though you’re probably not so much disappointed or affected as much as being playful, like one of those children that like to test the limits of their parents. you’re perceptive at least, he’ll give you that. “how about a deal? i’ll toss this coin, and if it lands on heads, you’ll do me a favour, no questions asked. if it lands on tails, i’ll do the same. then you can tell me to go away.”
to be fair, sae could just walk away and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
“fine.”
so why? why is he agreeing to your terms?
you flick the coin into the air with your thumb, and sae watches your face as you anticipate the results. you’re staring so intently at such an inconsequential coin that he finds it both comical and troublesome. there’s something both alluring and childish about your presence.
“aha! heads!” you shout excitedly, and sae tries to keep his head down to avoid any unwanted attention. if you cause anyone to come over and pull him aside for some small talk he’s going to kill you. you look so blissfully ignorant of that fact, though. lucky for him, almost everyone around you seems too self-absorbed to care. “looks like you owe me something.”
sae sighs. “i have the feeling i’m gonna regret this,” he mumbles to himself, though you’re blatantly beaming at him, excited at your little win. you shouldn’t be; if it’s too troublesome sae would still shoot you down. he reminds himself that he doesn’t even have to follow through with the bet—who are you to him? “what do you want?”
“i’ll tell you later,” you answer, not missing a beat, ordering a shot of vodka and having it slid over to you. you down it in a second, looking even more invigorated.
does alcohol wake you up even more?
something tells sae that he’ll get nothing out of this conversation, so the gears are already turning in his head on how to slip out of this situation, make a break for the bathroom or something. “this sounds like a hassle, so i’m just gonna leave—”
“is soccer all you care about?”
“huh?”
yeah, you’re definitely leaning more towards annoying.
as he expected, you continue speaking without even listening to him. still, that’s not the kind of topic he thought you had in mind. soccer? you don’t seem like a fanatic.
“i mean, do you do anything else outside of soccer? like play games? or, i don’t know, have some secret hobby like sewing?”
sae deadpans at that last one. what do you want to know? his secrets? he’ll definitely stick with his plan of being boring. you’ll probably give up sooner or later. “no. just soccer.”
you press your lips into a firm line, like you know he’s full of it but you don’t immediately call him out. “no hobbies outside of soccer? okay.”
“yes, i have no life.”
he nearly smirks at the horrified pout that graces your lips. your scepticism nearly makes him laugh, but he holds it in. you’re probably messing with him, but he can do just the same.
“heard that your little brother scored the winning goal at the champion’s league game, how do you feel about that?” you down another shot.
sae snorts at your obvious discontent at his disinterest, though it goes over your head because maybe you’re a little lightweight too.
“yeah, i was there. i mean, i’m proud of him if that’s what you’re looking for,” he tells you—something so generic and so bland that you can probably form the answers in your head yourself.
your line of questioning continues despite sae’s half-assed participation. maybe he’s only entertaining you because he doesn’t feel like entertaining anyone else. and maybe because he probably won’t see you again so he wouldn’t feel the need to be cautiously polite around you (and so his manager won’t nag him about keeping up an image). from what he gathers, you’re probably not a celebrity—call it his gut instinct. you sure look like one, but you don’t act like them.
there’s the incessant vibrating of his phone in his pants pocket that he ignores. meanwhile you’re accepting his lacklustre answers left and right.
“actually i’m curious, itoshi sae, who’s your best friend? some say it’s ryusei shidou and others say it’s oliver aiku. what do you say?”
he leans an elbow against the table, staring you straight in the eye. you’re looking right back at him, a smugness in those irises.
“who are you, by the way?” he asks, because despite him entertaining you for—he checks his watch—nearly half an hour, he still doesn’t even know your name. and clearly, you know all about him. or at least, what the internet can provide.
you inch closer, grinning despite the scowl on his face. “let me change the question,” you propose, because you’re always so adept at switching subjects when it benefits you, pupils scanning your immediate surroundings briefly before you lean in to whisper in his ear. “people like to say you’re hard to get, is that true?”
(because that’s what it seems like—from press coverage to girls, it doesn’t look like it’s easy to garner his interest and thus consequently his effort. if there’s one thing everyone can agree on about itoshi sae is that he screams exclusivity.)
he clenches his jaw when he feels your breath hit his ear, and he hates himself for staying this long because the moment you see his ears go red, you’re smirking.
“is there anything wrong with not wanting to waste time with people who won’t matter in a matter of days?” and that’s probably the only completely honest answer he’s given you for the night—because he doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t see making it into his future. he can’t say that for work purposes since it’s his team who manages everything, but as far as his personal life goes, that’s all you have to know.
that’s all he’s going to give you.
from the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar face, the light in their eyes going dark when they realise you’d been taking up his time.
“heading off already?” you ask, sensing his restlessness.
“yeah, well, i gave you a lot already, so…” he trails off, just hoping you’ll get the hint and leave him be.
you nod, taking your phone off the table, fishing something else out of your purse but sae’s too preoccupied looking at someone else to notice.
and just like earlier, you inch even closer, finally commanding his attention. sae catches a whiff of your perfume, a hint of sweet mixed with a little spice. you’re so close now that all he sees is you, and for some reason, he’s not moving.
you’re so close he can count the lashes on your eyes, can tell your lipstick’s not really pink but more mauve, can see up close that ever-growing smirk of yours when you catch him off-guard. and he expects you to stop, just like you did earlier, but you’re coming even closer and for some reason he can’t help but close his eyes, long lashes briefly brushing your face before he feels it go away.
when he opens his eyes, you’re not smirking anymore. that playful smirk is gone and replaced by—he can’t really tell—bashfulness? is he hallucinating the heat that built up to your cheeks?
“thanks for wasting some time on me,” you whisper, slipping something into his jacket pocket before walking away, a wave of your fingers all that you give.
and sae’s left wondering if he really was just about to let you kiss him if you didn’t move away.
he watches as you head off in the direction of the booths, a surprise washing over his face when he sees a familiar face taking your hand at the top of the first flight of stairs. that head of white with a hint of green—you know otoya?
sae takes out the piece of paper you slipped in his pocket—a name card. your name is y/n, apparently, and you work for a magazine. he scoffs, realising the intentions behind your earlier attempt to get him to talk. behind, you’d scribbled really quickly: the favour: approve this interview please? :D
you really are… something. by the way you questioned him, and your questions by itself, you must not have done this for very long. it’s a nice attempt though. still, sae has no reason to play along.
he can’t help but wonder, though—that last question: was it for the magazine, or your personal curiosity? his eyes linger on the phone number at the bottom of your card.
“hey, who was that?”
sae turns his attention to the girl he saw earlier, now in front of him, curious eyes following you as otoya walks you to their table. he quickly slips the name card back into his pocket. “dunno, she was just asking where otoya was.”
as the girl drags him away by the hand, he looks back, catching a glimpse of you staring at him before otoya guides you to the table, his hand on the small of your back, and then you fade out of view.
maybe, just for once, he’ll play along. again. because there’s something inexplicable about you, about your existence.
“look who made it back in one piece,” oliver exclaims as sae makes his way back to their table a couple of hours later, taking a seat next to the man himself. “what did bianca want you for this time?”
shidou puts down his glass of champagne to wince at sae, a pitiful glance thrown his way. “she's kinda territorial, bro. blink if you need help.”
snickers are heard around the table, most of them knowing how exasperated sae can get sometimes, even if he never actually says anything.
“you know if you guys are dating, you can just tell us right?” karasu teases, joining in the conversation.
sae rolls his eyes, ignoring them entirely. the topic about him and bianca had gone completely stale for him. honestly, if his manager didn’t convince him that he absolutely had to attend till the end, sae would’ve left halfway. maybe he wouldn’t have attended at all if he had a choice in his own schedule. then again, if he didn’t come tonight, he wouldn’t have met you.
is that a good thing?
speaking of, there’s a lack of your presence here that just mildly disappoints him. mildly.
“where’s your friend?” sae asks otoya, who’s busy typing away at his phone.
his fingers stop, and he cocks a brow at sae’s question, more confused by the fact that sae is bothering to ask such a thing. “she had a thing so she left earlier,” he says, brushing it off. “why? did you need anything? saw her talking to you just now.”
it’s like they both can sense the sudden interest of everyone around the table.
sae shakes his head, leaning back against the chair. “nothing.”
sensing something amiss, oliver leans forward, looking the most interested he’s been all night. “oh? sae of all people asking about a girl? don’t see that often,” he mocks, and sae sighs internally, immediately regretting opening his mouth.
“gotta hand it to you, though,” karasu says, nudging otoya on the elbow. “she’s pretty.”
“isn’t she that girl you said that slapped you so hard back in high school that you cried?” yukimiya joins in, his statement making the guys burst into laughter.
otoya groans, shrinking in his seat. “shut the fuck up. she was being annoying.”
“nah, she was just keeping eita in check after she heard he cheated on his girlfriend,” karasu fills in the gaps for everyone.
sae listens quietly to them divulge bits and pieces of you that they got from otoya back when you were still there with them.
apparently, you’ve known otoya since middle school, and you’ve been friends all the way till university until you drifted apart for some reason (that otoya won’t share). sae thinks it probably has to do with that “we used to fool around” statement of his. at least, unlike any of the girls he fools around with, otoya never entertained lewd questions regarding you.
were you special to him?
“tell us more,” yukimiya taunts, fully enjoying the tinge of red he sees on otoya’s ears.
“she’s just a girl who likes to clear out my fridge all the time. annoying pest i can’t get rid of,” otoya says, though everyone knows that it’s just his sharp tongue at work. he looks like he’s close to malfunctioning, a sight that sae has never seen before, fully earning his intrigue.
thankfully for otoya, oliver shifts the attention (unfortunately) to sae. “no, what i wanna know is, how a girl like y/n managed to catch this guy’s interest,” he says, pointing to sae, a cocky grin on his face. “so spill, are you interested?”
that must mean that you and otoya have nothing going on then? not that he’s curious. and not that he would put it past oliver to suggest that he steal you from someone else.
he’s not even sure why all these thoughts are in his head in the first place. sae puts on his best poker face, raising his brows as if in silent denial. “i’m not.”
oliver’s grin mirrors that of the cheshire cat, and it’s all sae has to see to know that he’s about to suggest something that will earn a ripple in the timeline.
“otoya, phone,” oliver demands, and otoya nonchalantly slides his phone over. a quick few taps of his fingers and he finds your public profile before sliding otoya’s phone over to sae. “there, follow her then, if it’s nothing.”
despite seemingly doing this all for fun, oliver is betting on much more than that. if he gets to see what the whole big deal is, why not? on the one hand, otoya is refusing to say anything about his real feelings about you. on the other, sae is refusing as well to admit that maybe he’s a little bit charmed by you.
sure, asking sae to follow you is like sending a whole army of girls chasing after a baby with a very prized candy but oliver barely knows you, so it’s fair game where he stands. besides, he’s not forcing sae to do it. he just knows he will—sae never bothers showing interest in anything, let alone a woman. he’s not following any girls either apart from other celebrities, and that’s because they cornered him to it. if he does this, you’re the only comparatively normal girl he’ll follow. sae might not be aware of the implications and whatnot, but oliver sure does. it’ll take a while for it to show, but he’ll wait patiently.
the only reason otoya hasn’t been subjected to that same problem for following you is because his popularity doesn’t come close to sae’s. not even oliver’s comes close. neither are their fans as rabid as his.
and when sae scoffs and takes out his phone to do just what oliver expects him to, oliver’s eyes flick over to look at otoya, a certain unsettled look in his friend’s eyes. neither guys are ever straightforward with their feelings—he leans back and relaxes, waiting for a show.
whoever you are, y/n, whatever you have going on, good luck to you.
extras !
sae and bianca go way back, but so do y/n and eita! the latter more so than the former.
this is y/n’s first time ever attending an event like this in her x years of knowing eita.
sae’s group of friends consist of: oliver, otoya, shidou, karasu, yukimiya and sendou. (sendou has a conflicting schedule so he wasn’t there that night.)
taglist! @yuzurins @raphsimp @mxplesyrvp @lust4rin @saeskiss
#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#sae x reader#itoshi sae x reader#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#sae x y/n#blue lock x you#itoshi sae#blue lock x y/n#itoshi sae x you#itoshi sae x y/n#sae x you#sae fluff#bllk fluff#bllk imagines#૪ aeri’s fics !
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Creep Yan meets the sweet angel that is Clown Darling-
It was an accident. They swear it to their grave.
A left instead of a right somewhere down the twisting, spacious corridors of the convention center. They could've sworn they followed the receptionist's directions down to the letter, but playing back her voice in their head they're starting to believe she just made up whatever she could to get them to leave. What should have led them to the hall holding the annual concert for their favorite idol group had in actuality brought them to a another venue with an entirely different type of star.
The clown's smiling face was plastered on every wall. Children and young adults of all ages walked in hand with their guardians wearing the same face paint or best imitation of the entertainers outfit they could readily obtain. There were others closer to their age, but none as out of their element as them. Collectors exchanging priceless goods: bonding over favorite moments from what sounds to be a show. Is this what they're like with people who share the same interests? When they're apart of the crowd it feels normal, but how could a kid's show have such an effect on grown adults? They feel like such an outcast - and they know others know they are too. They can hear the words behind every stare throw at them.
"What are they doing in here...."
"Creeps like that are exactly what it's difficult to bring kids to public events."
"Freak."
They stumble through the booths, searching desperately for the exit they lost sight of shortly before realizing where they were. Tears obscure their vision as they collapse next to a row of chairs left out for guests. The concert had to have started by now and at this raise they'll never make it before the doors close. They finally had the chance to see their favorite group in person and now it was gone. Why did they ever think the universe would give them a opportunity for better after an eternity of hell. At this rate it would be better to just go home....
Hic....hic...
Soft cries bellow from the body sitting next to them. They wipe at their eyes with a striped handkerchief, careful not to smudge their face paint. From their mismatch shoes to their brightly colored clothes it was easy to pin them as another cosplayer, but there was something more... authentic about their wear. They cry silently into their hands without spilling a tear.
"Are....are you okay?"
The clown looks up at them, sighing heavily. "Oh, I'm alright. I'm just sad because you're sad. I've seen so many happy faces today and you're the first I've seen upset. It's enough to bring a tear to anyone's eye."
They tighten grip the strap of their bag. "I... can go somewhere else..."
"No, no!" The clown bounces to their feet and takes their hands - startling them. "I'm not saying that because I want you to go away. I'm saying that because I want to make you feel better, silly! Why don't we start with you telling me what's wrong?"
"It's nothing.... You don't want to hear about stuff like that it's depressing."
"Hm... can I at least try to make you happier?"
"You can try..."
"Great! Repeat after me."
The clown clears their throat as they kneel.
"When I'm feeling lonely, or think I just might frown. I think think a thought that means a lot and then I feel less down.
The clown's smile reaches the painted circles on their cheeks. "Its the song I teach all my new friends. Now you try!"
"When I'm feeling lonely...."
"Or think I just might frown."
"I think a thought that means a lot."
"And then I feel less down." The clown squeals as they clap they hands together. "Yay! You did it! And very well if I may add. How do you feel now?"
They pause for a moment, lips moist as they think about their mother's chocolate cake. There's still a slice left in their fridge. "A little better...."
"Now, tell me a thought that makes you feel better."
"Well... I really like listening to music...." Their smile is gone as soon as it came. "I actually came to see a concert today, but I got lost...."
"Concert? You mean like those sweet girls next door? Haha, you can hear them right through the walls? I guess it is difficult with all the screaming kids. Come on, I'll take you!"
They place their ear against the wall. Sure enough, music and the roars of the crowd blare through the structure. They cup their hands around their ears to hear better and decipher if their favorite song has already played - yanked from their seat before they can properly make out a single note.
"Come on, Come on!"
The clown giggles, clutching their hand as they skip and excuse their way through the crowd - promising younger guests their full attention upon their return with a quick hug and a free sticker. It's all the time the person they drag with them has to recuperate before being pulled along again.
"Wait... please... I can't...."
"We're here!"
Catching their breath, they look up to see the still open doors of the concert hall as people pour in and out. The bouncers stop a few of them to inform them of the doors' closing in five minutes. They made it... They actually made it... Tears of happiness catch in their lashes, sweeped away by a striped cloth.
"Are you still sad? I know you missed the opening act, there's still more..."
"No... These are happy tears... Thank you.. Thank you!"
The clown's laughter reaches the deepest depths their heart. "Anything for a friend! Come see me again if you're ever in any trouble..... Oh! I almost forgot something!"
The clown reaches into their pocket and pulls out a small, plastic badge. They pass it over to their new friend who inspects the smiling rainbow and letters engraved into it.
"Y/n the clown's helper of the day."
"That's a little token I give to the best of my little helpers..." The clown lends in, covering their mouth with one hand as they whisper. "Don't tell the kids - I give one to everybody."
They reach into their bag, grabbing their wallet. The clown quickly stops them.
"It's free, Silly! If you wanna pay me back, just have a good time, okay?"
The clown winks before walking off back to their hall - but not before passing out stickers to the bouncers who thank them for it and the water bottles they brought earlier. The dumbfounded individual they leave behind looks down at their hand - then the open doors of the concert hall. They sheepishly reenter the venue they came from, approaching the first merch with physical discs they see.
"Hello, I'd like to buy a copy of all available seasons you have."
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere insert#yandere oc#yandere#yandere blurb#clown reader#yandere drabble
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Kinktober Day 15 - Noncon
Ghost x Reader - 4.6k (on ao3)
summary: You find yourself cornered in a Maze of Mirrors. (Reader POV)
cw: noncon everything, face fucking, pussy slapping, degradation, kinda a wedgie? like a front wedgie? is that a thing?, orgasm denial
note: if you like this (or hate it but like the concept) read Halloween Haunt by Harley Laroux <3 her erotica is top tier
You’ve always loved Halloween - always been the kid with the scariest costume in class, always had the house decorated with uncomfortably realistic decorations. When your sorority sisters dressed up as black cats and sexy witches, you spent hours painting the most realistic zombie makeup you could. (Your sisters complained for months that you ruined the pictures, but the frat boys had all thought your makeup was far more interesting than theirs. God, you do not miss college.)
Regardless, you’ve always been known to love any and everything scary. There’s something about the thrill of a scare - the creeping horror as you start to realize what’s coming, the ultimate reveal - that always gets you a little squirmy in your seat. Your first crush was Skeet Ulrich in Scream - specifically the scene where he’s covered in blood, licking his fingers.
You get all those ooey-gooey good scared feelings as your friend drags you through the decently crowded fairgrounds. The actual fair - the one that comes yearly, that no one ever calls anything but the fair - had left only two weeks ago, so this travelling fair had set things up in mostly the same arrangement and, you suspect, to trick certain people into thinking they were the same company.
You’ve already forgotten what your friend said the event was called. She hadn’t needed to give many details to convince you - you heard travelling circus, horror themed, interactive workers, and you were in. The branding isn’t very strong anyways, the only place the name was displayed was the entrance booth, and none of the workers seem to wear any sort of logo, so you don’t feel too forgetful for letting it slip your memory so easily.
You’re not very impressed with the fear factor so far. You hadn’t done too much makeup (hadn’t wanted to risk being mistaken for a cast member) but since it’s the night before Halloween you’ve got a half-done costume on - a clown. Just some white face paint, black lips, and overdrawn triangles around the eyes, a little smudged to make it look like you’ve been chasing someone down and working up a sweat. Your hoodie and tennis skirt look a bit out of place, but you’d wanted to be comfortable since you hoped you’d be spending your night running from actors.
But even a face full of makeup feels like it might’ve been too much effort for this place. Most of the costumes look like they’re from Party City at best - some of them even look very lazily hand-made - and none of the workers seem particularly interested in scaring people. Still, the crowd is easily amused and even a wave or a feint towards a customer has shrieks ringing in the air every few minutes.
You sigh a little disapointedly as you and your friend linger on the edge of the fairgrounds, off to the side and in the dark so you don’t have to deal with the crowd. She pulls out a cigarette and offers you her light.
“I’m sorry,” she says, lighting the stick between your teeth when you lean forward. “I really thought it would be scarier than this. Some of the posters…” she exagetates a shiver. “I thought they’d at least have better costumes.”
You eye a man in a werewolf mask across the pathway, pissing into the dirt. He’s got a flannel and jeans on, and the mask is a little bit crumpled like he pulled it out of a Walmart bin this morning. You’d bet money the flannel was just a happy coincidence he noticed when he showed up for work.
“Yeah,” you sigh, blowing out a lungful of smoke and watching the actor try not to get his dick stuck in his zipper. “Not really your fault, though, these things always look scarier in the ads. Wanna get out of here soon?”
You pass the cigarette to her. “In a bit,” she replies. “I want to try and find some food first. You hungry?”
You shake your head with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust anything cooked here, honestly. Might just pick up something on the way back.”
She passes you the cigarette for one last breath. “Well I’m too hungry for that. You good on your own for a bit?”
You crouch down a moment to stub out the cigarette, leaving the butt in the gravel. “Yeah, sure. Might see if these fun houses have anything worth seeing in them.”
“You should!” She smiles over her shoulder at you as she starts off to a more well-lit section of the fair. “You never know, maybe they stick the real scares in there!”
You give her a final wave and shout, “Here’s hoping!” at her back as she leaves.
You linger outside for a little longer, scanning the few structures nearby to decide which one you want to waste a few tickets on.
There’s a Freak Show, but you already know you’d be horribly disappointed if you went in there, something labeled a “House of Horrors” that you’re sure is as much a scam as the freak show, and a few games that have cheap prizes lined up above them.
Across from you, with no lights around it and just one attendant - slumped over, hopefully sleeping - at the front, is a House of Mirrors. Figuring it’s the least likely to be a waste of time (and knowing the kid won’t wake up to charge you), you head over to the building.
The closer you get the more you worry about if he’s asleep or dead, but his snores rattle the little tickets resting on his desk so you figure he’s just a slacker. It’s almost too easy to get by him with all your tickets safe in your pocket. There’s no one else around the darkened corner of the fairgrounds, but you’re quite sure no one would bother snitching on you this late at night. All the parents with little kids left hours ago, leaving mostly teenagers and adults of varying ages left to wander the park.
There’s music playing from speakers that you can’t see, an old clown-themed song that sounds like it’s playing on a scratched up DVD. You’re pleasantly surprised as you make your way through the dusty lobby and into the main section of the building, creatively labeled MAZE OF MIRRORS.
Their branding could definitely use some work, but you’ll give them points for ambience - the lights are turned so low that it’s nearly too dark to see, making all of the mirrors even more difficult to spot. You find yourself a little spooked as you start to make your way through the maze, grinning to yourself.
It’s a shockingly difficult maze, you quickly discover. The music is so loud in some spots that you can hardly hear your thoughts, and so faint in others that you think it might be turned off. The maze itself is a series of either tight, tiny hallways or large open rooms. Whoever designed it clearly knew how to take advantage of the space they were given, the maze feels ten times bigger than it looked on the outside as you wander through.
You know the trick to mazes - keep one hand on the right wall and eventually you’ll find your way out - but it’s fun to just wander around the place, so you let yourself get stuck wandering in circles. You’re glad your friend isn’t here to see how many times you manage to walk into a mirror fully confident that it’s not there, only to whack yourself in the face. For how low maintenance the rest of the fair is, you’re surprised that the hall of mirrors is what they focus their upkeep on.
You’ve been in the maze for about five minutes when you see him.
He scares the shit out of you at first. You spot him behind you in a mirror - one you’d just walked into, which is the only reason you can see well enough to notice him - standing at the entrance to the hallway you’d turned down. He’s clad in all black, except for the skull mask over his face. You think he’s just something taped onto the wall with the way that he blends in, but then that mask titls to the side and you’re struck with the bone-deep knowledge that you’re being watched.
“Shit!” You shout when it first registers that he’s not a piece of paper, one hand coming up to clasp at your erratically beating heart while the other steadies you against the mirror. He doesn’t move past tilting his head a bit further, and after a moment you relax.
You don’t turn around, but you study him a bit in the mirror. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of his body, but he’s big. He looks like he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the mask, and he must be wearing gloves to cover his hands since you can’t see them.
You huff out a laugh as you let both of your hands fall to your sides.
“You got me good,” you call, glancing over your shoulder. You almost jump again - he’s closer than you’d realized, but too far away for you to touch. “I didn’t even see you follow me in here.”
He doens’t say anything. You turn around more fully, leaning back against the mirror and crossing your arms across your chest.
“You gonna start chasin’ me now?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow. You’re playing up the sass, but it’s always fun to mess with theme park employees.
The man takes a few steps forward, heavy boots thudding against the cheap wood flooring. He really is an intimidating bastard, far scarier than any of the other actors you’d seen so far.
“Well?” You call out, standing up from your spot. “Do I get a head start?”
Still no answer. He rolls his head on his neck, then steps to the side and walks into one of the connecting hallways without sparing you a glance. When you step closer to see which direction he’s chosen, he’s already gone.
You huff another laugh to yourself, shaking out your limbs and bouncing a few times on your toes.
Now that you know there’s someone in here with you, the thrill of a scare is starting to get you worked up. You hope they don’t have any rules against physical contact between actors and customers, just imagining the skeleton man tackling you has shivers running up your spine.
You don’t bother to be any quieter as you keep wandering through the maze. You bump into just as many mirrors, continue to question the speaker placement, and keep an eye out for any skeleton masks lingering behind you.
You see him a few more times, always behind you, always just out of reach. He gets progressively closer everytime you spot him. You're reminded of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who - every time you look away, he gets closer.
It’s fun. More fun than you’ve had all night.
He finally catches up to you what you guess is about half an hour later. Youre just turning another corner, thinking about how it’s been a bit since you’ve seen your shadow, when a hand plants itself firmly between your shoulder blades and shoves.
You’re sent to the ground with a cry, palms scraping against the floor. There’s a gloved hand collaring your throat before you can think to do much more than catch your breath, hauling you up and holding you in the air.
Your eyes fly to the mirror less than a foot away, staring wide-eyed at the image reflected.
There’s you, in your messy clown makeup and hoodie, being held up by a giant swath of black behind you. He’s not ducking down at all, his feet planted on either side of your splayed legs as he towers above you. The way you’re being held up, your head doesn’t even reach his belt buckle. The contrast of your shock and discomfort to his plastic mask has your thighs clenching, just a bit.
He doesn’t duck lower, just tilts his head in that now-familiar way of his and pulls you a little further up. His hand is absolutely massive, thumb resting beneath one ear and his fingers resting below the other. You choke a bit as you’re lifted, knees scrambling beneath you.
This close to the mirror you can see his eyes - bright blue, surrounded by black paint, and staring back into yours.
He lowers his head, his free hand tugging your hair until you lean back and look straight up. The hand on your neck shifts to hold you in that position, his other hand lifting to pull the black part of his mask up.
He’s white, with thin lips and a broad jaw. You pant as you stare up at him, incapable of processing what’s going on.
His jaw works for a moment, lips twitching, and before you realize what he’s about to do you feel something wet splatter against your cheek.
He spit on you. Who the fuck does that? Being tackled and manhandled is one thing but spitting? You recoil reflixivley, lips curling as you reach up to try and wipe disgusting liquid off.
“What the fuck-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence you’re yanked forward by your neck.
You yelp as you’re thrown from between his thighs, hips twisted awkwardly and head slamming back against the mirror. You cry out at the sharp pain at the back of your skull, but before you can think of doing anything there’s a hand around your neck again, a body crouched in front of you - over you - keeping you from doing anything.
You gape up at the actor, panting and surprised. None of the other employees even got close to touching customers - half of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there - what the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he just take his job way too seriously
He’s far too close to you now, your nose nearly brushing where his shoulder be, his boots on either side of your thighs, his chest pressed so close that you can’t do anything with your hands.
The hand not around your neck comes up to your cheeks, grabbing them both in one hand and pinching until your lips pucker up. You squirm, letting out a noise of surprise and pain when his thumb and pointer finger dig in between your teeth to force your mouth open. One eye squeezes shut at the ache, but there’s nowhere for you to go with him caging you in.
This time when he spits, it lands right in the little hole he’s made for himself. With how close he is, you see the way his lips twitch up in the corners.
You try your best to get out from under him, hands pushing at his shoulders and legs desperately kicking. But he’s like a statute above you, hard as stone and immoveable.
He leans so close that his lips nearly brush yours, meeting your glare with a spark of amusement.
“Like how it tastes?” He purrs, chest rumbling against yours.
You make a noise somewhere between offended and annoyed, trying to throw yourself every which way for even an inch of freedom. All you manage is a tighter grip on your jaw and neck, leaving you wincing.
“Lots more where that came from,” he promises.
It’s insultingly easy for him to manhandle you, and you curse all the times you swore to yourself you’d finally start taking self-defense classes. You can barely manage a single blow, and when your hands or feet do make contact he doesn’t even flinch.
There’s absolutely nothing you can do as you’re wrestled to the floor. He gets you flat on your back then kneels over your head, his knees so close that you worry he’ll squeeze them together and pop your head like a berry.
He doesn’t give you a chance to sit up, planting one heavy hand in the center of your chest and leaning his weight forward, knocking the air out of you. You finally regain the ability to speak when his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it right above your face.
“What are you-? No, no, get the hell off me!” You shout, desperately pushing at his arm and trying to get enough leverage with your feet to squirm away. “Don’t you fucking dare- help! Somebody help!”
Your screams go ignored, blending right in with that stupid clown music and bouncing off the mirrors just to come straight back to your ears. Your noise doesn’t deter him at all, and he’s got his belt off and jeans yanked down despite your resistance.
“No, no, no, don’t- stop, please, you can’t-” you gasp, eyes flying wide as you find yourself staring up at his cock above you.
He doesn’t give you any warning, just grabs your jaw, holds it open, and sheathes himself down your throat.
Your limbs spasm, every instinct in your body screamin to get away as he slips right past your gag reflex. You’re terrified that you’ll vomit and choke on his cock, the fear dousing you in icy cold and leaving you limp for a minute. All you can think about is breathing around the intrusion in your throat, finding some way not to suffocate and die on a sticky mirror maze floor.
“Finally,” you hear him grunt from above you. He grabs both of your wrists, easily ignoring your weak pulls and tying them together with his belt. “Somethin’ to shut you up.”
You try and make a sound around his cock, yanking your hands away and panicking even more when you feel how firmly tied they are. You make another sound, insitively trying to cry out even with something stuffed in your mouth.
He moans above you, lowering himself to his elbows over your body. “Yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Mouth feel’s fuckin’ heavenly.”
You go silent, determined not to give this piece of shit anything he wants. Tears pour down your temples and across the tops of your ears, and your throat burns.
His hips move slowly against your face, grinding himself as deep as he can get before pulling out just a few inches and sliding back in. He’s got an unfairly large cock, and there’s already an ache developing in your jaw from just seconds held so wide open.
His foreskin catches on your teeth when he pulls the whole way out just to fuck back in, and you’re sharply reminded of the fact that you have teeth.
When his cock bottoms out, his balls resting against your eyes, you bite down, praying it’s enough to break skin.
It’s not. Instead of blood pouring into your mouth and a screaming man falling off of you, you hear the man snarl, pulling his dick out entirely and slamming it back down your throat so harshly that it feels almost like he’s punched you in the face.
“No fucking teeth,” he snaps above you, and you feel his weight shift back onto his knees, then his hands grab at your thighs and throw them open. He flips your skirt up and before you can think to bite down again lands a stinging slap against the gusset of your underwear.
You nearly scream around his cock, hips snapping closed to try and smother the pain. He only growls another sound, using one hand to hold you open and the other to rain down a series of progressively harder smacks.
Your breath hitches as you sob, hardly able to get any air in around his thrusts as he starts them back up again. Every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, he lands another hit to your poor pussy. You can’t help but wail around him.
“There it is,” he moans, the sound loud and unrestrained. “God you feel good screamin’ around my cock. Good fuckin’ hole, huh?”
He punctuates the last four words with slaps, leaving his length inside your throat and going back to that horrible grinding against your face. You go silent again, using all of your willpower to keep from screaming. What little thought is left in your head is used to figure out how best to breathe through your nose without choking on snot.
He doesn’t smack you again, but you feel his fingers trace around the edges of your panties. Your hips wiggle against your will, just trying to get away from the violation. One of your legs is pinned to the floor by the thigh, but the other oscillates between going limp and trying to get leverage and force your body up.
His fingers hook around the gusset of your underwear, but before you can even worry about him touching you there, he pulls them up towards your body.
He does it with such force that you’re left squealing, hips flying off the ground to try and lessen the pressure against your clit. His hand pulls so far up that you feel it resting nearly at your belly button. You can’t help the little gasping, gagging noises as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth again.
You hear - you feel - him laugh, swaying his hand from left to right. Your hips try to follow naturally, just desperate to alleviate any of the pressure you can.
“Like a little puppet,” he murmurs, yanking even further up, moaning when you scream.
He lets them go only a few thrusts later, big hand smoothing the fabric down over your cunt. You can feel that it’s stretched out, a little looser around the meat of your pussy, and the thought only makes you cry harder.
But you go silent again. It’s the one thing left in your control - even pinned to the floor, hands tied, legs useless, mouth stuff, you can decide how much noise you make.
He doesn’t like that. He groans a little when you go quiet again, tapping your thigh sharply.
“No, come on, make your little noises again. Feels real nice on my cock.”
This time you’re ready for the smack against your vulva, and you remain silent. You stay silent for the next three too.
His hips work with a little more force again, balls smacking against your face and leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut. After the next slap his hand doesn’t lift again, just rubs over your vulva slowly.
It’s pure luck on his part that he happens to rub over your clit. It’s a pure lack of luck on your part that you moan at the sudden and unexpected pleasure, completely taken off guard.
He stills above you, then slowly repeats the movement. You’re helpless to the little whimpers coming from your throat, and you curse the fact that you’ve always been loud during sex. He zeros in on exactly how to rub your clit unreasonably quickly, fingers sure through the fabric of your underwear.
“That what you need?” He rumbles a laugh above you. “Pain won’t make you noisy, but pleasure will? I can work with that.”
Before you can even begin to question what that means, your underwear are tucked to the side, and there’s a face buried in your pussy.
He doesn’t bother taking any time to explore or try and learn your body, just dives tongue-first to your clit. His technique of lick first, figure out what feels good later unfortunately works on you, and you’re left writhing beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure and moans muffled.
He groans agaisnt you, too, lips vibrating against your clit in a horrible and delicious way. “There you go.” You can barely hear him over the sounds of your own choking, especially with his own voice muffled in your folds. “That feels good, keep going.”
You don’t want to, but the magic he works against your clit leaves you no choice. You can’t help the hitched cries spilling from your lips, even if they make you cry all that much harder as you hear them.
He doesn’t take much longer to come, and you’re torn between resenting the fact that it’s your sounds that get him off and being glad that he does so he can get off of you.
He comes with a loud groan, sent right into your cunt and dragging you far too close to an edge you do not want to see, and sends thick ropes right down your throat. It’s almost a kindness that you can’t taste him, only have to swallow as quickly as possible so you don’t choke. The movements of your throat only draw out his orgasm though, and you’re locked in a terrible cycle for what feels like an eternity.
He doesn’t get you off. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not.
You gasp when he finally pulls out of your throat, taking uninhibited breaths for the first time in far too many minutes. You can’t shut your jaw from the pain, but you also can’t kick your legs when he kneels up more fully.
He’s silent as he takes back his belt, and no matter how much you beg your arms to move, they remain still on your stomach. He shifts off of you, and you whine wordlessly when he grabs a handful of your hair, wiping his flaccid cock off in it.
Still, you don’t move.
He stands and redoes his belt silently, the jingle loud even with the clown music still playing. You stare up at him, and he holds eye contact with you. For some reason, you can’t look away.
He crouches down again before he leaves, and you can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t touch you sexually again, though, only reaches out and pushes your jaw closed with two firm fingers.
You hate that he still has the mask pulled up, because it means you can see his smirk.
“That was fun. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”
He’s gone before you manage to understand what he’s said, and the tears start all over again when you do.
—
It takes you a while to scrape yourself off of the floor. You only catch sight of yourself in one mirror before you stare at the ground.
Your makeup is ruined, teartracks running down your temples and both cheeks. There are smudges along your jaw where his hands grabbed. Your lips are swollen and red. It could not be more obvious what’s just happened to you.
You plant one hand on the wall to your right, and keep your eyes firmly planted on your sneakers as you leave the maze. You feel almost detached from yourself, unable to truly understand what happened, what it means.
The throbbing between your thighs is distracting. You worry you might chafe from how soaked your panties are.
It doesn’t take long to find your friend once you finally make it out. She takes one look at you and laughs, teases you about having fun without her. You can’t bring yourself to correct her, and she picks up on your tone quickly, dropping the subject.
The two of you walk silently to your car. You hate it, but you can’t help but scan every actor. Thankfully - or maybe not thankfully? You don’t know anymore - none of them are even close to as big as the masked man in the hall of mirrors was.
You tuck your hands beneath your armpits as you finally make it to the parking lot, walking as quickly as you can get away with without running. Your limbs go a little looser as you get to your car, mind relaxing as it recognizes how close you are to safety.
You freeze when you finally make it to the driver’s side door, lungs going still and heart beating so quickly you worry it’ll pound right out of your chest.
There, sitting in the driver’s seat, is a skeleton mask sewed onto a balaclava.
#this is not very edited but i am BEHIND#this was originally gonna have like two more scenes but then it started to annoy me#i am coming to you again to confess: i did not read through this#ghost riley x reader#ghost cod#call of duty fanfic#cod fanfic#kinktober#kinktober day 15#bo writes#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#kinktober 2023
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sports au!!!!!
The booth was stuffy and smelled like it’s been forgotten for a decade. But the equipment was new and the glass pane was cleaned up, giving Eddie a clear view of the court.
“Is this a good moment to say I don’t know the rules?”
The coach, and his PE professor, looks one step away from murder.
“Just remember our team is wearing green.”
“Yes sir!”
The man squints at him with clear distrust so Eddie gives him his widest, purest smile.
“Good thing nobody’s listening to the campus radio.”
The joke’s on him; Eddie has garnered a lot of listeners over the past months. Listeners that he might lose after hosting a live sports event.
“Don’t be too weird. I might send you someone to help with the rules so you don’t completely ruin it.” He pats Eddie on the shoulder, his palm so heavy it feels like he’s trying to pin him into the chair, before disappearing behind the door in the back. Seconds later he’s visible walking down the steps to his team.
Eddie looks at his watch. It’s going to be the longest four hours in his academic history.
He turns to the concsole, frowns at the unfamiliar dials and switches and focuses on the ones he knows. Tunes everything to his best ability, takes a breath, and clears his throat before starting the broadcast.
“Hello, students of Indiana University! I know it’s a Friday night and you were hoping for some nice tunes to party to, but prepare your pillows for a nap instead because you’ll be listening to a football match. No, wait, basketball. I’m pretty sure.
Anyway, dunno why you’d listen to a match instead of going to see it, but ya boy needs to pass PE this term so here we are.
And here comes our team! The green ones. It’s greens against blues tonight, folks.”
“Tigers versus Roaches, actually.”
Eddie turns around and sees a tall boy enter his studio.
“First of all, who the fuck names their team Roaches. Second, we have an intruder in the studio.”
The boy extends his hand unfazed.
“I’m Lucas, your interpreter. Since I’m benching for the first half anyway.”
“Booo, I was just going to make up rules as I go. Now you’re gonna make it boring.”
But he shakes his hand anyway and lets Lucas sit on the chair next to him.
“Careful, I’m a dedicated listener. My friends too, you’d probably lose your whole audience.” He smirks. Eddie scoffs.
“I’ll let you know, tiger cub, that many people listen to Munson’s Midnight Metal Madness.”
“I meant the DnD show.”
Eddie looks at the boy, his neat haircut and team jersey.
“Really?”
“Yes, and I’d love to talk more about it later, but now let’s introduce my teammates.”
Eddie hands him the microphone to spit out names he’s never heard before and whatever their bearers' positions were. He hopes the coach doesn’t mind it. All Eddie could do was like, comment on their appearance. Which…
“Where did you get that one from? America’s poster boy catalog?”
He watches Lucas’s face twitch with the effort not to laugh.
“That’s Jason Carver. He’s vice-captain now and will take over the team once Steve graduates later this year.”
“Which one’s that?”
“He usually comes out last.”
Eddie asks about the important stuff - the team's average height and where Andy got his haircut. He looks over the group of young men appraisingly.
“You know what, if I knew y’all play in these funky white socks and guns out I might have gotten into sports commentary earlier.”
Lucas chuckles, but Eddie's on a roll.
“Especially with such a great co-host, Lucas Sinclair! He’s not on the court yet but he’s being an invaluable source of lore in the studio. Don’t think I’d forget about you, man.” He nudges the younger student. “What’s your specialty on the team?”
“Well…” Lucas scratches his cheek sheepishly. “I’m probably the fastest and my throws are pretty good,” he admits. “Oh, that’s Steve!”
Eddie looks to the right, where a dude with Harrington on his jersey walks in, smiling wide to friends and families watching.
“Damn, that’s some magnificent hair,” Eddie whistles.
“Yeah, that’s kinda what he’s known for. This hairdo lasts through the whole game, dunno how he does it.”
“He’s gotta give me some tips, because I look like a wet rat by the end of the day. And I don’t even do sports.”
“I’m pretty sure you look like a wet rat no matter the time of day.”
The jab was true but even if it wasn’t, Eddie had a more important thing to focus on right now.
“Does your captain have a tattoo?” he asks, squinting through the window. He was pretty sure it was ink that was peeking from the bottom of Steve Harrington’s shorts, but it was so out of place on a college athlete, he needed a triple take and the ‘ask the audience’ lifeline to make sure.
“Yep. The coach says it makes him look like a criminal,” he snorts, showing what he thinks about it. “Steve said he regrets not getting it somewhere more visible so more people could see tattoos are not for criminals and rockstars only.”
“Your captain is a smart guy,” Eddie grins, almost sighing into it, to his utter horror. Just a glimpse of a hot guy from afar, a peek of a tattoo, and hearing of his liberal views was apparently enough to make his heart beat faster.
“The best I ever knew,” Lucas admits and it sounds like a Story, capital “s” and all. His next words confirm that. “Our friend group is planning matching tattoos and we are still talking him out of getting it above the neckline.”
Eddie barks out a laugh.
“Sounds like a savage. I gotta meet your captain sometime soon.”
It’s at this point they notice the coach gesturing at them angrily and they get back to commenting on the game that’s about to start.
“Okay, so explain to me which laundry basket is ours…”
“Okay okay okay. So number four is a tank, yeah? He blocks the other players. Six is a rogue, who slips between the cracks. And number one, your captain, is a warrior who goes for the attack.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“It’s like LARPing for normies,” Eddie realizes in awe and Lucas laughs so unexpectedly he starts to cough.
“Sinclair! You’re in!”
They both jump at the sudden appearance of the coach. Lucas springs up from his seat.
“Yes sir!”
“It was a pleasure to host with you.” Eddie smiles at his new friend.
“You too. Catch you after the game?”
“Sure.” He smiles brightly, his head already swimming with ideas of how to fuck over Lucas’ future DnD character. Because playing together was inevitable, the dice were thrown, and the plot was in motion.
Lucas passes by the coach who now turns his attention to Eddie.
“You’re doing good, don’t ruin it.” He looks in pain admitting that. “I might send someone else to help you out.”
“Thanks, coach.” Though Eddie doubts he’d be vibing so well with anyone else on the team.
Just five minutes later though, he’s proven wrong.
“Heard you’ve been curious about my tattoo?”
Eddie's so startled he knocks the microphone down and yanks out the cord in his haste to turn around.
“Captain!” he yells like a dumbass, faced with the hair and boyishness of no one else but Steve Harrington.
“Radio-man!” Steve yells back with a wide and teasing smile. “I’ve heard so much about you, man, you have no idea.” He steps closer. “My kids love your show.”
“Your kids?”
“My, uh, younger friends. I used to babysit them and it kinda stuck,” he admits with an awkward smile. Steve is nothing like the typical jock he’s come to expect and he’s everything Lucas advertised.
“That’s adorable, man.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” he pouts. He honest to god pouts.
“Not laughing!” Eddie raises his hands placatingly. “There’s nothing bad with a family-tight friend group.”
“Damn straight.” Steve smiles and sits on the chair vacated by Lucas. He eyes the microphone lying prone on the desk. “Technical difficulties?”
Eddie rushes to fix his equipment.
“You could say so,” he murmurs, trying to busy himself with the tangled cord. But a hand stops him before he can plug it in.
“We’re off the air now, right?”
Eddie looks over the control lights on the console.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You have beautiful eyes.”
“What?”
When Eddie woke up today, he knew his day would be weird. No day spent in a sports facility could be normal or pleasant. It was confirmed when he made a new friend with a member of the team, who was a listener of his DnD podcast. But the team captain hitting on him? That’s not your regular weird, that’s a bad strain of weed kind of weird.
“Lucas sent me over claiming a guy my type might be hiding here.”
It takes everything from Eddie not to take a look around. Logically, he knows there’s no one else in the booth. But his brain refuses to connect the dots. He licks his lips and cringes at the wet noise his mouth makes.
“What’s your type?”
Steve tilts his head and hums like he’s in thought.
“Weird, smartass nerd, as it turns out. With big brown eyes and great hair.”
“Uh, thank you?”
Steve only smiles at him, soft before it turns teasing.
“Wanna see my tattoo up close?” he offers.
“Gosh, yes,” he admits with zero shame, eyes flitting down to the man’s legs. Was he curious about what type of tattoo a gorgeous sport-type guy would get? Yes. Did he want to ogle some hairy thighs? Also yes. It’s a two-in-one kind of deal.
The coach waves at them angrily to get back on the air, but Steve promises to tell him everything about S.S. Robin after the game. And no, Robin is just his best friend, Eddie doesn’t need to worry about her.
“In fact, wanna be my date to the after-party later? The kids will freak out when they meet you.”
How could Eddie say no to his fans' worship?
And to Steve’s hopeful eyes and the slight squeeze he gave his hand.
“Mingling with jocks in my free time?” Eddie turns his palm up to squeeze back. “Sure, let’s make this day even weirder.”
#steddie#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#mine#ff#stranger things 4#steddie fanfiction#st#request#one shot#college au#sports au#radio host eddie#ive had this idea for months and it finally got an outlet#steddie fic
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Heart of Glass
A friend of mine finally talked me into reading LDR and this was the result. Takes place after chapter 13. LDR belongs to @spadillelicious
At your wit's end, you decide to try and have a normal time with Sun before opening hours.
cw: suggestive
You x Sun
wordcount: 2040
You came into work feeling a little more rested than you have been in the past few days. You chanced taking a quick glance around for Moon but the janitor was doing a good job of making himself discreet, and you couldn't exactly blame him given recent events. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach and you rubbed at your temples.
You missed the days when your greatest concern at work was customer service, or not making a total fool of yourself while skating, or… confessing to your crush. It was beyond agonizing how your world had gone from bright and sure to being filled with shadows of uncertainty at every corner overnight. And each day the shadows seemed to grow bigger and more numerous. It almost made you wish you could go back to the days of blissful ignorance before you knew the horrible, horrible truth.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Sun chirped from behind you, causing you to jump nearly a foot in the air. He placed both hands on your shoulders to steady you before you could fall over. “Careful there. You don't even have your skates on and already you're unbalanced.” He gave a soft, playful chuckle in your ear that made your heart squeeze in your chest and your breath catch in your lungs.
“M-Morning, Sun,” you forced out, trying to simulate even a sliver of the cheer he was radiating..
“You're here early again I see, perfect. That means we can get more practice in. I'll make an expert skater out of you yet,” Sun declared, giving a spin and winking at you.
You gave a soft snort in answer, doubting his claims. Your clumsiness on wheels aside… A dark thought pervaded your mind… would you even live long enough for that to happen? You stared up at Sun, seeing the eagerness in his body language, the way he was practically bouncing in his roller skates, the way his eyes were lit up with excitement and anticipation. He was eager to get you on the roller rink. His dance floor.
You considered him, and you considered one of your more recent conversations. His confession about the mixtape, how it meant everything to him, how he’d kissed it and handled it like the most precious of treasures. A part of you desperately wanted to believe his words, that he would never hurt you, that he wanted to keep you safe and protect you. But your mind was still swirling in a fog of doubt and fear.
After what you saw him do you didn't know what to believe anymore. You didn't want to think that all those months of you and him had been a lie. But if they had been… would he really be trying so hard? And then another thought occurred to you, a crazy and possibly insane thought. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to keep Sun endeared to you. If his feelings were really as true as he claimed, then perhaps keeping him on your side might be the smart thing to do. You felt like such a scuzz for even thinking that but it wasn't just about self-preservation on your part. You really did miss your friend. Your Sun.
“Not this time,” you said, straightening your back and puffing out your chest a little bit. “This time we're going on to MY dance floor.”
Sun stared down at you, his eyes widening in surprise as he blinked at you. Clearly, you had caught him off guard. “Oh?” The sound was drawn out, laced with intrigue, and his rays gave a little spin. “Do tell. Where is this said dance floor?”
Swallowing down all of your nerves -and they went down as smoothly as a thick wad of dried bread, with no water to wash it down- you took Sun by the hand and pulled him towards the DJ booth. He gave a soft giggle clearly intrigued as he let you tug him along, his roller skates gliding easily along the floor. When you got to the DJ booth you began flipping through the vinyls looking for the record you had in mind.
“Skates off," you told him.
Once again Sun was taken aback by your request. “Sunshine, this is a skating rink,” he reminded you.
“Oh, what's the matter?” You asked, throwing him a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk. “Afraid I'll show you up?”
Sun laughed and it was the first genuine laugh you heard since... you shook your head. No you couldn't let those thoughts frazzle you now. Not when you had a good flow going. “Someone is feeling daring today,” Sun remarked, and he sounded pleased as punch about it. “All right, then. We’ll play by your rules.”
While Sun changed out of his skates and into his casual footwear, you searched for a particular vinyl. It didn’t take you long to find what you were looking for, and once you got it set up, the music started and Heart of Glass by Blondie began blaring over speakers. You turned to face Sun and then you begin to move your hips to the music, doing a shuffle as your elbows and knees popped to the beat.
Sun gazed at you in utter awe. “I didn't know you could dance, sunshine. You've been holding back on me!”
Normally you didn't, normally you were too embarrassed and self-conscious to dance in front of others. But if this helped you to mend some kind of bridge…
“Once I had a love, and it was a gas,” you sang as you swayed your hips.
“Soon turned out, had a heart of glass,” Sun continued as he joined you, shuffling his feet, his limbs moving with a flawless elegance that was so enviable.
As it turned out Sun was just as graceful off the roller rink as he was on it. He matched you move for move and even had the cheek to embellish on some of them. Clearly trying to impress you, and probably also show off a little. Halfway through the song, Sun caught one of your hands and spun you around before pulling you into a dance of his own. With one hand holding yours and the other on your hip, he rocked and swayed your bodies together in time with the music. Your heart surged in your chest a mix of fear and something else. Excitement? Giddy? You decided not to look at it too closely and just enjoy the music and the rhythm that your bodies were making.
The two of you spun and danced around the small space and you felt a little bit more in control without the skates to put you off balance. Sun did a good enough job of that to you as it was all on his own. At one point Sun had spun you around so that you were face away from him, and you were acutely aware of his hips gently grinding against yours as your back pressed against his chest. It was only for a moment, maybe two, but it caused you to fluster enough that you nearly had a misstep as Sun spun you back around to face him, his smile perfectly bright and innocent.
Despite your nerves, you felt yourself actually having fun. “Lost inside, adorable illusion and I cannot hide,” you sing softly.
Sun continued the next lyric. “I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside.” You heard his voice quiver a little at those last few words, his voice becoming almost pleading.
He pulled you a little closer in the dancing and once again you felt your heart being clenched in your chest. A thought occurred to you just then. (You’d been having a lot of those lately.) What if Moon wasn't the only victim here? You saw how Sun acted around Afton, how whenever the owner came by Sun distanced himself from you. Maybe… maybe Sun acted the way he did because he had to.
Was that stupid of you to think? Was that naive of you to wish that that was the case? At any rate, you couldn't allow yourself to fully believe it as much as you wanted to. There was too much doubt, too many holes in this gruesome picture that you found yourself a part of unwittingly. But in your heart of hearts you wanted to hold on to that hope that the Sun that you knew, the friend who had always been there to brighten your day and bring a smile to your face, you wanted to believe that that was the real Sun.
The two of you finished out the song, Sun slowing down the dance as the outro played until he was just gently swaying you with him. Holding you close so that your heart was practically hammering against his chest plate.
“I missed this,” he murmured against your hair. “I missed us.”
“Me too,” you said, allowing yourself to be honest.
Sun began humming, but not to the tune that was playing. It was a different song entirely. A much older one. “You Are My Sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray~. You'll never know dear how much I…” His whole body shuddered, his sun rays twitching and his words seemed to hitch.
You stared up at him, your mouth agape. “S-Sun?” It was a question, and you still weren't sure you wanted to know the answer.
Sun slowed the both of you to a halt, staring down at you with those pale eyes that seemed so… vulnerable at the moment. His hands reached up to cradle your face and your cheeks were hot against his cool silicone and metal digits.
“I know you're still… uncertain. But unlike you, there is no doubt in my mind about how I feel.”
He leaned down and in a panic, you closed your eyes too scared to back away or to move forward. But instead of a touch on your lips, you felt his smile press against your forehead in a sweet and affectionate gesture.
“Not to worry, sunshine,” he said softly. “If… when that happens, it will be because you wanted it.”
Your heart swelled and you almost wanted to cry. So many emotions and thoughts and feelings were swirling around in your head, distorting your reality and making you dizzy. Were you a terrible person for leading him on like this? Were you an even worse person for still loving him as much as you did? You opened your eyes to look at him but before you could say or think to say anything, you heard a distant banging on a door breaking the mood.
Sun glanced over to the front doors, an unamused laugh emitting from him. “Looks like we have some eager beavers this morning. It's still ten minutes til opening.”
Sun parted from you and you had to fight the urge to reach out and grab his windbreaker to stop him. He slipped his roller skates back on and flashed you his trademark grin. “I'll take care of things, sunshine. Why don't you go grab yourself a cup of coffee real quick? I made you a fresh pot.”
“Thank you,” you said, giving him a smile. And for the first time in a while, it didn't feel forced.
“No, thank you, sunshine.” He lingered in the doorway, gripping the door frame tightly. “I really needed this. More than I think you'll ever know.”
With that, he skated off to help the customers, all while singing the song that was playing “The tide is high but I'm holding on, I'm gonna be your number one~.”
You collapsed down into one of the swivel chairs, needing to catch your breath from the whirlwind of the last several minutes. For just a short while things had felt normal again. It felt like you had your friend and crush back. The hope in your heart, once a little seedling, was starting to grow, and you were wondering if it was too late to root it out. You just prayed that Sun would keep his promise. Because the hurt at his betrayal would kill you long before a bullet from his gun.
#fnaf sundrop#fnaf moondrop#sun x y/n#sun x reader#cw suggestive#love death and rollerskates#here's hoping I didn't totally butcher Sun's character#this story man#i'm emotionally compromised over these two broken bots#but i felt like this song REALLY suited the situation damn near perfectly#wrote this because after all the hurt I needed some self comfort#feel like i'm setting myself up for heartache with Sun but I will hold onto hope#justfangirlwritings
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make your heart stop | ☆
pairing: yeonjun x reader
genre: friends to lovers, fluff<3
prompts: - “are you jealous?”
- “you’re blushing”
- “stop looking at me like that”
warnings: mentions of alcohol
word count: 1.1k
a/n: comforting kitty anon THIS ONE actually goes out to you!!!!😼😼💖 i don't know if you had a chance to see my silly little mishap- i think my brain was just not working properly in the morning asbdhjab i was looking through my old docs trying to find something when the realisation hit and my face dropped.......😭😭
☆ = repost from my old blog!!
you don’t know how, or when, but late-night karaoke with the tubatu boys somehow became a regular friday thing. ordering unreasonably priced alcohol, sharing food, screaming your lungs out as you sang trot songs together- it was possibly the best activity to shake off all the stress accumulated throughout the week.
the owners already recognised you as regulars; every week, they would make sure to have at least one booth free for the six of you, catering to all your needs. it was heaven- and you could barely bring yourselves to leave.
this time though, you ended up parting ways quite early, the reason being beomgyu drinking one can of beer too much, falling down to his knees whenever he tried to take a step. he insisted on singing to you all one last song, despite stumbling over each and every word he said even in casual speech. soobin and taehyun were the ones to carry him out, shily apologising as they exited through the door. meanwhile, kai took videos of the drunken boy, the joy of teasing him in the morning already bubbling up in his chest.
yeonjun, however, remained with you and walked you home. he ended up staying over at your place, as neither the singing nor the alcohol were enough to tire you out. turning on the tv, you decided to end the day by watching a movie together, hoping, that at some point, the two of you would doze off.
slumping onto the couch, you searched for the movie you agreed on as yeonjun took care of preparing the caramel popcorn.
“taehyun killed it tonight” you exclaimed, eyes gleaming as you reminisced the earlier events “like seriously- his voice suits that song even better than the original singer. and that high note at the end? how are his vocal chords even able to do that?”
yeonjun stared at his reflection in the microwave, shifting his focus to the popping sound coming from it rather than your voice. he loved hearing you talk- but now? his left eye was twitching, and he didn’t get why.
a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t quite pinpoint was spreading throughout his chest, starting from the heart, then all the way down to his stomach, creating an almost nauseating feeling. was it jealousy? hm, no. he knew very well himself that his fellow members were great singers, their capabilities were definitely worth praising- he just wished that you’d have paid more attention to the way he, too, sang his heart out in that tiny karaoke room. okay- maybe yeonjun was, indeed, jealous. maybe, just slightly- actually more than slightly, he was quite very jealous.
yeonjun seemed a bit out of it ever since he returned to the living room with the popcorn bowl, his lips were stuck in a pout even while talking or eating. at first, you didn’t give it much thought, assuming that the exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on him.
15 minutes further into the movie, he still had that same absent-minded expression on his face, now combined with a frown. it was clear as day that his attention towards the plot had simply perished, eyes preferring to watch his own fingers fidget with the blanket on his lap.
did you say something out of pocket? it was never your intention to make him feel bad in any way. you backtracked a little bit, thinking about your earlier conversation. you got to your apartment, picked a movie and snacks, then waited for the popcorn to be ready. did you talk about anything else during that time? hm- you scratched your head, trying to concentrate better. then, it was like a lightbulb had been turned on inside your head.
“are you jealous?” you said, almost shouting the question. (how discreet-) the realisation hit you like a truck, and you spoke without thinking. the chances of finding out the truth from him could be close to zero now.
“no” yeonjun was quick to give you the answer you expected. he jolted out of his seat, like a cat taken by surprise. for a second there, he actually wondered whether you were able to hear his thoughts, or whether he had been unknowingly speaking out loud this entire time.
unconvinced, you continued to stare down at him. that ‘no’ was a pitch higher than his usual voice and it was only adding more to your suspicions “i’m not jealous-” he spoke again in that same tone “y/n, come on- stop looking at me like that” he whined, giving your shoulder a slight push as he sat back down on the couch.
“jun? you sure you’re not jealous?” you inched your face closer to his, yeonjun moving his head back at the same time. he was unaware of his surroundings, too focused on keeping some sort of distance. you cupped his cheeks to stop him from slipping away any further, afraid that, at some point, he would fall off the couch. his cheeks were squishy, and you pinched and stretched them like a kid playing with pizza dough. his constant yearning for your attention was becoming -somehow- fulfilled, and he didn't know how to handle it.
as his heart felt close to jumping out of his chest at any given moment, he placed his hands over yours, muttering a quiet “stop that” before breaking eye contact with you.
“you’re blushing” you chuckled, your fingertips brushed against his soft, reddened cheeks. yeonjun wasn’t one to easily get flustered. he wasn’t a great liar either- not in front of you, at least.
“you were sitting too close to me- it was suffocating me” he attempted to defend himself.
“oh?” you tilted your head, as you reduced the gap between the two of you once again, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips “since when does me sitting close bother you?” his chest was beginning to raise up and down more rapidly underneath you. yeonjun gulped, the audible sound giving away his sheer nervousness. it didn’t bother him- he liked it. in fact, he was more bothered by the fact that he didn’t have the guts all night to just hold you in his arms.
your tongue darted out to wet your lips, taking away all of his focus. he couldn’t take it anymore- it was getting too much, too overwhelming: the scent of your perfume, the warm breath on his face, the rosy lips sitting just a few centimeters away from his. sighing, he gave in, his hand coming to the back of your neck as he closed the gap that kept on tormenting him. your eyelids fluttered shut, taking in the slow rhythm of his kiss, indulging in the way your lips felt against his.
and once he parted away, he admitted, completely out of breath:
“okay. maybe i was a bit jealous”
taglist: @huekalover3000
#wave2tyun#txt#txt fluff#txt x reader#txt fic#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt smau#txt headcanons#txt yeonjun#yeonjun fluff#yeonjun scenarios#yeonjun fic#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun imagines#yeonjun headcanons
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a dream p.g.10
gif not mine!
parings: pierre gasly x fem!reader ; friends to lovers
word count: 3.9k
summary: a drabble on pierre’s unrelenting feelings for you, what started as a childhood crush turned into full fledged love and it was eating him alive.
a/n: for context purposes, pierre isn’t with kika (duh) and the fia dropped those penalties 11pm in austria just so the scene makes sense. started writing this before silverstone so we’re going into our own little world with this. will make other parts if people like it enough
please do not take my work! enjoy and interact!
AUSTRIA WAS OVER, finally, and the weekend proved to be more than eventful. For your best friend, the results were just what he needed. Ferrari made some additions to their car and Charles was finally to get back on the podium. Unfortunately for your other best friend it wasn’t perfect.
‘Tenth isn’t bad, you’re still in points,’ you remind Pierre as you perfect your makeup and touch up your hair in the mirror.
‘A point,’ he stresses. ‘One singular point, I’m still 15 points behind Esteban,’ he slouches further into the arm chair he’s occupying. His hair is a mess from how many times his hands run through it, his white linen shirt only getting more wrinkled and he decompresses in your hotel room.
Walking past him to your suitcase, you reach for the only pair of heels you brought, and slip them on. The thin white straps perfectly matched the white silk dress you decided on. ‘There will be more races, the gap will close. Besides, tonight we can get drunk and celebrate Charles, forget about your sour mood until the morning.’ You stand up and walk over to him, hands reached out. He placed his hands in yours and allowed you to pull him up begrudgingly.
Standing at now an almost equal height, you mess with his hair to try and make him look more presentable. Pierre keeps that far off look in his eyes while he stares down at you. There’s something behind his eyes you cant quite place but you chop it up to being unpleased with todays results.
‘You look more presentable now, lets go,’ you grab your purse and keep one hand wrapped around his while you exit the hotel room. You meet up with Charles in the elevator and give him another congratulatory hug before making your way to whatever club everyone wanted to go to tonight.
•••
Drinks were flowing, moral was taking multiple hits, and you were out of your mind drunk dancing with Lando off the side of the dance floor. It was roughly midnight now, and someone had gotten the memo of the twelve penalties given out and told everyone. You can’t remember exactly who got the information, but it spread quickly throughout the group. As formally mentioned, Lando was having the night of his life. He benefitted from all of it and moved up to fourth so he decided he was going out in style tonight.
Poor Esteban was at the corner of the bar slowly nursing his drink while he was grieving the news. Lewis had left to facetime Roscoe, thinking it could make him feel better. Carlos, already in an off mood since breaking it off with Isa, was singing some of the most depressing Spanish songs you’d heard, his back against the booth while Charles watched over him.
Pierre’s mood hadn’t changed, he was still sulking but this time it was Charles’ problem. He watched you have fun with Lando, wishing it was one of those nights where your happiness rubbed off on him. Charles could almost smell the desperation flowing off of him as he watched you as well. He turned his head and faced Pierre, he knew that look.
Charles released a quick breath, ‘You know, we’ve known each other a long time, we’re getting too old for this mate,’ he took a quick sip of his drink and pointed his eyes at Pierre.
Pierre turned his head to face Charles, ‘Yeah..’ he didn’t know where Charles was going with this.
‘Some things can’t be bottled up forever, feelings, secrets..’ he pushed further.
‘Okay..?’ he still didn’t understand.
‘Secretly pinning over your friend you’re in love with, is kinda tiring,’ Charles sighed.
‘Look mate, I love you but not like that,’ Pierre scooted a few inches further from him.
‘Merde,’ Charles rubbed his face, ‘you love her.’
‘What? I’ve known her for years, she’s my best friend,’ he said with a little extra stress on the friend.
‘Ah, but you knew I was talking about her.’ Charles eyes dart over to you, still dancing with Lando. Your head was knocked back in laughter, he must of said something, because while you laughed Lando’s face was pink and he had a shy smile.
‘Charles,’ Pierre started but got quickly interrupted.
‘You can’t lie to me, I know you too well. I know what’s in your head.’ Charles wrapped his knuckles lightly over the side of Pierre’s head.
His hand was quickly shooed away. ‘ You’re not a guru mate, relax.’ The Frenchman reached for his drink again and took a lengthy sip. ‘She’s my best friend, I can’t lose her if it doesn’t work out. Things are perfect as they are.’
‘Are they? You’ve never held a solid relationship and follow her like a lost puppy. You’ll never know unless you actually make a move.’
‘And if she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?’
‘She won’t. You know she’s not like that, she loves you too much.’ The two men shared a long look as Pierre let his gaze fall back to you, Charles let out a deep sigh went back to babysitting Carlos.
•••
Maybe two hours had passed and Pierre was dragging you back to the hotel. You all had a flight around midday, and he knew you would prefer if you weren’t drunk during it. You’d bid goodbye to both Charles and Carlos an hour ago when they left before you, Charles leaving with a pat on Pierre’s back and a silent look.
Now it was just the two of you, long time best friends walking back to your room. Your shoes had been long discarded as they only got harder to walk in. Pierre was holding them in his hands while you rested against his back. As soon as you’d left the club you begged him to carry you, the dancing had tired you out too much, you said.
Knowing how chivalrous he was, and how he could never say no when you looked at him like that, he let you hop on his back and he carried you to bed. From the street, to the lobby, to the elevator, and back up in your room, he absorbed the feeling of you. Your arms around his neck and your soft breath tickling him as you quietly sang all your favorite ABBA songs, the warmth of your chest on his back and the soft skin of your legs. He let himself dream, just this once, and dive into a world in his mind where you were his. Where touches like these happened freely and more occurring.
But that’s exactly what it was. A dream. That’s all he would let it be. If you put both on a scale, his intensely deep love for you would be outweighed by his desperate need to keep you as his friend. Regardless of how Charles’ words echoed through his mind he couldn’t act on it. He knew that reality well.
‘Chérie, I need you to open the door now,’ He readjusted his hold on you and leaned down a bit further so you could put your key card in. Your hair tickling his neck as you reached forward to open the door sent a shock wave through his system. Walking through the doorway he cleared his throat as he sets you down.
The feeling of your hands sliding down his back as you let go made the hairs on his neck stand up. It always got harder to focus when you were near, even so when you made any physical contact. Pierre sets your heels down next to your suitcase as you suddenly start stripping out of your dress and into your pajamas, getting ready for bed.
If his face wasn’t bright red before it was now, as he whipped right around to give you some privacy and try to maintain his dignity.
‘Thank you so much for carrying me back,’ you call out to him as you slip your dress off.
‘O-Of course chérie,’ he fidgets in place as he keeps his back turned.
Still inebriated you giggle at his stutter, ‘You’re such a good friend,’ his heart aches at the word. ‘Can’t believe you took care of little drunk me instead of finding some girl and taking care of her,’ you giggled suggestively and slipped a t-shirt (that may or may not be Pierre’s) on over your head.
‘And leave my favorite girl all alone? Never,’ He was glad you couldn’t see him at the moment. His face would’ve betrayed him if his voice didn’t already, leave you by yourself? Choose another girl over you? The idea was so foreign to him.
‘I’ve tamed the playboy! Quick, call the press!’ You laugh as you fall backwards on your bed, now fully clothed. He turned around and chuckled with you. Pierre crossed over to your side of the bed and goes to tuck you in. Seeing you nestle into the covers only made him adore you more.
When you’re settled in, he places a long kiss to your hairline, pulling away and pushing the strands out of your face, ‘Sweet dreams amour,’ he whispered so quiet not even a mouse could hear.
‘I love you Pear, never change,’ you mutter into your pillow.
All he can do is smile as he turns the lights off and leaves your room. As soon as it’s closed his head hits the door, ‘I love you more than you could imagine.’
He says it like a prayer in the night, to himself, for his ears only, but he has to say it.
•••
The jet was due to take off anytime soon, as it sat on the runway waiting for it’s last passenger.
‘You’re late,’ Charles tsks as you sit down next to Pierre and lean your head against the wall.
‘Calm your tits, you’ll make it in time for the next race.’ You groaned, adjusting your giant black sunglasses to filter out more light.
‘Rough night?’ Pierre asks as he tips the bill of your cap upwards, exposing more of your face.
‘I don’t want to drink ever again,’ you shuffled to lay your back against his side and kicked your feet up to the edge of the bench.
‘Where have I heard that before,’ Charles comments, at that you pull one of your slides off and throw it at him with surprising accuracy. ‘Ouch, okay miss grumpy I’ll leave you alone.’
He sticks his tongue out at you now that you can’t see him. The trip was going to long with you like this if you didn’t get some coffee in you to sober up. You knew this, and the boys knew it even more than you since having to deal with your hangovers for years.
So, adjusting your position against him you, Pierre holds your weight with one arm while holding his cup of coffee to your lips. ‘Here, have a sip.’ He angled the cup upwards and watched as you took a little more than a sip of his coffee.
‘Ugh, thanks Pierre. You’re always so sweet to me,’ you reach up and pat the side of his face before falling back into your comfortable position against him. ‘Unlike someone,’ you let your glasses fall down a little bit so Charles can see the look you send him.
‘Yeah well one of us isn’t in love with you,’ he muttered into his own coffee, not intending for anyone to hear.
‘You say something Cha?’ you piped up from your spot.
‘No he didn’t, he’s just being annoying because he can’t let anything be.’ Pierre wraps an arm around your resting frame and gives Charles a look that would definitely kill him if he and the Frenchman were in a more private space.
•••
Free practice is in a day and Pierre is restless. He runs through the track in his mind, memorizing the corners he could overtake and making a play-by-play of the best way he can preform. He also has an itch that's been begging to be scratched in a while. Being hopelessly in love with your best friend makes it really hard to have any kind of love life.
If he finds a girl he likes, which is rare, its either only for a night or he constantly compares her to you in his mind, and no one deserves that. With that in mind, it means most of his romantic adventures last for a night before he can feel guilty about being with someone else, even if he isn’t with you. Or he spends the nights alone.
But he still does it. He goes out every night, finds a girl, and goes back to her place. Bringing her back to his hotel room where you are so close, his hotel room that you spend most of your time in, it felt vile and disgraceful. He always goes back to her place, trying to have a good night without thinking of you. Closing his eyes and trying to erase you from his thoughts.
As he walked back in shame to his hotel room, he could hear your laughter echoing from your door. Some cruel twist of fate always puts your hotel rooms close together and it makes him feel worse. Pierre couldn’t take the sick feeling he got when he realized what he just did and he jumps into the shower immediately. Scrubbing and scrubbing to get the feeling off of him. Using the hottest water possible to burn the feeling off his skin.
Pierre wraps a towel around his waist once he’s out and he sees a new message from you. You were inviting him over to watch a movie together when he was done and he just couldn’t say no. He slips his pajamas on and goes next door to yours.
He knows you’ll sit cuddled together on your bed while whatever movie you’ve picked plays on the tv. He knows you’ll end you falling asleep on his shoulder like you always do. He knows he’ll put the volume lower, so as to not wake you, and stay there with your death grip wrapped around him. He knows he’ll lay there dreaming of a life with you where it was like this every night.
He really has it bad, doesn’t he?
•••
The three of you were walking to the garages, laughing and chatting on your way. You usually got distracted while on the way so Pierre’s hand was softly holding your elbow while he pulled you out of the way of trees, other people, trash cans, just about anything you would run into.
This time, he hears someone progressively getting loader behind you. Out of curiosity Pierre turns around and sees someone running up but their head was turned. For whatever reason this person was in a rush they were positioned perfectly to barrel straight into you. With his super fast reflex his hands reached out to grab your waist and pull you into his chest, making sure you were safe.
‘Woah!’ you called out, surprised by the sudden movement shocked by the sudden proximity. Whoever it was that he saved you from blew past and yelled out a ‘Sorry!’. You’d all stopped walking and your hands were gripping the front of Pierre’s shirt. The way he was staring down at you and lightly laughing felt weird.
‘Alright, cherie?’ he pushed some hair out your face that was obstructing your view.
Were his eyes always this blue? Have you ever been this close to him before? Did he always smell like lemons and freshly washed linen? Were his hands always so warm on your skin? You could feel his fingertips on your hips and it made tingles shoot through you. You don’t remember his lips being that pink and soft looking. Actually, you don’t remember thinking about his lips before. You didn’t know why you were, still, thinking about his lips. Shaking yourself out of this daze, you cleared your throat and laughed.
‘Yeah I’m, uh, alright. Thanks,’ You smoothed down your shirt and readjusted your shorts around your waist. When you look back up Pierre looks a little unconvinced but laughs it off as he keeps walking. As he passes you Charles fall right into view, and he look he’s giving you is smug. ‘What?’ you ask him.
‘Nothing! Nothing at all,’ he shrugs and starts walking very slowly. ‘Someone got a little nervous for a second there.’ His shit-eating grin is wider than you’ve seen it before, and you’ve seen it a lot.
‘No I didn’t!’ you were getting defensive now, which normally means you’re hiding something or afraid to admit you’re wrong.
‘I dont know if I believe you,’ he says in a sing-song voice and you respond by shoving him. Now you’ve both stopped in your tracks and Charles was rubbing the side of his arm. ‘You’re the one who got lost in Pierre’s dreamy eyes in literal public.’
‘If you’re saying his eyes are dreamy I think we need to have another conversation, mate,’ Now you were just plain deflecting and you knew he could see right through it.
‘Actually, if my ears don’t deceive me, you just called his eyes dreamy.’ If his grin got any wider you’d swore it would split his face in half. You turned forward and watched Pierre chat with someone who stopped him to say hi. While watching him you get lost in thoughts that felt brand new.
Charles watched you watch Pierre and just raised his eyebrow and deadpanned. He could only shake his head and keep moving forward while pulling you behind him. Sometimes he felt like he was the only one with eyes in this friend group.
‘You guys coming or what?’ Pierre called from way ahead of you and waved his hand in a come here motion. You ran up to him and the second you got close enough he slotted you underneath his arm and kept chatting about as you two went over to the Alpine garage. Charles stood in his place and veered off to Ferrari as he watched you and Pierre from behind. You were slightly awkward now but trying to shake off whatever the weird feeling was plaguing you at the moment. Looks like Charles’ plan to get you two to admit your feelings for each other and get together didn’t need that much meddling from his part after all, fate was pushing you into his arms and oh, how Charles loved fate right now.
•••
You sat in hospitality while you waited for Pierre to finish his shower. You were scrolling on YouTube and found a video you wanted to watch, so you went to reach for your headphones when you realized they weren’t there. The only obvious place for you to have left them were in his room. Maybe you could just sneak in and grab them, and sneak out unnoticed.
You creeped into his room and kept your head down. He was humming quietly to himself and you found yourself smiling at it, before blinking and getting back to the mission. Hand wrapped around them you went to exit just as quietly but you caught a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye. His frame seemed to glow from behind the shower curtain, why was there light in there anyway?
You stared at his wide shoulders and watched the muscles move as he washed his hair. You stood there mesmerized watching his back move as he kept showering. His waist tapered and got smaller as your eyes travelled down his back, but his frame stayed strong. Before your eyes started going further down you shut them quickly.
This time you rushed out of the room quickly and you sat with your back against the wall. You’d seen his back before. Plenty of times really. You’d know him since you were kids, you’d gone to the beach and gone swimming with him before. You swore you knew what he looked like. But you’d never seen him like that before, it felt different. You didn’t know what to even think anymore. From earlier this morning to now, you were confused.
Why did a Formula 1 driver even need those muscles? Doesn't it like, make him heavier and affect the drag or something? Since when did he have them anyway, 'Hey!' His voce dragged you out of your head. 'I'm almost ready, you got all your stuff?'
'Yeah, all good!' you gave a thumbs up even though he couldn't see you. Your head fell into your hands and you almost laughed in your own embarrassment. Nearly a second later Pierre opened the door and you fell backwards onto his chest.
'Woah there,' he laughed and held your shoulders, he leaned forward just ever so closer to your face. 'You're all over the place today, huh?'
'Apparently.' You shot back onto your own two feet trying to shake the feeling of his chest on your back out of your head. The entire walk to the car you were silent, just listening to Pierre voice his concerns and ideas about qualifying and the race. Then in the car you stayed silent as music flowed through the speakers and filled the silence.
What was wrong with you today? Why was this happening to you? Why can't you stop thinking about him and how his body felt against yours? His hands felt so large on your shoulders and his chest so solid when you leaned against it. And what was that this morning? You'd hugged Pierre before so why did it feel so different now. You'd felt him before, but this felt like you'd felt him. Your mind was racing the entire night so you texted Charles to see if you guys could talk once you got back.
And talk you did.
•••
'Hmm, yes,' Charles rubbed his chin after you just told him everything about earlier. 'I think I know what the problem is.'
'Okay?' You were really starting to question him after he sat in silence for five minutes.
‘You like him.’ He stated like it was so simple. He sat there with his arms crossed and that stupid look on his face.
You stared mouth agape, what drugs was he on. You? Like Pierre? Your best friend? No, no way, 'I highly doubt that Cha. It's probably just, pent up energy.'
'Then relieve it, maybe that'll being some clarity to the situation.'
'No! What are you on about? Mon dieu, Charles you're losing your mind.'
'If you knew what was actually wrong with you, why'd you come to me then?' Charles asked with his arms crossed.
'I think I just need to clear my head.' You got up and walked out, 'Thanks Cha, really.'
'You're welcome,' he mutters as you walk away. Why is he always being put in this position where he's stuck between two very stubborn people. 'Everybody asks Charles for help, but no one ever listens to Charles.' He slumps down and goes back to his book that was previously put down at your urgency.
•••
You'd been sat off the pools ledge, with your legs moving steadily. Why did things have to start changing? Why couldn't things stay the same? What were you supposed to do now?
It was getting late as you checked your watch so you decided to go back to your room. There were so many thoughts in your head you couldn't make a solid conclusion. You debated back and forth, to do or not to do. So there you stood, in front of the door, debating.
Before you get to decide, a familiar voice calls your name.
'Hi.'
fin
#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 x oc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#f1 x female reader#fem reader#self insert
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HELLO wrapped number fic prompt if u want: 62 👉👈
it is perhaps a little sacrilegous to reduce trample out the days to the line bury my heart at the rodeo but. i did it anyway
this is for all my cowboy eddie girlies 🫶🏻 and for anyone who actually knows things about rodeo: i am so sorry i googled my best
Later, Buck will deny the way Eddie tells the story.
All I had to do was get on a horse, Eddie will say. That’s all it took.
And Buck will blush and grin and insist it was more than that, but—
That’s kind of the gist of it.
What happens is this: the LAFD announces the theme for their annual fundraiser, and Buck loses his mind. (There are some steps in between, but those are the broad strokes of it.)
Through some quirk of fate, some accident of the universe—a universe, Buck has long since decided, that gets off on mocking him—the theme of this year’s fundraiser is rodeo.
—
At first, this doesn’t seem like a problem. Buck is ready to laugh it off like he does every year, to make a perfunctory effort towards a costume, man whatever booth Bobby tells him to, and laugh about it with Eddie later.
Then Eddie opens his mouth, and says something that makes the entire long table in the firehouse loft get whiplash turning to look at him.
“I used to ride rodeo.”
Hen blinks, several times in quick succession. Chimney makes a strangled noise. Buck drops his spoon.
It splashes back into his bowl of cereal, but everyone is too focused on Eddie to notice.
“Please,” Chimney says, propping his chin in his hands like a teenage girl in a high school movie. “Do elaborate.”
“Not professionally or anything,” Eddie says. “But it was offered at my high school. Just gymkhana and stuff.”
“Oh, sure,” Hen says. “Just gymkhana. Okay.”
“Some people played football,” Eddie shrugs. “It’s not that different.”
“Not that different,” Ravi echoes. “Yeah, I can’t see any difference. Definitely not the horses or anything.”
“Other people ride horses,” Eddie tries to protest.
“But not in the rodeo,” Chimney says.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Eddie says. He shoots Buck a look that might be saying help me, but Buck’s too distracted by the thought of Eddie on horseback to react. “I was never in the rodeo. Gymkhana was like—I don’t know, rec league. The events I rode aren’t even in real rodeos.” He grins. “Or—barrel racing is, but professionally that’s women only.”
“None of this is helping you get out of this, Edmundo,” Hen says, and Eddie glares at her. “I’m sure they’ll find something for you to do.”
She looks to Bobby and they all follow, turning to see a grin spreading across his face.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure they will.”
—
And so Buck finds himself in a locker room just off the field at some small-town rodeo arena just outside of Los Angeles, watching Eddie pace back and forth in well-worn Wranglers and a faded flannel shirt.
“Is this a bad idea?” Eddie mutters, then shakes his head. “Of course it’s a bad idea, god, I haven’t chased the cans in over a decade—”
Buck knows he should reassure Eddie, try to talk him off this ledge, but—
This is a version of Eddie he hasn’t even known to dream of.
A version of Eddie who looks like he could have stepped off the cover of a western, who keeps mumbling words that Buck understands separately but not in the combinations he deploys them in. A version of Eddie who is about to mount a horse and race it around the barrels in front of the entire LAFD and everyone who’s turned out to support them.
This is a version of Eddie that makes it hard for Buck to remember that thinking about Eddie is not something he does. Is not something he can do, not without spiralling into visions of a future he can never have.
Buck has long since learned how to quiet those thoughts, how to tuck them between his ribs and lock them away. He’s made his peace with the fact that Eddie is his friend. But it seems his immunity doesn’t extend to a version of Eddie who rides in rodeos.
“Buck?” Eddie asks, and when Buck looks up, there’s something vulnerable in his eyes. Eddie opens his mouth, his features crouched on the edge of a question—
And there’s a knock on the door. “You’re up next, cowboy,” Chimney calls, barely disguised glee in his voice.
“I—that’s me,” Eddie says. “I’d better—”
“Yeah,” Buck says.
Their eyes meet, and something passes between them. Something Buck can’t identify, like every time he tries to make its shape out, it shifts just out of reach.
“Will you watch?” Eddie asks.
Buck blinks. “Of course,” he says. Then: “Cowboy,” tacked on just a little too late to be natural.
Eddie grins, a little tight around the edges.
“You’ll be fine,” Buck says, softer now. “I’m sure riding a horse is just like—uh. Like riding a bike.”
That gets a laugh out of Eddie, though he shakes his head. “It’s really not,” he says. “But I’ve come down here to practice a few times. To get to know the horse. So she gets used to me.”
“See?” Buck says. “You’ll be fine.”
Then Chimney knocks again, and Eddie squares his shoulders and heads out of the room.
Buck makes his way to the edge of the field. He’s right by the starting line, perfectly positioned to see it when Eddie bursts out of the alley astride a beautiful chestnut horse, racing past the timer beam and towards the first barrel.
The race itself is fast—barely twenty seconds after Eddie started, he’s cantering back in the opposite direction and crossing the finishing line. The electronic scoreboard in the corner beeps, updating the times, but Buck doesn’t look up to see how Eddie placed. His eyes are glued to Eddie, to the slight gleam of sweat along his forehead and the way muscles ripple under his jeans as he slows the horse down. He notices Buck watching, and he—
Eddie winks, and Buck’s mouth goes dry.
He starts heading for the alley before his brain quite catches up with his feet, weaving his way along the edge of the field until he makes it to where Eddie is dismounting.
(Buck would like to say he doesn’t stare at Eddie’s ass while he does, but he isn’t quite that shameless a liar.)
Eddie pats the horse’s neck and murmurs something, then hands the reins to someone hovering by the side. He turns to face Buck, exhilaration written clear across his face. “Did you see?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, with a grin of his own. “Eddie, that was—”
Then he takes a breath. “I need you to know that this isn’t just about the horse,” he says, and grabs the front of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.
Eddie stands frozen for only a fraction of a second before his hands find Buck’s waist, pulling him impossibly close. He makes a muffled noise against Buck’s mouth, and it takes a moment for Buck to realise it’s a laugh.
“Not just about the horse, huh?” Eddie murmurs when Buck pulls back with a questioning look.
Buck laughs. “Full disclosure, it’s a little bit about the horse,” he admits. “But it’s mostly about you.”
“Good,” Eddie says, smiling softly. “Because this is about you.” And he leans in for another kiss.
also on ao3!
send me a number for a spotify wrapped prompt!
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Distanced
Summary: can u write an imagine with reader and drew starkey being at the beginning of the dating stage (met through friends and even though they both really like each other they haven’t revealed their love face to face) so during a party reader saw drew talking with a few actress, influencers, LA girls and she gets jealous and insecure so she starts distancing herself to him thinking that she doesn’t deserve him and she’s too ugly for him but she doesn’t explain herself and drew thinks that he had done something bad and after weeks decide to have a discussion annnnd they both revealed their feelings.
Warnings: Discussions of body image issues, alcohol use, I think that might be everything?
Author’s Note: Sorry this is so long - I started writing and kept going. It’s been a busy few days so I haven’t been writing as much but hopefully I’ll be back to it now :)
———
The thing about being in the celebrity world was that, eventually, everyone was connected. Whether it was a friend of a friend who worked with another guy on a film ten years ago, or it was a neighbour’s neighbour - everyone eventually got to someone else. That’s how you’d met the majority of the people that you considered friends in the industry. You’d released your first album three years ago but it still felt like you were taking your first steps in being ‘famous’. Thankfully, you’d met some good people - Kelsea had become like a sister to you and she’d taken you under her wing instantly. Since she’d started dating Chase, too, she’d been introducing you to more and more people - notably, Drew. She knew that you two would hit it off when she introduced you at a party and you clicked almost instantly, spending the entire night talking in a booth away from the crowd. Since then, he texted you everyday, he’d become the guy you rang when you were walking home or in a taxi on your own, the one you texted to say a quick ‘home safe’. He sent you stupid videos he found online, and facetimed you to listen to him run his lines, or when he needed help with what to wear to an event. Drew was just… nice, you know?
“Okay, sorry, I’m back,” His face pops back into the frame of the facetime call as he sits back down on the couch and picks up his phone from where it was sat pointing up towards the ceiling, “My food arrived.”
“What did you order?” You ask, propping your phone up against the coffee machine on your counter so that you could open your own bag of takeout food.
“I went for chinese food,” He grins, pulling out the boxes of takeout.
“Me too,” You laugh, “But the good place was closed so I had to order from the kind of shitty one.”
“You hate the kind of shitty one, you’re going to eat the chicken and say that it’s a bit dry and that your rice doesn’t have enough flavor, and then you’re going to complain that your takeout night was ruined.”
You narrow your eyes at him through the screen, “That happened one time! How do you even remember that?”
Drew chuckles and sets his phone down so that he can eat, leaning it against the lamp beside his couch so that he’s still visible in the frame, “I remember things (Y/L/N).”
“Okay, which film did you choose?”
“Oh, I picked a terrible one, you’re going to love it. And I think if we try a few times we’ll be able to get the timing perfect this time.”
~~~
“Okay so what are we actually going to tonight?” You ask Kelsea, laying back against the cushions on her bed as she potters around the room, deciding on her outfit.
“It’s a party, I don’t know anything more than that,” She laughs, “It’s meant to be good though, it seems like everyone in LA is going.”
“I don’t like these things, they’re so stressful,” You grumble, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head.
“Well maybe if you started getting ready you’d feel more up for it a-“
She’s cut off by the sound of a key in the door, followed by two familiar voices laughing as they walk in. The pair round the corner and you’re met with the sight of Chase and Drew coming into the apartment.
“Hey honey,” Chase grins when he sees Kelsea, going over to kiss her quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Hey (Y/N),” Drew wiggles his brows, slipping off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed next to you, he looks at you and puckers his lips exaggeratively.
“Grow up,” You roll your eyes, turning around so you can rest your head against his chest sideways, your legs dangling off the side of the bed as he stretches down the length of the mattress.
“(Y/N) I need you to talk some sense into Drew here,” Chase encourages, “He doesn’t want to come tonight.”
“I mean, I’m not up for it yet either,” You shrug, “I need like a shot or two and then I’ll be more in the mood to party.”
“Shots, okay, we can do shots,” Chase nods, “How about you two can start getting ready, and we’ll make dinner, and we’ll get some drinks. Sound good?”
“I didn’t agree to make dinner,” Drew points out, “Frankly I can’t think of anything worse.”
You reach a hand back to poke at his ribs and he flinches back from you, locking an arm around your neck and shoulders to trap you against him. He uses his other arm to tickle at your sides until you’re writhing underneath his touch.
“Drew!” You squeal, fighting to get away from him, your legs flailing.
Chase and Kelsea look at each other with a knowing expression, like they were watching the start of a film they already knew the ending to - a sort of inevitability that it seemed impossible to avoid.
~~~
You spend the next hour or two getting ready with Kelsea, changing your outfit three times before settling on one - a black crop top with spaghetti straps and a pair of wide leg black pants, heels underneath that were practically hidden by the excess length of the trousers.
“You guys ready to go? The uber’s here!” Chase calls out, knocking a couple of times on the door of the bedroom before poking it open just an inch or two before opening it fully, “Alright, good to go?”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Kelsea nods, smoothing her hands over her dress.
When she goes over to him, he wraps an arm around her and tells her she looks beautiful, kissing her shoulder. You follow behind and see Drew waiting for you as the other two leave just ahead.
“Well don’t you scrub up well,” He grins, reaching out his elbow for you to link an arm with his, still taller than you even with your heels on.
“Not so bad yourself, Starkey,” You laugh, holding your hand around his bent arm to help you walk with him.
“Okay, so, how long do we have to stay at this thing tonight?” Drew asks, stepping forward and reaching out a hand for you to take as you’re about to descend the stairs.
“Come on, it’ll be fine, at least we know a few people that will be there,” You point out, “Can’t be that bad.”
“You’ll be regretting saying that later, I promise,” He shakes his head, waving his hand a little more in front of you, “Come on, hurry up.”
He’s wearing a dark green button up shirt and black carpenter jeans, baggy around his legs. It seems to darken the features of his face, defining the freckles around his nose and cheeks, lessening the normal brightness in his eyes. His hair is growing out now from him shaving it for Outer Banks and you’re sure it gives him an innocence beyond what anyone else saw. You loved it most when it was messy, a hundred directions on his head, a sort of carelessness to it.
“Are you coming or what?”
It’s Chase that calls up from the bottom of the stairwell. And you realise for all of the time you’d been staring at Drew, admiring him, he’d been staring at you too.
~~~
The party is already busy when you arrive and there’s people queuing up outside to try to get in. Drew links arms with you as you get out of the car, like he’s constantly scared you’re on the brink of falling whenever you’re in heels. It’s in a club, already littered with tens too many bodies, and music that pounds from the walls, chatter drowned out by the noise.
“Let’s go get us some drinks,” Drew says into your ear and he moves his hand from your arm to press on the small of your back, guiding you in front of him as if he would shield you from the growing crowd behind.
You slip through non-existent gaps in the crowd until you eventually break through to the bar, waiting in the queue with Drew behind you. His hand falls to your waist, his body towering over you from behind and his eyes seemingly on full alert for everything and everyone around you.
“A tequila sprite and a rum and coke please,” You call over the bar to the server who nods at you with a smile, taking two glasses to prepare the drinks.
Drew shifts into the space beside you and leans his forearms on the bar, “Are you trying to get me-“
“Hey!” It’s a voice from beside him that interjects, a girl.
She’s about your age, you think, with makeup that you’re certain you couldn’t match even with the best products. She must be a model, and her outfit is like something straight from a runway. You’re suddenly aware of how itchy your top feels around your chest, and how your trousers don’t seem to be sitting in the right place on your waist anymore. But you ignore it, turning back to the bartender as he pours in the rest of your drink.
“Have we met before?” She asks to Drew, her hand falling to his upper arm.
He looks at her with a frown, “No, no, I don’t think so. I guess I would remember if we did.”
“Well, yours is a face I definitely wouldn’t forget,” She smiles in return, “Who did you come with tonight?”
“Just a few friends,” He returns.
You pause with the drinks glasses in your hand, suddenly hyperaware of how the condensation seems to scratch with the cold against your palms. A few friends. He wasn’t wrong. You and him were just friends, right?
“Well, maybe if your friends don’t mind you could come and dance with me,” The girl smiles, her hand not yet moving from his arm.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you around.”
With that, she disappears and Drew turns back in your direction, raising his eyebrows at you.
“Oh, um, here,” You clear your throat, stretching out an arm to give him his drink.
He takes it from you and smiles, taking a sip, “Alright, should we go find the other two?”
You nod and follow behind him in the crowd, he stretches an open hand back as if offering for you to take it but you pause before doing so. It was still undecided in your mind if that was a good thing or a bad thing that he’d been so completely nonchalant. Like that had just happened and it didn’t mean anything. Did it not mean anything because he wasn’t trying to flirt back? Or did it not mean anything because he didn’t think you should care if he was flirting?
After a second too long without your hold, Drew turns back to look for you, eyes flicking between you and his empty hand as if reminding you that he needed to know you were there. You place your hand in his palm and let his fingers wrap around you, not making any move to hold his hand back, just yet.
You meet up with Kelsea and Chase and end up on the dancefloor. Your drink is finished by now and so is another and another, and at some point you’d all done two rounds of shots. Drew is dancing beside you, his arm bumping yours as he moves, trying to make you laugh with every exaggerated dance, or every effort to shout the lyrics of every song he recognised.
At some point, a group of girls are dancing beside you and one of them reaches out to tap Drew on the shoulder. He turns around one another of the girls reaches a hand out for him to take, spinning herself around and starting to dance with him. Chase nudges you and points in that direction as if you hadn’t seen it in the first place, watching as Drew gets engulfed by the group, dancing with them as they laugh at his moves. Kelsea glances in your direction and her brows drop as if concerned, as if worried for your reaction. You force yourself to smile at her and tear your eyes away from Drew, taking a long sip of your drink.
This was silly. You couldn’t keep thinking about this. But the more you thought about not thinking it, the more you thought about it. And you found yourself looking to the group of girls more and more often. They were all in different dresses, and you were sure you recognised their faces from the TikToks that could come up on your for you page of ‘get ready with me’ videos or ‘get dressed with me to go to…’ videos, another two of them you’ve seen at a fashion week before. They’re gorgeous. Their makeup still looks pristine even after hours of being in this hot club. And you’re suddenly aware of how yours is starting to feel more obvious on your face, how your foundation probably doesn’t look as good as it did when you left. How the curl of your lashes has probably dropped by now, your lipgloss non existent. You’re thinking of everything.
When you look back again, Drew’s leaning down to the height of one of the girls so that she can speak into his ear. He laughs at something she’s said and pulls away slightly, his eyes catching yours as his gaze flicks away from her. He smiles but you find yourself looking away before you can think to smile back, feeling slightly less comfortable amongst the party of unknown people.
~~~
You’d stayed at Kelsea’s that night, sleeping in her spare room, and you’re up before she is, a cup of coffee in hand as you’re sat on her balcony.
“Hey, honey,” Her voice cuts in as you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, “How long have you been up?”
“Not long, the pot’s still full if you want some,” You smile, tucking your feet underneath you on the chair.
“I’ll grab some in a minute,” Kelsea responds, sitting down on the other chair, “So, how are you doing after last night?”
You look at her and ponder giving a dismissive response but her face is too genuine to try and lie to, “I- I don’t know how to feel.”
“Okay, well I’m just going to start this by saying you’re allowed to feel upset, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know if I am though Kels, like me and Drew are just friends - why would I think that I have any place to feel any type of way about him and girls from clubs, you know?” You shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee to stop your bottom lip from trembling, “I just… me and him… I’ve never seen him with girls like that, so I didn’t know what to think.”
Kelsea nods, knowing to let you speak before she says her piece.
“I know we’re friends, and that’s fine. But I just saw those girls and I saw the way they were with him and they looked so… and they had this like confidence and they just…” You take in a shaky breath, “I’m not them. I’m not going to be them.”
“Oh honey!” Kelsea comes off from her chair and crouches in front of you, her hands on your knees, “(Y/N) you don’t need to be them. Drew doesn’t want you to be them. Do you know that? I see the way he is with you, the way he talks about you, that’s not the way you talk about someone if you’re just friends. Those girls, the club, last night, they were coming up to him, he wanted to be with you. I know he did.”
You want to believe her. But even the mention of his name forces the thoughts of last night back into your head, cycling through them like snapshot images, each one a little clearer and stinging just a little more.
“I’ll be okay,” You reach one of your hands down to squeeze Kelsea’s, “It was just one night. It’s okay.”
She furrows her brows and rubs her thumb over your knee, “Alright, I’m going to go and wake Chase up before he’s late for his press stuff.”
Kelsea disappears back inside and you sip down the rest of your coffee, drawing your legs up to your chest and trying to breathe out the tightness between your lungs, blinking away the blur of tears from your eyes.
~~~
It’s a day later when you realise you can only go so long avoiding Drew - perhaps less time than you’d originally thought that it would take. He had texted you a bunch yesterday, originally a good morning text, then turning into a couple of videos he thought were funny, ending the video string with one about when ‘the one person you speak to doesn’t reply’. By the night, he sent you one message saying that he was starting to get worried now that you hadn’t replied, and that he just wanted to check if you were okay. Today, he had called you in the morning and then followed up from his other text saying he was probably just being stupid but he wanted to make sure you were good. You reply with a simple;
Just been busy, got studio sessions coming up. Speak soon
You debate sending a heart at the end but delete it before pressing send. He reads it straight away and responds;
Fuck me I’m just glad you’re alive, felt weird going more than a day without speaking to you!! Hope your studio sessions go well, superstar <;3
You like the message and lock your phone, the same tightness settling on your chest as you’d had at the club, as you’d had yesterday morning. Your breath turns shaky again and you try to ignore it.
The next few days go relatively the same - Drew texts you in the morning, sends you something that reminds you of him or tells you to listen to a song that he’s found. You reply a few hours later with a short response or just react to the message, not wanting conversations to carry on like they normally do.
Another couple of days in, he calls you as you’re leaving the gym and you wait for it to go to voicemail, listening to it as soon as the notification comes through.
“Hey, superstar. I wasn’t sure if I’d get through to you, but I’m guessing you’re busy, um, just calling to say… well, I don’t know what I’m calling to say. Just that I miss you, I mean it’s only been a few days but… I don’t know. Feels weird not talking to you, so call me when you get the chance, let’s make plans or something. Alright, I’ll leave you to… well, I don’t know what you’re doing, which is weird, it feels like I always know what’s going on with you… um … whatever, call me back, or don’t if you don’t want to, I don’t know I-“
It cuts off after that and you’re just met with the monotone voice of your voicemail asking if you want to repeat the message. You listen to it once, twice again, finding comfort in the sound of his voice for those digital seconds.
Your finger hovers over his contact as you think of calling him back but you shift it to the text button instead.
hey! sorry i didn’t get to my phone in time - just been busy with the new album so the days are just going too fast. not sure when i’ll be free, i’m sorry
He reads it instantly and the elipsis bubble appears to say he is typing, disappearing and then reappearing a couple of times.
i told you not to forget me when you were famous (y/l/n). I miss you!!!!
You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying at the words, reluctant to try to come up with any response that would feel fitting.
speak soon !!
~~~
It’s another week later when Kelsea invites you over for dinner, one of those sort of ‘no isn’t an option’ invites. You turn up with a bottle of wine and she wraps you in a bear hug when she sees you, a hand on your shoulder before she lets you come into the apartment.
“What’s going on?” You frown, looking at the slightly panicked expression on her face.
“Okay, don’t be mad,” She winces, “But Chase didn’t realise you were coming tonight and Drew’s here before they go out for dinner with the cast. He’s been asking about you.”
You shrug your shoulders, shake your head, “No, it’s okay, don’t worry. We’re friends, it’s fine.”
She furrows her brows a little, “Are you sure?”
“Of course!” You force a smile that you’re certain is believable enough and she must believe you, leading the way into the kitchen where there’s already a dinner cooking on the stove.
“Hey (Y/N)!” Chase gets up as you walk in, hugging you quickly.
You hug him back and, over his shoulder, spot the sight of Drew standing from his chair at the kitchen island.
“Hey stranger!” He raises his brows, “Where’ve you been?”
“Just a busy couple of weeks,” You nod, tightening your grip around the bottle of wine, “Been a bit M.I.A I guess.”
“Yeah, just a little,” He smiles softly, his eyes seeming to yearn for a little piece of you to come back to him, “Well it’s good to see you.”
You clear your throat, “You too.”
You try not to notice the way he watches you as you cross the kitchen, taking your jacket off and finding a bottle opener in the drawer to open the wine. You avoid eye contact when he watches your move to grab a glass from the shelf, pouring a portion of the liquid into the glass and swirling it around.
When you take a seat at the island, it’s the one furthest away from him. And when his eyes find yours then, it’s like they’re full of worry for his defeat - like this had just confirmed every thought that had been going through his head for the past week and a half. You, once again, find yourself trying to ignore the tightness in your chest, the way it restricts your breath as if he’s pulled it into him. Your eyes turn away from him as soon as you can force yourself to.
You’re just leaving Kelsea’s that night when you see the call come through. You’re almost a full bottle of wine in and it’s late as you’re descending the elevator to get to your Uber.
Your phone buzzes and your lowered inhibitions are the only reason you answer.
“Hello?”
“(Y/N),” His voice sounds slightly breathless on the other end of the phone, “You answered.”
“What’s happening Rafe?”
“Um…” He clears his throat and it crackles down the phone line, “Chase just said that Kelsea texted saying you were heading home. I figured you’d be getting a taxi.”
“I am,” You return, “I’m going down to it now.”
“I always call you when you’re getting a taxi.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, “No, you don’t need to-“
“I always do (Y/N). We’ve known each other for seven months, and I always call when you’re in the taxi, why wouldn’t I?”
“Have you been drinking, Drew?”
“Have you?”
Both of you are silent.
“Is that the only reason you answered?” He asks and you’re sure you can hear a shake in the words.
You don’t respond.
“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” There’s definitely a shake now, somewhere close to a tremble, “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”
“You’re not losing me I’ve just been b-“
“Don’t say you’ve been busy,” He quips, “You’re always busy, but you always make time. This isn’t that, this is different.”
You’re silent.
“Answer me (Y/N),” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the tension in his words seems heightened, harsher.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“I’m free now,” He responds, “I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”
It might be the remaining buzz of alcohol in your system, or the sight of your taxi driver turning into the road, your way home, to Drew, but you don’t think twice when you say;
“Okay.”
~~~
A painfully slow thirty minutes later, Drew buzzes your front door to come up to your flat. He lets himself in and you’re sat waiting as if counting the seconds of him ascending in the elevator. You’ve drank a bottle of water by now and the wait has seemed to sober you up quicker than usual. And then there’s a knock at your apartment door and you’re sure your heart stops as you open it.
He’s wearing a shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, wrinkled around the bottom from where it had been tucked in but wasn’t anymore. He looks disheveled as if he’d rushed to get here before the minutes caught up with him, or perhaps before you changed your mind.
“Hi,”
“Hi,” He breathes out, “You look beautiful.”
You were wearing a baggy t-shirt that hung around your thighs, a pair of gym shorts underneath, your hair pulled back from your face in a bun with strands seeming to fall out on their own accord, no makeup on your face but your cheeks rosy from the wine in your system.
“Do you want to come in?”
He steps through your front door and you step past him to close it. Drew doesn’t make any effort to move further and neither do you. He’s just stood in your hallway looking at you and you’re stood with your back a few feet from the front door, somewhat feeling isolated now you knew he wasn’t leaving.
“What’s going on (Y/N)?” His shoulders drop as if he just needed to get the words off of his chest, a relief slipping over his features to finally say the words to your face.
“I-“ You take in a deep breath, “I just feel like things are weird between us.”
“They’re weird, yeah,” He scoffs, “They’re weird because you’ve been avoiding me.”
Drew laughs then and you find yourself letting out a little laugh too, the two of you gripping onto the pieces of normality that still remained.
“Did something happen at that party? Because I’ve been wracking my brain and that’s the last night I can remember where it felt like things were normal. And since then I’ve barely seen you. Did something happen? Did I do something? Did I say something?”
You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself as if you’re cowering away from the idea of having to admit to anything.
“(Y/N)…”
“I hated it-“ You stop yourself, letting your thoughts gather, “We were at that party and I hated it. These girls were flocking to you and flirting with you and chatting to you and all I could think about was how much I hated it. Which is stupid because I have no reason to feel like that but I couldn’t help it and then I hated that I felt like that because I-“
“(Y/N), breathe,” Drew steps towards you, his hand reaching out and lacing with yours.
The contact seems to ground you, his eyes burning into your skin but somehow seeming to calm the raging fire of your nerves.
“I know I have no reason to be jealous, I know that, but I just,” You shake your head, “I was jealous.”
“You were jealous,” Drew returns, the corners of his mouth upturning with the slightest glimpse of brightness on his features.
“It’s stupid because I know we’re just friends and I know that I don’t want to lose that and-“
“You were jealous,” He’s really fighting back a smile now, but it seems to fight harder against him as his lips stretch into a grin.
You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his, you’re sure you forget how to breathe for just a second.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” His brows furrow for a second but he doesn’t seem to lose the joy on his face.
“I just-“ You look down again, “I didn’t want things to be weird between us, or for you to lie and say that you felt the same way.”
Drew moves his free hand up and presses a thumb underneath your chin, his index finger bending around the front to push your chin upwards, guiding your eyes towards him, guiding you back to him. His eyes are sincere, flicking between either of yours.
“It wouldn’t be a lie.”
You open your mouth and close it again, words catching on your tongue as you’re sure your whole body is going to freeze in this exact spot. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing - to stay in this moment.
“But maybe next time you’re feeling jealous, just tell me. Does that sound good to you?” He dips his head just slightly, his fingers not moving from around your chin.
You laugh lightly and nod your head, “That sounds good.”
He chuckles and moves his hand around to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin, “And those girls? They’re not you.”
You feel your cheeks heat under his touch, his gaze, his words, “Not me?”
Drew shakes his head, “I don’t think anyone could come close,” He hums, dropping his head closer to you until his lips are just an inch from you, breath hot over your features.
In just a second, his lips press to yours, softly as if savouring the feeling of the first time. His hand moves from yours to instead drop to your hip, guiding you backwards until your back is flush against the door. With the contact, he deepens his kiss against your lips, his fingers slipping back into your hair.
When he pulls away, you’re both a little breathless against each other.
“God I’ve waited so long to do that,” He mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours, a smile crawling onto his lips.
“Next time please don’t wait so long,” You laugh, your arms moving to link your hands behind his neck.
“I don’t plan on it,” Drew smirks, dipping his head once again to kiss you, more sure of himself than before.
And, then, you’re sure. You’d stay locked in this moment if you could.
#Drew#drew starkey#outerbanks#drew x reader#drew x you#drew x y/n#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x y/n#drew imagine#drew one shot#drew drabble#drew blurb#drew request#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey one shot#drew starkey drabble#Drew starkey blurb#drew starkey request#outerbanks imagine#outerbanks one shot#Outerbanks drabble#outerbanks blurb#outerbanks request
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Second Chance 2
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Jonathan Pine
Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.
Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
The next day, you acquiesce to your mother’s whims. There was rarely a time when you could deny her and the times you did, had her often reminding you of your ‘rebellious’ teenage years. You don’t bother to mention that wearing black and not wanting to hold her hand in public wasn’t much of a rebellion.
You just have to remember that this isn’t about you. Tandi doesn’t yet know the storm she’s marrying into. You’ll let her have her grace period before it truly sets in. It could be seconds, it could be months, but eventually, your mother will turn the screw.
You walk behind the pair through the crowded rows of the farmer’s market. They almost seem to forget you but that doesn’t bother you. You prefer it.
They stop at the soap booth and the battle of scent threatens to trigger a migraine. You hold your breath until Tandi finishes her purchase; some body scrub and a piece of soap that looks like a fruit parfait. Your mother opts for her own collection of cinnamon heart soap bars. You wonder where she’ll hide them as she only ever allowed white items in the bathroom; down to the soap and the shampoo.
“Do you have friends coming for the party then?” Your mother asks as they stroll along.
“Uh, yes, hopefully they can make it,” Tandi answers, “work and all that.”
“Of course, that’s understandable but it’s a very important event,” your mother chirps back, “do you have something to wear? You would look marvelous in rose.”
“I have some options,” your brother’s fiancee flick her hair back. “I was thinking it might be nice to do a brunch, rather than a dinner.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. And of course,” your mother pauses, peering back over her shoulder as she recalls your mournful existence, “we can help.”
“That’s so sweet,” Tandi purrs.
“Well, you know, we haven’t much going on.”
You frown. It’s an obvious jab at your current predicament. It isn’t as if you haven’t been trying. You filled every open job posting you can find and haven’t heard back from a single one. Yet, your mother would never believe you to be helpless, just lazy.
“I’m going to find the bathroom,” you mutter but neither seems to hear or care.
You break away from them and delve into the crowd. You feel desolate in the roiling crowd. You don’t miss Ransom, or Hugh, or whatever he wanted you to call him that day, you just miss having someone else. Someone by your side to face the outside world.
He never really was that, was he? You just convinced yourself he was. He settled for you and you thought that was good enough. You made yourself believe you were good enough.
You find the bathrooms and hide inside. You don’t need to go, you just need to get your shit together. You take out your phone and put on your rationed data so you can check your emails. Junk, junk, junk… ‘Invitation to Interview’. Huh.
You quickly scroll and scan the email, not wanting to waste the data. It’s nothing special, nothing as glorious as your previous job. It’s a customer service role at the local travel planner, a vibrant business among the burgeoning retirement community. It’ll have to do.
You flip the switch to disconnect from the network and emerge to wash your hands. You make your way back into the market and search among the tides. You wander in circles until you find the duo. They sit at the cafe bar in the corner, drinks in front of them, and a set of half-eaten scones. They didn’t wait for you or even think to grab you something.
You shrug it off. You think you might have been wrong. Again. Your mother isn’t going to bulldoze this daughter, no, Tandi is going to be the daughter she never had. Jaydon always was her favourite; the infallible baby boy.
💋
You accept the invitation. The pay is barely above minimum wage and the role is tedious but it’s all you’ve got. You don’t tell your parents, not wanting to disappoint them. It would be better to surprise them with good news, not let them down with another failure.
You find the nicest skirt you could salvage in your hasty retreat from the city. You sneak out through the back as the rest of the house delights in their perfect fairy tale. You’d rather have a stuffy interview than to bear another day of fake smiling and dulled blades aimed at your throat.
The agency isn’t very far. The bus takes you to the core of the town and your heels click down the half-block to the storefront painted with palm trees and beach umbrellas. You peek inside before you enter and check the information on your phone just to be sure. You’re early.
A woman named Brenda greets you and tells you to wait in the seats meant for clients. You fidget as the clock ticks in the quiet office until she finishes with the old couple at her desk in the tight cubicle. They leave, happy, and she invites you back.
It isn’t anything beyond the usual; what will you bring to this job? When’s a time you had to be spontaneous? How would you handle a disgruntled customer? You recite the acceptable answers and at the end, she offers you the job. You don’t think it’s because you’re anything exceptional but judging by the two-hundred days the posting’s been up, there hasn’t been much interest. You both are ready to take the first thing that comes along.
She sends you off with a smile and you try not to let your fake one fall before you’re out of the office. Out of the sight of the windows, you let your shoulders drop and sigh. It’s good news, you got a job, but somehow you think your parents will find a damper. ‘How much does it pay? What do you do? Oh, that’s a starter job.’
Well, dad, mom, I am starting over. I fucked up. I built nothing but a disaster.
You round the corner and stumble as suddenly you hit a wall you don’t expect. You stagger until you’re caught by firm hands around your upper arms. You gulp and your eyes round as they meet another pair, blue and bold. Jonathan grins as he issues an apology and your own tumbles off your tongue.
“I wasn’t… looking,” you murmur.
“Quite alright,” his hands linger on your arms and you wriggle. “Neither was I.”
He laughs at himself and you look down at his hold on you. He squeezes before he lets go and drops his hands to his side. He tucks them into his pockets. He’s dressed effortlessly in a pair of gray slacks and powder blue pullover.
“Special occasion?” He wonders as he looks you up and down.
You peek at your skirt. It’s nothing special. Pinstripe, black, pencil cut. It doesn’t fit you the way it used to. You think Ransom noticed that too…
“Job interview,” you shrug.
“Oh, exciting. So when do you hear back?”
You rub your neck and sway. He’s just being nice. He’s always been polite, on the outside, but you saw the antics he got up to with Jaydon. He always had that charming grin for your mother but never hesitated to cause chaos with your menace of a brother.
“You don’t have to ask. Really. It’s not a big deal.”
“Mm, well, what if I genuinely want to know?”
There he is, that oppositional twerp. You blow out between your lips and smile, “I got the job. It’s at the travel agency so… big whoop.”
“Big whoop indeed,” he remarks, “I’d say we should celebrate with a drink but I’d also say you sound like you need one. Desperately.”
You meet his eyes again. You squint. Was he always this handsome? Or is that another trick of time? You pack on some love handles and you look chronically tired, but his lines only refine him, his age becomes him.
“That’s nice but I should head home.”
“Why? So you can listen to Jay brag about his convertible? Even I’m over that. He’d do better with something economic but he always knows best, doesn’t he?”
You scoff, “wow, sounds like you had quite the reunion.”
“Well, time changes us all,” he says, “but you always were more fun to drink with.”
#jonathan pine#dark jonathan pine#dark!jonathan pine#jonathan pine x reader#drabble#series#second chance#brother's best friend#the night manager
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DCXDP prompt
The Meta Games
What originally started as a group of local teens challenging each other to see who would pay for milkshakes. Changed and grew into one of the largest sporting events the world had ever known.
The Meta Games, in the beginning, was nothing more than a town full of bored adolescents coming up with their own source of entertainment. In a place like Amity Park could you blame them?
The teens would come up with fun challenges and even obstacle courses to prove who was the best. The Games weren't even closed off to non-metas. So if you were willing to play, you could. Just don't go complaining if you got hurt.
Hell, Danny Fenton and Valerie Grey regularly take turns in the winning spot from time to time. If they could try and succeed, why not everyone else?
As the years passed the event got bigger and bigger. Blowing up into a sensation when an out-of-towner stumbled upon the event and thought it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen.
Soon they had sponsors, funding, and celebrity guests. Of course, then they had to make an actual rule book on how to play just to make the games official/legit. But seeing how the rules were what they were in the beginning(plus some red tape) and very easy to follow. Nobody minded.
Things were fine. That is until The Meta Games caught the Justice Leagues' attention. Contestants, both Meta and non, have gone missing at the games. No one knows where they are going and as they look deeper into the events hosted city's a worrying pattern emerged.
They were always participants but never the winners. Most had extraordinary abilities but others had athletic prowess. Add in the fact that the games were hosted in the same town every year and said town was known for its 'ghost attacks'. Then it wasn’t exactly looking good.
Even so, more information was needed. Whether they liked it or not they needed to go undercover.
_____________________
Danny looked down at the flyer in his hand and scowled. The Meta Games were in a week and he couldn't even be happy about it. To focused on the fact that one of his friends was missing.
He had told Wolf a month ago about how excited he was about participating in the last MG he could before going off to college. He had been intrigued and after Danny explained that the event was open to 'anyone' and 'everyone'.
He eagerly left to go sign up himself. That was weeks ago and there was still no sign of him. He had talked to witnesses who put him at the sign-up booth and Tucker was able to pull up footage of him entering but never leaving.
Something was wrong, and it had something to do with the games themselves. Sure they might have started out innocently enough, but now he's thinking something else saw an opportunity and corrupted them, so to speak.
Either way, he was investigating this. He's just glad that not only did he already have a cover story and his friends in the stands to have his back, but that Ember was the host for this year. Win-win, really.
Not to mention this year's thyme is pretty good. The Justice League, sounds like if would be interesting.
------------------------
Roulette looked down at all the applications on her desk and smiled. Just a few more fighters and she'll be ready to open her new brawls up in the underground. This time, bigger, better, and bloodier then they ever were.
Looking at one application in particular she smiled. One of the original contestants had signed up, a veteran if you will. One that had ended up on top more then the others. Oh Mr. Fenton, what a beautiful opportunity you are.
~So basically Roulette takes over what was a legit competition for fun and prizes and uses it to supply fighters for her illegal fights in her underground gladiator fights behind the scenes.
The League who don't know what is up with this kid and wondering just what he's up to while simultaneously trying to make sure he's not the next target.(No, Batman you can not adopt him.)
Both Danny and the League know something isn't right and investigate. Danny with the help of his friends and other ghosts(who want Wolf back safe and sound. Yes, they are worried).
#dc x dp crossover#batman#danny phantom#justice league#danny fenton#roulette#undercover#investigating
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so...John’s planning on pulling the plug on the world, right? Like that’s what he’s doing here?
I’ve just been turning these bits of ntn over and over in my head and tbh I can’t stop thinking about the description of 10,000 years of civilization as a first draft. John’s first resurrection didn’t quite end up how he wanted -- closest friends all dead, turned traitor, or both, fighting a war on multiple fronts, his only allies the corpse of his accidental bastard daughter and a twenty-something princess with cannibalistic tendencies whom he canonized as part of a failed attempt to revitalize his polycule-- but hey, it doesn’t matter, because he can just start over. All of NTN he’s in this depression spiral; he’s falling apart, he’s having orgy parties with his senior staff, he’s got at least part of his subconscious camped out in the comatose mind of a half-dead nineteen year old he tried to have murdered, treating it like a confessional booth; because right there, in the background of his mind through all of this, is the off switch. He can have his breakdown, and then just...let Alecto out. Erase it all, start fresh, and this time he’s got one attempt under his belt, he’s got notes for what to do differently, and so let it all fall to shit! Nobody else is gonna remember any of this anyway. Two worlds, now, that only John will remember. Maybe three, later; maybe four, what’s to stop him from redoing it over and over til it’s just right?
The issue with that, of course, is there’s really no way to treat the world like this and still care about it in the way other people do. You’d lose your ability to be affected by life’s events after a couple reboots and then what’s there to get emotionally invested in? When you’ve turned a person off and back on two, three, four times and you know you’ll probably do it again the next time something happens you don’t quite vibe with, how can you possibly look at them as a real person? Are they a real person, if they only know what you want them to know and do what you want them to do? And once you reach that point, once people aren’t people but project components for you to edit, what are you even bothering with all this for?? John started down this path because he so loved the world; what happens when he reduces the world to something he can no longer afford to love? Might as well pull that plug for good, yeah?
Anyway. I’m fascinated by the way John’s shitty mental state is dooming the world and it’s everyone else’s bad luck. The rest of the cast is out there fighting for their lives and he’s like *sigh* let’s try that again. take two, everyone!
#so much going on w/ john gaius in ntn and i'm obsessed. God is tired of society and you'd better worry!#and i love that ianthe is apparently the only one in canon who's picking up on this.#in that last scene just before alecto wakes up she's the only one who's actually SCARED and you can just feel how incredulous she is#that everyone else is just FINE with what she has very clearly clocked as the start of the literal apocalypse.#from ianthe's POV the end of nona is just everyone standing around a big red button labeled DOOMSDAY and she watches as#literally everyone else votes to press it.#and she's just like guys?? GUYS??? and she's so salty cause SHE wanted to be the villain of this story but jesus christ#she wouldn't ever have gone THAT far#tlt#🥀
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