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ssinboo · 5 months

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Say Yes to me

summary: You've been in love with Jeon Wonwoo since forever, and due to your family relations, you had hopes you'd marry him. Your only problem? he's getting engagement to someone else.

During his Engagement party, your childhood best friend and love of your life, Jeon Wonwoo, asks you to run away with him.

pairing: 1960s!AU - Childhood bestfriend! Wonwoo x F!Reader

word count: 10k (45~ minute read) – My longest ever!

warnings: unrequited crushes and overall foolishness, idiots in love, best friends to lovers to not lovers to lovers again, some angst?, Wonwoo is such a nerd, making out in dingy motels, unrealistic mileage for gasoline, seokmin being the sweetest

a/n: This will most certainly be my last fic of the year! So, Happy Holidays everyone! This year has been so troublesome, but I've grown so much and written a lot more, too! I'm so, so grateful for everyone I've met and everyone that's enjoyed my stuff! See you in 2024!

Had you been questioned, there would never be a concrete answer to the question of just how long you had been in love with Jeon Wonwoo.

You’d know him forever, and maybe you loved him all along.

Your families were business partners turned friends. And there had always been talk of marriage between the children. Of course, for convenience. The Jeon’s produced top-class racing and sports cars, while your family were in the chemical business, specialising in industry paints and finishes, it was only natural to unite the two families and profit.

Although your wealth was vast, it was nothing compared to the Jeon’s, despite always having the chance to frequent the same environments, you often found you were on different levels altogether.

Jeon Wonwoo was the eldest son, and he carried himself as such — with all the poise and arrogance of the heir to a global conglomerate. He liked golfing and late night swims. Always took his coffee black with no sugar, and barely had anything for breakfast, preferring a hearty lunch instead.

His younger brother, Lee Seokmin, was the result of an affair with a secretary, though that did not mean he was loved any less, no. Seokmin lacked a single mean bone in his body, he had a pure heart and a contagious laugh.

They were by all means what people liked to call Irish Twins, born less than a year apart. And the nature of that fact only made their differences more apparent. Complete opposites they were, and that extended to how they treated you, too.

Every summer growing up, your family would travel to the country house and you and your sister would spend the better part of the months at the club. Oh, how you loved the country club with the fun summer activities the clear chlorinated water, having a meal under the pool umbrellas and getting funny tan lines.

But most of all, you enjoyed Jeon Wonwoo.

His family frequented the same club and every summer, you’d be practically glued to Wonwoo, even if he didn’t dare to pay you any attention.

You were only three years apart, yet he acted as if you were an immature brat. Seokmin had always been happy to play with you and your sister, though.

More often than not, Wonwoo would lounge by the pool with a book, never daring to go in. And you would cross your arms over tile by the sides and try your damnedest to strike a conversation with him. He would ignore your every word, or worse, poke fun at your latest obsession.

“Wonwoo, at what time where you born?” You ask, spitting out any chlorine filled water off your mouth.

He arches an eyebrow, looking up from his book.

“What?”

“What time were you born?” You repeat, unbothered by his acidic tone.

“Why would I know that?”

“Can’t you ask your mum?”

He rolls his eyes, “Why do you wanna know?”

“So I can see your birth chart,” You shrug, twirling a wet strand of hair around your finger.

“The fuck is a birth chart?”

“It’s like… It’s a way to see your personality… And I can check to see if we’re compatible.”

“That’s stupid…” He rolls his eyes, again, “You’re stupid.”

You scoff, “You won’t play along— You’re such a bore!” You yell out and dive back in the pool, leaving behind a cackling Wonwoo.

Those hapless summer days were spent lazing by the pool with your sister and Seokmin — without a care in the world, laughing about nothing. With the isolated water-balloon fight every now and then.

You’d grown up before you could realise it, never truly leaving behind your childish crush on Wonwoo. Even if by the age hierarchy, you had no chance of marrying him — Your sister were to marry Wonwoo and you possibly married Seokmin.

Though you held hope, it crumbled away with every passing minute.

But that year, your sister had the greatest early birthday present: She’d found the man she was to marry and best of all, your daddy could never say no to his girls.

With your sister marrying the love of her life, it meant that you would marry Wonwoo, right? It was only a matter of time and you would be sworn to each other before God, your friends, and family. And your first love would blossom.

On your 21st birthday, your father took you to work with him for the day, though you most lazed around and answered his calls. You only expected to have lunch for your birthday and a party on the weekend.

At noon, he drove to the Jeon’s factory to deliver the new paint samples.

The workers, most of whom had watched you, your sister and the Jeon kids grow up, greet you excitedly and some even wish you happy birthday. Your father goes straight to the floor to speak to the manager.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Jeon himself shows up.

Mr. Jeon was a handsome old man a captivating smile, he was incredibly passionate about his work and adored mechanics, but he loved his sons above all — And he had great expectations for his boys.

He greets you with a warm hug and wishes you a happy birthday before discussing business with your father. To which you busy yourself with staring at the pieces waiting for a coat of paint.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come with us to the patio?” Your father calls and you oblige, skipping toward the two men.

The patio is where they stored their models waiting to be shipped out to agencies or sometimes, for the higher profile clients, directly to the customer. You look at the new line to be launched next winter: sleek and modern with leather seats and wooden accents on the interior. You could never criticise the Jeon’s for their taste, they knew their stuff.

“Come here, baby,” Your father waves his hands, “What do you think of this car?”

You study the convertible in a bright red with a cream leather interior; a classic.

“It’s gorgeous, daddy, when are they launching it?”

“It should be out next year, but what do you think of the colour?”

“I like it,” You nod enthusiastically.

“That’s great baby, why don’t you read up on this model?” He hands you a tiny card, common in the factory, that has the model and batch number, as well as the signature from the supervisor. But just underneath the model, you see the colour name: your name.

As you look at your father, completely astonished, he just lets out a warm laugh and opens his arms for a hug.

“You named a shade after me?!” You glue yourself to him, still in shock.

“Happy birthday, princess.”

“Thank you, daddy, you’re the best!”

“That’s your dad’s present, how about you open mine, now?” Mr. Jeon interjects, waving a tiny jewelry box in the air.

You fix your hair and take it from his hand, expecting maybe a ring, or earrings.

But you find brand new car keys.

Mouth agape, you look at him while your father can only laugh at your surprised expression.

“Why don’t you give it a spin?” Mr. Jeon encourages, rushing you toward the convertible.

And though your father is beside himself with worry for you driving during rush hour, he settles for sitting in the passenger’s seat and doing some good old backseat driving, even though you barely make it past 30.

You drive around the block and return to the factory before your father has an anxiety attack over your driving.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jeon! When did you even do this?! I had no idea!”

“Wonwoo oversaw the whole thing, he’s the one you should thank,” He laughs it off, but your heart can only skip a beat at the mention of your beloved’s name. Especially thinking he was the one to take care of such a great gift.

Wonwoo loved mechanics as much as his dad, sometimes even more. He even went to a good college for it, coming back even smarter than before — and much sassier, too. He never stopped doing manual work in the factory, guaranteeing every car made was up to the Jeon standard.

And you were very biased toward his mechanic abilities, especially when he would furrow his brow, glasses perched on the very tip of his nose; he would wipe off sweat off his forehead with his grease covered arm.

You remember to this day the last time your father came to discuss swatches and you stopped by the shop. Watching Wonwoo work on an older model with a leaky oil tank.

He did everything himself, changed the tank perched under the car, soldering a brand new one. He also did a once over on anything else that could become a problem in the future, any filters needing change, checking wires and gears, making sure the oil was fresh. The problem came with the lights. He had such a hard time wiggling his thick arms through the machinery to reach the right spot, and you watched very intently how his triceps flexed, deep green veins bulging under his skin.

Wonwoo had gotten so frustrated he’d shed off the top part of his coveralls, sporting a white undershirt so tight you could basically tell the shape of his sweat-clad torso. Oh, how you’d hoped he never got that bulb in place.

“Come’ere,” Wonwoo calls out without further ado.

“Why?”

“Need your help,” He mumbles under a sigh.

You rise from the barrel you were sitting on and approach the open hood. “With what?”

“Getting this fuckin’ bulb in place,” He hands you the tiny light bulb.

“Where do I need to put it?”

“See— in between this part, need to shove you hand until you reach back here in the light, then you just screw it in.”

“What if I get stuck?”

“You won’t, you’re so petite,” He smirks.

You scoff, “Shut up.”

Leaning over the hood, you place your left hand on the chassis to steady yourself and shove your right hand in between gears and machinery, trying to find the spot he mentioned.

“I can’t find it,” You complain.

“Keep trying.”

“I am!”

“Here, deeper—“ He reaches for you, one hand on your waist and another on your arm, forcing you toward the place.

You’re way too focused on finding the damn spot for the light, that you barely notice the proximity at all.

“Can’t find it!”

“Right, right— My right.”

“It’s the same freakin’ right, you idiot,” You hiss.

He laughs, “Fine, our right,” you groan at his stupid joke, “It should be there, try to bring it closer to you.”

“Found it!” You squeal with a smile, screwing the bulb in its place.

“Atta girl,” Wonwoo smiles.

“There!” With a relieved sigh, you finally free your grease-clad hand from the machinery, slightly cringing at the black covering your fingernails — It’d be such a bother to clean it up.

When you finally lean back, you stumble onto Wonwoo’s firm chest. Lucky for you, he catches you, steady hold at your waist. You’re finally aware of his proximity, to which he only smiles.

Looking down at where his warm, tauntingly large hands meet your waist, you’re suddenly filled with nothing but rage. ‘

“You got grease all over my dress!” You whine, looking at the perfectly stamped print of his hand over your brand new summer dress.

He only laughs, “Looks better this way, trust me.”

“Ugh!” You groan, stomping toward the washing area where they kept clean rugs.

He closes the hood with a loud thump that echoes through the shop and slides into the driver’s seat. The car comes alive with a loud hum and ta-da! The headlight works.

You are a little proud of your work, yes. But it’s not like you’ll show it.

“Do you not anything clean in here?!” You complain, eyeing the pile of grease-covered rags thrown in a corner. That had to be a fire hazard.

“What?” Wonwoo shouts over the running engine.

You huff and stomp your way back to the car, throwing open the driver’s door. “I have a formal dinner to go to,” You state, leaning over the door.

“Okay, then go.”

Rolling your eyes, you hold back any possible insults, “Like this?” You gesture toward your otherwise perfectly fine dress.

He holds back a little mischievous smile, “I have some clean clothes in the office.”

Wide eyes, mouth hanging agape, you stare at him dumbfound, “I hope that’s a joke, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He laughs, genuinely. That sweet, deep, dorky laugh of his that reverberates through his chest and plunges straight into your heart.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

As much as he did tease you, Wonwoo never made short on his promises.

“Is he around?” You ask Mr. Jeon, trying your best to suppress any expectations.

“Oh, he had some business… But he wished you a happy birthday.”

Your smile falters before your catch it, forcing the corners of your lips into a beautiful, rehearsed smile. “Let him know I’m grateful. For the wishes and for the amazing present.”

It would soon be Wonwoo’s birthday and you had been preparing for what felt like ages. You got him a really nice set of electric work tools since he complained often about how the shop’s tools were always malfunctioning. But you did feel somewhat bad about only getting him a gift relating to work on what should be a day about him.

So you caved in and got him a gorgeous wrist watch with classy black leather straps; on the underside you had his name inscribed with a heart. — You actually hadn’t planned for the heart, but the jeweller got confused in between so many orders and it was too close to the date to have it re-done. You hoped you could play it off in a cool manner, maybe he would laugh at your story.

The party would be held the eve of his actual birthday, and you arrived at the venue with hours to spare. Your father and sister are by the entrance, speaking to Mr. Jeon, you greet them.

“Hi, Mr. Jeon! Where should I put the gifts?”

“Oh—“ Surprised, he looks at your father, “You’ve brought gifts—“ He seems… surprised? As if it were so weird to bring presents to a birthday party. “Uh— I’m not sure, let me check with my wife where you could place those.”

You father nervously sips on his champagne, avoiding your sister’s burning looks.

“You haven’t told her,” Your sister turns to your father, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“Tell me what?” You ask.

“Honey… This isn’t Wonwoo’s birthday party…” Your father speaks very slowly, gauging for your reaction at his every word.

Eyebrows raised, you question, “What do you mean?”

“It’s an engagement party, he’s getting engaged to Suzy,” Your sister rips the band-aid off.

And you feel the air being sucked out of your lungs at once, an agonising knot pulls at your throat and your nose stings with the threat of tears. The shopping bags fall from your hands and you fight off the urge to bawl your eyes out.

Before you actually do cry your eyes out, you rush outside.

“Baby—“ Your father calls but you just storm off, not wanting to be near anyone.

Engaged? Engaged!

Engaged…

Wonwoo was getting fucking engaged.

With a bitch named Suzy who had the prettiest hair you’d ever seen and knew how to talk to investors and could speak a thousand languages. And worst of all, she was the kindest, sweetest girl ever. You couldn’t even hate her!

You weren’t even allowed that! As much as you weren’t allowed a simple heads up. How hard was it to tell you beforehand “Hey, the guy you’ve loved your entirely life is getting married to some girl and you just brought lemon pies to his engagement party, thought you’d want to know.”

Maybe you should’ve taken the pies with you, at least you’d have some comfort.

You know what, what the fuck. Why didn’t Wonwoo tell you anything?! It had been barely a couple of days since you saw each other, why couldn’t he tell you? Were you not even worthy of that?

Like having known each other your entire lives doesn’t make you worthy of such ”wonderful” news? How hard is it to tell someone in passing that you’re getting engaged! And now, you’re supposed to smile all night and pretend like your guts aren’t festering in rage and melancholy and your blood doesn’t run cold at the mere thought of Wonwoo walking down the aisle.

Giving it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t set in stone yet.

It’s the modern times and even back in your parents’ days, engagements were broken off all the time! He might not marry Suzy. You might have a chance.

Maybe you could ask— no, you could plead with your father to tell Mr. Jeon to think it all over. Wonwoo is still young, it’s not time to settle down just yet. He wanted to study abroad, he talked about the automobile industry in Europe with such amaze, and if that took a little longer, maybe Suzy would get tired of waiting?

Who were you fooling? You should’ve seen it coming.

Of course, he wouldn’t have married you, what were you thinking?!

He’s the Jeon’s precious firstborn and you’re… someone who can’t even tell apart the sizing in wrenches — To top it all off, Suzy was notably great with mechanics.

You really wish you had those pies with you, it would make your salty tears a little sweeter.

By the time you’re done sobbing in your car, you look a hot mess with runny make-up and swollen eyes. With a sigh, you pull out your purse and muster up any cosmetics that can save you for tonight.

You could cry all you wanted at home, but right now, you needed to look pretty and have your pictures taken.

By the time you return, the party is to start and guests are gathering at the front, your sister immediately rushes to your side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, soft hands reaching for yours.

Forcing out a smile, “Of course! Who do you think I am?”

By the look on her face, you know she doesn’t trust your words not one bit, but will not pry at your emotions any further. At least not for tonight, you’re sure tomorrow she will grill you about this. But for now, you put on a bright smile and greet all the guests.

From the Jeon’s, Seokmin is the third to arrive, missing only by the birthday boy himself. But he immediately greets his parents and comes to greet your family.

“Hey!” You smile, putting aside your glass of champagne so you can hug him properly.

“How you doin’?” He asks, gorgeous smile on display.

“I’m— Well—“

“They’ve told you then—“

You press your lipstick coloured lips into a thin line, “Yeah,” You nod.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I’m happy, Suzy is… a—“ Nice words. Nice words. “—wonderful girl.”

Seokmin offers you a sweet smile. “Let’s hope she can handle his tantrums,” he nudges at your arm.

“Oh, please!” You laugh.

Wonwoo was known for sometimes having a bit of a short temper, not often, by any means and maybe that’s what made them so memorable. Like the one time he couldn’t finish a puzzle during game night, so he gathered all the pieces and set the ablaze in the backyard.

“Or—“ A waiter passes by with a tray full of champagne and he so kindly grabs two glasses, offering you one. “Listen to this— He gets to the church, covered in grease from head to toe.”

You laugh at the thought. Gods, how many times has Wonwoo decided to work on an engine while wearing his most expensive outfit? His mother nearly had a fit every time he would show up dishevelled and smelling like motor oil pretending like nothing’s wrong.

“Please,” You sip at your drink, “I bet he’s gonna be all greased up tonight.”

Seokmin laughs wholeheartedly. He was the sort of guy to never hold back a fit of giggles no matter how inappropriate it may be, and it was certainly refreshing to know someone genuinely found your company enjoyable.

“For sure, I think her parents will freak out.”

You nod.

Tapping at your glass, you hesitate the following words, “Guess we’ll be the ones getting married for the family, then…”

You didn’t hate Seokmin, far from it. You loved him to bits— Not like Wonwoo, of course, you believed you would never love a man like you loved Wonwoo, ever again.

He was funny, and such a gentleman. Not to mention, handsome, too. If you weren’t hopelessly in love with his brother, he would’ve been the perfect husband of your dreams. But he did deserve better than a wife who could never give him what he deserves.

“Sorry about that,” Seokmin comforts you and that only makes your nose sting with the threat of more tears.

“Stooop!” You whine in a shaky voice and he’s overcome with worry.

“Hey— What’s wrong—?”

“Don’t be so sweet— I’m emotional tonight—“ You laugh at your emotional state, despite the teary-eyes.

“Are you a crybaby tonight?”

You nod, fanning your eyes in the hope of drying your tears before they can wash away your makeup.

Seokmin smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, fighting the urge to cry.

It’s only when you’re certain you won’t bawl your eyes out, that you respond. “It’s not that I hate you, you know I love you, but… You deserve someone that will love you like a husband.”

He nods, “I know— But it might not be so bad, we’re friends! We’ll have sleepovers every day, and we’ll have Italian every night, we’ll watch those silly movies you like…” Seokmin lists off all the things you would do in your very platonic marriage and it doesn’t sound so bad.

He knew exactly how you felt, he loved you, of course he did, you were so precious in his eyes, but not like a lover.

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Are you gonna let me choose your clothes?”

Seokmin sighs. You hated his questionable fashion since forever and in only very rare occasions did he accept your input, any other time and he assaulted your spirit with clashing patterns and silly shoes.

“Fine—!”

You smile brightly, properly comforted.

Before you can tease him any further, you spot Wonwoo entering the venue. Although he is immediately swarmed with congratulatory words, his shy nature makes it so his only response is always an awkward smile.

He immediately spots you among the crowd.

You breathe in. In that moment, despite knowing he was sworn to another, that did not stop your heart from fluttering at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and the crooked tie he clearly put on a rush.

“Congrats, bro!” Seokmin is the first one to greet him, not letting go of your shoulder but instead pulling Wonwoo into a semi-hug.

“Seokmin…” Wonwoo eyes his brother and then you, and then his brother again.

“Congrats, Nonu,” You smile, letting go of Seokmin’s comfort to reach for a hug.

Wonwoo smiles, letting you cling onto his neck, your citric perfume seeping into his clothes and body.

Oh, how his warmth could never compare to another. How you craved his affection like no other.

“Thanks— Uh, did you bring me anything?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Ey— Nonu!” Seokmin scolds his brother.

“How did you know I brought you something?” You giggle, pulling away from the hug.

Wonwoo shrugs.

You reach for his crooked tie, straightening it to the best of your abilities. “I brought it earlier, but I think your mum took it to the back room,” You explain, focused on the tie.

He, however is focused on your concentrated face, parted red lips and furrowed brows. The proximity that lets him almost feel your chest pressed against his, as if extending the hug.

“However, you, mister, have to greet your guests!” You scold, setting his tie in place.

Seokmin joins in, once again throwing his arm around your shoulder. “That’s right, mum already gave me an earful about how late you were— And I got here on time!”

“Yeah— Yeah— You’re right,” Wonwoo nods.

“Liquid courage?” You offer your half-drunk glass of champagne and he downs it in one go.

You and Seokmin goof around a little more and gossip about certain guests behind their backs. Dinner is served and you all sit down to eat, Seokmin insists you sit beside him, which just so happens to also be next to Wonwoo. And you thank him for indulging you one last time.

Wonwoo is mostly quiet, but you were used to him not being rather fond of public parties, especially when all of the attention is on him. On his other side, sits Suzy, the blushing bride-to-be. She tries to make conversation with Wonwoo, though most of it falls flat, he only ever gives her monosyllabic answers and rarely contributes to discussions.

That is until Mr. and Mrs. Jeon stand up, tapping forks to their glasses to call for everyone’s attention. The room quiets down instantly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our little gathering tonight,” Mr Jeon greets the guests. “We have some wonderful news we would like to share with you all.”

“My beautiful son, how proud I am of you,” He adds, “Every day I am amazed at your intellect. Often, I question just where did you get those smarts!”

Everyone laughs.

“You have grown into a fine man, and I can’t take credit for any of it. You are the most mature, talented, and intelligent boy and you did it all by yourself— ”

You can watch how Wonwoo’s eyes gloss over with tears.

“I’m growing old, you know. And every father wants the guarantee that his children will be taken care of… That’s why I’m so relieved and happy to announce that my worries will soon be gone—“ He laughs but his son’s smile falters, “I’d like to announce the engagement of my son, Wonwoo, to this beautiful young lady named Suzanne. Welcome to the family, Suzy.”

He raises his glass and soon, the room fills with uproar. Everyone claps and you join in, smiling toward Mr. Jeon and Suzy. She stands up, thanking everyone and raising her own glass.

But Wonwoo doesn’t move.

“Nonu?” You whisper.

In his ears all that can be heard is muffled screams of joy and the incessant acute ringing. He closes his fists so tight that his blunt nails almost break through skin, he doesn’t look at you, but it’s so clear something is wrong.

You and Seokmin exchange glances.

Before you can call for him again, he stands up at once, the chair falling behind him with a loud bang that silences the room in an instant. In large and rushed strides, Wonwoo leaves for the patio.

You stand up and follow him.

“Wonwoo!” You call out, almost tripping over your party heels.

He stands in the yard, hand gripping at his gelled hair while the other fights with his tie, pulling at the suffocating fabric until it slides down.

The yard is decorated with a gorgeous fountain, sound of running water somewhat soothing in this moment.

“Nonu, what’s wrong?” You whisper, a hand reaching for his heaving shoulder.

“What wrong?!” He yells back, shoving your hand away, “Did you not fuckin’ hear ‘em?!”

You step back and his gaze somewhat softens, realising he just pushed you.

“You didn’t know…” You whisper to yourself, epiphany hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could Mr. Jeon do this?! Throw this on him without any previous warning?!

“You— You knew?” His voice is shaky, laced with the sharp sting of betrayal.

“I found it out myself tonight when I got here— I— I thought you knew! I thought you agreed to it!” You argue.

“How— How can you think I would agree to marry someone—“ His words trail off in the night breeze, never to be finished.

“Then— What will you do?”

“I don’t know!”

You bite at your nails, finding a concrete surface to sit on and ponder.

“I must leave—“ He speaks out, “Run away with me—“

“What?!” you stand up.

“Let’s leave, drive somewhere— Wherever! I can’t stay a moment longer in this place.”

Oh, what a dilemma it was.

Abandon an engagement party with the groom-to-be, leaving behind furious parents and confused guests. And part of you knew that, despite your family’s closeness and no matter how much your father claimed you were all very close like family, driving off in the middle of the night with a committed man was a blow to any respectable, single, young ladies.

What a dilemma it could’ve been if you weren’t so enamoured with this man you would beck at any given call of his.

“I’ll get my bag and tell your parents you want to stay out here for a couple of minutes,” You announce and he nods.

As you walk back into the venue, all eyes are on you.

“He’s got the wedding jitters, everyone, not to worry. Wonwoo will return after he’s had a bit of fresh air,” You announce with a smile and all guests return to their previous activities.

But Mr. Jeon immediately corners you.

“What is he thinking?!” He half-yells, half-whispers.

“He’s just nervous, it’s a big bit of news…” You lie through your teeth, “I think a little heads up would’ve helped, you know he doesn’t do well with surprises.”

The man sighs, “He wouldn’t ever agree to it. I’ve offered him countless girls to marry and he never accepts any of them.“ Mr. Jeon looks at you and then sighs. “Do me a favour, convince him to come back, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” You nod and head off into the back rooms.

Unbeknown to you, Seokmin is on your trail and he waits until you are in the back lounge, gathering your bags and jacket to close the door and corner you.

“What the hell happened?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion, “You scared me!” You whisper.

“Sorry,” He whispers back.

“He didn’t know!”

“What?!” He says in a normal tone, soon realising just how loud that was.

“What I said, I think your dad set up a trap… He knows Wonwoo won’t go against his word.”

“Shit. What are we gonna do?”

“He wants to run away,” You announce.

Seokmin looks at you, and then at the purse hanging from your should and the jacket in your hands.

“And you’re coming with him?”

“I can’t leave him alone, not tonight.”

“And where are you going?”

“I don’t know,”

“And when are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are coming back, right?”

“I have no idea, Seokmin,” You realise, but the prospect doesn’t scare you as badly.

He scratches at his head. “Leave through the kitchen, I’ll hold off my dad. Make sure to give me a call once you guys are… I don’t know— Just give a call, will you?”

You nod, pulling him into a hug.

Doing as he instructed, you pass through the kitchen staff and rush through the backdoor, unseen by the guests. Wonwoo is sitting on a concrete bench, his head between his hands.

“Ready?” You call out.

Wonwoo looks up, nodding before he rises to his height. You offer him a comforting smile and reach for his hand.

Once you get hold of his hand, you bolt across the yard toward the parking lot. He almost stumbles over his lanky legs, but catches up rather fast. You throw your stuff on the backseat and enter your car, Wonwoo decides to jump over the door.

You laugh at his antics with a shake of your head.

Once your heels are discarded, you start the engine and drive off, leaving behind that dreaded engagement party. Wonwoo busies himself with shedding his formal wear, throwing his tie on the floor and removing his blazer.

In any other occasion, this could’ve been such a lovely late-night drive, just the two of you in your beloved car, night breeze caressing your faces with her ice-cold kisses, cruising through deserted roads, barely a soul in sight except for the night owls.

And you might allow yourself to enjoy this moment.

The silence isn’t a bother, no, Wonwoo was always a man of comfortable silences to you, but this once, you’re worried about goes on in that busy mind of his.

“You alright?” You ask, looking away from the road to steal a glance or two at him.

“Yeah,” He replies.

“Truly?”

“No,” He scoffs at his own lie. “But I’ll be.”

You nod.

You drive out of town and on the interstate roads for ages until Wonwoo finally speaks up. You’re completely engulfed in darkness except for your headlights.

“We should stop soon and have a rest.”

“Okay,” You nod, “Any preferences?”

“Anywhere.”

And so you tell him to keep his eyes peeled open when a sign on the road says there should be a motel in the next couple KM. It doesn’t take too long before you’re pulling into the parking lot of a roadside motel, much of a far-cry from your expensive hotels and luxury living.

You check in at the front desk with an old man who seems very unhappy with his life, he short of throws the keys your way.

The room is… surprisingly nice, given the circumstances of the ambience. Only problem is the, although quite large, singular bed. You exchange glances.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses, “I’m gonna

“You wanna get hit?” You joke, “He’s minutes away from killing us over this room. We can just share the bed.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”

Oh, he certainly seems to hate the idea of sharing a bed with you, huh.

“Nonu, please, it’s late and we’re both tired. It will be just like when we were kids,” You explain, setting aside your stuff.

Wonwoo nods, sitting on the strangely comfortable bed.

“You think they have robes?” You ask, looking around.

“Wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Oh, I’d kill to get out of this dress,” You whine, running to the bathroom to check for anything you could wear instead of your dress.

He just bites at his lips, watching you pace from side to side in that tiny bedroom.

That’s when you remember your forgotten shopping bags sitting in the trunk! Your compulsive shopping habits just saved you from a very uncomfortable night’s sleep, how convenient!

“I think I have some clothes in my car,” You announce, grabbing the keys and heading toward the door.

“Wait, you’re going by yourself? let me go with you.”

“I don’t wanna lock the door, though,” You whine.

He sighs, “Stay here, I’ll go.”

You jump, “Thank you, Nonu!”

While Wonwoo rummages through your trunk and pulls out the surprising large amount of shopping bags, you shed off your clothes and head toward the bathroom, dying to get some hot water on your body, put on your new PJs and doze off.

When he returns however, he is greeted by a sight any other man would die to see. You’ve left a trail of clothes from the bed toward the bathroom door. Starting on your pretty dress, splayed out over tiled-floor, and then your tights and then your underwear, matching, too—

He clears his throat. “I’m back!”

But you probably don’t hear him through the running shower, so he just sets down the bags and avoid the sight of your clothes. He decides to turn on the tiny TV and browse through any late night re-runs. You take only a couple of minutes in your shower.

“Nonu?” You ask from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” He turns down the TV.

“Did you find the clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you bring me something to wear?” Wonwoo gulps.

“Uh— Which one?”

“There should be a light blue bag and a pink one.”

“Okay—“ He stands up and searches for the aforementioned colours.

Wonwoo heads to the bathroom door and leans against the wall, facing away from the door. He knocks once. You open the door and shove your arm through, reaching for the bags.

“Thank youu!”

He returns to the boring TV. Though all he could think about was the sight of your wet supple skin, knowing you were bare with only a thin sheet of plywood separating you.

You leave the bathroom smelling of cheap soap and fresh into your brand new nightgown. It is tentatively short with an almost see-through round of lace over the hems. In your defence, you weren’t planning on showing this nightgown to anyone anytime soon.

Sitting on the bed, you look around the room, not noticing how Wonwoo’s eyes don’t really meet yours or how red his ears seem to burn.

“Aren’t you gonna shower?” You ask.

“Feels a bit redundant to shower and get back into my dirty clothes.”

“I think I might have something for you, if you don’t want to sleep in a suit,” You pry.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“But you can’t judge! I bought this for my dad because you know he deals very poorly with the heat— And he never buys himself anything!” You’re explaining yourself in advance because you remember very well what you bought.

Silky boxer shorts and a tank top, which your father loved to sleep in on stuffy summer nights but you doubted would be Wonwoo’s first choice of wear, ever.

He haggles with his own mind; give into the silky boxer shorts or sleep in the most uncomfortable outfit ever. With a tired sigh, Wonwoo accepts his fate and grabs the bag.

You smile as he stomps toward the bathroom with a defeated frown.

By the time he returns, you’ve cleaned up your trail of clothes and made yourself very comfortable in the bed. You turn your head to face him.

God, he could make a potato sack look good.

“How’s the fit?” You pull your eyes away before you look for too long.

Wonwoo shrugs, “I’ve had worse.”

You laugh.

He coyly joins you in bed, keeping a large gap between your bodies, settling on top of the covers while you’re under their warmth.

“Ain’t you cold?” You ask, fidgeting with the TV remote.

Wonwoo shakes his head, leaning back into the headboard. With a pout, you cross the figurative bridge between the two of you and reach for him. He doesn’t shy away from your touch but it visibly confused.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, hands hovering in the air, far away from your exposed back.

“I’m sorry your birthday party sucked,” You murmur against his chest, Wonwoo smiles softly, letting his hands rest on you.

“It didn’t suck in its entirety,” he says, palms slightly tapping at your back, “it was fun running away with you.”

You giggle at his comment, heart fluttering at its meaning, “What are we going to do? About the engagement, I mean…”

“We?” He raises an eyebrow.

You pull away from him.

“Well— You dragged me into this!” You slap at his chest and he lets out a boisterous laugh that almost manages to pull the corners of your from into a smile.

“I know, I’m taking the piss out of you,” He extends his arms, pulling you back to your previous position, resuming the soft caresses he leaves on your arms. “I don’t know— This is the first time I’ve ever gone against my father.”

You sigh. “Don’t you wanna marry Suzy?”

There’s a pause and oh, you’re begging, wishing to hear the words you want most.

“Fuck no!” Wonwoo exclaims and you fail to hide your excitement.

“She is pretty,” You throw the bait, to pry at his true feelings.

“So is your sister, should I just marry any pretty girl?”

You raise from your position, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Wonwoo looks at you, completely clueless to his words and its consequences.

“What the hell?!”

“What?”

Kicking off the covers in a flurry, you kneel on the bed, staring at him dead in the eyes. “You have the hots for my sister!”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to get angry, “What?! No— You’re twisting my words—“

“I’m twisting your words?! You just said you think my sister is pretty!”

“Because she is!”

You jaw drops, you can’t believe he is doubling down. “Wow,” you shake your head.

“What’s wrong with saying that?”

You shrug, turning away from him and crossing your arms. “I don’t know, why don’t you just go an marry my sister, then.”

Only then, does this thick-headed man you love so much realise he has been complimenting other girls without so much as telling you a single nice word — the bare minimum. He sighs and offers you a soft smile, shifting in the bed until he is near you again.

“I don’t want to marry your sister. I think she is pretty, but she’s not the prettiest sister, you are.” He waits for your reaction.

Hook, line and sinker.

You turn around immediately, a hint of smile playing in your pretty lips.

That’s enough for him to break into a wide smile, opening his arms to welcome you back into his warmth. You crash into his chest, wrapping yourself around his torso.

He groans, falling back into the mattress but not letting go of you.

Minutes pass before you speak again. “It’s past midnight…” You whisper.

“It’s well past midnight… Why?”

You shift upwards until your faces are only inches apart, breath tickling his lips, your beautiful eyes gleaming under dim motel lighting. “Happy birthday,” You whisper between smiles, “Make a wish.”

Wonwoo breathes in, eyes scanning your face, “There’s one thing I want…”

“What is it?”

If he said it out loud, he might’ve lost all courage to do so.

So he just does it, Wonwoo leans forward until his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss.

It probably lasted a couple of seconds, but those seconds felt like a lifetime when you were finally kissing the man you’ve loved for god knows how long. There’s a spark of electricity that burns bright from the moment your lips touch and travels through your body, blood boiling in excitement, shyness, and pure love.

When the kiss ends, Wonwoo studies your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. Which is even more worrying when you’re standing there, froze solid with an empty stare.

But thankfully, before he can say anything, you throw caution into the wind.

You pull him into a kiss. Throwing every sense of morale and shame you had out the damn window. He was a man sworn to another, for Pete's sake! But here you here, crashing your lips into his perfect, soft ones.

Wonwoo lets out a quiet groan, almost inaudible, but you hear it, oh yes, you do. And it runs straight through your chest and down to your core.

Although the sensible, rational part of your brain tells you to quit kissing him at once and just apologise, the other 99% of your brain, who’s been in love with him since forever, wants nothing of the sort. And you might have listened to the not-so-rational part of you, because you just deepened the kiss, shifting your weight until you’re partially on top of him.

Your lips move against him, shyly exploring this kiss, engraving every moment into your memory.

Yet he reciprocates. His warm hands finds your waist, holding you flush against his torso, heartbeats thumping completely in-sync. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the chance to pull you deeper into those dangerous lips of his. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, licking and twirling against yours, hot and eager.

He dips his head, one hand reaches to tangle into your hair and manoeuvre you around, allowing himself complete freedom to explore every bit of your mouth.

Wonwoo kisses like no other. Not that you had too much of a repertoire to compare him to.

But he consumes your lips with an unbound hunger, nothing similar to the calm and collected Wonwoo you knew, no. He’s hungry, messy, and very clumsy, clashing teeth one too many times, letting saliva drip down your chins and struggling to move with you on top of him.

When you part the kiss, you lay there breathless, gazing into his ridiculously beautiful beady eyes and long eyelashes, his handsome sharp nose and the most kissable lips you’ll ever see.

It was breathtaking, mind-blowing and nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your heart beats so fast you feel as if you might pass out at any moment but you’d die before you give up experiencing that again.

“What was that?” He whispers and his breath tickle your kiss-swollen lips.

“Your birthday gift,” You bite at your lower lip. “Did you like it?”

Wonwoo smiles, breathless and half-lidded and your heart damn near bursts. “I did. Did you?”

You nod.

He nods. “Wanna do it again?”

You nod and he gives you that stupidly handsome smile of his.

And once again, you’re attached at the lips. This once, nothing like before, which you though impossible. It’s so much more desperate and it burns, it boils your blood in absolute desire. It leaves you light-headed, it wipes away your cognitive thoughts and leaves behind a foggy cloud of barely strung-together words that only translate into wanting more. More of him.

You sigh into the kiss and he drinks it all up, he consumes everything you give him with erratic hands and eager tongue.

Wonwoo leaves your lips and you whine with a breathless sigh of his name, almost chipping at any resolve he had left. But he nips at your neck nonetheless, warm, wet tongue trailing along your skin, making you twitch in his arms with the most delectable little ‘yips’ of surprise.

He bites, feral and determined; determined to make his claim, to leave behind his mark on your body, to indulge in carnal pleasure without a prospect of tomorrow, letting everything else be a construct beyond these motel walls, away from where you laid. Away from this reality where he had you in his hands and you moaned his name with a soft smile.

Practically tearing your nightgown, he pulls the silky fabric just enough until your tits spill out of its confine. Wonwoo sighs at the sight, fingers trailing the contour of your boobs, raising goosebumps along sensitive skin. His eyes are burning in adoration, the most depraved glaze of hunger hidden behind sheer excitement.

He dives in, hands kneading at the flesh, squishing soft skin.

Slender fingers caress your aereolas, running fingernails along your nipples in curiosity, watching you squirm and bite at your lips as your nipples begin to perk up.

And when you thought he was done, Wonwoo attaches his mouth to your nipple, sloppily running his tongue around it before he sucks. He makes sure to let his teeth graze, just to watch you jump.

All while his other hand makes work of your unattended boob, your attention is so thinly divided between his teasing fingers and his hot tongue and the sweetest, most satisfied groans that erupt from his throat.

Your face burns and you bite at the back of your hand, shoving down every stubborn moan that tries to make it past; but he won’t have that, no. Wonwoo reaches for your arms, pinning them above your head without so much as pulling away from your tits.

Mindlessly, you’ve been rocking back and forth against him, chasing a gut feeling you’re unsure of but desire more than anything ever. And without realising, you’ve been teasing him just as much as he has you, which is clear by the volume contained by his shorts.

He wishes he could ravish your breasts all night, but any more of your squirming and he will come undone without so much as a touch from you.

Wonwoo pulls away, hands once against finding your waist as he pulls you back to his chest.

“You know what comes next, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, half-lidded, lust-filled eyes gazing so deep into your own.

“I— I’ve never done it before,” You confess.

And something stirs within him, to know he is your first, the first and only man to every touch you this way, to trace his lips over your gorgeous body, to settle inside of you.

Wonwoo smiles and kisses your nose, “I don’t care… But only if you don’t care that I haven’t either.”

You’re surprised, to say the least.

Kissing in between smiles, you raise to your knees, letting him tug at the hem of shorts just enough to free his cock.

It’s nothing like you’ve seen before and unlike the illustrations you remember from school. It’s red and veiny and it glistens with pre-cum under the dim lighting.

But it’s a part of him and you can’t help that your belly stirs at the sight of him stroking himself.

When you reach for the hem of your nightgown, his hands stop you.

“Keep it on—“ He whispers.

“Why?”

“We’ve got all night to take it off,” He runs his tongue through his top teeth with a side smirk and you almost smack him up the head for being such a little shit.

As he asked so kindly, you bunch up your nightgown around your waist, hips circling around his warmth, meanwhile he’s playing with the flesh of your love handles, kneading and running his fingers over your skin.

“Ready?”

You nod. He raises your hips and lets you control the pace, you feed in his cock, centimetre by centimetre, feeling it’s girth tear at your walls with an unimaginable sting, it burns hot and heavy in your hands.

Crashing onto his chest, you cry out a pained yelp.

Wonwoo run his fingers over your back, kissing the top of your head, his eyebrows are bunched up, face painted with worry. “We can stop— Let’s stop—“

“No!” you raise your head and he can see the tiny droplets bundling around your eyelashes, “Just gimme a minute!”

So you sit there, his cock half-in, pulsing angry red and throbbing under the tease of warmth and tightness. Especially when you look so breathtakingly gorgeous, he gulps, leaning back against the headboard, urging his mind to be strong.

It takes you minutes to get used to it, to slowly let the size settle until your muscles are well and accustomed to it and then you start it all over again, feeding the remaining inches until he’s bottomed out.

And oh heavens, how utterly full and hot you felt. Despite the stinging pain, part of you wants to chase the pleasure, clenching in sheer hunger.

Wonwoo stares up at you, looking for any signs of discomfort but he is met with the most enticing, beautiful, and tempting creature he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Your eyes are glassy with tears, but you’ve got a determined look on your face with a hint of a smirk that sends shivers down his spine and up his cock.

“Shit,” He curses out with a smile, leaning back and rutting into your hips only to watch your eyebrows furrow and your mouth gape, a moan threatening to escape. “Ready to move, pretty girl?”

You breathe out, “Yeah.”

Steadying yourself against his chest, you raise your hips, feeling his absence leave you upsettingly empty until you let your body crash back down, his cock impaling you with its warmth once again. You rock against him, shallowly, though the motion is unbearably teasing, even for you.

Wonwoo lets out an obscene, strained moan, fingernails digging into your waist, but you’re too focused on rocking your hips to notice. How he wants nothing but to piston his hips into your pussy like there is no tomorrow, he relishes in the feeling of your warmth, tight and gummy around his throbbing member.

And he finds you might be just as insatiable as he is, especially when you’ve found yourself a steady pace, bouncing up and down, and his name pours out of your lips in such a beautiful manner. Though he can’t just let you have all the control, can he?

“Oh—“ You yip, “Feels so— Good—“ Still unsure of your thought, you explore the feeling, rolling your hips, feeling him stretch your wider, fill your insides and leave you full like you’ve never felt before.

His hips meet yours half way, chasing your cunt every time you leave and pounding into you when you come back down, filling the room with guttural groans and the lewd sound of skin against skin.

You run your fingers under his shirt, feeling bare, warm skin, the softness of his flesh against your hands, the definition of his pecs and the way his nipples peek through the fabric. Wonwoo groans at the way your manicured nails scratch at his chest, gathering momentum as you bounce yourself on top of him.

He notices you’ve started moving faster, practically fucking yourself stupid on his cock and he would tease you halfway through tomorrow if he didn’t find himself in such a similar predicament. His pupils are blown wide, eyebrows furrowed across his brow, pretty lips hanging agape. You’re so utterly perfect and you were all his.

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” He whispers, slowing down for a second.

You sigh, nuzzling against his neck, “So good— I can’t even describe it—“ Your words are so airy and mindless, you’ve been consumed by the pleasure he gives you.

He catches the sight of the white rim that pools around his member, a mix of your juices, but it’s gone, sheathed inside you before he can admire it. There’s a poisoning thought that flashes in his mind, a fleeting, tempting picture. Of planting his seed in your womb, watching your grow full with child, his child. How absolutely breathtaking you would look, round cheeks and gorgeous smile, pretty fingers caressing your bump. And he would taint your taut stomach with his cum, watching it drip over your skin.

Wonwoo bites his lips so hard it breaks skin, throwing his head back, willing his mind somewhere else, anything else lest he come undone right then and there.

Stomach tingling with indescribable pleasure, you lean forward, moaning incessantly, unable to contain your ecstasy. He supports your body, wrapping strong arms around your torso, firm hands planted on your hips, taking over the moving so you can lay still and let the buzz consume your body with its electric touch.

It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, and it crashes over your body in a colossal wave, building up from the pit of your stomach; sending tingles rushing through your boiling blood.

You raise your head, eyes meeting his and it seems he is familiar with this pleasure. His left hand meets your face, caressing your cheek, yet holding you still so he can gaze, he can watch you come undone around him.

Wonwoo watches, unblinking, how your eyebrows furry, your eyes are glossy with tears that cling to your pretty lashes, your lips sit in an enticing pout. Yet you part them, letting out increasingly louder cries of his name.

And you clench around him like there is no tomorrow, egging him on. He thrusts up into you, riding out your orgasm and chasing his over the edge.

He crashes his lips into yours, savouring your hazy kiss, your tired sighs and it doesn’t take long before he’s spurting hot white strings into you, it trickles down him and stains the silk fabric of his boxers.

Soon, he stills all movement except for heavy breathing and the soothing circles he runs over your exposed back.

He kisses your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” You breathe out, “Tired. But good.”

His chest shakes with a soft chuckle, he runs slender fingers along your hairline, fixing any hairs that cling to sweaty skin. “Me too.”

“It felt amazing,” You smile, raising your head to face him. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Wonwoo hums.

“I’m glad it was you, Nonu,” You hid your face against his neck in embarrassment at your own mushy words, but Wonwoo feels their extent, hiding the blush of his cheeks.

It doesn’t take long before the post-orgasm haze lulls you into sleep.

And you slept like never before.

The following morning, Wonwoo wakes up to an empty bed. He panics for a second or two, scrambling to look for your belongings, only to find everything is still there.

Calm, he washes himself up and gets dressed to leave. Finally having a moment to digest the previous night’s events.

He had made up his mind, he would confront his father. His future was his to decide on.

Looking for you, Wonwoo reaches the foyer, only to see you leaning against the wall, attached to the payphone. When your eyes meet his, you immediately say your goodbyes, ending the call.

“Who did you call?” Wonwoo crosses his strong arms against his chest and you try to ignore the sight of his muscly forearms peeking from the folded sleeves.

You don’t like his tone. “Seokmin.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why did you call him?”

“I promised I would,” You shrug.

Wonwoo can’t believe you would call Seokmin out of everyone, especially after you were glued to him last night at the party. “Why him?”

“He’s worried about you, you stupid— Stupid—“ You choke out on any mean names, simply stomping away from him.

Why was Wonwoo being so mean so early in the morning? You thought after the amazing night you spent together things would change between you. Stomping your way back to your room, you grumble under your breath.

While you’re folding your clothes, Wonwoo comes back.

“I’ll talk to my father,” He announces.

Before you can say anything about that, he continues. “We’ll get married— You and I, I mean— ” He clears his throat, “Will you marry me?”

Like a deer in headlights, you’re frozen, staring at him big-eyed with a dopey smile on your lips.

“You’ll marry me?” You question, just in case you’ve tricked yourself into hearing the words you’ve wanted most.

“Yes. And I— I’ll take full responsibility—“

You smile crashes into the ground. “You want to marry me out of… Responsibility?!” The words choke you on their way out.

Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, not understanding why you would be upset. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I don’t want to fucking marry you!” Not like that.

His face falls and he assumes a much scarier look on his face. “What would you rather marry Seokmin, then?”

And in your fury, you blurt out “Yes! Yes, I would rather marry him!”

You realise your rejection hurt him, you do. But you’re so blindsided by your anger you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he sees you as a responsibility.

Wonwoo is suddenly not so angry, but indifferent. You watch his expression go away, replaced by one much scarier, in your opinion; nothing. A plain poker face.

“Gather your things and go to the car.”

It’s all he says before he leaves the room.

The ride back is the most nerve-racking hours you’ve ever experienced. Wonwoo is silent, even you huff and puff under your breath, angrily chewing on your breakfast of vending machine snacks.

Though he says one phrase as you reach the city. “Leave me here.”

And that’s the last you saw of him for over a month.

Your previous anger dries up, turning into sadness. Then you’re furious. And heartbroken until you’ve accepted your reality. You’ve ruined your friendship and lost the love of your life.

It takes your sister plucking you out of bed for you to finally leave your bedroom in weeks.

She was the first and only person you’ve told about the night spent with Wonwoo. Your parents were absolutely furious that you’d do something so dangerous, though relieved at your safety, they weren’t easy on their words.

“He’s not doing well, you know,” You sister says.

You humph.

“I’m serious. Daddy said he’s clumsy, keeps messing up his work. I think you should go and see him.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a worrisome sigh. You still cared way too much to hear those news and not do something about it.

So you dress up in whatever you can find and drive to his shop, building up a speech on your way there and practising every scenario. You just hoped everything could go back to the way it was.

He’s working on an old model, hunched over the hood in his light blue coveralls, stains of grease from head to toe.

“Knock knock,” You announced your presence, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, looking forward to meeting his eyes as much as you dread to.

Wonwoo immediately recognises your voice, turning around to meet your eyes.

And he looks just as wrecked as you felt. Deep-set eye bags and a tired gaze. Yet he still smiles just as handsomely.

“Hey,” He greets.

“Busy?”

“No! No,” Wonwoo scrambles, placing the wrench down removing his gloves.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, I actually— I wanted to talk to you, too.”

It’s somewhat relieving as well at it’s worrying to hear him say that, it could be an apology as well as an insult or something of the sort.

“We should— We should go to my office, someone might come in—“

“Yeah— We should.” You nod.

You walk into his office, one you’ve visited and killed time in quite often. But coming here after everything feels so crushing, all this distance between you.

“Go ahead—“

“You first—“

You both say at the same time and that seems to ease the stubborn awkwardness pooling in the air. You laugh.

“How about we say it together?”

“On 3?”

“1”

“2”

“3”

Breathing in, you say the words that come to your mind from the bottom of your heart.

“I want to marry you.”

“I love you.”

“What?!”

“What?!” Once again, you both say it at the same time.

“You want to marry me?” He breaks into a wide smile.

“And you love me?” The words feel so alien to you, you can barely believe your ears, you feel the tips of your fingers shake in excitement, your heart pounds so strongly against your rib cage you can almost hear the thumping.

Jeon Wonwoo just said he loves you.

“I— Are you sure you want to marry me? You said you didn’t want to!”

“Yes. Well— I’ve loved you since forever! So when you said you wanted to marry me just out of responsibility— I was heartbroken! It’s like you were forced into doing it!”

“I didn’t want to marry you out of responsibility! I’ve been planning to marry you since the beginning—“

You choke, “You what?!”

Wonwoo sighs, “I never wanted to marry your sister and she was well aware of that… We were blessed that she found her husband and when everything went well, I thought— I hoped that it’d mean we’d be the ones to be wed.”

Processing every word, you almost feel dizzy. “But you said you’d take responsibility!”

“For roping you into running away from my party.”

“Oh.” You’re beyond embarrassed for assuming and above all, for getting so angry you didn’t even let him explain himself.

“I should’ve been clearer,” He admits.

“No— I should’ve talked to you.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Thank you.”

With tiny tears threatening to fall, you can only confirm what you want to know the most.

“You love me?”

“Always,” He smiles.

Wonwoo seems to remember something, he raises his finger in a “wait” motion and leans over his desk, reaching for the top drawer. It’s only when you catch a peek of the velvet box that you almost keel over.

Gulping, he gathers his courage.

In his grease-stained coveralls that smells of expensive cologne and lavender cleaning supplies, Jeon Wonwoo gets down on one knee, nervously looking up at your with his stupidly gorgeous beady eyes and an expectant smile.

“Will you marry me?”

And in your least presentable dress, the one he’d ruined with grease stains and an unruly hairdo, you respond with the biggest smile:

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Had you been questioned, there would be an answer to just how long you will love Jeon Wonwoo.

You’ll love him forever.

1K notes · View notes

scwheeler · 1 year

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♟˖ ࣪⊹ — ‘I KNOW IT WON’T WORK’

pairing: ethan landry x reader

summary: your boyfriend had become distant suddenly but confronting him about it only makes it worse

author’s note: inspired by gracie abrams’ “I know it won’t work” I LOVE THIS SONG AND GRACIE (lyrics will be in orange for reading & red for ethan !!) also you can send in requests and ideas!! #ANGST #SLIGHTSPOILERS

you looked over two seats at ethan who was quickly jotting something down in his notebook. it was a different color than his actual econ notebook and the lecture hadn’t even started yet so you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

but the loud slam of the classroom door shutting snapped you out of your trance. your teacher begun the class and you watched ethan shove the notebook in his backpack through the corner of your eye. however, you completely shrugged it off once the teacher started speaking.

sitting by your friends at the park was finally a peaceful event with all the stormy clouds and rain disappearing. it seemed there were only clear skies and chirping birds around until you faced ethan.

he avoided eye contact and tried to look elsewhere. anywhere. aren’t boyfriends supposed to want to look at their girlfriends? you even reached for his hand once but after he attempted to ‘discreetly’ move his away, you gave up. for a studious little student, he really couldn’t tell how distant he became.

at first you thought it was all in your head. maybe it was the stress building up from your upcoming finals or because of the mysterious murders surrounding your neighborhood. yet your fears were confirmed when even your friends brought it up.

even chad for gods sake!

only a couple of days ago, the friend group was laughing and chattering like a bunch of middle schoolers. you guys were loud enough to be heard from miles away but there was an awkward tension once ethan started to shy away from you.

where was the sweet boy who waited in front of your dorm room for a whole hour before finally knocking and asking you out?

where was your boyfriend who would not let go of your hand while walking around parties? who followed you everywhere that some people even asked if you had a stalker!

where was the boy who messaged tara and mindy a million times about what flowers you like so you would be happy on valentine’s day!?

that boy was obviously not present because your door remained silent. no doorbells or late night knocks for a last minute sleepover.

your hands stayed untouched. the only time he almost reached for it was when he put his hands down to help him getting up and leaving.

you went to parties alone now and instead of sitting on the couch just whispering and gossiping with ethan, you sat on the stairs and waited for mindy and anika to say one of them were too wasted to party anymore.

so after finally mustering up the courage, you marched to his dorm room and knocked on the door. first chad opened the door with a little confused face, “yes?” you ignored him and invited yourself in like a hundred times you’ve done before.

“is ethan here?” you asked and took a look around the dorm. chad shut the door behind you and walked towards you, “yeah he’s in his room, are you gonna talk to him?”

you immediately looked up at him, “oh god did mindy tell you too!?” you groaned and felt like you sunk in a batch of concrete. chad let out a shy laugh, “well we’re worried about you guys, i mean you’re the SECOND best looking couple on campus.”

you lifted an eyebrow and questioned him, “and who’s the first?” “obviously me and tara,” chad answered and went to go sit on the couch. you rolled your eyes at his hubris and approached ethan’s room.

but before, you knocked.

“yes, come in,” you heard ethan say from inside and you carefully turned the bedroom doorknob. “chad if you need help in eco—” ethan turned in his spinning desk chair that you got him last year since you knew he can’t focus with moving around.

he stopped himself at the sight of you and wished he locked the door. “oh y/n. what are you doing here?” he calmly asked as if he didn’t ditch you for the last couple of weeks. you scoffed at his ignorance and shut the door to avoid any eavesdropping from chad.

ethan stayed in his chair and watched you take a seat on his nicely tidy bed. there was an immediate silence that suffocated the room before you decided to speak up first.

your words completely shattered the glass surface evident in the room, “do you still love me?” ethan looked up from ground and met your eyes for the first time in weeks.

“w-what do you mean?!” ethan exclaimed and seemed to be taken aback. “what do i mean?” you repeated. “i mean do you still love me? because you’ve been avoiding me like i’m the fucking black plague! you run away from me as if we’re literally not boyfriend and girlfriend!” you spilled out your emotions onto your so-called boyfriend.

your hand gestures were flying everywhere and all the suppressed feelings of anger and sadness came out. “so please just answer the goddamn question. please,” you pleaded for just one answer.

“y/n, i do love you. i truly do and i have but i just don’t think i can handle a relationship right now. it’s all just too much and with…econ—i can’t balance it,” ethan rambled and lied through his teeth, blaming his avoidance on fucking econ as if you weren’t in the same class.

he wasn’t hearing you out and was just piling excuses on top of excuses. you were sick of it. you wanted to have a civil conversation with him, talk it out like adults or in those cheesy romcoms where the couple makes up in the span of three minutes and a really extravagant song or romantic montage.

you could feel tears approaching the rum of your eyes but held them back with only a few managing to escape into your cheeks. “ethan, part of me wants to walk away 'til you really listen because i hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different,” you were the one avoiding his eyes now. those big brown eyes of his that made you melt like ice cream on a hot summer day.

you wiped the few tears off your face and tried to remain calm. unknown to you though was ethan’s perspective. he wanted to get up and hug you, hold you and say he was sorry. he wanted to bring a dozen roses to your doorstep every night until you forgave him.

he held back his tears and looked up at your teary-eyed face. he thought to himself, ‘cause part of me wants you back, but i know it won't work like that, huh? why won't you try moving on for once? that might make it easy’ so he looked out the window and muttered, “let’s just break up.”

you bit your lip at the bitter words spit out by the boy you loved with all your heart and continued to even after this moment. you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond and opened the door to escape the suddenly stuffy room.

you ran out of the dorm room, ignoring chad’s questions and words from behind you. you didn’t stop running and hoped the cold air would dry your tears before you friends could see.

out of nowhere, the skies turned grey and for the first time in weeks, there a trickle of rain. even though the distance from your apartments was less than a few minutes, it felt like forever. it started pouring and your clothes were drenched.

you thought about how stupid you were and regretted ever stepping front in his dorm room to begin with. you sat on the stairs in front of your apartment, crying and trying to catch your breath. you could barely keep your eyes open with the rain and your tears drowning you. outside it was dark and you were all alone. except you weren’t.

ethan watched you from his room. his heart ached for you and your tears and he had to restrain himself from running down to you. he clenched his jaw and breathed through his teeth as he watched you slowly get swallowed by the darkness and rain.

i know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving and part of me wants you back, but i know it won't work like that.

brrring! brrring!

ethan turns his attention to his phone and honestly hopes it to be you but his hopes falter as he sees the number and picks up the phone. “is it all taken care of?” a voice spoke on the other line.

“yes, she’s out of the picture so we are not going to hurt her.”

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧scwheeler #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #ethan landry headcannon #ethan landry smut #ethan landry fic #scream fic #scream six #scream imagine #scream #chad meeks martin #chad meeks x reader

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faeriekit · 2 months

Text

Things Long Gone

for a phic phight prompt from @armed-with-knitting-needles

Edward Lancer woke up the same way he did every morning.

He rolled out of bed. Brushed his teeth. Changed into a button-up and a tie, and slacks he wouldn’t hate throughout the course of the day.

He made his coffee like he did every day: he stuck his thermos under the machine, waited with a slice of toast until the coffee maker stopped pouring, and capped it in one smooth motion that shook its contents until everything was relatively mixed inside. No sweetners. No sugar. No milk.

Great. Ed went to grab his keys…

…His keys weren’t on the hook.

He blinked, hand frozen in its attempt so reach what wasn’t there. His. Where were his keys? He’d had them yesterday.

…He was pretty sure he’d had them yesterday. Hadn’t he gone to see Lizzy and the new baby? His sister had been so excited to show Charlotte off to her new uncle. Ed had been excited to go.

…Whatever. Amity Park was relatively walkable; as long as he dashed, he could get there in time.

So, off he jogged, into the hot, early morning, sweating and puffing as he went.

Ed made to the school entrance just as the bell rang for first period. He sighed, struggling for air—but at least he’d be able to swap in for Mrs. Keppler’s math course this morning. Man, he felt as if he’d run every class at this point. They might as well make him the—

Something invisible SLAMMED into his face.

His nose crunched. Ed swore in every classic title he knew, stumbling back and grabbing at his nose—ugh, and his fingers were coming away wet. He had to go see the nurse, or, more likely, the hospital. He was later than ever, but he’d have to—

He tried for the door again. Again, something stopped him.

…Ed frowned. He rapped against the invisible boundary with his knuckles. It was probably ghosts, again, but this was unusually…static. Benign?

“Ed, good heavens! What happened to your face?”

Ed turned around, nose slowly beginning to swell up in his hands as Ms. Cathleen Rylant stalked up the walkway to the school. “G’Morning,” he grunted, unable to summon the capacity for proper pronunciation. “I…seem to be blocked from getting into the building.”

Cathleen frowned. Her shoulder bag was pulled higher onto her thin, elderly shoulder: a nervous gesture. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ed! Is there anything…”

“Do you mind testing it for me?” Ed tried, carefully cupping the blood he could feel from dripping down onto his dress shirt. “If it affects you, or is unique to me…”

There were a few ghosts that targeted individuals. Ed had some surety that the genie ghost had gotten him to ‘call out from school’ today—there was a text today, and he would not put it past

“Got it,” the elderly science teacher offered sweetly. Cathleen was a gift, truly. “Was it…?”

Ed smacked a hand against the barrier. There was no visible sign of it—no distortion, no ripple, no change in color.

“Got it.” Cathleen—and her much more fragile bones—carefully put a hand out, expecting to be able to put her weight on it.

She just barely caught her balance before falling onto the concrete step. Ed reached out a hand to help her, and, of course, ended up with bruised fingers for the trouble. He swore.

“Huh,” she said. “…Well, I’m late for first period anyway; want me to tell Yuuko what’s holding you up?”

Ed sighed. He reminded himself that informing their principal would be best, considering the circumstances… “Yes, please. Thank you, Cathleen.”

“No problem, Ed.”

And Edward Lancer sat on the front step of the school, back leaned against nothing, and waited to see what could be done for him.

He took his hand away from his nose to reach for his coffee.

…His blood wasn’t red.

Ed’s blood went cold.

Wait. Why had—

—Screeching tires, metal SLAMMED into its final place, snapping, cracking, the lights cutting out, a choked last breath—

…Ed’d had his car yesterday. Why didn’t he have it this morning?

“I’m imagining things,” Ed muttered to himself. He wiped the green blood onto the back of his clean plants and resolved to wait for Principal Ishiyama.

Mr. Lancer was still outside the school by the time lunch rolled around.

“So he’s just…hanging out?” Sam asked around a mouthful of vegan-and-cruelty-free sushi, staring from their place under the tree at their teacher and his crowd of educational professionals.

Danny shrugged. He swallowed a bite of ham-and-baloney. “Looks like,” he observed. They watched as Mr. Lancer proved, again, that no matter how hard his middle-age-professional bulk heaved and pushed, there was no getting past the entryway into the school.

“…Huh.” Sam took a second bite. Across the yard, Mr. Lancer slipped on the invisible barrier, and everyone got closer to help pick him off the ground. “Any idea why this is happening?”

Danny put his sandwich down. He didn’t say anything.

Sam turned to look at him. “Danny?”

“…I saw an accident on the way home with Dad last night,” Danny offered quietly. He picked a little speck of nothing off of his sandwich. “The two cars were bent in half at the bottom of the ravine. There were rescue trucks and police all over the other side of the highway; cars were backed up for like four exits behind it. One of the cars looked like Mr. Lancer’s gray crapbox, but it’s not like I could get a good look…”

Sam went quiet. Danny stayed quiet.

They watched as Mr. Lancer explained, again, for the nineteenth time, that he couldn’t get into the school, and didn’t know why.

“…Oh,” said Sam. She set her chopsticks down.

“Mmhmm.” Danny swallowed. “Uh…looks like Mom’s updates on the ghost shields are working, though.”

“No kidding,” Sam echoed absently.

Eventually, lunch was over. When they went back inside, half-eaten lunches packed back up to take home for later, the distant figure of Mr. Lancer was still outside the school door, hoping to be let back in.

#phic phight #phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #car accident #tw death #i mean it is Danny Phantom. but also #faer fic #is there a better tag for this??#phicphight2024

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ishouldgetatumbler · 11 days

Text

<< < ao3 > >>

Danny made sure he was first into the room. He'd had to cut off Damian in the hall to do it, but he immidiately laid on the bottom bunk and turned away from the room. He was still dressed, even his shoes were on. The only thing the uniforms did not include was fresh shoes. Danny's were caked in dried mud, they'd originally been white but stains and sterilizations left them a sort of beige. The laces were untied and almost entirely eaten off between the jaws of his shoe and the concrete.

He stared at the wall. It was the same color as his shoes. He fought the urge to turn away.

"Is he asleep?" said one of the other boys, incredulous.

Danny couldn't tell them apart by their voices, but he stilled, trying to look asleep. He couldn't close his eyes or look away from the wall now. What was once repulsive was now mesmerizing, staring at it he found phantom stains, his eyes attuned to hunting the strains dried edges for scrubbing and scraping pure clean.

One of them walked to him, leaning his head into the bunk to look Danny directly in the face. This broke danny from his maudlin stupor and he swivled only his eyes to see.

It was Artemis, one eye fat and swollen from the day's beating. Danny grimaced internally at his own "injuries."

Artemis extracted his head from between Danny's face and the bunkhead.

"Yes, he is." Artemis lied.

Damien snorted. "Good."

There a was a flurry of thumping sound as bodies, arms and legs, impacted the wall next to Danny's bed.

"What are you up to?" Said Damian, his tone threatening and deep as he could manage.

Danny could tell their voices apart now, both having a strange, soft accent. Artemis pronounced his name with the slightest push around the syllables of his vowels. Aaartemiis Foowl. Damian pronounced his own name with the ghost of a Z and the threat of a hiss. zDahmian vWayne.

"Education. Same as you." Artemis.

"I am not the same as you." Damian.

"Aren't you? I heard your loving father enrolled you along side my father enrolling me." Artemis.

"It wasn't father's wish, it was grandfather's." Damian.

Who was Damian's grandad? Danny was fuzzy on celebrity family trees, and when he thought of the Waynes all he could think of was tall, dark hair men in the same age bracket. Less of a family tree and more of a squat family bush.

Stewart Wayne? Albert? Tomas? Something boring.

"Good to know. Now unhand me." Artemis.

"Tell me what you're doing here first." Damian

"Like I said, it was my father's-"

"Your father has been missing for years, but you've had his executors tied up in litigation the whole time, theres no reason you're enrolled here unless you finally stopped filing injunctions."

Damian

Silence.

"And how do you know something like that?"

Artemis.

Silence.

"Court filings are public." Damian said vaguely.

"There are millions of cases filed globally. You would have to know what you're looking for. You'd have to know that you were looking for me." Artemis said. His tone was flat, factual and accusatory.

"You are someone worth keeping an eye on." Damian said.

"What could you possibly warrant such an invasion of privacy? for my father?" Artemis asked.

"No Artemis, this is about you."

"I think you're quiet mistaken."

Danny was learning to sound out their steps too, Artemis' small formal platforms took two steps back; tak-tak. Damian's oversized combats followed him, one stomping step that rattled the pebbles trapped in the heels of his boots; thunk.

Danny shuffled, trying to make it look like an act of fitful sleep. It had the intended effect and the boys stilled, trying not to wake him.

"Keep quiet." hissed Damien, "he's still asleep."

"It wouldn't matter." Artemis replied, "He's a nobody. A ghost."

Damien scoffed, and there was a rustling of cloth as he let go.

"Your nobody puked everywhere his first class. Everybody knows his face now." Damian said. "if he speaks up..."

"Exactly, he puked at the first mention of blood. He's in over his head, terrified. Leave him be." Artemis replied.

"Whatever." there was a creak on the bed above him as Damian flipped himself up to the bunk above his.

Artemis clicked his tongue and walked to the set of beds on the opposite end of the room, laying down down in the small bunk opposite Danny and Damien, before he opened a small black-bound book and flipped through it, tapping the reading light built into the wall on.

Danny waited there for a long time, it felt like hours staring at the back of his eyelids and listening for any sound from the other two boys. He waited in vain, listening to silence cut by the sound of Artemis turning a page.

Eventually, he braved up, shuffling around in his bed to look Artemis. The boy was reading, his one fat purple eye facing towards Danny while the other one combed over the book. Internally, Danny celebrated, before turning his hand intangible and shoving it through is sternum.

The school's security was next generation, detectors and scanners observed and scanned every pupil on their way to and from every class, meaning harboring materials was essentially impossible. Unless you were Danny. He rooted through his internal organs, groping along the outside of his lungs before finding what he was looking, tucked safely behind his gallbladder.

He withdrew a small rectangular device. It's atenne and mini-sattalite dish were warped and dented from Danny's impact with the Gym teacher and then his impact with the floor. He grimaced, then tried to turn the device on.

Slightly damp, the screen flickered to life and displayed the Fentonworks signature F, before starting to load. Danny glanced to Artemis.

He licked his index finger, then strummed the book, flipping it to the next page. Danny's gamble has paid off: he couldn't see out of his swollen eye.

Danny looked back to the screen as it booted. Now that the screen was on, Danny could see it was cracked. After booting, the screen was completely obscured as error after error popped up.

ERROR: OUTSIDE OF FENTONWORKS NETWORK RADIUS

ERROR: MOISTURE DETECTED IN CHARGING PORT

ERROR: SIGNAL WEAK OR MISSING

ERROR: LOW BATTERY

ERROR: FENTONWORKS GHOSTOMATIC DISCONNECT

Danny axed the notification, then scrolled through to contacts. Next to each was a message of "Out of Range!" except one: Tucker. If Danny could take back all the mockery he'd given to Tucker for his tinkering, he would.

Danny glanced back to where Artemis has been reading. He saw the breast of Artemis' seemingly tailored uniform two inches from his face. He craned his head up to look into Artemis' eyes.

Danny swallowed.

"Is Damian asleep?" he whispered after a moment.

Artemis glanced above the frame of his reading glasses to the bunk of above Danny's. Then he nodded

Danny squinted at the boy, then said "Hey Damian, wake up."

"I am awake." Damian said.

Artemis scoffed.

"I have a phone. Don't ask where I hid it. If you have family with impossibly good cell service, you can talk."

Damian's head popped from the edge of the bunk above, hanging in the air like a bat.

Artemis' one good eye flashed, in realization and ambition.

"Fenton, right now I'm standing between you and the camera."

Danny glanced around Artemis, noticing a small black dome in the corner of the room where he hadn't seen one before.

"If I move, you likely be spotted. Give me the phone."

Danny offered it.

Artemis hesitated.

"Is it clean?" he ventured.

Danny gave it a a quick wipe down with his shirt, then offered it again.

Artemis winced for a moment, then took it. He dialed a 1-800 number, then waited.

The line clicked to life.

"Butler?" Artemis said, holding the phone at middle distance.

Something muffled and buffed with static to a smooth, incoherent sound replied.

Artemis clicked his tongue, then ended the call.

"We're beyond my reach. If I can only get in touch with somone, I could run a program to figure out where we are. What about your reach Wayne?" Artemis said, offering the phone to Damian.

Damian took it, then said "I'm adding a new contact."

The phone rang, on speaker still and after two rings exactly it was answered. Artemis took the phone back, and began to work on it.

"̵̧̳̽̈́H̶̨̲̅͂è̷̜̊͗ͅl̷̹̯̊͑̄l̴̮̣̖̪͠o̵̭̰͇̹̿͝,̴̟̟͍͉͌ ̵̛̤̓͒̕y̷̤͗͛̽̃o̴̢̖͗ũ̷͖̳'̸͓̻̮͚͊̇v̸͉̜̦̂e̷̱̠̮̮͂ ̶͉͝ͅr̴͚̳̮̱͂͂e̴̖͍̞͔͠a̸̗͕͂̌̾̓ç̵̮̌h̵͍͖͑̂̌͝e̵͉̻̺͊ḋ̷̯͓͗͜͜ ̷̫̦͖̏ͅt̸̝̅́̀͘ͅh̴̨̻̣̘̄͌̎́ę̵̧͍̯̓ ̴̼͈̦͋̋̕͜W̷̰͔̹̋̓͋a̸̜͕̯͌͘y̷̨̨̗͗ņ̴͉̞́ͅe̶̠͌͒ ̸̢̼̍M̸͉̜̳̀͑͘ä̸̼̦̣́͑̚͠n̵͇͓͐̓͊̿o̸̹̯͙̓r̸̲̝͈̆,̵͖̱͕͐͝͝ ̴͎̉̑͗h̶̛̖̀̓̊o̵̹̝͓̊w̵̖̎̽ ̷̪̠͔̿̕m̷̠̞̹͓͐̌͝a̵͇͋̈́̎͛y̷͔̻̔ͅ ̶̻́̔ͅI̵̟̱̿ ̵̙͆ĥ̸̡̼ê̵̡̛̯̻̗͘͠l̶̘̐͘͘ͅp̷̭̀͝ ̴̜͍͓̇͐̈̀y̵̢͕͛̓́̐o̷̢̦͙̼̿̈́ů̸̡̀͘ ̶̹͗ţ̶͇̜̿͝ḣ̸͎͚̰͗̒��i̸̤̜̞͊̇̽s̶̮̼̈͒ ̸̞̯̭̾̚e̶̥͎̜͂̈v̴̞̬̌è̸̡̮͉͓͆n̸̖͍͈̟̐í̶̦̜n̵̰̼̄ĝ̸̝̞̿̔͜?̶͚͎̲̋̋ said a voice caked in static and dusted with an English accent

"Pennyworth! Tell father I have located the criminal child and will be returning home with him shortly." Damian said confidently.

"̸̞̲̆̐͠A̵̻̍͊̓h̵̪̲̰̥̑͊͒͠ ̵̛͙͒͂͝m̶̯͖͇̄̈́a̸͍̿̍̽s̴̯̱̺̀̓̽t̴͍̆̀̔̔ẽ̷̢̘͓͐͛̕r̷̖̤͇͗͝ ̵̛̝̈̈́D̶̢͔͛́̑͌å̸̯͖̥̀͜m̸̮̤̼͌͆i̸̩̖͍̕a̸͍̖̒̃n̶͙̮̞͙̂͆̚,̷͚͖̚͝ ̸̣̜̄̈h̸͔̩̯̞̊̊͆͠o̴͇̻̰͋̃̀̈́w̶̜̜͑͊ ̸̡͔̺̠̀̈́g̷̥̩̾̈́ỏ̶͕̐ò̸̹̯̿͒͝d̷̨̨̞̓͜ ̸͖̺̈̀̌͜õ̸̮f̷̒́̽͝ͅ ̶̨̹̳̝̈́y̴͛ͅõ̵͇̹̱͊ü̵̢͓̖̼̊̂͝ ̶͎̩͍̀͜t̶̩̮͑̊͒o̵̼̖͐͒ͅ ̶̠̓c̷̥̭̻̏̊̅h̶͙͔̮̫̍͌̕e̵̢̥͍̋̈́c̶̰̰̈́̐̊k̴̢͓̞̹̇ ̴̬̾̓í̶̖́̈n̵͍̱̆̈́͆͠ͅ,̴͚̣͋͛̀̕ ̸͔͍̬͚̅͝w̴̬̃͆̀o̴͉͚̠͇̓͂͊ǔ̶̻̽̚l̵̳̾͑d̵͙̤̐ ̸̠̑̅̚y̶̭̽̉o̵̺̗̖͓͋u̵͕͒̀̃͑ ̷̹͕͓͙̈̉̊͠b̷̨̮̏̕͜ȩ̵̛͎͇̫́͌̆ ̵̬̱̤̚ͅş̷͍̕ǒ̴̻͍ ̴̳̰̐k̴̻͒̋͆i̷͓̱͉̾̎ṉ̵̱̤͕̉d̶͎̙͗ ̶̫̟͔͎̌̈́͛͌a̶̲̰̥̐s̷̡̈́͊͋̈́ ̵͕̜̝̝͗͊͌͝t̴̪̺͙͛͒̿ȯ̴̇͘͜ ̸͈̥̃t̷̛̰̼̻̤͂̉̌e̴͓͑͊̓̎l̶̛̥͔̻̀̂̾l̶̗̱̍̂̾͘ ̶̣̘̟̍̏̚ṃ̴̘̮̭̓̿̃ë̸̦͚́̾͆̚ ̶̲͗̓́w̷̡̹̖̋ḧ̵̥́́̚͝e̶̖̤̹̗͛̈́̀̕r̶͓̯̭͊̍̒͒e̴͕̻͚͓͆ ̸̠̰̥̔̈́̕y̷̘͘͠o̷̥̝̣̎̔͝͝û̶̢̧̗̱̀͑͠ ̸̗̗̙͘a̷͕̟͐̚ṟ̶̛̹̞̂͛ě̸͈̺͓̐̑?̶͙̝̆"̶̙̓͂́̚

"No Alfred, I can't tell you where we are."

"Yeah, we have no idea." Danny offered helpfully.

Damian glared at him.

"We are a few miles underground, somewhere on the Eurasian continent, close to the equator. Here, let me try to get a better connection-"

Artemis reached to grab the satellite disk and Damian yelped "no!" as he yanked the phone away, snapping the tiny antenna. The call died.

#artemis fowl #danny phantom #dc #dpxdc #phanfic

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jaegersdevil · 10 months

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𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 - 𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙜𝙚𝙧

Guitarist!Eren x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sasha invites you to a gig with her new band, which leads to a certain guitarist taking an immediate interest in you.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, a little suggestive (not really), singing (yes, this is a warning).

w/c: 3k

a/n: i took this from my other blog, rewrote it for eren, and here we are. i will admit it was lazy of me, but i love that fic so much i had to have it for eren <3 [images from pinterest].

“I promise you’ll love them. They’re like brothers to me,” Sasha giggled. “This is gonna be awesome!”

You smiled as she spoke over the sound of her Doc Martens slapping the concrete. Sasha carried a tote bag full of what you didn’t know. All you had was your phone and a lip gloss tube, clueless about why Sasha insisted on taking so many belongings to the gig.

Sasha only joined her band as a lead singer last month, and you hadn’t seen them perform yet. After almost failing your mid-terms, you and Sasha met at a study group last semester. You were in different majors, so hang-outs weren’t as frequent, hence why you hadn’t met her other friends yet–save for Jean, who had ploughed into a study session and demanded Sasha’s attention one afternoon and ended with the three of you in a club. Only this semester did you actually share another class with Sasha and Jean, which allowed you to become closer. You had never met the other two original band members – Eren and Armin, and the rest of her friend group – Connie and Mikasa, who both had no musical bones in their bodies.

Sasha had you listen to some demos over the few weeks she had been a part of it all, and you were beyond proud of your friend.

“I think there’ll be a huge turnout tonight. Eren told his college friends, and Armin invited his study group. But Mikasa is visiting her brother and Connie… I assume he’s gonna show up; who knows, though,” Sasha shook her head. “Anyway, I can’t wait to get out there,” She grabbed your arm, a wide grin on her lips. “Aren’t you so excited? I am. I want you to hear these songs so badly.”

Your heart doubled in size as you listened. Sasha was completely enamoured with the band despite only being in it for a short period, and you guessed that’s what made the boys so grateful to have her around—she was just as passionate as they were.

You smiled brightly at her and nodded. “I’m so proud of you, Sash. Soon, I’ll be waiting hours to get front-row at your concerts.” Then you widen your eyes jokingly. “I’ll have to fight teenagers to get tickets!”

Sasha stopped you and turned toward you. She wore a giddy smile and shook her head. “You won’t be in line. You’ll be backstage. Duh.” Then she latched onto your other arm and shook your shoulders, both of you sharing the same elation, laughing together.

“Hey! What’re you girls doing?” A voice called from a car. You didn’t think Sasha’s smile could get any bigger until she peeked around you to wave at her bandmate. Jean sat in his beat-up Subaru on the curb. Sasha grabbed your hand and pulled you along toward the car.

“Just discussing our future success,” She exclaimed, opening the passenger door and sliding in. You got in the backseat and watched Sasha yank the aux cord from Jean’s hand. Jean rolled his eyes and put his foot on the accelerator, pulling away from the sidewalk and back into the traffic.

“Hi, Y/n,” Jean greeted, ignoring Sasha’s rambling about a new song she heard.

You smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “Hey, you ready?”

Jean nodded, wincing at the volume of the music that started playing before he shouted over the music. “Born ready.”

Sasha sang the lyrics to a song you’d never heard before Jean turned it down. “How did your date with Nic go? You never got back to me.”

Sasha instantly reddened. Niccolo was a guy in her food technology class who had asked her out with beef ravioli and roses. “Good…”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” You laugh. Sasha spun around in her seat, her grin wide.

“Ugh, fine! Since you both want to hear about it so bad,” She teased.

Jean shook his head. “Not really, I was just being nice...” He mumbled.

Sasha ignored him as she spoke. “It was so perfectly incredible! The pasta was mind-blowing, and he brought this wine, and when I tell you, it was perfectly paired with the beef, oh! Everything was so perfect.”

“Perfect, huh?” Your lips were pulled into a side smile at how often she used the word ‘perfect’.

“It’s okay to be jealous, Y/n,” Sasha laughed, then she cupped her mouth playfully so only Jean could hear. “She hasn’t gotten with anyone for months.” Sasha threw you a teasing look and a cheeky smile before returning her gaze to the road.

Your mouth opened and closed after hearing her, no words forming on your lips as Jean laughed. You sighed obnoxiously and turned your attention to your phone. The pair in the front shared a few whispers before Jean spoke.

“We’re sorry, Y/n. I bet there’ll be someone here tonight. There’s a lot of people coming.” He said, no hint of sarcasm in his tone. You met his eyes through the rearview mirror. “But I know Eren needs some, too, jeez!”

Sasha slapped Jean on the shoulder. “No! I will not let him anywhere near my beautiful Y/n.” It was the first time since this morning that you’d heard her voice so serious. “She will not be his rebound.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be a rebound, Jean. But thanks, though.” You falsely smiled and looked out the window. The sun had started setting a half hour ago, and the sky was painted a deep tangerine.

“Just saying! Ever since he broke up with Historia, he’s been so pissed off. Nearly had my head on a stick because I ordered tomatoes on his sandwich. He’s fucking crazy!”

You had heard stories of Eren, mostly from Sasha. Tall, green-eyed, goofy, and moody. He intrigued you, yet you’d never seen him.

“Okay, Y/n. Jean and I are going backstage for like 20 minutes. Will you be okay on your own? I don’t want to leave you alone, and I know you hate that.” Sasha explained as the car pulled into a parking spot behind the small venue.

You nodded in approval and got out of the car. “Yeah, that’s fine, don’t worry about me. Go be a rockstar.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You stood at the front of the crowd, securing the spot the moment you entered the doors of the building. As expected, the venue was packed. Knowing Sasha was beyond ecstatic, you didn't doubt she was a little nervous.

Your mouth was sticky from the fresh layer of lip gloss you applied not 2 minutes ago, and you moved your lips together to ensure it was evenly coated. You wiped the corners of your mouth with your fingertips, and a short cough rang through the room, indicating one of the band member's microphones was on. You looked up and noticed an unfamiliar set of eyes focused on you. Your gaze quickly darted away to notice Jean already sitting at his place behind the drums and again to see another new face on the other side of the stage. A boy with blonde hair held a bass guitar. All who was missing from the stage was Sasha.

Suddenly, the lights turned a deep purple, and the chords of ‘Monodrama’ started playing through the speakers. You looked back towards the first guy whose hair hung in his eyes as he plucked at his guitar strings, his body hunched over slightly. You watched him in curiosity and confusion. Were they starting without Sasha?

But your question was soon answered when Sasha came running out on stage, a microphone up to her lips as she sang the first line. Your face broke out in a smile. As the song continued, you saw her become more comfortable in front of this many people. She pointed at you and jumped around.

You nodded to the beat, mouthing the lyrics you knew before your eyes drifted to the brunette electric guitarist. Eren. As he played, his eyes met yours again. His dimples indented his face as he smirked, tongue poking his right cheek. You felt your face go warm, and soon, he leaned forward into his mic to join Sasha on the chorus. You were in awe of how well their voices went together. He knew what he was doing and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Eren opened his eyes to see you staring at him after the chorus. Shivers ran down his spine as he watched you sing the words to the song he wrote. Sure, many girls had done exactly what you were doing, but the difference was he knew who you were—Sasha’s best friend. The girl who his bandmate never shut up about, and Eren had been eager to meet you. He continued your minor stare-off, grinning smugly to himself when you broke the eye contact, a smile of your own pulling at your lips.

The lights had turned blue throughout the song, highlighting Eren's high cheekbones and jawline. You had to force your eyes away from him to gain control over yourself.

Once the fourth song ended, Sasha spoke to Eren before she went backstage for a break. Her shoes were killing her. Four songs of jumping around. Four songs of a game of cat and mouse to start between you and Eren. One would look away when the other glanced in their direction, and only thrice had you caught each other staring.

You watched as Eren walked up to the lead microphone, his Converse only feet away from you. Expecting a new song to start, you kept your eyes on the bass drum to stop yourself from looking up at Eren. You didn’t expect him to take a step forward and crouch before you. Your eyebrows raised when he held your gaze, his fingers moving in a lazy come hither motion. When you pushed onto your toes, he leaned down to your ear, his hot breath on your neck. His palm rested on the side of your neck, no doubt feeling your pulse racing.

“Next one’s for you.” He said. His voice was so thick you’d think this throat was lined with honey, golden and sweet, and the crowd around you faded as your ears rang. Eren pulled away from you and used his ring-clad finger to brush the tip of your nose. Your ears went hot, and you took a deep breath to control your racing heart.

Maybe being a rebound wasn't such a bad idea when the culprit looked like him. Sasha would have your neck for even thinking that.

The room turned green, and for a second, you thought you must've fallen into a dream. Eren towered over you, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he adjusted the microphone stand, maintaining eye contact with you. It was a sensual moment that should only occur in the depths of the night in a bedroom. His dimples and devilish smile were the cause of the butterflies in your stomach, and you had never felt under such scrutiny. But it was an illusive feeling to be the focal point of his attention.

You knew the song as soon as Eren started playing. Tonight You Are Mine. The sound brought you out of your daze.

“This is a new song I wrote, like, last week,” Eren said before the crowd cut him off. His soft laugh echoed through the room as the noise died, his eyes finding yours again. “We’re gonna play it for you tonight if that’s okay?”

Sasha gave you the demo of this one only four days ago, as she said you needed to hear it before tonight’s show. The song was one she was excited to learn, and who were you to deny her of sharing her passion? So you listened. And you listened and listened and told Sasha it was your favourite yet. And it was. The song was wholly sultry, and you returned to it each time you put your headphones on.

She must’ve passed on the news.

In a sense, I'm such a mess watching you The air is cold, so hard to breathe Still, your breath is all I see

You could hardly breathe when he looked at you like that, played his guitar, and sang intimate lyrics to you. You were utterly entranced by his voice, hands, and smile. He looked ethereal on stage, like he was destined to be on one.

Don't be so naive You know that you are all I see

To your disappointment and relief, he broke eye contact with you only a few times—you weren’t sure how long you could stand under his intimidating and dizzying gaze.

But, it only spurred you on more. It made you believe you also had some power in this uncharted territory. You watched him sing through your eyelashes, the rasp in his voice making you warm.

So let me slip inside your ultraviolet disguise The daylight holds you close But tonight, you are mine

Eren’s eyes were heavy-lidded as he played through the guitar solo. He knew it was inevitable that he would have to face you after the show; sometimes, the thrill of performing made him cocky. He hoped you’d still like him when you discovered he was reserved when he wasn’t in front of a crowd. Yet, none of his insecurities deterred him from wanting you. Because when you looked at him like that, he needed nothing more.

After the song finished, Eren winked at you, and you desperately needed to get out of the crowd, go outside, and fill your lungs with cool, fresh air that would free you from the irrational thoughts in your head. You didn’t know the guy, but still, you wanted him more than anything.

Sasha’s voice brought you back to earth.

“Thank you for coming out tonight, everyone! I hope you had a good night and liked our music enough to return.” She laughed. It was obvious everyone in the room had fallen in love with her personality throughout the night. Sasha carried herself with such self-assurance it was difficult to find why you wouldn’t like her.

The burning on your cheek was the only thing to pull your eyes away from her grand smile. Your eyes flickered to Eren, who stood off to the side with his guitar. His hair was now tied back in a half-up style, and you swore your knees almost buckled.

As everyone filtered out, you remained in your spot. Sasha came bounding over and jumped down to stand with you.

“Did you have a good time?” You could see she was nervous to ask.

“Of course I did! And you played my favourite song,” You replied, grabbing her hand in reassurance. Sasha smiled sheepishly.

“Well, I didn’t play it. Someone else did.”

“Well, someone told the other someone to play it, so.”

Sasha wiggled her eyebrows, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I saw how he was looking at you. I knew he would like you; who wouldn’t?”

You rolled your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“But, you’re still off-limits. That wouldn't be fair until he gets over his ex,” Sasha rambled before she stopped and straightened up. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

You looked at her hesitantly, unsure why she would be saying that. “What?”

“Bye, Y/n. Hey, Ren." Then she pointed him behind you. "Don't fuck this up." You assumed he made a face at her from behind you because she laughed and walked backstage.

You’d never felt your stomach drop and your heart rate speed up in such synchrony. He was the devil in Converse and a black tee.

“Y/n.” Your name on his lips was something you could get used to.

“Eren.” You said, turning to face him.

“So you do know me.” He was taller than you. A lot taller than you assumed, and it made your legs weak. “I was under the impression that you only knew Jean.”

You shrugged. “Sasha mentioned you a few times, so I had to come and check out these band guys she was hanging around.”

“Final verdict?” Eren’s mouth was pulled into a smile at the corners, his arms outstretched.

You purposefully took your time to make a decision. Taking a step back, you sized him up. He stood still, bringing his arms to cross over his chest as you eyed his tied-back hair. You rubbed your chin in false thought and then nodded.

Feeling bold, you looked him in the eyes. “Yeah, you’re cute. And talented. So, I guessed you’re alright.”

Eren’s cheeks were dusted with pink as he laughed. You smiled proudly, pleased you got the reaction you’d wanted from him.

He then moved closer to you and leaned down so his eyes aligned with yours. “Well, I find you alright too. How’d you feel if I asked you to hang out in about…” He twisted his mouth in thought, his eyes flickering down to your lips. “Half an hour?”

You bit the inside of your lip. “That would depend on what we would be doing.”

Eren stood to his full height with an unconcerned expression as he uncrossed his arms and opened himself to you. “Whatever you want. My treat.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Tempting.” His lopsided smirk and tired green eyes were too easy to fall for.

“But, yes. I would like that," You said, giving up on the teasing.

His lips slipped into an easy grin, and he nodded, throwing this thumb over his shoulder. “Sweet. I’ll be back here in half an hour to take you on our date.” He winked.

You shook your head, laughing as he stepped up onto the stage. “Not a date!”

Eren didn’t turn back to face you as he replied. “We’ll see!”

Were you in too deep too quick?

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

songs mentioned: - tonight you are mine - the technicolors - monodrama - benches

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger imagine #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager imagines #eren yeager x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagine #rockstar!eren #guitarist!eren #— ann writes!

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jojomiwbvb6 · 7 months

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Hedonist - Part 1

Author's Note: Part 1 in maybe a 3 part series? Original writing, some fluffiness.

Warnings: references to smut, marijuana usage

“Hello everybody,” our monotone college professor groans, setting his coffee thermos down on the desk and his bag falling from his shoulder, haphazardly to the floor. He turns to the class with a bored face. “I trust you all have read your fundamentals on the subject we will be going over today?”

Lots of droned voices echoed in the room, spacious but only full of 20 or less students in our 10 am class, full of ‘yes’s’ and ‘uh-huh’s’.

“Alright, good. Because today you’ll be needing to know your P’s and Q’s for this subject,” he drawled. “We will be discussing how to compress and noise gate in your mixes using Logic Pro.”

Whoops and tones of unsureness echoed through the room.

“As an announcement before we begin, I would like to announce that we–” the Professor was cut off by a loud thud and a bang as the door swung open and smacked the concrete wall next to it. In the doorway you stood, as if in some scene of a soap family comedy, awkwardly perched and cringing at yourself as everyone stared at you.

Other students cringed, feeling second-hand embarrassment for you; while others just snickered and whispered to their friends that you were a dumbass.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you managed to say under your breath as you walked to a random seat in the third isle. You felt eyes on you from all directions as the class went silent, waiting for you to finally sit down so the class can begin.

“And which one are you?” The professor asks, glaring at you, but trying to hide it.

“Um, Y/N,” you croak. You hear a snicker or two from nearby, but you didn’t care enough to bother with them.

“Okay…” He stares at a sheet of paper, dragging his pen back and forth as he read. “Ah. There you are. Y/N. Okay, people, attendance is all straight now. As I was saying, there are a few new faces among us this period.”

You looked around, noticing your previous classmates from classes before and new ones that you haven’t seen. It all depended on student’s schedules and the degree they were taking. As you looked, you noticed a couple new girls. One with tattoos and one who looked like she could be someone’s middle aged mother. There was a boy fresh out of high school, built like a twig. In the back corner of the room, two rows from you, your eyes landed on a man with long, brown, luscious hair, and tattoos of beautiful work that could go on for miles. He was looking down at his journal. When he looked up, he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear and your breath caught hard in your throat when he looked forward, not noticing you. He was so…

“Y/N?” The teacher spoke to you, snapping you out of your gaze.

“I’m sorry, what?” You squeaked, embarrassed that you had been gawking at the new kid, and you hoped that you weren’t staring that hard and that nobody noticed.

A tone of disapproval twinged in the professor’s voice.

“Y/N. I expect full attention spans this month,” He eyeballed you in your desk with a raised eyebrow. “And that goes for everyone. Now, Y/N, the question was…”

You answered the question correctly, and as time went on, you and the class took notes. Once finished with the lecture and notes, you were all dismissed for a break.

You wandered out to the hallway and decided to get a Coke from the vending machine. You thought about that mysterious, beautiful man sitting so close to you in class. Who was he? Why was he so fine?

Grabbing your drink from the bottom of the machine, your mind is blank as you walk back to the classroom. Your professor is working on his laptop at his desk, not minding you at all when you walk past back towards your seat. You look up, butterflies awakening in your stomach as you try to sneak a peek at that new guy to see if he’s in his seat. He isn’t, and you slightly slunk to your desk in disappointment and sat down, opening your coke and sipping it.

Break is almost up and students start to come back in. They come in groups in intervals, but after a second of silence, just one comes back in. It’s him, the new guy. He looks at his feet as he comes in, holding a tea in his hand. As he walks down his aisle, he looks up, glancing around habitually. His eyes land on you and you hold your breath without realizing it. Other students are coming back into the room and the professor sits up, getting ready to start up class again.

The new guy just blinks, but locks eyes with you for a second or two before sitting down and you look away so you don’t look too long.

The professor clears his throat, standing from his desk.

“Alright,” he announces, letting everyone get situated into their desks and their journals ready. “You all know what materials you need. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance, and you may begin your projects whenever you’re ready.”

You looked over at the new kid again, and to your surprise, he was already looking at you. His eyes fluttered to the front of the room quickly. Your breath shuddered. Wow, he is… nice looking.

The professor finished his instructions, letting us sit in our respective seats and work.

You felt your face burn as if you were being watched. You fought back a little blush, knowing that you were being looked at just as you had been looking. You smirked to yourself in your desk at the thought.

You heard rustling, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stand and walk to the professor. You couldn’t understand what was being said, but you could tell he had a tenor voice. It was like hearing the devil speak, tempting you to eat his fruit from the tree. You saw him nod as if his question was answered to his satisfaction.

He walked back towards the desk, and you reverted your eyes back to your MacBook to avoid any evidence that you were watching. You then guilitly stole a glance up at him as he sat back down, but he already caught you. He glanced deeply at you for a second as he was sitting back down. He looked away as you did.

An hour more into the class, stealing glances to find one of you already looking happened more than it should have. You smiled at him politely a few times so it didn’t look like you were a weirdo, playing some of them off as ‘accidents’. When you began catching him, he began to have a small smirk playing on his face. This livened your body like nothing else, your mind going berzerk and your stomach fluttering wildly.

You didn’t even know this man! What if he was some weirdo or a crackhead? A serial killer?! Hey, Y/N, what about rational thinking? Naw! Let’s drool!

Half an hour goes by, you taking a break from sneaking glances as you concentrated and tried not to look weird. With your headphones in concentrating on the sounds you were correcting for the assignment, you didn’t hear the little “hey” and the awkward throat-clearing sound next to you.

You felt a finger tap your arm in an unsure way. Slightly startled, you turned to look at who was poking and why they were poking. Your breath hitched, embarrassingly and audibly so, when you looked into the new kid’s warm brown eyes and small smug smile playing on his face. You popped a headphone off an ear and paused your audio clip, hanging on a cliffhanger of just waiting to hear what this dude’s voice sounded like, hoping it would be anything like the face to match.

Oh, it was. Silky smooth words rolled off his tongue, even if they were normal. You had to mentally slap yourself to really understand what he said, so you didn’t process blah blah blah while you eargasmed instead.

“Hey, um, sorry, angel. I forgot to pack my MIDI cable before I left the house,” he referred to the board sitting next to his Mac, lifeless without its hookup. “I see you’re not currently using yours, would you be okay with me using it for the rest of class?”

You nodded slowly. You felt like you looked like a fat cow with a gaping mouth, even if you looked totally normal. You dug in your bag and found what he requested and you handed it to him.

He shot you a wide smile and you felt like your brains would fall all over the floor. “Thank you. You’re an angel.”

Oh my god. You turned away, closing your eyes and squeezing your thighs together. You regained your focus and resumed your assignment.

Another 10 minute break was announced, but you wanted to get your assignment done and over with so you didn’t have to worry about anything when class was dismissed. You didn’t look at the new kid.

A note slid onto the corner of your desk, and when you looked up, you noticed the new kid had walked past down your aisle instead of his. You noticed that as he walked out the door, he caught your glance with a little smile playing on his mouth.

Your heart now pounded in your chest. Do I open this? Should I?

You snatched it and breathed shallowly, swallowing hard. You slowly unfolded it, worried about what it was going to say.

In neat handwriting, it said “Noah Sebastian / 223-6636 / text me if you need anything”.

On god, you about passed out. Your mind began to race. You told yourself to calm down–maybe this was just if you needed homework help; nothing too crazy! Right? Right.

The daring part of you tore open your notebook before he got back. You tore off a section, and scribbled “(Y/N) / (Y/P/N) / I might :)” Folding it, your heart pounded out of your ribcage when you stood, walked to his desk, and tucked it under his laptop just enough for him to see and returned to your desk casually.

At this rate, you thought you might need to get off when you got home.

The new kid–Noah–returned to his seat to work, not looking at you but you at him for a moment. He had a blank look on his face, revealing no sign that he left a note. You watched carefully to see if he had noticed the note, and he did. You looked away quickly, afraid and a little embarrassed by your immediate play.

He unfolded the paper slowly, smirk building into his cheek lines. You bit your lip, looking again. You watched as he saved his number into his phone quickly. He didn’t text you, but looked up to sneak a glance at you– but you were looking too long.

He narrowed his eyes, but you could tell he wasn’t mad. Noah’s eyes sparkled when he looked you up and down, letting you drink in the fact that he was eyeballing you and you were letting him. The smirk he already had became very apparent now and he let you see it. There was no douchebag in that smirk like every other frat boy who ever tried to speak to you.

“Okay, people. Class is over. Go home, enjoy your life. I’ll see you this Friday. Now go away so I can teach more brats before I go home.” Your teacher chided through tired eyes.

You and Noah stole one more short glance before packing up your things and leaving the room. You walked out, not looking again or even speaking to him out of shyness.

When you exited the building, you didn’t see Noah perched against the brick wall as he smoked a joint secretively. Or tried to, if you didn’t smell it first. “Hey, Y/N,” he said casually.

You looked around, not recognizing who or where the voice was. You notice Noah, sunglasses perched on his nose and he smiled at you. Ugh, wow.

He offered you a hit off the joint and you accepted. He watched you take a hit and smiled proudly. “And she likes to smoke,” he chided to himself. You offered him a smile at his words, liking his acknowledgement. You inhaled deep, exhaling to the side. “Taking it like a champ, too,” he nodded as he watched, another smirk playing on his face.

His words made her stomach hot. “You should see when I really smoke,” she said, making light conversation, not trying to show how he just teased her during their first time talking.

“Oh yeah?” he dared. “How much do you smoke? Really, like don’t pussy out on me. Give me all your details. I bet you can’t dab.”

“Bitch,” you chided at him playfully. “I can dab. I dabbed so hard I didn’t breathe for almost a minute.”

“Fuckin’ riot,” he said. “We gotta smoke.”

“Aren’t we?”

They giggled together.

“Naw, angel. This is just a quickie.”

Fucking hell, he did it again.

“So…” you began, trying to pretend that you were completely fine and not squirming in your pants. “When did you start here? Why haven’t I seen you?”

“Oh, I do online courses sometimes. Decided taking this class in person would be better. I’m on the road a lot.”

“‘On the road’? What do you mean?” You asked curiously.

“I’m in a band called Bad Omens,” he says to me. “I tour. I sing. Pretty cool shit, if I say so myself.”

“That’s amazing, I’m hoping to do some work with bands myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence between you both as he took a hit. Breathing out the smoke, he nodded and said quietly, “Awesome…” as if he were ticking off a checklist.

When the joint burned down to the filter and you both made a little less small talk, you said your goodbyes for the day and you hoped you would see him on Friday’s class.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #Noah sebastian smut #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens cult

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babiebom · 3 months

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Hiiii. I hope ur ok with my just constantly being like *ahem* spencer reid 👉🏻👈🏻🥹🥹. I loved how you wrote him in the last request! I feel like a lot of the time, people write him very ooc - just bc he can be hard to get written the right way, but like that's my boy, look at him spitting random facts for HOURS 🥰🥰?? Like yes, pls info dump on me while I stare at u lovingly, Spence 💞.

I recently came to terms with being ftm, but it's almost impossible to find any male! reader x Spencer Reid content. Which can be very dysphoric 😵‍💫. Which sucks! Bc holy hell, there are some fuckinnn amazing writers out there writing fanfics.

So now, I have come to you, an amazing writer out here writing fanfics, to beg ask if ud be down to write any kind of oneshot with Spencer Reid dating a male reader! It honestly doesn't have to be anything specific - romantic, angsty, enemies to lovers, slow burn, whatever peaks ur interest atm!

I would just love, love to have that content with Spence & a male reader if you're down for the task! Thank you so so muchh 💓. Hope ur having a wonderful morning / afternoon / evening !

A/N:im sorry this took so long!! I’ve been busy working (blegh) and I wanted to write something sweet for you!! I’m happy you’ve come to terms with being ftm!! As a cis identifying person myself I can’t say that I know how it feels, but I am VERY happy that you’re more comfortable with your identity!! Also never worry about being too “crazy” over Spencer I’ve been obsessed with him since I was about 5 or 6 (yes it’s been a long time)!! I’ll try more to write in a more gender neutral way when writing anything reader insert related that way you can enjoy my writing without feeling left out or anything!! Always let me know if there are things I can do better <3

Tw: maybe some cursing but overall should be wholesome

Wc: 0.54k

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer Reid often came home dejected after a case gone wrong, it was often that he came home tired but happy after a successful case. It wasn’t often, however, that he came home excited for a break; but then again he hadn’t had a boyfriend to come home to on previous breaks. Now, as you watch him walk through the front door of your shared apartment, you can’t help but grin at the absolutely goofy look on his face.

“Emily gave us all 4 weeks off to rest after our latest case, so that means I get four WHOLE weeks of you to myself! Isn’t that great?” He lets out a giggle after he finishes speaking, putting his bag down on the kitchen counter. You didn’t even have to ask him why he was so giddy, he answered unprompted.

“It is great!” You try to match his energy, only seeing him this excited for the first time since you’ve met. He brings you into his embrace, hugging you so tightly that you think you might die if he squeezed you any tighter. “So what are your plans now that you’re a free man for four whole weeks?”

“Well we could go to the park and play chess, or stay here and play chess but I think the sunlight would be good for both of us. Or we could go to the movies, or take a class together, or…”

“Your plans are to just have dates with me every single day?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

He nods as if the answer is the most obvious, concrete fact in the universe. He looks at you, not as if you’re dumb, but as if to say ‘duh what else would I be planning to do?’.

The two of you move to sit on the couch, enveloped in each other as he talks about the many, many dates you’re going to go on now that he’s free from his time constricting job. “What if I don’t wanna do those things?” You ask playfully. He shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter what we do, as long as I get to do it with you”.

“Oh?” You look at him as if he said something scandalous, “I didn’t know you had that big of a crush on me.”

He shoves you gently, rolling his eyes at your attempt to joke off his sweet words.

“You’re joking but studies have found that couples who have regular date nights more often result in higher relationship satisfaction, better communication, and a stronger emotional connection. Us going on dates during these four weeks will be better for us in the long run.”

You don’t reply, or interrupt. It’s always amusing to listen to him ramble on and on about facts that he finds interesting or applicable to the conversation. And all it does is make you fall more in love with him, seeing how serious he is about your relationship working out in the future. He says that he loves you often, but it’s things like this; seeing and listening to how much he genuinely cares about your relationship.

Being the boyfriend of a pretty boy genius has its perks, and how much he cares about you compared to others is definitely one of them.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds fluff #cm oneshots #cm x reader #cm spencer reid #cm #cm dribbles #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #cm fluff #spencer reid x male reader

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redcoralpot · 5 months

Text

Smudged (5)

Summary: Rodrick lives up to his side of the deal, or should I say, community service.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1K

A/N: Okay, so, this wasn't all that was planned for this chapter. Buttt I felt really rushed and hadn't updated this fic in a little over a month. I'll edit this with the rest of the chapter when I get to it, but for now, it's being put to rest indefinitely. Thank you for the support!

The next day, your best friend arrived in English early, much to your surprise. Daniel tossed a notebook onto your desk, slouching in his seat as if he were a drunk, divorced father. You took it into your hand, reading the messily written label, before looking up at the sorrowful boy in front of you. The pages were filled to the brim with outlines, sketches, and ideas; some pictures were lightly colored in.

“I see you’ve been busy,” you quipped.

Daniel hissed, the bags under his eyes more prominent, “This prompt is crap! I’ve been up all night trying to figure out how to do this.”

“You’re thinking too hard about it, Dan.” You pass it back to him, fingers tapping the wooden desk.

“That’s easy for you to say,” he ranted, “you just have drums!”

“I’d rather have the guitar.”

He rubbed his temples, “Not my point. Can’t you come with me tonight to take pictures?”

“In the forest? Dude, that’s every horror movie plot,” you scoffed, watching other students file in.

They sat in their seats or hopped on desks, with one girl rudely scooting on Daniel’s, “I know, that’s why I want you to come with me. I need photos for the presentation board!”

“I dunno if I can, I’m supposed to be going to Rodrick’s house tonight.”

“Since when did you start hanging out with him?”

“Since the need for a decent grade.”

Ms. Kawiti was the last to stroll inside, setting her bag on the table in the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat, and caused all chatter to cease, including your conversation with Daniel. Your best friend grumbled, turning back around, attempting to dodge the long hair intruding in his personal space. The girl herself reluctantly returned to her own place, sharing a few final giggles with her group. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed and feet perched underneath your desk on a metal bar. There were other boys around the class doing the same, and you adjusted yourself to make the position more comfortable. Why did time have to go so slow when fun is on the other side?

On just another thing you were better than Rodrick at, you did not break any personal property when parking outside his house. Your shoes clacked against the concrete driveway, purple laces swinging, only stopping to knock on the door. The person who answered was not Rodrick, no, but a much older woman with a professional-looking outfit and brown hair to match. She looked so strikingly different from the drummer you knew that you almost backed away, apologizing for coming to the wrong house. Almost.

“Excuse me, ma’am, is this the Heffley family’s house?”

She seemed taken aback, almost wary as she took in your appearance, “Yes, are you one of Rodrick’s… bandmates?”

“Uh, no, I’m Heather’s brother. He invited me over for research,” you shrugged.

“Rodrick and research?” Mrs. Heffley cocked an eyebrow up, slightly stepping back to allow you inside.

You waved your hands, and said, “I know, absolutely unbelievable! However, I can assure you that I’m telling the truth– he brought home some books.”

“And I read it, duh,” a voice called from above.

Rodrick, the devil, hung his head over the overhead railing. He cocked his head at you, sneering. Mrs. Heffley shook her head, sighed, and walked into a separate room beside you; there wasn’t any attention on her anymore. Rodrick motioned for you to come up the stairs, before disappearing again.

His voice echoed, “C’mon, my room’s the coolest here!”

For a split second, you hesitated. You glanced back to where Mrs. Heffley had disappeared, unsure of whether it was appropriate to leave your shoes on and make a mess of the house. Just to be safe, you set them neatly beside the door, before following the other boy up the stairs.

When you finally arrived, Rodrick had already vanished once again. There were multiple doors running down the hallway, but the only hint as to the correct one was the faint sound of guitar riffs. It almost sounded like it was coming from above you, though you decided to peek into the closest unlocked door. This room wasn’t even a bedroom; it was simply a small bathroom meant for one or two people. There was a bit of a smell inside, like someone hadn't flushed the toilet. Hell, as curious as you were, you weren’t going to confirm that.

You barely could close the door before a finger tapped your shoulder, and you flinched, turning around– it was just Greg. The little boy was Rodrick’s unlucky younger brother, who was at least a head shorter than you. He seemed nicer than your acquaintance, and it really made you wonder how the two of them were raised in the same household. Perhaps Rodrick was adopted? Nah. Greg was studying you with a standoffish look in his eyes, the kind kids get when they meet strange family friends. You weren’t surprised; your looks were far from the typical suburban rich boy.

“His room’s in the attic,” Greg said, plainly, “Last door.”

He scurried off to do his own things, possibly to bug his mother about the newest Nintendo game. There was no last door on the left, only a wall that held an uncharacteristically peaceful family photo. Rodrick was still Rodrick, just younger, with devilish messy hair and dirt under his nails. On the right, however, there was a slightly ominous wooden door. In direct contrast to the opposite wall, the door had a sign that read Rodrick Only. It was so childishly Rodrick that you couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath.

One knock, two knock, three knock. The music coming from above grew ever so slightly quieter, and you could hear heavy footsteps coming down the attic stairs. It opened, only to an unimpressed drummer.

“Dude, aren’t you coming?” He frowned.

You shrugged, pointing to the sign, “I’m not allowed in. It’s Rodrick only, remember?”

Said boy rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, “You’re the exception.”

“The exception?”

“An exception,” he corrected himself.

You pushed past him, clambering up the stairs, “Whatever you say, dick.”

“Weirdo.”

Rodrick’s room was, to put it nicely, a mess. His bed was undone, random magazines poked out from under his mattress, and you honestly couldn’t tell if the jeans hanging on the railing were dirty or clean. Three, conjoined windows were the only source of natural light, and you swore you could see a spider web hanging off the sill. Posters and grimy t-shirts were plastered all over the walls and ceiling; you doubted any space was left untouched. Rodrick’s drum set sat in the corner, shining like it was brand new.

He was shuffling through a bookshelf behind you, containing almost everything but books themselves, much to your amusement. Rodrick must have seen the quirk of your lips when he managed to pull a thin, perfectly packaged music book from its depths, as his eyes narrowed when he turned to face you.

“This is for the bare basics of drumming, it should cover all that mechanical stuff you have in your outline,” he shrugged.

“You actually read that?”

Rodrick’s gaze flicked towards you, unsure, before his chest puffed up obnoxiously, “Duh, what kinda guy do you take me for?”

…

“I’m not gonna answer that.”

“You’re just too scared to admit that I’m awesome!”

You mumbled, “You’re delusional.”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“If you know so much,” you tapped the cymbal, “give me what I’m here for.”

The

Rodrick groaned, “You’re such a party pooper sometimes.”

“Ironic.”

He swiped the drumsticks from the seat and pointed them at you threateningly, like an annoyed teacher, “Shh.”

Rodrick used the sticks to point out each individual drum part, explaining the noise they make and how he uses them in his band. You scratched your nose while he rambled on, not feeling in the mood to tell him you knew this already. It was only when he started back on the ego talk that your attention drifted to other parts of his room, to all the little details. There was a large poster of a woman holding a dark colored guitar, her hair swept back in a 90’s hairstyle that most definitely wouldn’t be possible without layers upon layers of spray. She had eyeliner smudged across her eyelids, but they had a cleaner edge than Rodrick’s attempts; quite similar to yours. Rodrick was now doing light taps to 4-4 time, nodding his head to the rhythm, eyes closed.

The fan in the opposite corner was making the glossed pages under his mattress flutter and loosen from where they were hidden. If you squinted your eyes, you could just barely make out a part of the photo– were those biceps? If you shuffled a bit to the right, you could pull it out enough that it would flutter out on its own, and that it did. Hell, Rodrick was too busy rocking out on the drums to hear your suspicions being confirmed.

You wouldn’t be surprised if Rodrick had a magazine full of half naked women hanging around somewhere; it was Rodrick, after all. However, one full of shirtless men? That was out of character for the self proclaimed womanizer. For a moment, you thought about telling him that you knew about his stash, but quickly dismissed it. You couldn’t imagine how embarrassing that would be for someone, even an asshole as shameless as him! Besides, who knows how insulated the walls of this house are, right? You bit your tongue, humming along to Rodrick’s music as he made a dramatic finish to the song.

“I was starting to worry I wasn’t keeping your attention there,” he chuckled to himself.

You tilted your head, “I just got lost in the beat, you know how it is.”

“That I do, dude. Was that all you needed?”

“Bingo, you were super useful.”

He grinned, “I’m always helpful! You could literally just ask Gregory his opinion on it, I taught him all about how to survive middle school.”

“The harshest environment, I’m aware.” You stood up.

“Okay,” he sensed the sarcasm in your tone, “you’re banned. Get out.”

“I’m going, I’m going, don’t get your panties in a twist!”

You ran down the stairs, hearing him cackling the whole way down. Rodrick was funny sometimes, you had to give him that. Maybe these next few weeks wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

#x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #gay #bi rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick rules #transgender #punk #trans male reader #trans ftm #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid

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st-just · 5 months

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So (asking this in good faith i swear) how do we tell someone or something has problematic views if the author doesn't tell? We can't go just based off feelings. Like, in Saw you have no idea if the writers actually agree with the killer, because nobody ever rebukes his viewpoint and its hammered in. Furthermore, if something isn't shown as bad, how do you know it won't cause problems i.e, movies glorifying war or a movie with a serious age gap treated as romantic? I'm sorry if this is dumb

re:

So I mean to be flippant:

how do we tell someone or something has problematic views if the author doesn't tell?

Just assume the answer's yes and move on, if you're ever wrong it won't be often enough to matter. Nous habitons dans un société, and that includes creators - something problematic is going to leak through in the subtext.

Now to try and give a slightly more useful answer - well I mean it depends, mostly. Like - okay I don't know anything about Saw (there's like seven of them, I watch like 1 horror movie a year), but take American Psycho. It's a close first person narrative from the perspective of a guy who has everything and could not lose it if he tried, lovingly supported and carried along on a cloud of oblivious privilege. But, like, it's not hard to see how the text doesn't agree with Patrick Bateman, right? How it just about overflows with contempt for his entire social class and every aspect of his personality? (Not that the book isn't problematic, but like agreeing with Bateman is not one of its issues).

But yeah mostly it comes down to sitting with a work and trying to figure out like - what was it trying to do? Did it succeed? Who got to have full, realized arcs, and who were basically props (were there any trends in the sort of person there)? What were the things the work took as just obviously self-evident about how the world worked that stuck out? (<- where most actually impactful ideology gets through, imo). Stuff like that.

Though I also tend to think this stuff doesn't super...matter? It can be fun to tease apart! This is the overthinking media website after all. But when a piece of art's actually going to cause problems (Birth of a Nation, say, or like 24's role in Bush Administration torture discourse) it usually isn't hard to tease apart the message to it. Whereas 300 was basically Fascist Imagery: The Movie, but that just makes downstream of the wider culture around it, not sure there's any concrete problems I'd say it's responsible for.

Anyway very rambly and not particular useful answer, sorry.

#reply #anon #culture

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numinousmysteries · 4 months

Text

More Than Mere Exposure

A drabble, if you can even call it that. @today-in-fic [on Ao3]

He asks her on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon as they’re quietly preparing for their departmental audit.

When did you know?

It sounds the same as any of the countless questions he’s asked her in the past. What time is the budget meeting? Are you familiar with the legend of the chupacabra? Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials? But this time she knows he means, When did you know you loved me?

And this time, she doesn’t have an answer.

Love stories begin in meet cutes and innocent misunderstandings that are repeated and recited like scripture as the years turn to decades. They’re orchestrated by mutual friends, meddling parents, and the faceless puppet master of the universe. They originate in last calls at dark bars, at hazy, beer-soaked college parties, and, nowadays, on the pixelated screens of chat rooms. They’re born on sweaty dance floors, in seventh-period geometry classes where fate is sealed by an alphabetical seating chart, and even, you won’t believe this, on blind dates.

From time to time, they do blossom in offices. Proximity breeds attraction, after all. The mere exposure effect dictates we’re drawn to what’s most familiar. It’s why randomly assigned college roommates end up lifelong friends. And yet, even though their job demands more shared time than your standard 9-5, she knows that simple physical closeness cannot explain why she loves him.

She spoke once of a switch being flicked, a concrete turning point when you realize a friendship has evolved into something more, but in hindsight, it wasn’t like that at all. There was no single moment, no markable tick on the timeline she can point to and say yes, this is when I fell in love with you. Instead, it was both a gradual evolution and a feeling that had always existed since the day they met or perhaps billions of years earlier when the universe came into existence and the building blocks of matter that would one day become her blue eyes and his chestnut hair were formed. It’s a Möbius strip, their love, eternally entwined and coiling upon itself.

She could tell him it was when she was straddling two worlds after her abduction and felt the sheer force of his will compelling her to rejoin the realm of the living. She could tell him it was when he pointed a gun at her face under the influence of Robert Modell’s psychic powers but still wasn’t able to pull the trigger. She could tell him it was when she lay dying of cancer and her only regret was never telling him how she felt. She could tell him it was at the dawning of the new millennium when they finally surrendered to the magnetism drawing them together, rationalism be damned. (She thinks it’s no accident that all these moments took place in hospitals, those lands of beginnings and endings and all the gory in-betweens.)

But it isn’t any of those moments. It's all of them, plus a thousand forgotten ones, set in anonymous motel rooms, roadside diners, and this very basement office.

I know now , she says. It’s the truth but also an evasion. She smiles and flips the question back to him. What about you? When did you know?

He looks at her confused, then slides a form across the desk to her and taps on a line with his pen. When did I know that you knew I was padding our expense reports to cover your little vending machine habit?

She sighs and rolls her eyes at him.

He winks at her and once again, in this moment, she falls in love.

#xfiles #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #txf #the x files #msr #x files

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devils-dares · 1 year

Note

hi bee !!! what are your thoughts on murderdock spoiling you,, like you’re his little college sugar baby

join my sleepover!

YES I LIKE THIS ONE

so i'm thinking he picks you up at a club, you're hanging out in a spot you shouldn't be

"she's with me" he says when you get all flustered. he gets the security off of you and you thank him for it.

"it's no need princess."

he definitely takes you home that night.

you wake up in the morning and he's gone, he has a driver waiting for you to take you wherever you'd like and when you turn on your phone you find a new number in your contacts.

he gets you when you make an offhand comment one day while in his bed of how tuition is so expensive.

"i could help you." he says, playing with your fingers.

"be serious matt, i'd never ask that of you."

"you're not though, i'm offering. just think about it." he says, pulling you close to lay on his chest.

you started to realize how serious he was when he started sending expensive gifts to your dorm. there'd be a man, asking for you and giving you a little box, tied perfectly with nothing to indicate who it was from except for the faint scent of his cologne.

"fine, i'll do it." you say, showing up to his office. he gives you an open mouthed smirk.

"knew you'd come to your senses, pretty girl. now cmere and thank me."

he bought you everything. paid for your groceries, your car notes, everything. he took you to galas in these beautiful gowns that were made just for you, adorned with jewelry you could only dream of touching before.

you spent most of the time at his penthouse, in his clothes. he told you how he preferred you, nothing but his button down and a pair of panties, so that's what you wore. after all, you wouldn't be in debt after this.

you cleaned up his place, cooked for him, and never ever stuck your nose in his business. he'd come home all bloody with a bloodlust grin on his face and take you in the shower, floating murmurs of how nice it was to feel your skin after the day he had.

you'd hold him afterwards, bandaging up his cuts and rubbing salve on his bruises, fluttering kisses spread across his stubbled chin and cheeks.

you were in too deep.

he invited you to a gala, and while you were at class, the dress had arrived.

"who sent you this?!" your roommate asks, buzzing with excitement.

"it's a uh- i have a commitment tonight."

you didn't know how to break it to him, that you couldn't do this anymore. the man had paid off your entire life, and you felt as though this was a necessary evil, please him to thank him.

"matthew," you start, "can we talk?"

"yeah, i wanted to ask you something."

"oh?" you say, intriguied.

"move in with me"

"wait-"

"i don't care what we are, what you want our label to be. i'll do whatever it is you want, but i need you close." he cradles your face in his hands, whispering in that sinful voice close to your ear.

"i need this to be serious. concrete." you say.

"would a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly be concrete enough?"

#matt murdock #matt murderdock #matt murdock headcanons #matt murderdock headcanons #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x female reader

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ashisgreedy · 9 months

Text

Garreth Weasley x F!MC

“The Antidote”

Chars Included: Sebastian Sallow, Professor M. Weasley.

Tags: Fluff | Love Confessions | Gar Accused of Giving MC a Love Potion to Date Him | Jealous Seb | Aged up 18+

WC: 3200+

A|N: Sry, I made Seb a bit of a bad guy for the plot lol. Happy Weasley Wednesday!

Sebastian waited by the transfiguration classroom for Professor Weasley’s last class to let out. He sat on the steps, bouncing his foot, with one thing on his mind. Bile rose in his throat as he practiced what he’d say to the professor once he saw her.

The doors swung open and he stood quickly, moving to the side to let the students pass. Once the last of them had left the room, he bit his lip and took one last breath before slipping inside.

“Mr. Sallow? Is there something I can help you with?” Professor Weasley looked down her glasses at him.

MC's closest friend, Sebastian, fueled by a mix of concern and jealousy, approached Professor Weasley with his suspicions. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he spoke. “Yes, Professor, I need to talk to you about something important."

Professor Weasley stood from her desk and approached him curiously. “Of course, Sebastian. What's on your mind?"

Sebastian looked back at the doors from where he’d just come. The weight of this decision to bring it up to someone of authority, let alone Garreth’s own family member, weighed heavily on him knowing MC would be directly affected. He wasn’t normally one to snitch, but MC was his best friend, they’d grown so close over the past year. And yet, here she was, day in and day out, with Garreth Weasley.

Where she used to spend all her free time in the undercroft with him and Ominis, she was now spending it in the Room of Requirement with Garreth. Sebastian knew the romance was too fast, too quick. Where he’d taken months to realize his feelings for MC, Garreth had known after just one measly date with her. And MC, well… She confessed to having fallen hard for the redhead suddenly.

Sebastian couldn’t believe it. It was too fast, too intense for any two people to experience naturally. From things whispered in the boy's dorm and rumors floating about that Garreth knew how to make certain potions more potent, it became obvious to him that there may be something sinister going on with his best friend and her new boyfriend.

Sebastian took a deep breath before speaking. "It's about Garreth and MC. I've been noticing some things that... well, they just don't sit right with me."

The professor leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Go on, Sebastian. I'm here to listen."

Sebastian's voice trembled slightly as he continued. "I think Garreth might have given MC a love potion..." He shifted his feet "It's just that their relationship has been so intense, almost like she's not herself anymore." Definitely not herself and notably absent from his life.

Professor Weasley's brow furrowed, her concern deepening. "Sebastian, accusing someone of using a love potion is a serious matter. Have you seen any concrete evidence or witnessed anything specific?"

Sebastian hesitated, his gaze shifting. "I don't have solid proof, but I've noticed how MC behaves around Garreth. It's like she's under a spell, and it's affecting our friendship."

The professor's expression remained composed as she considered Sebastian's words. "Sebastian, emotions can be complex, especially in matters of the heart. While your concern is valid, we must approach this with caution and fairness."

Sebastian nodded, his worry still evident. "I understand, Professor. I just thought you should know what I've been observing."

Professor Weasley offered a reassuring smile. "Thank you for coming to me, Sebastian. I'll look into this matter and ensure that we gather all the facts before drawing any conclusions."

As Sebastian left the room in a rush, a sense of unease lingered in the air. His eyes darted back and forth, stomping away just a bit louder than what was polite.

Professor Weasley's mind churned with what he'd just implied, determined to uncover the truth behind the accusations and to safeguard the well-being of those involved.

She made her way to Professor Sharps's class, catching him just before he locked his classroom doors for the day.

Hours later, as Garreth and MC made their way through the courtyard, chatting and laughing amungst themselves, Professor Weasely interrupted them. Their hand swinging came to a sudden halt as they both eyed the Professor now blocking their path.

“Hello, Aunt Matilda.” Garreth said with a flourish of his hand. “We were just making our way to Hogsmeade.” He greeted her with familiarity but Professor Weasley kept a stern look on her face.

“I’m afraid your plans will need to be postponed. I need you two to join me in my classroom immediately.” She looked between them and gestured to her classroom at the far end of the courtyard.

Garreth’s face drops. “Can’t this wait? We’re meeting up with Leander and Natty.” He grumbles.

“It cannot, Garreth. Now, please proceed to my classroom this very moment. You as well, MC.”

As the three of them made their way to the classroom, Professor Sharp passed by, walking away from Professor Weasley’s room. He eyed Garreth and MC carefully and then looked to Professor Weasely. “Thank you, Aesop.” She spoke. Professor Sharp nodded once and made his way down the hall, not stopping to chat.

They enter her classroom and Professor Weasley charm-locks the door. The couple exchanged a worried glance before her wand is pointed at them. She separated them with a nonverbal spell and the two are slid to opposite ends of the room.

“Garreth, If I may speak with you first. Then, MC, I will pull you aside as well. Please have a seat while I chat with Garreth.”

MC nods “Yes, Of course.” She takes a seat in one of the nearby chairs and watches as Garreth follows his aunt to her desk at the front of the classroom. He takes a glance back and her, worried brows softening as he waves, a reassuring smile on his lips. She gives him a small wave back before he turns to Professor Weasley for questioning.

Garreth speaks first. “Aunt Matilda, what is going on?”

The air in the room is heavy as Professor Weasley eyes the two vials on her desk left by Professor Sharp.

She clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath. “Garreth, there have been some serious allegations that need to be addressed.” Her face wasn’t hinting at any emotion like the poised, seasoned professor she was.

Garreth looked on with a bewildered expression. “Allegations? What are they?”

She cleared her throat. “‘I must inquire about these allegations. Were you aware of any love potions consumed by MC during your courtship?"

Garreth blinked several times. “What?! No, I… Wait. Are there allegations I gave my girlfriend a… a love potion?” His voice was almost a squeak. “I swear, Aunt Matilda, I never gave MC anything of the sort! My affections- our affections for one another are real!”

MC, who had heard their exchange from the back of the room, began to tremble. She stared at the back of Garreth’s head, mind racing. ‘Could he be capable of such an act?…’ Her heart ached at the mere thought.

She touched her lips, remembering all the potions she’s had from him in all the time she’s known him. ‘No.’ She shook her head resolutely. ‘Absolutely not. He would never.’

MC made her way over to them, feeling compelled to stand by Garreth, her loyalty unwavering. "Professor, I understand the concern, but I assure you, our love is real. I've never had any potion from Garreth without knowing its contents or effects.” She glances over and the look on Garreth’s face shatters her heart. Who could have made such horrible allegations about something so pure and incredible between them?

Professor Weasley leaned forward, her gaze locked on her nephew. "Garreth, you understand the gravity of these accusations. Tell me, have you ever brewed or possessed Amortentia potion?"

Garreth met her gaze with a mix of determination and sincerity. "Aunt Matilda, I've brewed it during classes, yes, but I've never used it outside of that. Love is meant to be something that naturally happens…"

Professor Weasley's voice softened slightly. "And MC, have you ever seen Garreth interact with love potions outside of a controlled classroom environment?"

MC's eyes flickered toward Garreth before she turned back to the professor. "No, Professor. I can attest that our relationship has been built on the time we've spent together and our feelings for one another.”

Professor Weasley's stern expression remained intact. "Garreth, you're aware of the moral and ethical implications of love potions. Can you provide a list of all the potions you've shared with MC since you started dating?"

Garrreth's brow furrowed as he pondered. "Gods… I mean, there’ve been some experimental ones but, those are written in my journal. Oh! We've shared Felix Felicis during the holiday and a calming draught after a stressful day. But, those were ordinary situations. Our feelings have always been real." His voice cracked.

Professor Weasley nodded, her gaze penetrating. "I appreciate your honesty, Garreth. Now, tell me, have you ever experienced unrequited love before MC entered your life?"

Garreth's eyes flickered with a hint of vulnerability. "No, Aunt Matilda, not love... I haven’t. But, I have been rejected by a crush…” He looked to MC and then down to his Aunt’s desk. “Years ago.” He added. “It's a painful experience I wouldn't wish upon anyone.”

Professor Weasley's tone softened as well. "I understand, Garreth. It's important for us to discern truth from suspicion. One last question. Have you ever studied the effects of love potions beyond what's taught in class?"

Garrreth's voice was resolute. "Yes, I have delved into the subject further out of curiosity, but I assure you, I've never attempted to manipulate another person's emotions."

Professor Weasley leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "Thank you for your candid responses.” She turned her attention to MC. “MC, I want to ensure that you are safe and well. Can you describe your feelings towards Garreth since you began your relationship?"

MC met the professor's gaze, her voice steady. "Professor, my feelings have been intense and real. Garreth and I have shared adventures, laughter, our dreams... and hopes for the future. I've never felt coerced or manipulated."

The professor nodded, looking thoughtful. "Have you ever sensed anything unusual or experienced any lapses in memory during your time with Garreth?"

MC furrowed her brow, contemplating the question. "No, Professor. Our moments together have been vivid and unforgettable."

Professor Weasley leaned forward, her concern evident. "MC, love potions can be insidious, clouding one's judgment and obscuring reality. Have you noticed any drastic changes in your behavior or thoughts since you began your relationship with Garreth?"

MC's gaze remained locked with her. "Professor, I've grown and changed as any relationship would make one do, but I haven't experienced any abrupt or unnatural shifts in my feelings."

The professor nodded. "I understand your loyalty to Garreth, but I must ensure that you're not being inadvertently manipulated. Have you ever discussed the effects of love potions or their ethical implications with Garreth?"

MC's took a deep breath, ready for this nightmare to be over. "We've talked about them in class, but we've also had conversations outside of the classroom. Garreth has been open about his feelings that… he loves me." She squeezed her eyes shut "And I feel the same, without any potions or magic needed."

Professor Weasley's gaze held a mixture of concern and reassurance. "Thank you for your honesty, MC. I am here for you through all of this."

She pushed one via full of clear liquid toward MC and one toward a very quiet Garreth.

“These are special brews that contain the antidote to all known love potions. You two are to drink them now and wait about ten minutes for the antidote to take full effect. I will then check in with you both to see where we stand. Neither of you is to leave this room during that time. Is that understood?”

MC nodded “Yes, Professor.” She grabbed the vile and Garreth grabbed his, his freckled skin looking paler than ever. They both uncorked the viles and eyed the contents. If this were any other situation, they might have said ‘Cheers!’

The both knock back the liquid at the same time. She swallows, tasting vanilla and marshmallow root on her tongue.

Professor looks at their empty vials as they set them back on the desk. She sighs and gestures to the desks in the room. “Feel free to take a seat anywhere you like. The effects of the antidote are gradual, starting in the mind and then untangling the heart. We must give it ample time to disperse any love potion effects.”

Garreth drags his feet to a nearby desk and plops into a seat. He goes to put his head on the desk but perks up when MC takes a seat beside him.

“MC…” He whispers between them. Their knees touch as he turns to her. “You don’t have to sit with me… if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.” He slumps in the chair.

“No, Garreth. I believe you, I trust you. I don’t think you gave me a love potion.” She assures him taking his hand into hers.

Garreth cracks a smile and laces their fingers together. “Thank you.” He says quietly. “Not just for standing by me and believing me but… for loving me and trusting me.” He sighed.

MC gives him a warm smile. “Of course! We’re a team, me and you. If our relationship can survive this, we can survive anything.” She leans closer to him.

Garreth chews on his lip, eyes darting between the clock on the wall and his Aunt sitting at her desk. He places his other hand over their clasped ones.

“Are you going to ask me if it's true or not, though?” Garreth says, staring into her eyes.

She shakes her head. “No. Because I know it's not true.”

Garreth squeezes his eyes shut “How do you know?”

“I.. I liked you for a long time before you ever asked me out on that date…” She says, pushing a piece of his hair out of his face.

“What?” Garreth’s eyes widen. “You did!? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She gives him a light laugh. “What was I supposed to say?"

Garreth pulls her hands into his lap. “I don’t know, compliment my hair, my eyes, something!” He smiled wide showing his teeth. “You really liked me before I asked you out?”

MC nods, leaning in to press her forehead into his “Yes… a while before.”

Garreth grins from ear to ear. “Wow, I am surprised to hear that, but I’m also glad. I had a crush on you since that first day in Potions class. It was bad. Ask Leander.” He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Oh, I will most definitely ask Leander.” She laughs with him. “By the way, have I told you how pretty your eyes are? The green of your eyes is my favorite color, you know.” She sent him a playful wink.

Garreth’s cheeks tinged pink. “See,” He rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Like that, I would have gotten the hint.”

“Would you though?” She asked, giving him a side glance and a teasing smirk.

“Okay, maybe not. I would have overthought it way too much.” He adds, smiling and scooting his chair closer to her.

As the minutes ticked by, MC’s heart remained the same. Her connection with Garreth was just as strong as it was the previous day. She was more than ready to emerge from this classroom with their bond stronger than before.

The effects of the antidote became increasingly evident that neither MC nor Garreth were under any sort of love potion influence.

The ten minutes was up and Professor Weasley stood from her chair. Garreth and MC exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting with a mixture of relief and newfound clarity.

"MC," Garreth began, his voice tender, "This experience has really shown me what I already known deep within my heart. I am in love with you. And, the love I feel is so strong compared to anything I’ve ever felt before."

Her eyes glittered at his confession, the second one of their relationship. “Garreth, I feel the same way. I am deeply in love with you and it was all my own doing. I’ve been in love with you for quite some time." She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "I am glad I can share my feelings openly with you now.”

Professor Weasley watched the exchange, her heart warmed by the depth of their connection. She nodded approvingly, her voice carrying a note of wisdom. "Love is a force that transcends even the most potent of spells. It is built on shared experiences, genuine emotions, and the willingness to weather any storm." She looked down her glasses as Garreth with a soft smile. "I think you two will do just fine."

Garreth and MC shared a smile, their hands tightly interlocked. "This can be a new beginning for us!"

MC's lips curved into a radiant smile, her eyes locked on his. "I’d like that very much.”

Professor Weasley releases the spell trapping the couple in her classroom and dismisses them with a sweet smile. In her heart, she was truly proud of how Garreth handled the stressful situation and accusations. She knew he could be a bit of a troublemaker, but he wasn’t the kind of person to force another into a relationship with him. She noted, in her mind, to go easier on him when the next incident occurres.

Smiling, the couple leaves the Transfiguration classroom hand in hand.

“Should we still try to meet up with Leander and Natty?” MC asks.

Garreth takes a breath. “We can if you want. Or, we can go do our own thing. I really feel like spending time with just you tonight.” He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close.

As they walk through the courtyard, Sebastian looks up from his book. His eyes narrow, watching the couple walk past, annoyed by the cheery air about them. He gazes back at the classroom, watching Professor Weasley lock up her door for the night. She gives Sebastian a small bow of her head and continues her stroll into the castle. Sebastian rolls his eyes and slams his book closed.

Garreth leads her toward the Gryffindor common room. “Well, this is going to make Christmas time with the family awkward this year since you and Aunt Matilda will be there. She will surely tell my mother, who will tell all my aunts and they will tell their husbands and-”

“Gar! It’s alright. It may be awkward at first, but we proved them wrong in the end.” MC reassures, placing her head on his shoulder.

“That we did.” He smiles wide. “I wonder who accused me of something so… vile?” Garreth’s brows knitted.

MC shrugs. "I have no idea."

I REALLY tried to make this smut. But fluff kept happening and well… bone apple teeth.

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #professor weasley

64 notes · View notes

clementine-writes-things · 27 days

Text

Opium Haze - E.N

Summary: After a chance encounter, y/n runs into Edward Nashton. Y/n was his light in the darkness, and they saved him from a dark path. Together, they created their own story. They saved him from becoming someone he did not want to be.

(A/N: I have never been on a subway, so I probably will not do a good job writing about them lol. I intended for this fanfic to be longer, but I really wanted to post something this weekend, so sorry :( but it's still super cute and I'm very proud of it.)

Content Warning: AFAB reader, they/them pronouns, explicit language, angst, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of murder, thoughts of suicide, blood. (this fanfic is so cute helpppp)

Word Count: 6,989

Songs For Inspo:

Swing Lynn - Harmless

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

Hey Lover - The Daughters Of Eve

Freaks - Surf Curse

Yes To Heaven - Lana Del Rey

A Different Age - Current Joys

Let The Light In - Lana Del Rey

Good Looking - Suki Waterhouse

Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

Heart To Heart - Mac DeMarco

~Read Below Cut~

Fate is a touchy subject. Some people believe in it and others don't. It all depends on what their own beliefs are. But, if you looked at y/n and Edward's story, you'd probably start to believe in fate. They were two totally different people. The two of them ran into each other after a chance encounter in a subway. But, even then, it was extremely unlikely that they would talk to each other. And yet, they did. All it took was a few words to start the beginning of a beautiful life together.

Edward stood on the subway platform, glancing down at his work shoes. They were scuffed from tripping over his feet so much, scraping against the concrete sidewalks of Gotham city. The scuff marks reminded him of his own soul and mind. Scratched, shredded to hell, and unappealing. But then again, so was every other person in Gotham. Not one person was innocent, even him. His mind raced with thoughts of violence, inflicting them on the people who left him for dead in the cold and lifeless walls of an orphanage. A system that was supposed to keep him safe had done the exact opposite. Every single second of his childhood was pure torture. The tips of his fingers were scarred from the rats that would chew at his skin in the night, much like his heart was scarred. Over a decade of living in an orphanage only to be thrown out and forced to get a job and slave away at it for the rest of his life. It was just another type of orphanage that Edward found himself stuck in. A life he was stuck in while the upper class watched in amusement. There was only one way out, but he had work to do before that. He was going to purge Gotham of the scum that populated it. He was going to wash it all away, like flushing away sin. And when his work was done, he would leave the world.

'The train will be departing soon.'

Edward looked up, shaking himself out of his thoughts. His eyes widened as he realized his train was about to leave. He reached out as the doors began to close, knowing he didn't have a high chance of making it in time. Something ran into him from behind, causing him to be propelled forward. His nose hit the closed doors of the subway train with a strong force. Edward groaned, pushing himself off and watching in frustration as the train left. He winced, touching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, bringing them back into view to see blood smeared on the tips. Whipping around, he had a scowl on his face as he looked at the person responsible.

"Ow! What the hell is wrong with you!?" He exclaimed in a painful tone.

The person before him looked to be the same age as him, maybe a year or so younger. He couldn't really tell as he was distracted by the burning pain that came from the deep cut on his nose. Due to the bleeding, he assumed that he landed on a screw or some type of metal that was elevated off the train. They had pair of washed out jeans on, slightly ripped on the bottom. A baggy t-shirt that had an awkwardly standing cat on it covered their upper body. They gasped, holding their hands, wrists adorned with various bracelets, over their mouth.

"Oh...Oh my God, I'm so, so, so, sorry! I-I was trying to catch the train a-and I wasn't looking!" They stumbled, eyes wide.

"Well, I was trying to get it on it too. So I guess we're both screwed over." He mumbled.

The person sighed, rummaging through the bag they carried. He watched, pinching his nose as he started to get a nosebleed. They pulled out a band-aid, showing it to him. He raised an eyebrow, scoffing.

"I nearly broke your nose, can you please let me patch you up?" They asked, crossing their arms over their chest.

Edward noticed how embarrassed they looked. He sighed, rolling his eyes. Nodding, he walked over to a bench near the far corner. He sat down, legs making a 90 degree angle perfectly because of how long they were. Y/n frowned, removing the band-aid from the wrapping around it. Upon further examination, he realized that it had a bunch of hearts on it and it was pink.

"It's either this or you can keep bleeding everywhere." They said.

"Well, I wouldn't need a band-aid if you had just watched where you were going." He mumbled.

"Touché."

They carefully placed the pink band-aid over the cut on his upper nose. Gently, they smoothed down the sticky ends, making sure it was properly secured. Once they were done, they stood awkwardly in front of him, vaguely resembling the cat on their shirt.

"Um, I'm really sorry. You're right, I should have watched where I was going. I hope it doesn't hurt too much."

"It's fine." He replied quickly.

"Do you know when the next train arrives?" They asked.

"Why don't you read the sign?" He scoffed.

Turning around, y/n looked up at the sign on the ceiling. They huffed when they saw it would be another 30 minutes for the next train. Edward looked at them, knowing exactly what they would do. They would walk away and ignore him the rest of the time, as if they didn't just split his nose open. That's what everyone else in Gotham would do. No one cares about what happens to other people. Only them. Sure, it was nice of them to give him a band-aid, but that's about the nicest thing someone in Gotham could do. But, he was wrong. Extremely wrong.

"Do you mind if I sit and wait with you?" They asked.

He glanced up at them, holding back a laugh. Not really caring either way, he shrugged his shoulders. The stranger sat next to him, placing the bag they had on their lap. Edward wasn't quite sure what to do in that moment. He had terrible social skills as a result of being raised in an orphanage. But, he didn't really need to start a conversation. They did that for him.

"So, what's your name?" They asked.

He turned his head to them, blood dried underneath his nose.

"Edward."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Edward. I'm y/n." They smiled.

"Why are you talking to me?" He asked.

"Huh? Oh, do you not want me to?"

He went quiet, adjusting his glasses as he looked down at his lap. The truth was, he didn't really know. No one had ever willingly wanted to talk to him. Sure, coworkers talked to him at his job, but that was only when they needed something from him or it had to do with work. Edward wasn't used to having someone be friendly with him, let alone actually want to talk to him.

"I can sit somewhere else if you want me to. I understand if that's what you want." They said, smiling.

"No, it's ok."

Y/n nodded, opening up their bag. Edward, a curious man, peeked over. He watched as they pulled out a book, reading the cover.

'A Handmaid's Tale'

They opened up the book to a page with a bookmark in it. Removing it, they placed it in their bag. Edward couldn't help but try and read the book as well, despite having already read it. A subway wasn't the most relaxing place to read a book, y/n didn't have much to do.

"I've read that book before."

Y/n looked up, tilting their head at him.

"Oh yeah? What did you think of it?" They asked.

"It was quite interesting, pretty vulgar in some parts though. I found myself getting uncomfortable, but I'm pretty sure that's what Atwood was trying to do." He said.

"Yeah, I felt the same way."

"So, you've already read it?"

"Yeah!"

"Then, why are you reading it again?"

"Well, I really like the book. Plus, I'm helping out a student." They answered.

"Student?" He questioned, wiping away a new drip of blood from under his nose.

"I'm a librarian at a high-school. This is a required book in the English class, but one of the students just can't stomach reading it. It makes them too uncomfortable. So, I'm reading through the parts they can't read and taking notes for them." They smiled.

"That's awfully kind."

Y/n smiled.

"What's your job?"

"I'm a forensic accountant."

"Oh, that sounds interes-"

The phone in y/n's pocket rang, causing them to look down. They mouthed a 'sorry' and held up a finger. Answering the phone, they held it up to their ear.

"Yes, this is them."

Edward took note of their use of pronouns. He didn't really think he'd see them again, but it was just a tidbit of information he tucked away in his brain. He kept a lot of random information in there. Stuff that he would most likely never use in his life.

"Oh! I did?"

Y/n rummaged through their bag, scoffing when they stopped.

"You're absolutely right. I did. How embarrassing. Thank you so much for letting me know, I missed a train so I'll come get it right now."

Y/n hung up the phone, gathering their things as they stood up. Edward watched them, wiping away another drip of blood with his thumb. They sighed, pulling out a tissue from their bag. Y/n gave it to him, watching as he used the tissue to dab the blood up.

"Like a complete idiot, I left my laptop at the library. I have to go back and get it. I'm very sorry, I was really interested in hearing what a forensic accountant is."

Edward shrugged.

"I'm serious! I was enjoying our conversation."

Y/n pulled out a band-aid from their bag, grabbing a pen as well. Using their knee as a surface, they scribbled something on the wrapping. Edward recoiled slightly as they reached out their arm to them, band-aid held in between their fingers. They waved it, signaling for him to take it. Edward rolled his eyes and took the band-aid, looking down at the scribbling. It was a phone number.

"If you want to, text me! Or call, I'm good with either. Maybe we can meet up for coffee or something and you can tell me what a forensic accountant does."

"I could be a serial killer. You barely even know me."

"Well, that's why I gave you my number, duh. So we can get to know each other." They smiled widely.

Edward scoffed, putting the band-aid in the pocket of his coat. Y/n tilted their head, waving a good-bye before leaving the subway station. He watched how they walked with a bounce in their step, as if nothing in the world was wrong. Sighing, he leaned his head back and groaned. They were awfully nice for someone who lived in Gotham.

Edward sat in his bed, hunched over the band-aid that y/n had given him. He groaned, tugging at his hair and rocking back and forth slightly. His mind was conflicted and he had no idea what to do. No, he didn't have to text them. Did he want to? Yes. And he hated to admit that. The kindness he had experienced from them, even though it wasn't an astronomical act of kindness, was foreign to him. Empathy and friendliness were things he had never received in his life, and a stranger on the subway had given both of those things to him within a span of 10 minutes. It threw him in a loop and made him feel dizzy, stars crossing his eyes as he looked at the numbers scribbled on the paper wrapping. He knew they were setting him up for a cruel joke. Friends were probably leaning over there shoulders, waiting for him to text them. They would all laugh, pointing at his text, going on and on about how much of a stupid loser he was.

"Fuck." He mumbled.

He picked up his phone, typing in the number into his contacts. Entering the name 'y/n' as the contact name. Shakily, he typed a simple text. Edward was not sure what to say, and he wasn't even sure that he should even text them. He felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety -as he hit send, preparing for the humiliation.

'Hi, this is Edward from the subway.'

He stared at the screen, dreading yet awaiting a reply. Glancing over at his winter mask, he adjusted his glasses. The plans he had for the city were already made, but he had not begun anything yet. The most he had done was buy the mask. So, why was he texting this person? Why would he even try to form a friendship if he was going to wash everyone away in the end? It was pointless. Yet, he so desperately wanted to hold onto hope. Hoping for someone to save him from what he was becoming. Hoping for someone to show him that there was still hope for the people of Gotham. But, he felt like he was hoping for things that wouldn't happen. A chime from his phone caused him to look down, reading the text on the screen.

'Omg! Hi! I was worried you'd never text me! :D'

He stared at the text, relaxing after tensing up. There was no humiliation. No shame. No mocking. So, what was there? Kindness, perhaps? Genuine kindness? He let out a shaky breath, shivering in his cold apartment due to an open window in his bedroom. Once he sent the text, he closed it, getting too cold for his own liking.

'Were you waiting for me to text you?'

They responded quickly.

'Yeah! Is that so hard to believe? ;p'

Edward smiled softly, feeling his body warm up as he slipped under the covers of his bed. The comfort of his blankets and the conversation happening at his fingertips provided him a nice feeling. Happiness, almost. If not happiness, then at the very least it was peaceful.

'A little.'

'Well, I can't really prove it, so you'll just have to trust me. I got my laptop, btw!'

'That's good. Did you have to wait for another train?'

'Yeah, but it was ok. I used the time to read. Did you make it home ok?'

'Yes.'

'Good! So, any big plans for the weekend? Any crazy parties?'

'Do I look like I go to parties?'

'Not exactly, but I don't go to parties either. Well, at least not crazy ones. Maybe like, a birthday party for a cousin or something. I'm the life of the party at those things. They always have the best snacks and drinks.'

Edward laughed, somethings that he had not genuinely done in a while. Clearing his throat, he turned on his side, phone held in his hands. The light reflected off his glasses, shining in his dark room.

'I don't have any family. A party like that sounds fun.'

'You don't have any family?'

'No, I was raised in an orphanage.'

'Oh, I'm sorry about that.'

'It's ok.'

'Let's change the subject, ok? :) Circling back to my question, any plans this weekend?'

He appreciated the change in conversation, even though he was the one that brought the subject up. Mentally, he scolded himself for bringing up such a personal thing so early into the conversation. But, they seemed to handle it well. They didn't make fun of him for being an orphan, so that was better than everyone else.

'No plans.'

'Me neither. Wow, we're pretty boring, aren't we?'

'That was a joke btw, I don't think you're boring :)'

'I figured.'

'Well, since you don't have plans and I don't have plans...would you like to get a coffee with me or something? I know that's very cliche, but I genuinely don't know what else to do.'

His face turned beet red, shocked at what he just read. Edward still felt like this was all some elaborate prank. If he said yes, he could be walking right into a trap. But, what if it wasn't a prank? What if they were being genuine? What if they actually wanted to spend time with them? They seemed like a friendly person, but Edward knew all too well about hiding parts of yourself. Pretending to be someone you're not.

'Ok, when?'

'Yay! I was nervous you'd say no. How about tomorrow at 10? You know that one diner on 19th?'

'Yes, I actually live right across from it.'

'Woah, wait...in the apartment building near the Iceberg Lounge?'

'Yes?'

'I think we live in the same building.'

Edward shot his head up, a shocked expression on his face. Looking back down, he saw that they had texted again.

'I'm in number 22C, what about you?'

'25C.'

'No fucking way, you're shitting me?!'

'Um, no...?'

'I just moved in recently, maybe that's why we haven't noticed each other.'

'I'm not really a social person with the other people in the building. I don't keep up with newcomers.'

'That makes sense, I still can't believe it though. I'm coming out.'

Edward lifted his head up, placing his phone on the bed. He felt his heart racing and he wasn't quite sure as to why. It was just a strange chance encounter. The odds of them running into each other at the subway were slim. The odds of them talking were slim. The odds of getting each other's contact information were slim. But the odds of them living right next door from each other, that was incredibly slim. His head shot to the living room that showed through his open bedroom door as a knock echoed in the apartment. Edward got out of his bed, adjusting his glasses. He usually wore just a pair of boxers to sleep, but tonight he wore sweats and a shirt. Thank god for that. Walking through his kitchen, he looked through the peephole. When he saw y/n, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He opened the door, looking slightly down at them. Y/n looked up, mouth slightly agape. They laughed, clapping their hands in amusement.

"Holy shit...This is freaky!" Y/n said, a smile on their face.

"Yeah, quite strange." He mumbled.

"Um, sorry I'll go back in my apartment. I just wanted to see if you really lived across from me."

Edward glanced at the clock that hung on his kitchen wall. It was only 7 o'clock. He bit his bottom lip, conflicted about what to do. He couldn't explain it if he tried, but he didn't want them to go. Every day, he would spend his nights in bed. He would think about how depressing his life was, how boring it was, and how he wished something would happen to change it. He wasn't a big believer in fate, but maybe this was it? Maybe, just maybe, it was fate that y/n and him ran into each other.

'What has no hands yet can knock on your door, and you better open up if it does?'

'An opportunity.'

"W-Wait."

Y/n turned around, looking at Edward with a soft gaze. He felt himself get sheepish underneath it. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he opened his door up wider.

"Why don't we have coffee right now?"

They smiled, tilting their head at his suggestion. Pulling out their phone, they checked the time. A small chuckle left their throat.

"It's 7 o'clock. Plus, like you said earlier, you could be a serial killer."

'I very much could have been. But, now you're here...'

"I don't think I could kill you in this apartment. The walls are thick, but they're thin enough to let loud noises get through. So, I'd get caught immediately."

"What a weird way to convince me to come in. What's even weirder, is that coffee sounds very nice right about now."

He smiled, dimples showing and eyes squinting slightly. Stepping aside, he allowed y/n to walk inside his apartment. He closed the door behind them and walked with them in the living room. It was a very neat apartment, aside from the living room that had books scattered all over a desk. Y/n hummed, peeking at the covers. Some were about forensics, some about history, and some were classic books.

"Avid reader? I guess I should have assumed so, since you read The Handmaid's Tale."

"Uh, yes, yes I am. I read a lot of books while I was in the orphanage. It was a hobby that stuck with me."

Y/n nodded, looking for a place to sit. Edward motioned towards a table that resided next to the archway to the kitchen. They sat down at the table, their baggy, lacey, white camisole bunching slightly around their waist. They had the same idea as Edward and wore sweatpants tonight, causing him to smile.

"You have a lot of books, Edward. I like that."

He blushed slightly, clearing his throat.

"Um, how do you like your coffee?"

"Do you have any creamer? I like sugar and cream." They answered, playing with their hair.

"Yes, I do."

He went into the kitchen, making two cups of coffee. As he did so, he tugged at his hair. Thoughts raced through his mind, going 100 mph. His head felt dizzy and he felt a sharp pain forming at the base of his skull.

'Kill them, let them serve as an example.'

'They can be your first victim.'

'They just want to humiliate you.'

'You don't deserve friendship or love.'

'Who could ever love you?'

He took a deep breath, looking in his reflection on a plate. Edward shook his head, dismissing the terrible thoughts. He didn't want to do any of that. The thoughts were just his own mind trying to play tricks on him. He would not do any of those things. Y/n, although having only met them today, was his only shred of hope that he had for happiness. They were the only thing he had to hold on to. And, what made it even better, is that they seemed to enjoy his company as well. It felt like the stars had aligned and blessed Edward with a guardian angel, sent specifically to save him from himself. And for that, he was eternally grateful. Never again would he think violent thoughts, never again would he contemplate ending it all. He had something, someone, to keep him grounded. A friend. That's all he had ever wanted in his life.

That night, the two of them stayed up for hours. They talked about their jobs, Edward finally explaining to y/n what a forensic accountant did. Eventually, they delved into more personal things. Edward talked about his experience in the orphanage, how traumatic it was, how much it changed him as a person, and how it ruined his childhood. Y/n talked about their challenges growing up as a non-binary AFAB person and how their family never approved of them. The both of them listened closely to their stories while sipping away at cups of hot coffee. Neither of them had planned for any of what happened that night to happen. But, they were glad it did. Because, after that night, things took off. They hung out more, visiting each other's apartments, having breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner together. After a month of friendship, Edward had worked up the courage to ask y/n to be his partner. It was awkward, just like he was, but that's what y/n loved about him.

"Edward, I've already read this book literally last week. I don't really want to read it again so soon."

Y/n had asked Edward for book recommendations a day ago. He said he needed time to look through the books he had, so he could pick a good one for them. But, he had just given them a book they read recently: Wuthering Heights. Y/n pushed the book back towards him across his kitchen table.

"Trust me, you should read it again. You might realize you missed something." He said.

"What? What does that even mean?" They asked, laughing slightly.

He shrugged, taking a sip of his lemonade. Y/n shook their head, rolling their eyes as they opened the book to appease him.

"You're so ominous for no reason, Edward. Look, I'm reading the book for the 2nd time this month, wow!" They fake gasped.

"Oh come on, read it to me. What's the first paragraph say?"

Y/n sighed, looking down at the page. Their eyebrows furrowed when they saw a sticky note on the page instead. Glancing up at Edward, they noticed he had a small smile on his face. Humming, they looked back down at the sticky note.

"Y/n..." They trailed, reading the rest of the note silently to themself.

'...this past month with you has made me a happier man. I've enjoyed our talks over coffee, our movie nights, and our complaining about our jobs. But, I don't want to do that anymore as your friend. I feel strongly about you, in a way that is more than friends. I look at you every day and think about how lucky I was to meet you, even if you did almost break my nose. It was worth the pain. You've thawed out my icy heart and made me feel loved for the first time in my life.'

Y/n looked up from the note, eyes wide. Edward smiled and leaned forward. His hands rested over y/n's, holding them in his.

"Um, y/n...will you be my partner? If that's ok with you, of course. You don't have to if you don't want to. I understand you might feel pressured to say yes, bu-"

"Edward! Yes, I will!"

His eyes widened.

"Y-You will?"

"Of course!"

Edward let out a shaky breath, smiling wide as he got up from his chair. Walking around the table in one big stride, he squatted down and cupped y/n's face in his hands. He leaned in softly, planting a gentle kiss on their lips. Y/n kissed him back, dropping the book and embracing him in a warm hug.

"But, Edward, I have one question."

"Yes, anything."

"Why did you use the Wuthering Heights book...it's kind of a tragic story..."

"Y/n, that's the most romantic book you had. Would you rather me have used Romeo & Juliet?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You make a good point. I have a penchant for tragic love stories, don't I? Oh my, do you think that's how we'll end up?" They asked, worry in their tone.

"What? No, of course not! That's ridiculous."

"Yeah, you're right. After all, Romeo and Juliet killed themselves because they couldn't be together, right? And, we're dating."

"That's a rather morbid look on it, but yes, you're right. I think we'll be just fine." He smiled.

Their relationship was a great one, fantastic even. No other couple in Gotham were quite in love like they were, and that was just a fact. It was as if they were made for each other, like soulmates. Two puzzle pieces that fit into each other perfectly. Creating a beautiful love. Edward loved y/n so much and they loved him. At the school y/n worked at, they became the favorite couple.

Edward sat behind the library counter with y/n, reading a book that he had brought with him. On his days off, he would go to y/n's job and keep them company. It was nice of the school to allow it, mainly because Edward helped encourage the kids to read more. He had sort of become like the library's mascot. It was cute and he didn't really mind it. A student walked up to the counter and placed a book on it.

"Good morning Y/n!" The student said.

Y/n, being non-binary, didn't really prefer to be called any titles. Because of this, they just had students and peers call them by their first name. It was their own personal choice and no one really minded it. It just made them even cooler to the students. Y/n's library was like a safe space for LGBTQIA+ people, having a pride flag hanging above their office. The school, luckily, was also a supportive school, allowing them to hang it up. Though, if they even tried to tell them to take it down, they would have put up a hell of a fight. Edward admired that about them, finding their kindness for others to be so inspiring. He also loved how they advocated for themself, not afraid to show who they really were.

"Good morning Jeremy, let's see what book we have this time."

Y/n scanned the book and looked at the cover. Their mouth formed an 'o' and they nodded their head in approval. It was a rather juvenile for someone in high school, but it was a good book nonetheless. Sometimes, you just had to read a book because you wanted to read it, not because you wanted to be smart. And y/n was a firm believer in that. Hell, they would still read Dr. Suess books sometimes, they were still as good as they were when they first read them.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox. Oh, I loved this book as a kid. Have you seen the movie?" They asked, handing the book to them.

"Yeah, that's why I wanna read the book." They smiled.

"What are we talking about?" Edward asked, peeking over his book.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox. Did you ever read the book, Edward?" Y/n asked, smiling at the kid as they walked away.

"Yes, but I never watched the movie."

"Oh, well I know what we're doing for movie night then."

"I suppose so." He smiled.

A couple laughs behind them caught their attention, and y/n turned back around the counter. Before them were a group of kids, two boys and three girls it looked like. Y/n rolled their eyes, motioning for Edward to come over. Humming, he stood up from his seat and placed his book down on the counter.

"Honey, the children want a riddle." Y/n said, already knowing what they were going to ask.

"They do? Hm..." He thought, pushing up his glasses.

The high schoolers laughed softly, looking expectantly at him. Y/n focused back to the computer, looking through a few emails as he thought of a riddle. The sound of his fingers rapping on the counter drew their attention back to him. Y/n watched in adoration as he told the group of kids a riddle.

"Ok, I was asked this riddle back in high school. It's probably one of the most intense, serious, and difficult riddle you will ever be asked. Are you ready?" He asked, ominously.

"Edward, don't scare the shit out of them!"

"Language, y/n. There are children present."

"Oh, they say worse than me."

One of the kids spoke up.

"What's the riddle!"

"Ok, if all Wibbles are Criggles, all Borkins are Kwumblins, no Hoggles are Borkins, and all Criggles are Borkins, is it true that all Borkins are Criggles?"

The kids all stared at Edward like he had three heads. Y/n burst out laughing, holding their side. He crossed his arms over his chest, acting like this was the most serious thing he had ever asked anyone.

"What the hell? Ed, did you just have a stroke?" Y/n asked.

"No, this is a serious question."

One of the girls spoke up.

"Ok, so...all Borkins are Kwumblins...I'm sorry this is too funny." She started giggling.

"All Borkins are Kwumblins, but no Hoggles are Borkins. So, all Wibbles are Criggles..." A boy mumbled.

A girl bounced up and down slightly.

"Oh, wait! I know! The question is, are all Borkins Criggles? The answer is no! Because, all Borkins are Kwumbins and all Criggles are Borkins. It's only asking about the Borkins, not the Criggles. So, no. Not all Borkins are Criggles!" She spat out, holding her tongue with her finger dramatically as if it stopped working.

Edward nodded.

"Very good! That's exactly the answer! I'm impressed, it's quite a confusing riddle." He smiled.

"Thank you Mr. Nashton! So, we have a riddle for you two!" The same girl asked.

"Oh? Well, I hope we can answer it." Y/n said, standing up next to Edward.

"Their solidarity is new, their commitment is deep, You’ll find me essential before the leap. What am I?"

Edward's face instantly went red, already knowing the answer. However, y/n took a little more time. The kids were giggling, elbowing each other to keep quiet. Y/n blushed as well, realizing the answer.

"A marriage license." They said.

"Uh huh, so...when are you guys getting married?" A boy asked.

Y/n clapped their hands.

"Oh boy, look at that! Time for my lunch break! Looks like we'll have to get back to you on that." They said, rushing them out of the library.

"Aw come on!"

"Aren't you 5 supposed to be in your classes anyways?" They asked, hands on their hips.

"Ugh, fine. But, we better get the wedding invitations!" A boy said.

"Yeah sure, go on you heathens."

"Why, so you guys can make-out?" A girl giggled.

"Inappropriate! Go on!" Y/n shoved them out of the door, closing it behind them

From behind the door, they could hear giggling and whispers, slowly fading away with footsteps. Sighing, she turned back around to see Edward propping himself up on the counter with his hand. He had his book in the other hand, hanging down by his side. Y/n shook their head in amusement as they walked back over to him.

"Call me crazy, but I think they want us to get married." He stated.

"Woah, really? That's impressive, can you read minds?" Y/n laughed.

Edward smirked, sitting back down in the chair he was in before. His leg hiked up over his other leg, hanging lazily. Flipping the page, he held it in place with his thumb. After a few moments of silence, he looked back up.

"Do you want to make-out, though?"

"Edward, there are cameras. I would love to, but I'd rather not get caught and get fired."

"What, not a fan of exhibitionism?" He teased.

"Edward Nashton, you are such a weirdo. I love that about you."

He smiled and shook his head, chuckling. The two of them fell back into a comfortable silence. When they got back home, they watched The Fantastic Mr. Fox together. Unsurprisingly to y/n, Edward absolutely loved it. His favorite character was Ash, because he too felt different. That was y/n's favorite character as well.

Their relationship continued to grow, 6 months turning into a year. A year turned into 2 years. 2 years turned into 3. And finally, 4 years had come around. On their 4th anniversary, Edward decided to take it to the next level.

Edward and y/n had finished up their anniversary dinner, now heading back to their shared apartment. After they had dated for a year, they decided they should move in together. Sure, they had already lived directly across from each other, but they wanted to be even closer. They wanted to see each other every morning and every night. Their shoes lightly clicked against the cement stairs that led down to the subway station. Y/n stopped, tugging at Edward's sleeve.

"Hey, this is the subway station we first met at!"

Edward subtly smirked to himself.

"Oh would you look at that, it is!"

They continued to walk down the stairs, finally reaching the platform. It was completely empty, due to how late it was, apart from a security guard. Y/n looked towards the bench the two of them sat at for the first time, eyes widening. Edward smiled, wrapping an arm around their waist as they walked over to it. Candles were placed on the tiled floor around it, lit and flickering in the cold air.

"Edward, did you do this?" They asked.

Glancing behind his back, he gave the security guard a smile. Yes, Edward had planned this whole thing, but it was the security guard who lit the candles just before they arrived. When he had come up to her and asked for her help, she agreed instantly. Edward, who once believed that no one in Gotham could be nice to anyone but themself, had been proven wrong. And now, he trusted other people to help him. He definitely owed the security guard.

"Y/n..."

They turned around, looking down to the ground as they saw Edward on his knee. Gasping, they cupped their hands over their mouth. Tears welled up in their eyes as they felt a shiver go down their spine. Edward took a shaky breath, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a black velvet box, holding it in his hand.

"I never told you how I felt when I first met you, and I'd like to do that now."

He looked down at the subway tiles, sniffling and then looking back up at y/n.

"I was in a dark place at that time of my life, y/n. Any hope I had of love, friendship, and happiness was dwindling away. Every day was strenuous and draining. Troubling thoughts crossed my mind, thoughts that I never wanted to act on, but felt like they were the only solution to my pain. That day we ran into each other, that was going to be the day I acted on those thoughts. But, in the span of a few minutes, you showed me more kindness than I had ever been given in my entire life. A complete stranger. It baffled me, I didn't know what to think of it. I was certain you were setting me up for an elaborate prank. But, I'm so glad I decided to text you. The kindness that you showed me, well, it saved me, y/n. You pulled me out of the darkness and showed me a sliver of light, the hope that I so desperately wanted to hang on to."

"Eddie..." They sniffled.

He brought his hand up to his face, wiping away a tear that trickled down his cheek. Clearing his throat, he went back to his speech.

"I remember when I made you that cup of coffee. I thought to myself, 'They must be my guardian angel, sent down from heaven.' I thought this because no one that perfect, breathtaking, gentle, and kind could possible be from this world. Even as you stand before me here, I find you just as ethereal as you were the day I first met you. Here. In this exact place."

Edward shivered, hands trembling as he opened up the box. A silver ring with a humble diamond rested in the soft material. It was nothing extravagant, not at all. But, it was beautiful to y/n nonetheless. In fact, it was the most lovely ring they could ever imagine, because it came from him. It was perfect.

"And, it is here, where you first came into my life, that I ask you to stay in my life. These past 4 years I've spent with you have been amazing, truly they have. But, I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore, y/n. I want to be your husband. I want married life. I want to wake up to you, knowing you're my spouse. I want to have a family with you, y/n. I want to be a dad, I want to grow old together with you. I want the stupid little arguments, I want the moody teenager, I want the house. But, I can't have any of that if I don't have you. Without you, life has no meaning, color has no hue, music has no tune, and my heart will not beat. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and when I looked into yours, I knew it was true. I looked into them and I saw good. I saw gentleness, kindness, love, and compassion. Your eyes, they are always foggy and shining, I've become addicted to looking into them. Like...like an opium haze. Addictive and mysterious. I was enthralled and I still am. I knew I wanted to be apart of your life, but I was so scared. I'm scared right now too, I'm shaking. But, I know in my heart that my love for you is true and I would be a fool to let you slip out of my life. So, y/n..."

He held up the box slightly, the object slightly shaking in his hand.

"Will you marry me, please?"

Y/n choked back a sob, hands still covering their mouth. They nodded frantically, letting the tears roll down their cheeks. Edward's eyes widened behind his glasses, glazed with tears. He straightened his posture, mouth forming a small smile.

"Yes, Edward. Yes, I will marry you! Yes!"

Edward's mouth hung slightly agape, surprised at the answer. He knew y/n would say yes, but it still caught him off guard. The tears that he had been trying to hold back were now flowing down his face. He stood up quickly, closing the box and embracing y/n in a tight hug. Their arms wrapped around each other, Edward's hand tangling in y/n's hair as he planted a chaste kiss on the top of their head. The two of them pulled away, hair stuck to their faces from the tears. He opened up the box, taking out the ring and sliding it on their ring finger. Y/n looked at it and smiled, laughing slightly. Edward laughed as well, kissing their hand and rubbing his thumb over their knuckles.

"Y/n Nashton. That has a nice ring to it." They hummed.

"My heart is still racing..." He chuckled.

"Mine too...let's go home, fiancé. We can watch Forensic Files in celebration."

"God, I'm so glad we're getting married."

"I love you so much, Edward."

"I love you too, y/n. More than you will ever know."

#fanfic writer #writers #fanfic #writers of tumblr #the riddler #paul dano #dc universe #danonation #danonator #danocel #dano riddler #edward nashton #paul dano riddler #batman 2022

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hyukastuffies · 1 year

Text

4 Times | Kim Seungmin

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: This is a spin off of my wip that i posted. Seungmin knows it's wrong to jerk off to his best friend's girlfriend, but who's stopping him? Definitely not himself that's for sure.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: nudity, pornography?, public sex, masterbation, unprotected sex, fingering, cheating, multiple orgasms.

𝐀/𝐍: Hey! This took a much different route than i had in my head and it's still not even done but i thought you guys might like this!

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Haah Jeongin, please" You whimper into his mouth, thighs shaking, not really knowing what you're begging for as his fingers plunge deeper into your needy hole. You were sure your professor had already marked you late, but with your boyfriend knuckles deep inside of you, you could care less.

To make up for this morning Jeongin insisted on dragging you straight to the football team's locker room to make you cum. He sat you on a bench and you slumped into the lockers behind you. "You're so fucking tight around my fingers angel. Does the thrill of getting your hole filled in the locker room turn you on?" He chuckled and thrusted his fingers impossibly deeper into you as you let out a particularly loud moan at his words. "Yes! Please babe I'm gonna cum.. L-let me? Please!" You pleaded as prettily as you could manage. You know your begging worked when Jeongin brought his lips to your clit and curled his fingers inside your messy pussy once more.

"Mhmm cum all over my fingers babe, I wanna taste it" But you were already cumming and your boyfriend didn't slow his ministrations on you until you were squirting on his fingers all over again. Your thighs shook and you gripped Jeongjns wrist as you made a mess of the locker room floor.

"You're way too good at that Jeongin." You whined to him and tangled both of your hands into his messy blonde hair. He hummed out a groan into your pussy and squeezed your thighs, lapping up all the cum remaining in and on you. He stood to give you a messy kiss and to pull your shorts back up along with your soaked panties. "Look at the mess you made, Beautiful. Always so good for me."

You didn't get to bask in the after waves of your orgasm for long though.

"I guess now's a good time to come out and say i heard most of that. Ugly shirt btw y/n." Seungmin laughs and sends a wink your way as he steps out of the shower area, his hair still wet and over his eyes.

Your eyes widen in shock as you realized Seungmin must have been in the showers. And your boyfriend just giggled lightly and shook his head, clearly unphased by any of this.

"Fuck you seungmin." You mutter as you grab Jeongins arm and basically hide your face in his armpit.

"I totally would pretty, but it seems jeongin made a mess out of you already" He motions at the pool of your arousal on the concrete floor and both boys giggle. You were absolutely not sticking around for this.

"Bye Jeongin!" You shout, interrupting them, as you make your way towards the door.

As you're walking to class seungmin's words linger in your brain. "Ugly shirt btw y/n." To be honest you were never sure how Seungmin felt about you.

He always made comments about what you were wearing, how much you eat, what you liked to do. Anything he could point out to make a backhanded comment he would. He didn't act like an ass when you were first introduced but he must of had a change of heart you figured.

Even though he acted like this he still openly considered you one of his best friends and you considered him your only friend besides your boyfriend and roomate. Maybe he thought he was funny. But you're sensitive sometimes and it hurts your feelings.

You made a quick pitstop to the restroom to change into a different shirt. Once you slipped another shirt on you did a once over in the mirror and fixed the strand of hair that was sticking up. You left the bathroom dreading your next classes.

They were all with seungmin.

Maybe you didn't know how seungmin felt about you but seungmin sure as hell did. Of course he did, he's been pinning over you for 6 months now. He knows it's fucked up wanting his best friends girlfriend but he couldn't help it. It was Jeongins fucking fault anyway.

6 months ago Seungmin was in his dorm alone, scrolling through Instagram when he got a notification from Jeongin. He figured he needed help with classwork like the idiot he was but when he opened his text he did not expect to see a video of you. Well, it wasn't just a video of you. It was a mirror video you sent to Jeongin and in this particular video you had only underwear on which you pulled to the side to reveal how soaked you were for your boyfriend while biting on your lip. You then inserted your middle finger into your heat moaning Jeongjn's name so prettily.

Seungmin had never heard moans as pretty as that and never thought he would. Just like you never thought for a second that it would end up being sent to seungmin's phone.

And seungmin didn't expect it to get send to him. He also didn't expect to get rock hard but that's not the point.

Stupid Innie

*Attachment sent*

She's so hot isnt she..

what the fuck is wrong w you does she even know you sent that to me?

Well of course she doesn't know

Dumbass now answer my question..

Yeah i guess she's hot or whatever. Fucking idiot istg.

To be quite honest seungmin wasn't annoyed at all that jeongin sent him that. In fact as soon as he seen a couple seconds of the video he saved it to his phone and stashed it in a private folder. From then on seungmin couldn't stop thinking about you and how it would feel to touch you.

On some late nights like yesterday, when he was alone and needy he would palm himself through his boxers until he was hard enough to take his cock out. He always got so hard watching you play with yourself. He would grip himself tight and stroke slow picking up his pace like he imagined you would, twisting his hand over his red, angry tip.

He would moan your name loud as his head fell back onto his headboard. He was so close. Every stroke of his cock felt so fucking amazing when he watched you. He needed you. Needed to feel that pretty pussy around him. Needed to show you how good you could feel with him under you.

"God" he sighed out along with a big puff of air, his eyes pressed tightly shut. He squeezed the base of his dick right before he was gonna cum, no way are you going to make him finish that fast. Instead he decided to slowy run his palm from his length to his stomach, and finally to his nipples. His own hand felt like fire gently licking his skin. Seungmin gasped, toes curling as he pinched his own nipple, sending another pang of arousal straight to his cock.

He wriggled in his sheets as he fought off the urge to wrap his hand around himself. Now he had his index and ring fingers in his mouth, whining as he was still tweaking his left nipple.

"Fuck y/n I'm so close to cumming please" He bucked his hips into his hand frantically when you moaned Jeongjn's name through the speaker. "S- so fucking hot baby fuck. Fuck!" He mewled out a string of curse words, body shaking as he shot his warm sticky cum all over his hand and stomach. He kept stroking his big cock with both hands for hours after that, edging himself to your video until he was a pathetic, writhing mess on his bed covered in his cum from multiple earth shattering orgasms.

"Mmm you're going to make me cum again, please it hurts, i want it so bad" He mumbles as he milks his last orgasm from his body, almost immediately falling asleep.

---

"Hell nah! Fuck your boss you're going to that party!" Your roommate shouts at you while chopping carrots into sticks a bit too aggressively.

"I already told him I would work, Minho. I literally can't go" you sigh in exasperation as you lean onto the counter and top off your wine glass.

"You literally can go and you literally will go. Tell your boss you got sick." Minho continues talking with his hands which causes the knife to swing around in different swiping motions.

"JESUS MINHO PUT THE FUCKING KNIFE DOWN AND ILL GO! OH MY GOD WHY DID I LET YOU HOLD A KNIFE?" At this he slams the knife on the counter to grab your shoulders and hop off the ground like a bunny.

"Yes!! Yes!! Yes!! Wear something tight and slutty!!" he jumps as he talks making his words come out staggered and you chuckle at his drunken stupidity. Eventually you flick his forehead with a loud thwak! and push him away. Minho stumbles back into the fridge and gasps way too loudly. "You little-" Minho opts to chase you all the way to your room instead of finishing his sentence. Luckily your purpled haired roommate was way more tipsy than you from the drinks you shared. He tripped up the stairs giggling to himself as you slammed your bedroom door shut to start looking for something "tight and slutty" to wear.

After half an hour of tearing your closet to shreds you find something that matched Minhos description of what you should wear. Tight? Check. Slutty? (Only for jeongin of course) Check. Something cute underneath for jeongin when he rips the rest of your clothes off later? Absolutely.

Jeongin will love this. You think to yourself. You've given yourself a perfect opportunity to show up looking extra layable to surprise him. Once you finish your makeup and put your shoes on you descend the stairs looking for Minho only to realize he already left.

You glance at your phone for any kind of explanation to see he had already left you a voice message. You let yourself sink down into the living room couch to listen to the voice mail.

"HIII JISUNG CAME TO PICK ME UP" You hear giggling in the background and Minho hissing a not too quiet "SHHHHH" before cracking up in giggles himself. He continues "HAVE THAT SEUNGMO BOY PICK YOU UP. ALSO IM STAYING W JI TONIGHT DONT WAIT UP BUH BYE" more ear-piercing giggling and click.

"Damn that bunny faced bastard " you sighed as you dialed Seungmins number into your phone with sweaty palms. You really did not want to call him or be in the same car as him after how this morning shaked out, but it seems that Minho left you with no choice after begging you to go to the party.

---

Seungmin did NOT want to pick you up after things went today. He has been an absolute mess from your shananigans this morning with jeongin. He's already came 3 times thinking about it and when you called him he was in the middle of trying for a 4th.

"Seungmin please please pick me up I'm begging you." You managed to pull your prettiest pleading voice. Seungmin noticed it was much like the one you used while begging jeongin to let you cum. Fuck. He was really struggling not to jerk his cock that was way too heavy in his hand.

"Y/n I- Fuck okay yeah I'll pick you up give me like 20 minutes."

After saying goodbye to you seungmin threw his phone onto his nightstand and grabbed his brown pillow from under his head. He placed the pillow under his length, lying on his tummy and sighed at the contact. As he began rutting his hips into his pillow he thought about your voice begging him to pick you up. Oh how cute and desperate you could sound when you really wanted something. Seungmin's breathing picked up when he thought of all the things he could give you if you asked for it. If you just asked for it.

"Mmmf- fuck!" He gripped the pillow and pressed it hard against himself. He buried his burning red face into the mattress, and imagined fucking you in his car.

Your pussy was so wet around his cock as he pounded you into the backseat. You blush and hide your face in embarrassment but moan load for seungmins cock. "Always so cute for me. Do you act this cute for your boyfriend hm?" He relishes in the way his hands look as he holds your plush thighs in place, your knees close to your head. "No Seungmin i promised only for you. Only cute for you" Your eyes squeeze shut from the intense feeling in your core. "God you're so warm. Make me feel so good y/n." With every rock of his hips the car would jostle back and forth ultimately letting everyone outside of it know how good he was fucking you. But that's if they couldn't already hear it.

He removes one hand from your thigh to give your clit a light smack making your body jerk up in search of more contact. A string of arousal connects his hand to your heat as he brings his fingers to your mouth. He wipes your own wetness aross your plush lips and plunges his fingers in.You moaned loudly and pleaded with Seungmin, fingers still stuffing your mouth. "Seungmin please please cum inside, I'm begging you."

"Shit shit shit Mmmf!" Seungmin rutted his hips roughly into his pillow a few more times before he sat up and shot his cum all over the mattress.

With his breathing still ragged and his body still shaking seungmin stripped his bedsheets and threw them to the side of the room. He can clean them later. Now he had to figure out how in the hell he was gonna last in the car with you after succeeding in cumming 4 times tonight. Why not make it 5 with you?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I'm really nervous to post this because I'm not a writer. I read:')

#skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz #stray kids #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #kpopsmut #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin fanfic #seungmin lemon

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