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gracieheartspedro · 10 days ago

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Lotus Eater | chapter 7 - 5.7k words

my main masterlist - eddie masterlist - series masterlist

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summary: december is just as cold and as the beer you hold at the hideout as you watch corroded coffin perform. eddie's got something that'll warm you right up.

warnings: slow burn, 18+ mdni, drinking, eddie interacting with older ladies at the bar, they get handsy and weird, reader gets jealous, gareth is a shit head, smoking cigarettes, reader is in her head (per usual), reader's dad gets a name, brief mention of drug dealing, revelations, driving after one beer, saving some warnings due to possible spoilers so tread lightly <3

a/n: welcome back team! we are getting there. promise. but then again, you all signed up for a slow burn. so let it simmer. let me know your thoughts!

You had spent most of the month of December waiting tables, going to school, and finalizing your college application essay.

And in your free time, helping Eddie rehearse being in front of a crowd.

He and a couple of guys from Hellfire decided it was a great idea to start a band. Gareth was already in the band club, playing the drums. Jeff said he could fiddle around with a bass, and Grant informed everyone that he could play guitar at a beginner level.

A perfect start to a kind of terrible band.

They call themselves Corroded Coffin, and they will blast your ears off with heavy riffs and ear-piercing vocals.

You knew Eddie could play the guitar. You just did not entertain the idea too much. But as soon as you watched him tap along the spine of the red and black electric guitar he so sweetly nicknamed, you knew you were in for it.

Because while you knew you were attracted to the guy, you did not expect to feel the heart-pounding lust you experienced when you watched him play a shitty metal song. With his instrument hanging low, right over his crotch. You never expected his fingers to move so quickly, all the while, making it look so easy.

So, you spent your free afternoons held up in Gareth’s garage, plugs wedged in your ears to prevent any hearing loss as the guys practiced the three songs Eddie wrote for them to play. In between arguments about ability to perform, you would manage to get your homework done. It was just like being at home, but instead of fights between your parents about not having sex anymore, it was Jeff yelling at Gareth for not keeping the tempo.

Somehow, Eddie had gotten them a gig at a local dive bar called The Hideout, and it was becoming all they talked about. It was a dingy place you had no business going to, so you never did. They promised the guys a set every other Tuesday, playing for a crowd of rowdy drunks. It was Eddie’s dream come true.

“Okay, sunshine,” Eddie snaps, gesturing for you to look up from your math notebook. “Need your eyes. Act like you're excited to watch us.”

You shake your head, getting more comfortable in the lawn chair Gareth so proudly set up for you. “Right. I’m a great actress, this should be fun.”

“Or you could actually enjoy it,” Gareth joked, fiddling with his drum sticks, “We aren’t terrible.”

Eddie’s eyes shoot back to you, a playful smirk on his face. He knows you are about to give Gareth a comeback worth laughing at, but instead, you shock him by just nodding in agreement. That almost makes him laugh more.

The song begins after a countdown, and suddenly, you are putting on a show just like them.

Eddie was becoming a bit too persuasive.

When you told him you were off on Tuesday night, he was pounding down your door at 7 and begging you to join him and the guys at their first gig. When the promise of free beer was posed, you still rejected.

“Sunshine, please,” He grabs your hand as you wedge yourself in the crack in the door, preventing your intoxicated mother from hearing his pleas. He dressed himself up extra for the occasion, even repainting his nails black and smudging what looked like black eyeliner under his lash line. “I need my good luck charm.”

The expression, the begging, the referring to you as a ‘good luck charm’... it got you.

You piled into the van with him after changing into some light-washed jeans and a slightly torn black sweater (the one he referred to as ‘metal’ when you first wore it) and set out for the bar that was less than 10 minutes away.

Five drunk old guys cheered on Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin while you sat at the end of the bar, training one light beer Eddie managed to snag for you. You watched as they fumbled through their first couple of numbers, the lighting in the bar shielding the glares the boys passed to one another.

Hearing Eddie’s singing voice in a microphone was much different than hearing his belting in the car. It’s much more restrained when he’s pouring himself into a microphone, as opposed to the carefree singing he does just for you.

When he really starts to get into it, it’s already their last song. You notice a shift in his behavior as he sings the cover to one of his favorite Metallica songs, his hips wiggling a bit as he strums erratically. You cannot help the wide grin that spreads across your face as he gives his all to the performance.

As he finishes up, he thanks the crowd and pulls the guitar off his shoulders. You turn around to take a couple of sips of the beer, wincing as it goes down your throat. You notice two older women at the end of the bar, eyeing the stage as the band started to clean up their instruments and drag their amps out to Eddie’s van.

You take a couple more sips of beer, not really feeling anything. The women you spotted are slamming back shot after shot, giggling every time they make twisted sour faces at one another. You smile, thinking about how nice it would be to have a girl friend like that. It makes your stomach sink thinking about Kacey and what she’s probably doing right now.

You are pulled out of your daydream by a hand settling on your shoulder.

“What did you think?” Eddie asks, his eyes a bit hazy but still focused and trained on yours.

Your lips turn upward, tilting your beer to him. “You’re a natural up there.”

He scoffs, pulling the barstool next to you out and sliding on. He leans over the counter, gesturing to the bartender to get him a beer, which he does without another word.

“You don’t have to lie to me, sunshine. I look to you for honesty.”

You had to admit, it was nice to hear that he thought you were truthful. Little did you know that you had been watching the way his hips gyrated a bit too hard while he was on stage. Your mind is conjuring up images of what he would look like on top of you.

You somehow manage to look at him from his side profile, even with the warmth filling your lower stomach. “It wasn’t great. But you had great stage presence and you looked hot-”

You cannot be that honest, now.

His eyes shoot over to you as you stare past him, trying to reel yourself back in. But somehow, the light beer you ingested still makes you a bit unfiltered. You curse Eddie for even getting you one.

“Your outfit is very rockstar.”

That’s what you went with instead.

You aim your eyes forward after it slips out, trying to avoid the snickering Eddie does between his clenched teeth. He’s so close you can feel his breath against the side of your face.

“You were going to say something else,” He whispers over the loud jukebox that has occupied the silence since Corroded Coffin stopped playing. You look at the women nearby again, and they are both shooting you and Eddie some glances. You sit rigid, unsure how to respond to Eddie. You needed to get him off topic and disregard your previous statements. You were good at redirection, dodging his every poke and prod.

“We have an audience,” You murmur, picking up your beer and twirling the remainder of the liquid at the bottom. Eddie takes note of where your eyes land, seeing the ladies across the room. He gives them a head nod, his eyebrows raised and fingers tapping against his glass. They giggle like they are impressed by him, which throws you off.

They were probably 20 years his senior. Neither had a ring on their fingers, and both had hair that could probably reach the ceiling with the amount of hairspray used. Their tops were low-cut, enough to show off their assets. The one you can tell is more into toying with him, gently tilting her head at him to join them at the end of the bar.

You shoot Eddie a glance, and you can tell he is shamelessly staring at the girls, basking in the attention he rarely gets from girls at school.

You should know better at this point. Eddie is not your property, only a close friend who gets on your last nerve. But the nagging, blooming crush you kept pushing to the back of your mind was creeping up into your throat. It burned watching him shift in his seat, almost anticipating getting up.

“You should buy her a drink,” You quip, tapping your glass on the wooden tabletop. His eyes shoot towards you, confused at your almost-demand.

“Why?”

You should not have to give him an explanation as to why he should go flirt with the women, but here you are. He has these glassy puppy eyes when you look over at him, his shoulders slouching a bit. He looks disappointed, like he’s letting you down.

You clear your throat, looking down at your chipped polish, “Because you’re single and she seems interested.”

He shakes his head, nudging you with his shoulder. His foot is already on the ground, “But I am sitting here with you.”

You manage a smile, heart shattering a bit, “I’ll survive without you. Go get her, Munson.”

Part of you wants him to stand his ground and stay with you, but he doesn’t. He simply shrugs, sliding off the barstool and bounding towards the women like his life depended on it. You clench your teeth, watching him lean between them and their full chests.

Within two minutes of observing, they are feeding him shots like they are candy. You sigh heavily, turning to see if any of the other guys are around to possibly ride home with. You were not getting in a car with Eddie if he was drinking.

Gareth is grabbing one last bag, tossing it outside with all his strength. You plant your feet on the ground, accepting that you would have to beg him to give you a ride back home. As you approach him, he looks past you to see what Eddie was getting up to and why you were alone.

“Your other half seems occupied,” He smiles, his floppy curls wet against his forehead still. Your stomach rolls as he refers to Eddie like that. You shake your head out of instinct, rejecting that label completely.

“He’s not my other half,” You warn, crossing your arms over your chest. He grins even more at that, his eyebrows wiggling.

“Sure, he’s not.”

All words escape you the moment he says it. Your mind starts to race a million miles a minute.

Was it obvious to other people? Were you making yourself that transparent?

You made sure not to feed into Eddie’s usual teasing as much, so it was impossible for Gareth to suspect such a thing.

But was it really that egregious? You were always with him, walking with him between classes and riding shotgun with him every day.

And when he was not around, he was all you thought about. It had happened so quickly that you never fully sat with the fact that Eddie Munson may be your best friend.

And that was jarring. Unexpected.

Gareth giggles when he renders you speechless, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

“You are cute when you’re faced with obvious realities, my dear,” He asserts, squeezing a bit tighter. You cannot help the heat that creeps up to your cheeks, the weight of his hand feeling heavier.

You needed to get home and take a cold shower. It was suddenly a million degrees in this bar.

“Can you take me home?” You deviate; your voice is kind of shaky.

Gareth scrunches his nose, glancing out the window of the bar. “I would, but my car is filled to the brim with idiots and instruments.”

You exhale, lulling your head forward before rolling your neck. If you put yourself in this situation, you would have to weasel your way out. Gareth gives you a sympathetic look, his hand slowly drifting down to your bicep and pressing against your muscle.

He creeps forward a bit, crowding your space. You feel yourself tense up as he leans down towards your ear, “Why don’t you use these muscles and go get your man back?”

When his body shifts away from you, your heart is practically beating out of your chest. You open your mouth and nothing comes out, unsure how to respond to him. His steely blue eyes search your face before his mouth twists up into a smile. He drops your arm and steps a couple of feet away.

You inhale sharply when the air around you isn’t occupied by his cologne, “Not my man.”

His smile never fades as he steps a bit towards the door. “Keep telling yourself that, beautiful.”

And he’s gone. Your last hope of getting out of here at a decent time. With your arms still crossed, you twist around, seeing Eddie getting kissed on by the woman with the blacked-out arm tattoo. He has a cherry dangling from his mouth, and you swear on everything good, you are practically gushing in your underwear. His tongue extends, grabbing the red fruit and folding back into his sickly wet lips.

Your heart stills as he fiddles with the stem inside his mouth, showing the women he can tie it with his teeth and tongue. When his tongue comes out again, you force your sleeves up your arms.

You could practically scream with frustration, but instead, you channel that anger in the bounce of your step. You wanted to be home so you could scream into your pillow about how obvious you have made your crush on Eddie to everyone. And to possibly deal with the ache between your legs.

You walk over to the now inebriated man you arrived with, tapping his shoulder. The woman to his right looks at you first, her eyes piercing your skin like a million tiny needles. You try not to look at her, only looking at the back of Eddie’s head as the lady to his left is trying to suck on his neck. He is so distracted by throwing back another shot down his throat, he doesn't even feel you pressing against him. You feel your irritation bubbling.

“Eddie!” You yell, smacking his back with an open hand. He jumps, his body whipping around to face you. He is off balance, the ladies grabbing onto his arms to keep him upright.

You are so fucked.

“Heey,” He drags out, eyes dazed and unfocused, “Sunshine, these are my new friends!”

He wraps his arms around the women, pulling them into his side. You want to hurl, watching them place their hands on his stomach and chest. You had to put your foot down, not liking this version of Eddie at all. It made you want to crawl away with your tail between your legs, but that fire that Gareth lit inside you gasses you up just enough to keep you going.

“Very nice,” You bite, grabbing his hand and tugging him away, “We have school in the morning.”

“Aren’t you Jack’s daughter?” One of them presses, her curious eyes scanning your entire body. When you hear your Dad’s name, your chest starts to burn.

Of course, these women know your Dad. He’s every bar’s favorite patron, spending his entire paycheck on beer and pool. You can tell she notes the annoyance in your eyes as Eddie stumbles a bit towards you, his hand finding your waist. The moment he is out of their sphere, you breathe a sigh of relief. You are halfway to getting him out of here.

“Unfortunately, he is.” You hold your head high as Eddie’s hand slides up your back to your shoulders and then back down to your waist. He is probably just using you for balance, but there’s something in the way his hands feel around your upper body that sends you into panic. Why is he rubbing your back in front of these women he was obviously trying to impress?

The lady chortles, her drunken redness giving away her displeasure that Eddie has pulled away from them. “Well ain’t you a lucky one? Drug-dealing-daddy and rocker boyfriend.”

You feel your blood run cold. Drug-dealing Daddy?

You have no time to unpack that statement before Eddie drunkenly slurs at the women. “She’s not my girlfriend. Just my very very best friend. The very best, actually.”

You do not want to give yourself away any further to these predatory women, so you just wrap your arm around Eddie’s midsection and pull him closer. “Let’s go?”

His eyes are practically glazed over as he pats right above your ass. “Let’s go, baby cakes.”

The women scoff as you two head towards the door, leaving behind the cherry stem Eddie tied skillfully on the bar top.

Convincing Eddie to give you the keys was a pretty easy experience since he was drunk off his ass. He could hardly walk across the gravel, so you resorted to locking your arm around him and picking his pocket. When you walk him to the passenger side, he starts laughing. You do not listen to his mindless mumbles, helping him into the bucket seat you usually settle into.

“I don’t like you driving me around.”

You pull out of the parking lot, easing your foot on the gas. “Well, I don’t love the idea of you driving drunk.”

Driving felt almost foreign to you. It had been months since you were behind the wheel, and with your nerves already shot, you were hardly going above 20 miles per hour. You catch a glance at the clock and wince. 12:24.

You feel your anxiety kicking up with every passing moment, so you look down between Eddie’s feet, looking for your water bottle. That would ease the constriction you feel in your throat.

“Can you grab me my water bottle?”

He looks at you with a playful glint, still messing with the heat settings on the dashboard. “What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”

You curl your fingers around the wheel, trying not to lose your shit on him in that instant. You hum, beating your fingers as you turn onto the back road that leads to your homes. “Please.”

He leans down between his legs, almost knocking his head into the dashboard. He starts to giggle, “Here you go.”

You snatch it, not even saying thank you, as you pop the cap and start to take shallow swallows. He watches you with curiosity, something that you disregard as you take a deep breaths. When you close it back up, you hand it over to him to put back.

“Can I have a few sips?” He asks, already opening it back up to take a swig.

You start pressing yourself closer to the wheel so you could see better, but also wedge the wheel into your chest to have some pressure there. Trying to watch both sides of the dark street, not wanting any critter to jump out and surprise you, was also consuming your brain.

Eddie tosses back some water before putting it back on the dirty floor. There’s silence for a beat, the soft hum of the radio taking over. The warm air is actually helping your situation, allowing you to relax your shoulders a bit.

You make a mental note to pull out your puffer coat tomorrow before school. Your fall jacket was not cutting it anymore. It was too damn cold.

Like usual, you feel his presence shift towards you, his eyes piercing through you.

“You know how beautiful you are, right?”

His voice splits through the main cabin of the van like a semi-truck going full speed at you. He didn't even slur when he said it.

“W-what?” You ask pointedly, sitting further back so you're fully pressed into the back of the seat. You do not risk looking over at him.

“You are so beautiful,” His voice waivers a bit at the end as he starts digging through his pockets. You still say nothing, glancing over at him briefly to watch him fiddle with his pack of cigarettes and wedge a stick between his lips. As he flicks the lighter, he continues, “I think that every time I look at you.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

It’s hammering, not giving up, as you try to catch your breath that feels caught in your throat.

“D-drink some more water. You’re too drunk.”

It’s all you can succeed in saying. Every other word is lost on you. Thank you? You too?

“No, you are just…” He drifts off, hand cranking the window to let some of his smoke seep out. Hearing him admit such a thing right now was a kick in the gut: “You are so beautiful and smart, and I think any guy in the world would be so lucky to have you.”

You pull up to a four-way stop. Your hands are shaking, and your body is fully unprepared to fully digest such words. But the heart stopper is when you look over at him and his glassy eyes peer into yours, his cigarette dangling out the window between his fingers. Something he started doing when you told him you were sick of having his cigarette smoke directed in your face.

He reaches out, his fingers cradling your chin and his thumb softly gracing your cheekbone, “I’d be lucky to have you.”

You want to jump straight into his arms because his words feel like warm honey over your entire body. All the anxiety you felt earlier has dissipated. His touch is so gentle that it feels like a feather drifts across your cheek as you catch his eyes slipping down to look at your lips.

You hate to admit when you are wrong. That’s common knowledge at this point. But you especially hate when someone like Gareth is right.

Everyone had seen something you had not. What you assumed was just Eddie being a good guy, a good friend, was actually something a bit more this whole time.

You feel so fucking stupid.

It makes you resentful. Maybe not towards Eddie, but towards yourself. You did not deserve this.

He is leaning towards you, his cigarette flicked out the window, long forgotten. Your lips feel dry, and almost in preparation, you lick them slowly, tasting the residue of the beer you forced yourself to drink.

You do not say a word until he’s centimeters from your lips, his nose practically brushing against your cheek. You can smell the liquor on his breath, and that is enough to sober you up to the reality of the situation.

You shake your head, almost to shake his confession out of the pits of your psyche. “You’re drunk, Eddie.”

His eyebrows flicker, and he pulls back from you. You immediately regret saying it because his hand no longer warms your frigid cheek.

“I’m drunk,” He confirms, slapping his thigh with the hand that just held your cheek, “and I’m telling you something important.”

His demeanor shifts, the annoyance painted across his face evident. And here you go, itching to put your foot in your mouth.

You let your foot off the brake, creeping through the empty intersection.

“Yeah, very important,” You brush off, trying to sound light about the situation. But your chest starts to ache again. This time for a different reason. “Soon you’ll be telling me you’re in love with me or something.”

You hold onto the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. You can feel the tension holding the air hostage. You want to take a deep breath, but you do not dare. Your chest may burst open.

Eddie unsurprisingly does not let up on the topic, especially since you baited him with the latter half of your statement.

“I do really like you,” His voice is gravelly, worn out almost.

You turn into the neighborhood, wanting nothing more but to jump out of the moving vehicle and let it drag you underneath. You felt so unworthy of such a divulging topic. He was really putting himself out on the ledge, and while you felt the same, the declaration was stuck in the back of your throat.

You pull into his driveway, parking extremely crooked, “Okay… Eddie, we can’t-”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie stops you, flashy rings swiping across the darkness and catching the porch’s light, “It’s okay, I can like you and you don’t have to like me back.”

It’s right there. On the very tip of your tongue. But it’s settled, embedded in the deepest crevices. “Eddie..”

He shakes his head, his drunkenness turning into pure sincerity and innocence. He looks so dopey, but so sure of himself. “Cause like… I have liked plenty of people, and they never return that energy, y’know? Like friendships, crushes, hell, even my own dad.”

You pull the keys out of the ignition, catching his fixed look. His hand is picking at the holes in his jeans, pulling at the threads that hang loose. A nervous tick you had never seen him do before. But by the way his jeans look, he probably does it often.

Maybe you were completely oblivious. You were infamous for being aware, smart, and sharp. But when it came to the way Eddie treated you, it seemed like everyone caught on before you. The battle between wanting to be on the mark with everything in your life and surrendering to the unknown was intimidating.

The unknown was dark and sometimes meek. But it could also be a light at the end of a menacing tunnel. Consuming at first, but in the end, freeing.

Eddie’s seat is the only part of the interior that is lit up by the streetlight, highlighting him from above and making him look like that light. That hope.

“I do like you, Eddie,” You whisper, your pride completely escaping you.

His head shoots up, his long frizzy hair almost entering his mouth due to how fast he moves, “You do?”

“Yeah, I do,” You confirm, shakingly handing him back his keys. You could hardly mutter any more elaboration on the topic, so you two just stare at each other like two idiots.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

You smile at that, the suspense of the situation dissipating at his words. “No, but you should go inside and start on that. We have school in six hours.”

You don’t think six hours can erase everything, but somehow it does.

You are dragging yourself out of the front door, bag slung over your shoulder, eyes still heavy with sleep. You did remember grabbing your winter coat, so the crisp morning does not bite as much as before. Eddie matches your energy, but he is completely unshowered with black eyeliner still spread across his lower lash line. It’s the most tired you've ever seen him. But his appearance makes your stomach roll with excitement. A silent anticipation that your feelings are known and not a burden in the deepest parts of your heart.

He doesn’t say anything to you as you pull the passenger door open and climb in. He looks at the positioning of his seat, pulled forward and straight up and down.

“Did you drive last night?”

He doesn’t remember?

You swallow, looking at him from the seat he resided in only a few hours before. “Yeah, you don’t remember?”

He looks up at you, confused and a bit irritated. He grabs the lever and jerks his seat back to accommodate his long, sprawling legs. “I don’t recall anything after you told me to get those old ladies some drinks.”

You feel queasy, like you are on a boat and somehow cannot get off. Your fingers twitch against your jeans, nervously watching him get in and slam his door shut. Your sleepy eyes reflect your disappointment, but Eddie is too tired to notice and press the subject.

The drive to school is quiet.

During your first couple of periods, you are distracted. Too caught up in your own reeling thoughts as you replay everything Eddie said to you the night before. How soft and sweet he was when you finally confirmed your feelings. The way his hand felt pressed against your cheek.

And the statement the one older lady passed at you was also making your spiral.

Drug-dealing Daddy?

You knew your Dad used to be in the business, but he always told you and your Mom that he was done with that shit. It did not bring in enough money. It was too dangerous anymore.

You then remember what he said on Thanksgiving. About Eddie 'slinging' drugs. Was he just saying that to get under your skin? Or maybe he did not want you around his competition?

You want to interrogate him, get to the bottom of everything, but he is known to lie and cheat his way out of uncomfortable situations. Unless he was putting you directly in danger, you are better off leaving it alone. Blindly believing him was something you were accustomed to. You had done it your whole life.

You totally forgot you were supposed to stop by the guidance counselor’s office earlier in the morning. That is, until your counselor was rushing towards you with a notepad and pen as you walked to lunch. She hollers your name, halting all your movements as you spin on the balls of your feet.

“Hey, you didn’t stop by this morning.” Her cheery nature is a bit too much for your muddled mind, but you force a smile. “Everything okay?”

You nod immediately, blowing off her concern. “All is good, Miss Richardson. I just overslept this morning and was almost late. I was going to stop by to see you during lunch.”

You weren’t, but that seems to ease her mind. Her shoulders relax as she pulls out a stack of envelopes, extending them your way.

“I got three of your applications filled out. Your essay was so excellent I did not even bother giving you any notes,” She explains, that almost fake-looking grin taking up her entire face, “Northwestern. Purdue. And Indiana State.”

You wince as she lists your options. The only ones you are putting effort into getting into. Northwestern was the dream, and you have a real shot at getting in. The affordability is the main concern with there and Purdue, but you were sure you could land some great scholarships. You were not giving yourself any other choice. You had the grades, the drive, and apparently, a really good entry essay.

Thinking about college had taken up most of your schooling career since it was a way out. But lately, you have been so wrapped up in other feats that you were starting to worry you were not giving it enough of your energy.

You nod, taking the three sealed envelopes. “Thanks, Miss Richardson. I appreciate all your help.”

Her hand reaches out to your bicep, a comforting squeeze unlike Gareth’s last night. “No problem, sweetheart. I know you’re going to flourish wherever you get in.”

Please let it be one far enough away from here, you think to yourself.

You keep your head down, weaving your way to the Hellfire table for your usual loud lunch 'performance' from the group. They were pretty great entertainment.

You step towards the chair right next to Gareth, which is also right beside Eddie’s end seat. A hand catches your shoulder. You peer back, seeing those dirty blonde curls first.

“Did you guys make it home without incident?” Gareth asks, pulling your chair out for you. You roll your eyes, dropping your backpack on the ground next to you.

You plop down in your chair, still making annoyed eyes at him. “I had to drive us.”

Gareth’s eyebrows raise as he sits down in his cracked plastic chair. He looks surprised.

“Eddie let you drive his van?”

“I gave him no choice,” You explain, not even paying attention to the fact that Eddie had already claimed his spot right next to you. You can always feel his energy nearby, but for some reason, you did not catch on.

“What did you two talk about on the way home?” Gareth presses, jolting his head up into a nod aimed towards Eddie’s seat. You know he’s trying to see if you actually talked about the unspoken crush you harbored that he somehow knew about. You were pretty sure Gareth was the only one who saw through you and Eddie’s shit.

When you realize Eddie’s next to you, you jump in surprise at the way his piercing dark eyes watch you and Gareth interacting.

Eddie’s voice is still grumbly as he speaks, “I don’t remember.”

For some reason, you cannot peel your eyes away from his. It’s almost like he is trying to telepathically pull your memories out of your brain from your eyeballs. You can feel your entire body tense, the usual warmth you feel from Eddie’s gaze being replaced with stone-cold fear.

It’s one thing to confess your feelings to someone in private, in the dark of night, with no one around.

But this is in front of an audience. Because at this point, there are five other guys filling up the fold-up lunch table, and their eyes are glued to you and Eddie.

You gnaw on the inside of your lip and try to avert your eyes, giving yourself away immediately.

“You were just drunk and rambling.”

Eddie does not like the response you’re giving, crossing his arms like a stern father. “Rambling about what?”

“Music.”

Lie.

He leans in, his arms not unfolding. The tension could probably be felt from a mile away. “Music?”

You look across the table at Jeff, his eyes widened like he’s watching the newest Star Wars movie. You could not give a full confession to the entire cafeteria. Not because it would embarrass you, but it may also embarrass Eddie. He may not have wanted you to know about the crush he harboured for you. He may get mad that you exposed him in front of everyone.

And, well, yeah, you would be embarrassed, too.

You have to find a way to redirect everyone. A lie so stupid that you can believe it yourself.

“You wouldn’t stop talking about how excited you were for Heart’s new album.”

Eddie’s cheeks heat up, getting redder than the apple sitting on Jeff’s tray. The entire table starts laughing maniacally at the revelation.

You try to giggle along with the rest of the guys, but Eddie’s face does not reflect pleasure in the conversation turning on him. He eyes you suspiciously as the rest of the guys joke about covering ‘Barracuda’ at their next show at the Hideout.

He gets even closer to you, his face right under your nose, pretty much. “I look to you for honesty, remember, sunshine?”

Shit.

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@littlemissholy @jeangeniex @heart-eye-love

@thelastemzy @katsfandomcorner @itmightbehayley @cowboylikemunson

@kawaiisaladobject @tootsiefootsie @twirls827 @kirsteng42 @fandom-princess-forevermore @spikeybatt @totallysocially

#HERE YOU GUYS GO!!!!!!#i'm so proud of this chapter #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson stranger things #fic: lotus eater #gracieheartspedro

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en-eunhee · 11 months ago

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ʬʬʬ : NOW PLAY𝒊NG ˊᯅˋ FAN-MADE CONTENT

❛ THE REASON WHY EVERYONE HAS A CRUSH ON EUNHEE

ⓘ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍 : eunhee has an irresistible charm that makes every idol fall for her instantly && MADE iN 2O24. ✶ rbs&feedback . . . DAILY .

— EUNCHAE STAR DIARY

eunchae's eyes sparkled as she recalled the moment she first met eunhee. "eunhee unnie, when you first walked in, i was so shocked. you're so tall and charismatic," she giggled, glancing at eunhee with admiration. can you teach me your ways? like, how are you so cool all the time?"

eunhee blushed, her usual calm demeanor slipping as she laughed. "what are you talking about, eunchae? i'm not that cool as you say." she said, a little shy.

"no, seriously. you just... have this presence," eunchae continued, beaming. "it's like you're walking in slow motion while everyone else is normal speed."

eunhee shook her head, laughing harder. "you're making me embarrassed now!" she said, trying to hide her flushed face. "but... maybe i can teach you a few tricks."

— BEHIND THE SCENES OF ENHYPEN MUSIC BANK

sooyoung stood at a distance, watching eunhee pose gracefully on the stairs as the manager snapped photos. eunhee looked effortlessly elegant, and sooyoung couldn't take her eyes off her. after a few moments, sooyoung pulled out her own phone and snapped a couple of candid shots of eunhee.

she glanced down at the pictures, her breath catching. "why does she look this good?" sooyoung muttered to herself, a small smile forming on her lips. "i’m gonna delete this photo," she joked, showing the picture to the camera "she looks way too good in it."

the manager laughed while sooyoung grinned, admiring the shot again. "actually, never mind. I’ll keep it for… research purposes," she added with a wink, completely whipped for eunhee.

— WEVERSE LIVE WITH SUNGHOON

on weverse live, sunghoon was casually chatting with fans when he spotted a comment that caught his attention.

he squinted at the screen, reading it out loud with a slight smile, "what’s your ideal type?"

leaning back, he thought for a second before his eyes lit up, a playful grin forming. "hmm... my ideal type? i like a girl who's, let’s see... 167 cm, enfj, born on may 17, and... looks like a black cat."

he smirked, clearly amused with himself. the chat exploded as fans realized how oddly specific his description was. with a soft, almost shy look, he added, “yeah... someone like that.”

it was obvious to everyone—sunghoon was completely in love with her.

— MUSIC BANK INTERVIEW

as eunchae smiled at eunhee. “eunhee-ssi, what’s something the fans don’t know about your preparations for this comeback?”

eunhee blushed, laughing softly. “well, i practiced the choreography a lot in my dorm room... sometimes even with a teddy bear as a dance partner."

jungwon’s eyes were fixed on her, entranced by the way her smile lit up the room.

eunchae grinned. “ah, that’s very cute, eunhee-ssi.” she turned to jungwon, “jungwon-ssi, can you please show us a key point of the choreography?”

jungwon blinked, suddenly realizing everyone was staring at him. “ah, oh wait, uh, our choreography has so many fun movements, but one key point is…” he stammered before laughing nervously.

— EUNHEE'S ENDING FAIRY

as eunhee finished her ending fairy moment with a soft smile and playful wink, heeseung couldn’t take his eyes off her. she looked effortlessly cute, and the way she held herself had him completely mesmerized.

seconds passed, but heeseung didn’t even notice. he was still staring, lost in his thoughts about her. then, it suddenly hit him—it was his turn.

startled, his eyes widened as he quickly shifted focus to his camera, throwing on a rushed smile.

— AWARD SHOW

as eunhee stood on stage, she blew a playful kiss to the crowd. in the audience, hanni’s eyes widened in surprise, caught completely off guard by the gesture. she blinked a few times, processing what just happened, before a huge grin spread across her face.

“did she just…?” hanni muttered to herself.

she leaning toward the person next to her, which was minji, “she’s seriously too good at performing.” she whispered, shaking her head with a fond smile.

— SUNOO'S EN-LOG!

sunoo was casually vlogging his "day in the life," chatting away as he sat down for a snack break. he grabbed his phone to check something, but then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he lit up and flipped the screen toward the camera.

"wait, wait, look at this!" he said, tapping on his phone and pulling up a picture of eunhee. "isn’t she so pretty in this photo?"

he stared at the picture for a second, completely smitten, a soft giggle escaping him. "like, seriously… how is someone this pretty?" he added, still showing off the photo.

sunoo smiled to himself before tucking his phone away, casually returning to his snack as if he hadn’t just shown the world how whipped he was for her.

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lilou0401 · 3 months ago

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Out of focus

Seth Cohen x reader

Summary: Seth Cohen can't explain why instead of Summer, he can't get her best friend out of his head

Warnings: forbidden love, angst kinda

Masterlist

You weren’t supposed to matter.

Not to him.

You were just the other girl- Summer’s shadow, her loudest laugh, her sharpest edge. The blonde with the wild curls and the smart mouth. The one who made fun of Seth’s comic book collection and rolled her eyes every time he mentioned Death Cab.

The one who once shoved a powdered donut in his face because he called Clueless “overrated.”

And yet somehow… you’d slipped under his skin.

Seth Cohen used to think love was supposed to look a certain way.

It was supposed to be Summer Roberts in slow motion. Glossy brown hair, bare shoulders, lip gloss and laughter. It was sitting on his roof doodling her name like he was in some coming-of-age indie movie.

She was it. The goal. The dream.

But now, when he tried to think of her- her laugh, her eyes, her voice- it felt faded. Like an old photograph that had been left in the sun too long.

And you? You were in high definition.

It started small.

He noticed your curls first. How they shimmered gold when you stood by the lockers and the sun hit just right. How they bounced when you walked, wild and unapologetic.

Then he noticed your dimples.

Not when you were posing, or performing for anyone- but in those rare, unguarded moments when you really laughed. Like when Ryan tried to make waffles and nearly set the Cohens’ kitchen on fire. You’d laughed so hard you snorted, cheeks warm, eyes crinkled.

Seth had felt something break open in his chest.

And once the door opened, it didn’t close.

You were always supposed to be the rival.

His opposite. His quick-witted nemesis. The girl who saw through his sarcasm and threw it back tenfold.

But now, he found himself wanting to talk to you. Looking for you in crowded rooms. Memorizing the little things: the way your fingers curled when you were nervous, the chipped nail polish on your right thumb, the scent of your vanilla perfume mixed with sea salt.

You were in his head. All the time.

And worst of all?

You were Summer’s best friend.

Meanwhile, Summer was starting to notice Seth.

Too late.

It was subtle at first. She’d find herself glancing at him in class when he made a sarcastic comment under his breath. Seeing his one dimple. Noticing his jawline when he tilted his head back to laugh. Realizing that maybe, maybe, there was something kind of charming about the way he always had a comic book in his back pocket.

She started inviting him to hang out with your trio. At first it was a joke.

But then… it wasn’t.

“Ugh, why does he have to be kind of cute when he’s being annoying?” Summer said one afternoon, flopping onto your bed, scrolling through her phone.

You looked up from your sketchbook. "Who?" Your curls were bound to a messy bun, which moved with each of your movements.

She blinked. "Seth." Her brown eyes shone mischievously as she stared at the ceiling.

Your heart stuttered.

You smiled, too quickly. "Oh, Sum. Don't go soft on Cohen." Your hand brushed a curl out of your face as you turned away from her, your smile now extinguished.

But your hands were suddenly shaking. You set the sketchbook down.

Summer liked him now.

And you... you’d fallen in love with him weeks ago.

You didn’t even realize when it happened. There was no one moment. Just a thousand little ones.

Late-night debates in the kitchen while everyone else slept. Long walks home from school where your bickering slowly turned into confessions. The time he stayed up all night helping you study for AP Lit and brought you Pop-Tarts and three highlighters “for emotional support.”

And the way he looked at you now- like you were the only person in the room.

Even when Summer was standing right next to you.

Especially then.

He started drawing you.

Little sketches in the margins of his notebooks. Your eyes. Your curls. Your smirk. Your dimples.

He caught himself one day, flipping through the pages in class, and realizing there wasn’t a single drawing of Summer anymore.

Just you.

Just... you.

It all came to a head one night at the beach bonfire.

The Newport crowd was drinking and shouting around the flames. Music thumped from a Bluetooth speaker. Summer was glued to Seth’s side- laughing, flirting, flipping her hair like she was trying to bottle him up before he could slip away again.

And you watched it all with a forced smile, your heart cracking in slow, quiet pieces.

He didn’t notice Summer’s hand brushing his arm.

Didn’t notice the way she leaned into him, looking up with a hopeful smile.

Because he was already watching you.

You were sitting by the water, barefoot in the sand, the wind tugging your curls in wild directions. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes glowing with firelight, and you were laughing at something Ryan said- head thrown back, carefree and real.

Seth’s breath caught.

He felt it then- clearer than anything.

He didn’t love Summer.

He never really had.

Because this was love.

Messy, inconvenient, impossible love.

And it belonged to you.

He found you later, alone, toes dipped in the surf.

You didn’t look at him when he sat beside you.

"Summer seems to like you now" you said quietly. Your eyes remained on the sand and your hands crossed and placed themselves on your bent knees.

He sighed. "Yeah." His brown eyes were on you, on your stunning side profile. "Seems like it." He bit his lower lip in despair while exhaling deeply.

"Isn't that what you always wanted?" Your voice was calm, almost inaudible, if his complete attention was not focused on you.

He turned to you, heart pounding. "It was." It felt like a foreign language on his lips, his hand tingling as his gaze wandered to your hands, longing for your touch.

You finally met his eyes- and something in your chest twisted.

"But now?" he said, voice breaking a little. "All I see is you." It was nothing more than a whisper, but you heard it clearly. Your eyes shone with emotions as you looked into his.

The air between you was heavy, brimming with everything unspoken.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You’re not just saying that because she’s not the one anymore?”

"No," he said. "I'm saying it because you are." His voice sounded firm and sure, which caused you to have a quick heart palpitations when you swallowed heavily.

Silence.

And then your hand brushed his. A spark, a tremble. Then fingers laced together- slow, hesitant, electric. His skin so warm and soft on yours, which is why you couldn't help but stroke your thumb over his finger face, whereupon his eyes closed briefly while he exhaled a deep breath.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “You really don’t.”

“No,” you admitted, heart thudding like waves against the shore. “I really don’t.”

#oc california #o.c #seth cohen #seth cohen x reader #seth cohen x you #love triangle #forbidden love #romance #love #angst with a happy ending

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studioeisa · 6 months ago

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KAEEEE congratulations on 1k omg i can't believe i'm just finding out about this now??? i literally thought u had like 10k ndjdnjd your writing is novel worthy i cant believe you aren't running tumblr already 😔

📱 i would pretty pretty please love to hear more about actor jun if u have any thoughts to spare :3 and congrats again!! here's to many more hehe 🎉🫶🏻💓

high praise coming from one of the best writers on caratblr 😳 and i will always give jun to the world's biggest huihui <3 mwaaa!

📱 boyfriend actor!jun x reader (part one, part two). part of my follower milestone celebration. word count: 676.

Jun has started doing his own stunts.

A part of you knows that your fear is misplaced. He’s training with the legendary Jackie Chan, of all people. Your boyfriend is in capable hands.

Still, you can’t help but worry.

It had always been this way even before he dipped his toes into the action genre. Texts of have you eaten? during long shoots. Encouraging Post-It’s snuck into his coat pocket pre-flight. You worry, and you worry, and you worry, and Jun loves you for it.

He’ll smile at the texts and force himself to eat something small. He’ll keep the notes in his wallet and reread them when he misses the sound of your voice. He lets you fret over him because you give as much as you get, and he would never say ‘no’ to you.

Even if it can be a bit— overbearing, at times. Jun keeps his eye rolls and scoffs to a minimum as you lather his body in efficascent oils, as you slap pain relief patches on his aching joints.

“Bit of an overkill, no?” he mumbles. His supposed distaste is betrayed by the way he practically preens when you begin to knead at the knots in his shoulders.

You can only sigh at his attempt to be nonchalant. “My boyfriend is an action star,” you say, your teasing tone edged with admiration. It makes Jun want to swoon. “The least I can do is make sure he’s being taken care of.”

“You can take care of me other ways.”

“Shut up.”

“How about you shut me up by—”

There’s bickering, and teasing, and your fingers dancing along his sides to get him to laugh, to stop flirting. Jun is bone tired and every part of his body hurts, but he’s never tired of you. Nothing ever hurts when it comes to you.

Jun can be a hypocrite, though.

You realize this on an unassuming Saturday evening, a rare weekend where the two of you can just stay in. You’re reading a book by the couch while Jun is absentmindedly scrolling through SNS. When you let out a low, unbidden hiss, he’s immediately snapping to attention.

“Babe?” he calls, his attention leaving the TikTok on his screen.

“‘S nothing,” you huff.

Your boyfriend sets aside his phone and leans forward from the other side of the couch, crowding into your space. “Liar,” he says. “What is it?”

You extend your hand in response. In the low light of your living room, it’s almost invisible, but Jun doesn’t miss it. The raised, reddish skin on your index finger, put there by the corner of your page.

“It’s just a paper cut,” you’re saying, but Jun isn’t about to have any of that.

He’s on his feet before you can complain. “Come back here,” you whine.

His response of “no!” is muffled as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. He emerges moments later with your First Aid kit, his eyebrows furrowed with genuine concern and determination.

“Junhui,” you say exasperatedly.

He doesn’t listen. When has he ever? He kneels at your side and begins to rummage through the kit, mumbling about antiseptics and cotton balls.

You two could have been done much faster if you didn’t resist him here and there. By the end of it, though, you compromise to a Sanrio adhesive bandage despite the absence of any blood at all.

“Be more careful next time,” Jun says as he snaps the kit close. He poses the words as a joke, but you can hear the hint of worry in his tone. (He gives as much as he gets.)

You close the distance to kiss him, and his expression smooths out at the familiar affection. “Overkill,” you tease, murmuring the words against his mouth.

Jun worries. You love him for it.

At your peck, his lips curl up into a smile that you can almost taste. He doesn’t answer— just grabs your arms and pulls you down on top of him. You go down squealing, and then you’re both laughing until your sides hurt.

It’s the good kind of hurt, though.

#jun x reader #junhui x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #jun fluff #junhui fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #jun drabble #wenjunehui #(💎) page: svt #📰 ylangelegy hits 1k #(🥡) notebook #i'm admittedly like. one breakdown away from turning actor!junhui into a series in its own right LOL #like they are just such a cute little couple your honor.. i must make sure jun gets all the kisses.. etc #every time there's an update w/actor jun i just hop onto google docs/xinganhao and type away yknow #anyway!!!!! we ball!!!!! actor jun for my fav huihui mwaaaah <33 kith

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hiiii!! I saw that you were asking for camp counselor! James and I got an idea, what if reader and him weren’t yet together but they were both pinning on one another and he was just telling the kids how adorable the reader is and the kids thought that they would be so good together and were so happy when they finally got together!!!

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

You spot James before he does you, holding court among a circle of campers enjoying their free time after lunch. The sun beats down on the unshaded bit of grass in front of his cabin, but James doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all loose and smiley, skin glowing in the afternoon light and hair that hasn’t been cut since May curling just above the rims of his glasses, meanwhile you can already feel the tickle of sweat forming on your skin.

He looks up as you approach, grin widening the second before his face smooths into seriousness. “Careful, guys, we’ve got a wily one coming to join us,” he tells the kids. “Keep your cards close.”

You roll your eyes, sitting down with your legs crossed beneath you between a couple of girls from your cabin. “What are you playing?” You ask them, and yet James answers anyway.

“Blackjack.” You look up at him, and he smiles. Almost bashfully, like he’s unable to help himself. “Crazy eights,” he concedes, setting down his hand to deal you in. “Here, we’re just starting.”

“James,” one of his boys whines, “we’re halfway through.”

“What harm does it do you, Cal?” he asks. “You’re set to win anyway.”

“It’s okay,” you promise, “James is allowed to set me up for failure if he likes.”

James pretends to be appalled, making the kids laugh, but he can’t keep it up for long before he’s smiling back at you. You like doing this with him, allying together. It feels like you’re in on some sort of secret, though you’re not sure what that might be.

“It’s probably because he fancies her,” one of the other boys whispers to Cal in a not-so-low voice.

You do your best to keep your eyes on your cards and your feelings off your face, but you feel a heat that has nothing to do with the sun creeping up the back of your neck.

“Shush!” One of your campers, Mary, elbows the other boy sharply. “You’re so loud.”

You don’t dare sneak a glance up at James, but when one of the girls goes, “Wait, what?” and the circle erupts in giggles, you can’t help it. He’s grinning at you, that us-against-the-world look again, like kids, right? You hope your answering smile looks half as relaxed.

“You guys are worse gossips than my mum, you know that?” The kids’ laughter worsens as he feigns an exasperation that’s easy to see through, setting his hands on his hips. You pointedly do not notice how nicely the pose displays his biceps and forearms. “This is why I don’t tell you any real secrets.”

The boys from James’ cabin look genuinely upset. You feel a bit bad for them even as relief washes over you, tinged with a bit of disappointment.

“It wasn’t a secret?” the boy who’d spoken asks.

James gives him a sideways look. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but look at her.” Blood rushes to your face as the kids gasp and ooh conspiratorially at each other almost too loud for you to hear him saying, “I’m only human.”

You feel no better than the kids when the first response that rushes to your lips is shut up, but you choose to take your own advice, rolling your eyes like you think he’s joking despite the light and undeniable sincerity in James’ tone. Butterflies crowd your stomach.

“Y/n, are you gonna be his girlfriend?” one of the girls from your cabin asks, grinning ear to ear.

“Um, it’s not quite so simple—”

“Terrible!” James exclaims, looking around the circle with a scandalized expression. “You’re all terrible. I haven’t even asked her anything! You’re going to kill your counselor, and what then? You think the next one will let you play in her hammock?”

“We’re not allowed to do that anymore,” another of your girls says sulkily.

James looks to you, and you shrug, sheepish. “I got caught. They said it wasn’t safe.”

“Whatever,” James blazes onward, “the point is, who will I have to talk to if you kill her? Be considerate, guys. Plan ahead.”

“James,” you plead, very nearly on the brink of actual death, you’re sure.

“And that,” he says promptly, stacking three fives and holding up his hands empty, “is how you win at crazy eights.”

The kids erupt in shouts, pointing fingers and throwing down their cards, and James sends you a wink.

You think you need to take a dunk in the lake.

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ivyyisbored22 · 6 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Read part one: 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 to understand the story...

Synopsis: Young and successful, Stray Kids are dominating the world with their ongoing tour. While the other members have moved on and found their own happiness, Chan remains trapped in the bittersweet memories of your love and the pain of your breakup.

A few years later when you attend their concert at the front row, fate decides to bring back the world it once shattered.

Content Warnings: Second chance. Tears, mention of alcohol, hurt, comfort, getting back together.

Note: This is the part two, the idea which won in this poll I posted. Sorry that it took so long to be uploaded ^^;

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:4.4k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The wind brushed strands of hair on your face, the surrounding bustling with excitement, chatters and giggling as you stood in front of the enormous stadium, large enough to fit over eighty thousand people.

“Ah I'm gonna see Stray Kids for the first time!” An excited fan smiled and exclaimed, posing in front of the stadium doors with their SKZOO plushie and lightstick.

Others were making their way inside, dressed in gorgeous outfits, everyone equally excited to see the eight idols dominate the stage.

You watched as everyone made their way in, yet you stood in front of the stadium, your heart torn between deciding if you should go inside or just turn back and go to the airport.

It's been five years.

Five years since you last saw him. In front of you. His dimpled smile, Australian accent, killing eyes that you once fell for.

And you still are. Even after all this time.

“Are you lost?” A voice startled you. You turned around to see a security guard looking at you curiously, you've been standing without a movement for quite some time.

“Oh no, I—” you stuttered but then showed your phone to the guard.

He took a look at your screen, front row, and pointed you in the direction towards the VIP entrance. "You're right this way," the guard said with a polite nod, stepping aside to let you through.

Your feet felt heavy as you took slow, deliberate steps toward the entrance, the distant thumping of the bass from inside the stadium reverberating through your chest.

Your grip tightened around your phone, knuckles turning white as your emotions warred within you. Excitement, anxiety, and something deeper, an ache that never quite healed.

As you entered the stadium, the roar of the crowd swallowed you whole. The stage was massive, glowing in a spectrum of colors that danced across the eager faces of thousands of fans.

You took your seat in the front row, surrounded by a sea of lightsticks waving in unison, creating an ocean of pulsating red.

In the backstage, the eight RockStars were preparing to get on stage. Felix and I.N were fixing their earpieces and straightening their outfits, Lee Know and Changbin helping each other rehearse their lines but mostly just joking around.

Seungmin was fixing the chords of his guitar while Han did a quick facetime with his girlfriend back home and Hyunjin was being sneaky with his girlfriend somewhere backstage.

And there was Bang Chan. His eyes drifted across the bustling backstage area, his members were thriving, finding happiness in ways he once imagined for himself.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was happy for them—genuinely. Like the best leader he always was.

Amidst the excitement and anticipation of another sold-out show, he couldn’t ignore the emptiness that still lingered in his heart.

"Hyung," Felix’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You good?"

Chan blinked and nodded quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. Let's kill the stage.”

Felix studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press further and bumped fists with him. "You know we always do.”

“Boys! It's time!” Chan called out, the members gathered one by one, forming a circle and putting their hands in front.

“Step out! We are STRAY KIDS!”

They chanted in unison and prepared to get on stage. A montage of their journey played on the enormous screens, and cheers erupted as the lights dimmed.

The opening VCR ended, and the members took the stage one by one, their energy electrifying the atmosphere. You watched as Han and Hyunjin emerged first, followed by Felix, Seungmin, Lee Know, I.N, Changbin.

And then… Bang Chan.

He walked onto the stage with the same effortless charisma that once made your world revolve around him. Your heart pounded behind your chest, he looked almost the same as he did five years ago but now more stronger and powerful.

True to the name of their tour, the eight stars indeed dominated the stage with their energetic music, dance and performance, the crowd erupting in waves of cheers and screams.

The setlist carried on, the members pouring their souls into every performance, when Chan's gaze swept over the front row and landed on you, everything shifted.

Time froze in that instant, only the locked space between you and Chan floating in the air. Your heart clenched as his eyes widened, refusing to believe that it was indeed you in front of him tonight.

The girl he once had to let go because loving you had come at a cost too heavy to bear.

Chan’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot where he was. The thundering bass, the flashing lights, the deafening cheers—all of it faded into the background. It was just you. Standing there.

Looking up at him with those same eyes that once held his entire world.

Distressing nights crashed into his mind.

The brown liquid stung and burned when it made its way down his throat. It was strong and bitter, like chewing and swallowing medicine.

Only three glasses of whiskey and that reached the limit. It didn't do anything to numb the pain and the fire burning in his chest.

Han and Changbin watched their friend struggling to cope after his break up with you. Han got up from the couch and silently moved the bottle and glass away from Chan whose head had fallen back on his desk chair.

“Chan Hyung..." Han’s voice had been soft yet firm, like he was talking to a fragile child. “This isn’t the way to deal with it.”

Chan’s head lolled to the side, his bloodshot eyes meeting Han’s concerned gaze. “Then what is?” he rasped, his voice cracking from shouting into the void earlier.

“What do I do, Han? Tell me, because every time I close my eyes, I see her walking out of that door. Every time I breathe, it feels like she’s still here, but she’s not. She’s gone.”

After you left, Chan was grieving the entire night, unable to work or do anything at all. He had promised to not contact you again but impulsivity led him to go to your apartment only to find out that you had moved out without a single trace. His friends tried to contact you through social media, but everything related to you had vanished overnight, as if nothing about you ever existed, crushing his soul in and out.

Changbin had sighed heavily, gently placing his hand on Chan's shoulder. “Hyung, you know we’re here for you, right? But killing yourself like this, drinking until you pass out, it’s not going to bring her back.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Chan had snapped, his voice hoarse with frustration and heartbreak. For the first time YEARS Chan raised his voice that made Changbin and Han flinch.

“I let her go. I had to, for the group, for the fans, for everything that wasn’t her. And now...” His voice broke. “Now, I don’t even know who I am without her.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the studio equipment. Han had stepped closer, his expression pained but resolute.

“Then find yourself again, Hyung. Please. It’ll hurt, but you have to. For us, for the fans and for her. But we know that one day you'll reunite again…”

That night had been a turning point. He had thrown himself into his work with relentless fervour, using the music to drown out the noise of his heartbreak.

But no matter how many songs he wrote, how many hours he spent producing, he could never erase the phantom of you.

Now, five years later, that phantom was standing right in front of him, flesh and bone and as breathtaking as ever

His fingers curled tightly around the mic, knuckles white, but years of performing instinct kicked in. He forced himself to move, to sing, to dance—but it wasn’t the same anymore.

Every step felt heavier, every lyric hit closer to home, and every glance at you chipped away at the careful walls he’d built around his heart.

“You okay?” Lee Know mouthed between the choreography, nudging him subtly.

Chan could only nod, blinking hard to refocus. His body was working on its own, but his heart and mind wandered elsewhere.

While maintaining professionalism and his usual banter on stage along with the members, interacting with fans, every now and then he took a glance at you, who continued to watch him with nothing but pride filled in your eyes at how far he has come.

One part of your heart was happy that he still remembered you even if the both of you can never be together again, and another part of it ached at the past feelings and the shattering heartbreak.

Your grip tightened around the lightstick in your hand. Chan saw the way your chest rose and fell unevenly, saw the way your lips pressed together as if holding back tears.

With their final act, for a long time Chan's gaze only glued to your row, wrapping up their show for the night.

One by one Stray Kids bid their goodbyes and began disappearing into the darkness. The crowd erupted into cheers, some were emotional, others wore a huge smile on their faces for having the best night of their lives.

While you remained not knowing how to feel.

Not knowing if you should feel happy for finally having the courage to attend a concert and see Chan after so many years or hold your heart that's in pieces and go back home knowing that's the final you're giving yourself to ever see him again.

With a low exhale, you turned away to the exit when the same security guard who helped you inside stopped in front of you.

“Can I help you?” You asked, feeling slightly intimidated by his tall figure.

“Wear this,” he handed you a black mask, “and come with me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the black mask in your hand. “I—I'm sorry, but what is this for?” you asked, your voice cautious.

The guard remained impassive, his gaze steady but not unkind. “You’ll know soon enough. Just put it on and follow me.”

Hesitation gripped you. You swallowed hard, your heart was still racing from the concert, from Chan’s lingering gaze that felt like it was reaching deep into your soul.

Should you run away? But something in the guard’s gaze said that it could be something you might not expect, so reluctantly, you slipped the mask over your face, tugging it securely behind your ears before nodding at the guard.

Without another word, he turned and led you through a side passage that veered away from the exiting crowd.

The further you walked, the louder your heartbeat became, echoing in your ears like the remnants of a song you weren’t ready to let go of.

The corridor was dimly lit, the hum of staff members and distant voices filling the space. It smelled of sweat, stage fog, and something unmistakably nostalgic.

You were led past a heavy curtain, and suddenly, the guard stopped. “Wait here,” he said firmly before disappearing behind a door, leaving you standing in what looked like the backstage area.

You blinked, taking in the chaotic but empty space around you—rows of clothing racks, half-empty water bottles scattered across tables, a faint hum of music still reverberating through the walls.

As you turned around, you caught the sight of two guys, standing frozen in place like they had just seen a ghost. You recognised them instantly (well obviously), memories flooding back when you were like your own little friend group.

Han’s mouth fell unhinged while Hyunjin's eyes threatened to pop out of his sockets.

Your heart raced like a freight train, swallowing hard you smiled. “Uh…hi?”

“No way.” Han was the first to recover, shaking his head with a bewildered chuckle. “Are we dreaming? Is she actually here?” He nudged Hyunjin hard enough to make him stumble. “Dude, say something.”

Hyunjin’s lips parted, his gaze scanning you like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

Slowly the other members appeared one after another, gathering before you, like a long-lost family reunion frozen in time. Each of them stood there, wide-eyed, their expressions shifting from disbelief to cautious joy.

Your chest tightened, emotions welling up at the sight of them all together again. Memories hit you like waves—late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and the way they always made you feel like you belonged.

“I…” you started, your voice faltering under their weighty stares. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Han’s smile faded slightly, his eyes softening. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You just—poof. Gone.”

Hyunjin finally found his voice, quieter than before. “We looked for you, you know? But you disappeared without a trace.”

You swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at you. “I had to. I... I couldn't stay.”

Before anyone could respond, a familiar face cut through the air, appearing behind Changbin. The moment you saw him, your heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Air was knocked out of your lungs.

Chan stepped into view, his breath hitching with a soft smile the second his eyes locked onto yours.

“Hey my love,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, yet it echoed through the silence like a deafening confession.

You bit your lip as your chin wobbled, tears gushing up your eyes, so close to falling. You stood rooted to the spot, your pulse pounding in your ears. His dark eyes swept over you, lingering on every familiar detail as if he was afraid that you’d disappear again if he blinked.

Chan walked towards you, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls, each step feeling like a lifetime as he closed the distance between you.

You touched your elbow, hoping it would hold you from falling on the floor, your breathing increased with every passing second.

“Let's give them a moment…” you faintly heard Felix tell the others, you could see them disappearing but nothing could be registered other than Chan who stood in front of you.

Present and achingly real.

Tears blurred your vision, the moment you blinked they rolled down your cheeks. Chan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his hand twitching as if unsure whether to touch you or not.

But then, without another thought, he cupped your cheek so gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled.

Words were stuck in your throat. Time was frozen. A longing warmth engulfed you. You leaned into his touch instinctively, your hands trembling as they reached up to hold his wrist.

A shaky breath left your lips as you held onto him, trying to soak in the warmth you had been deprived of for so long. Chan smiled softly and pulled you into his arms holding you tightly against his chest, as if afraid you might slip away again.

Your eyes widened, then closed, your hands gripping his back, hugging him back equally tightly.

Held back sobs broke free, you choked as you let your tears fall and soak his top, holding onto Chan unwilling to let him go.

Chan held the back of your head, not speaking a word but his throat was tight, holding back his emotions biting the lower lip, his eyes shut but lashes brimming with tears.

His arms tightened around you, his grip was desperate, his heart hammering against your ear, a silent confession of everything he never got to say.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice raw and heavy with years of unsaid words. “I’m so…so sorry.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, pressing your face deeper into his chest. “Don’t,” you managed to croak out between your sobs.

Your body shook with quiet sobs against him, your fists clutching the fabric of his top as if it could hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

"I missed you," you choked out, the confession slipping through your tears.

"I never wanted to let you go," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I didn't have a choice... they—"

"I know," you whispered, cutting him off, your voice raw with pain.

You remembered that devastating evening when you walked out of his apartment, closing the door behind you and heard a loud crash soon after. With every ounce left in your body you walked away, refusing to look back.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes, those same dark, expressive eyes you fell in love with, were bloodshot and glassy with unshed tears. You could see everything in them. The pain. The regret. The love that never faded.

“I left that day,” you continued, your voice trembling, “telling you my heart belonged to you… yours to love and yours to break.” Your lips wobbled, fresh tears slipping down. “And it still does, Chan. Even after all this time.”

Chan’s face contorted in anguish, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks again, trying to wipe away years of pain. "I never wanted to break you," he whispered. “I'm so sorry for hurting you my love, I'm so fucking sorry…”

You swallowed hard, your eyes searching his. "Did you ever move on?"

Chan shook his head instantly, his grip on you tightening. “No,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “I tried, but...how could I? You were everywhere. In my music, in my dreams, in every damn thing I did.”

He laughed bitterly, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I wrote songs about you... but I couldn't say your name. I couldn't even let them know who they were really about."

You sniffled, a small, broken smile tugging at your lips, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. Chan let out a choked laugh, pulling you even closer.

Silence stretched between you, the weight of the years apart pressing down, but in this moment, none of it mattered. It was just you and him, tangled in a mess of heartbreak and longing.

Your hand cupped his face, his skin was hot under your palm, he leaned in, soaking your touch, as if this was the first time in five years he could finally let his feelings out.

Your heart pounded against your chest, but you whispered, "I don't know what happens now.”

Chan opened his eyes, brushing a strand of hair being your ear, a desperate kind of hope in his gaze.

"We try," he said softly. "If you'll let me...we try again. I don't care what it takes, sweetheart. I lost you once, and I can't do it again.”

The scars never healed and wounds were still fresh. Could you do it again? Could you believe in him? Let yourself fall back into the world you once built together, knowing how easily it could shatter all over again?

His gaze was searching yours, silently pleading for an answer. But he could see it, the fear etched across your face, the hesitation flickering in your eyes.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice laced with understanding. “I know you’re afraid. I am too.” He leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “But I swear, I won’t let you get hurt again. I won't let you go.”

Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but before you could say anything, Chan’s mouth crashed with yours.

You froze, eyes widened, but you melted into him in a heartbeat, letting his tongue slip past your lips and kiss you fiercely.

Love, hurt, fear, anger, desperation.

His hand held your neck as your fingers snaked through his hair, teeth against teeth, breaths colliding, there was no room to breathe.

You gasped against his mouth, the tears slipping between your lips, but neither of you pulled away. The kiss deepened, urgent and unrelenting, you both were trying to make up for all the lost time, for all the moments you could have had but were cruelly stolen from you.

Finally, when air became an undeniable necessity, Chan pulled back, his breath ragged and hot against you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “For everything. For letting them take you away from me. I should have fought harder. I should have—”

You silenced him with a soft brush of your fingers against his lips, shaking your head as fresh tears welled up. “We both got hurt, Chan,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“But I always hoped that one day I could find my way back to you.”

You played a trembling smile that made Chan’s breath catch, his dark eyes glistening with a mix of relief and longing.

The weight of what felt like an eternity of lost years pressed heavily between you both. You remembered the nights you spent staring at the empty space beside you, wondering if he missed you as much as you missed him.

And now, standing in front of him, you saw it, the same ache, the same yearning in his eyes. He missed you just as much, refusing to move on and playing a smile on his face that was convincing enough to make everyone think he was fine.

But only the ones who knew, knew that he wasn't.

Chan's fingers intertwined with yours, his forehead pressing on yours as he exhaled a long breath, living in the moment.

“Can we try again?” His breath ghosted over your skin, his voice so raw and filled with a quiet desperation that it made your chest tighten painfully.

Your lips parted, your pulse hammering in your ears. “What if we end up breaking all over again?” The vulnerability in your voice made his brows furrow, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that almost unraveled you.

His thumb traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “Then we’ll piece ourselves back together,” he said softly, his voice steady yet laced with the same fear you held.

You swallowed hard, staring into his eyes—the eyes you had once memorized, the eyes that haunted your dreams every night. “I’m still scared,” you admitted, voice shaking.

Chan let out a breathy chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I’m scared too, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“But I’d rather be scared with you than be without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he was quick to catch it with his thumb, his touch lingering against your skin. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his voice cracking.

“I missed you too, Channie. Every single day.”

Chan bit his lip smiling yet his eyes held a wave of fresh tears, his dimple deepening, that same dimple that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

“Will you stay with me?” He asked for the third time, hope still lingering across his features, refusing to give up.

He fought himself, blamed himself, hated himself for letting you slip away from him that easily.

But now he was determined to win you back no matter the cost. Because sometimes the heart remembers what the mind tries to forget. And love has a way of finding its way back, even through the wreckage.

A shiver ran down your spine, voices in your mind screaming for you to not fall for false hope even though your heart begged you to not let him go.

Your fingers reached up, tracing the curve of his cheek, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Chan watched you curiously and cautiously, you closed your eyes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you to a reality that felt both terrifying and beautiful.

And in that moment, despite the fears clawing at your soul, you nodded—slowly, hesitantly—but it was enough.

His hug engulfed you again, letting out a shaky sob but traced with a low laugh, relief washing over him, finally giving the chance to forgive himself.

“Thank you,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

And you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, a real, genuine smile playing on your lips for the first time, letting yourself get lost in the world you once walked out from.

Bang!

The loud sound of the popper tube made both your hearts threaten to jump out of your throats, pieces of shiny gold and silver confetti swirling around you in a cascade of shimmering light.

You gasped, instinctively gripping onto Chan’s top as laughter erupted from behind you. The guys stood there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous kids, their faces full of warmth and excitement.

Felix, holding the empty confetti popper, yelled “Surprise!” breaking the emotional tension with his infectious, sunshine energy.

You blinked, feeling the weight of the moment give way to laughter as Hyunjin threw his arms in the air. “Finally! I was starting to think you two would just stare at each other forever.”

Chan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, his arm securely wrapped around your waist and the other hand rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and radiant.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you wiped the tears away, feeling the love, the warmth of the people who once felt like family. Changbin walked up, his usual tough exterior melting as he patted Chan on the shoulder.

“Don’t mess it up this time.”

“I won’t,” Chan said firmly and his gaze locked with yours. “Not again.”

Felix bounced over, wrapping both you and Chan in a sudden hug, his voice soft but full of emotion. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you,” he murmured. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I missed you all too,” you whispered, your heart swelling.

Chan’s fingers tightened around your waist, grounding you in the moment. He leaned in, his voice low and meant only for you. “So… are you staying?”

You gazed up at him, the memories of your love flashing behind your eyes. The late-night conversations, the way he used to hold you when the world felt too heavy, the way you were destined to find your way back to each other, no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, a soft smile breaking across your lips. “Yeah, Channie. I’m staying.”

A loud cheer erupted from the guys, Felix jumping up and down with I.N, Han dramatically fake-crying into Hyunjin’s shoulder, Lee Know nodding, draping his arm around Changbin's shoulder, showing a thumbs up at Chan, while Seungmin simply smirked, satisfied.

Chan’s eyes shone with something you hadn’t seen in a long time, pure, unfiltered happiness. He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“We’re gonna make it work this time. I promise.”

You smiled looking up at Chan and leaned your head against his body, his lips brushing against your hair.

Just because something didn't work out the first time, doesn't mean it can't be even better the second time around.

And sometimes, the love that got away is the same love that comes back to stay.

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

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cyripticchronicler · 1 year ago

Note

i adore your writing & i had an random idea! (it’s absolutely okay if you don’t do it, i just thought i’d request <3)

any of the marauders having a crush on marauders!reader & the other maraduers just straight up teasing him about it all the time yet reader is SO oblivious to it & thinks the maraduer just flirts with everyone 😭

Teasing Words and Hidden Feelings

Paring: James Potter x Reader

Summary: You're used to Sirius and Remus's teasing, you just wish the things they always teased James about were true.

A/N: I haven't written in forever and this definitely isn't my best work. But thank you for requesting! I appreciate it and hope this fic did your request justice. Also please ignore the really bad summary and title lmao.

Warnings: Not proofread, kissing, alcohol, spoiler for the ending of Romeo and Juliet??

Masterlist

The candle-lit hall glows brightly in the dark of the night, chattering bouncing off the stone walls as people eat the feast in front of them. Remus and Sirius sit across from you, a knowing glint in their eyes as they huddle together, whispers drowned out by the bustling crowd in the great hall.

“What?” You question nervously, your hand fiddling with the hem of your skirt as they cast another look your way.

James sits beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder when he notices the confusion on your face. “Ignore them, love, they’re being idiots.” He shoots them a glare and Sirius waggles his eyebrows. “Sorry…Love,” He says to you, bursting out in laughter while he smacks his knee.

Your heart sinks at the feeling of being left out, like you were missing the joke but you push those thoughts away, shooting James a warm smile and shoving food in your mouth.

You’re relatively new to the group. James, Remus and Sirius have been friends for years, even hanging out over the summer, but you’ve only joined their group just last year, and you can’t help but feel you’re missing something when it comes to their jokes.

They've been nothing but kind and inclusive but it’s obvious that there’s something they’re not telling you. And when Sirius starts dramatically confessing his love to Remus while James sits beside you, tense as a rock, you’ve decided to just ask.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your tone light as you look between the boys. Sirius stops what he’s doing, a mischievous smirk gracing his harsh features, “I’m acting out-”

“-The scene for the play he’s in.” James interrupts, laughing awkwardly and running a hand through his hair with flushed cheeks. Your heart tugs at his laugh and you smile, knowing you’d never get sick of hearing his joy.

“You’re in a play, Sirius?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion as you rack your mind to figure out whether the school even does plays. “Where are you doing the play? I’d love to come.” You smile supportively, though it wavers when you notice James cringing and Remus shooting you a pitying look.

“Oh,” You force a laugh, “You’re not are you?”

Sirius shakes his head, grinning wide, “No, but I’d be great in a play. I mean, I have the looks for it.” He runs his hand through his silky black hair, posing and winking, “I could be part of that muggle play, Romeo and Juliet. Then I’d meet my true love.” He jokes and a small smile pulls at your lips.

James chuckles, his arm hitting yours, “Maybe we should be part of the play, and you’re my Juliet.” Your cheeks flush ferociously at his words, eyes widening but you force yourself to shrug it off, knowing he flirts with everyone. “Yeah, maybe.”

Sirius groans, capturing your attention once again. “Did you hear that, James? Maybe. I’m telling you, darling, he’s going to go back to his dorm and cry himself to sleep. How could you be so cruel?”

You scowl playfully, “He’s going to need to try a lot harder than that if he wants me to be his Juliet.” From the corner of your eye, James nods, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. You turn to look at him fully, shooting him a small smile that he returns.

“You know they both kill themselves, right?” Remus questions from where he sits, silently observing the conversation.

“Oh.”

✰✰✰

The soft crackling of the fireplace has your eyes fluttering shut, moving your hand so that it’s placed under your cheek in a makeshift pillow. You know you should probably head up to your dorm for an actual nap, but the warmth of the common room draws you in until you’re lying on the couch in front of the fire, the hand that’s not under your chin moving to cover your eyes from the bright sun that reflects through the window.

It’s Saturday and you’ve planned to sleep the draining week behind, the clear sky allowing you to rest in an empty common room since everyone else decided to soak in the sun.

You’re close to falling asleep, ready to sleep your problems away when the common room door opens, the familiar sounds of the boys laugh causing you to snap your eyes open.

You smile at the snarky comments aimed at each other, sitting up to peek at them over the couch. Remus spots your slow movements, grinning at you with a roll of his eyes and coming to sit in the armchair across from you.

“Were you trying to sleep?” He asks, amusement shining in his eyes when you nod, returning to your previous position lying down, eyes fighting to stay open.

“How was Hogsmeade?” You attempt to converse, though you wish to sleep. “It was good!” Sirius answers for Remus, patting your head playfully as he moves towards the other couch, legs splayed out in front of him, leaving no room for James and you roll your eyes with a smile, forcing yourself to sit up so there’s room for him.

“Thank you, Love.” He winks and you blush, the strength in your neck failing you as your head falls on his shoulder. He tenses and holds his breath, cheeks turning a deep red.

Remus notices and grins cheekily, “Remember to breathe, James, or else you’ll never get to ask her on a date.”

Your eyes widen and you groan, moving to sit up properly. James grips the back of your neck, moving you so you’re back against his shoulder, your heart beating wildly in your chest, resounding in your ears. “It’s okay, love, I’ll make sure to ask you out on a date before I die.” He mutters, playfulness coating his voice though his smile is strained. You scoff to cover the squeal that threatens to escape your lips, “Go find another girl to torture please.” You don’t mean it, wanting nothing more for James to mean the words he’s saying.

But he’s a flirt. You’ve seen the way he talks to others, the way they blush and bite their lips, you just wish he didn’t have such a big effect on you. That he didn’t cause your heart to speed up, your palms to turn sweaty, or your body to burn from his gaze.

You lay back down, knees curled up to your chest so James has room, you close your eyes, planning to ignore the boys as they chat quietly.

You’re half asleep when James grabs your calf, moving so your feet are atop his legs, thumb gently stroking your ankle.

“You’re so whipped.”

“Shut up, Moony.”

✰✰✰

Your screams are drowned out by the others around you, hands clapping while you jump up and down, breaking out into laughter when you make eye contact with Lily who’s cheering just as hard.

James’ smile is the sun itself, his wide grin shining as he soars through the sky, arm up high, showing off the golden snitch.

His eyes search the crowd, landing on you and you grin, biting your lip to contain your laughter. His eyes crinkle, head tilting in an invite for you to get off the stands.

You make your way with the rest of the crowd, linking arms with Remus so you don’t get split up. You’re talking excitedly when you make it to the field, hands moving frantically in front of you. “He was amazing, Remus! He was so fast- Merlin he’s incredible.” You laugh, jumping up and down.

Remus chuckles. “Why don’t you tell him that? He’d grow red faster than you could blink.” Hitting him playfully on the arm, you roll your eyes. “Oh shush.”

Your eyes track James, talking to Sirius with a big smile. You run up, pulling him in for a tight hug. “You did so well,” You whisper, breath fanning across his neck, unknowingly sending goosebumps up his spine.

He kisses your head, your heart skipping a beat, “Thank you, Love. It means a lot to me.” With one hand stroking your cheek gently, the other moves to push a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You turn to mush, eyes softening. “James, I-“

“Quick Remus do the same,” You frown, turning around to see Sirius forcing Remus’ hand on his cheek, giving him his best doe eyes.

“What the-“

James forces your eyes back on him, a tight smile on his face. “Ignore them. What were you going to say?”

You shake your head, hands moving to hold his arm, muscles straining against the tight quidditch shirt, “Nothing. Are we celebrating the Gryffindor win tonight?”

He nods, walking off and not casting a glance toward Remus and Sirius behind you, “Yeah, you coming?”

You nod, “For a little bit.”

He winks, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I'm glad, It won’t be a party without you.”

You both jump as Sirius interrupts our conversation, “I’m coming to the party too, Padfoot. Are you just so so happy I’m coming? Will it make the party a million times better?” he pouts, doe eyes aimed at James and you snort.

James groans, pushing him away playfully. “Fuck off.”

He grins, moving so he’s in front of you both, walking backwards, “I see who your favourite is. It’ll never be me, will it?” He sighs sadly, lips turning down into a pout.

“She is my favourite,” James mutters, smiling cheekily and your cheeks flush.

✰✰✰

The party is in full swing by the time you make it to the common room and everyone cheers when James enters. You grin, moving to give James the spotlight but he grips your hand tightly, ensuring you don’t leave his side.

With a flush, you grab a random bottle of alcohol, pour it into a cup and practically chug it down, relishing in the buzz it gives you.

“You planning on getting drunk?” James asks, amusement shining in his eyes when you pour yourself another drink. “Merlin, yes,” You laugh. He rolls his eyes, hands reaching up to pull the cup from your nimble hands.

Before you have time to glare, he refills it and takes a small sip before handing it back to you.

You grin, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the crowd. He gets swept away, conversing with people about the game. You find Lily and Alice to talk to for a bit, downing your drink and finding another.

By the time James returns to your side from where you’re standing by yourself in the corner, eying the crowd, you’re more than tipsy, on the way to drunk.

“You look so pretty,” James mutters in your ear, causing you to grin. “You’re also pretty.” His cheeks flush a deep red, suddenly shy. “Thank you, love.”

You take a sip from your fifth drink of the night, “You’re also hot.” You don’t flush or show an ounce of shame, the alcohol giving you confidence.

He grins through red cheeks, “Yeah?” You nod. “You’re also hot.” His hands land on your waist, pulling you into him. You shake your head, “I’m pretty. Don’t know about hot though.”

James shakes his head immediately. “No, Love. You’re so hot. You make my knees weak every time I see you. Do you know how hard it is to control myself when you walk in, drop-dead gorgeous and looking so fine? Trust me, you’re hot.”

You sober slightly at his words, moving your hands up to link behind his neck. Your palms stick with sweat, legs turn to mush beneath you. “Yeah?” He just nods in response, eyes tracking your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

Without thinking about the consequences, you pull him in.

He responds immediately, lips meeting yours with an urgency, his hands gripping your hips tight. His hair in your fingers, you pull him harder against you, growing dizzy at his groan. He deepens the kiss, devouring you completely.

The lack of oxygen forces you apart, lips wet and swollen. James doesn’t go far, his forehead falling against yours. You suddenly grow nervous, looking down at your bodies, pressed against each other. “I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head immediately, placing a kiss on your nose as his hands rub soothing circles from where they now rest on your waist. “You can kiss me anytime, anywhere. No need to ask.”

You grow hopeful, eyes lighting up, “Does that mean you like me too?” The room is crowded but the way James is staring at you makes you feel like the only person in the world, the crowd droned out by the happiness and love reflecting in his eyes.

“Honey, I love you,” He states sincerely, nothing but honesty painting his features. Your mouth stretches into a wide smile, heart flipping in giddy, “I love you too, James.”

“Thank the heavens above,” He mutters playfully and you laugh loudly, fingers fisting his shirt.

✰✰✰

The great hall is obnoxiously loud, the early morning light shining through the pristine windows making you squint, a frown pulling at your lips. The pounding in your head is hard to ignore and painful enough to make you regret drinking so much last night.

But James is sitting next to you, his large hand in yours under the table while his thigh presses against your own. The subtle touches warm you over, an unmistakable flush crawling up your neck. “You look so cute,” James whispers into your ear, his soft eyes, filled with admiration inspecting your face.

You smile wildly. “Thank you, so do you.” His free hand drops the spoon he was holding and brushes a stray strand of hair from my face. He leans closer, hand cradling my jaw gently. A loud clearing of the throat from across the table has us looking away, your eyes narrowing at the confused looks on Sirius and Remus’ faces.

Sirius shrugs his confusion off with a grin, twisting his body so he’s facing Remus, hands moving dramatically in front of him. “Remus! Please, let me call you cute and almost kiss you!”

Remus turns to face him, one of his scarred hands cradling his jaw with a mischievous grin. “Of course! But I’m going to be oblivious while my friends grow sick of our pining.”

“You know we’re together…Right?”

Their wide eyes whip around to face us, jaws to the floor. Remus’ hands are still on Sirius’ jaw as he mutters in shock, “What?”

#fanfiction #james potter #james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #James Potter x reader #james potter x reader hurt/comfort #james potter oneshots #marauders era #the marauders #marauders #james potter angst to fluff

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demonic0angel · 8 months ago

Note

Do you think you can make dannyxdick content? Anything is fine really!

(Sure! I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun describing it, but I don't think I'm as into it as I am with Dick x Dan.)

Dick sighed as he trudged through the streets of Blüdhaven. He was exhausted and wet and irritated, and as he continued to walk through the rain, he stopped when he spotted a colorful flyer. He picked it up gingerly and read it, eyes widening.

"Phantom Circus! Free on Opening Night on XXX Street at 7 o'clock!"

Dick checked his phone for the time and then took off in a run when noticing that it was already 6:53.

He arrived just barely on time and was quickly ushered inside of the large tent that was located on the edge of Blüdhaven. It was already crowded and the familiar smell of peanuts and popcorn filled the air alongside the boisterous chatter of guests and spectators.

Dick already felt better being in such a nostalgic environment and he sat down as the lights began to turn off.

A beautiful, tall woman with red hair, dressed as the ringmaster, spoke to the audience.

"Welcome to the Phantom Circus! We hope you enjoy our show. But be warned... not everything is as it seems...." she disappeared with a puff of smoke and there were cheers.

Dick grinned and relaxed to watch the show.

It wasn't as simple or bold as Haly's Circus, but it was fun and extremely creative. There were dagger shows and magic tricks and actually funny jokes, and it was incredibly enjoyable as the show continued.

As time went on, Dick's eyes found the hidden stagehands who were attaching silk ropes and lines along the circus ceiling.

He perked up. Was there going to be an acrobatics show?

And sure enough, the lights shone down on a person clad in black and white, standing several feet above the audience. Their hair was black and a mask covered their face, but their lean and lithe body reminded Dick of an acrobat such as himself.

"And now... the death defying Phantom! Watch and see as Phantom flies above the crowd like a ghost!"

Dick's breath caught. Phantom prepared himself, hands raised before he jumped.

He fell through the air and Dick stood up, alongside many people, to watch him fall.

He did several mid-air flips and then landed on a cloud swing, grabbing hold of the rope to swing several times. There were cries of surprise and as Phantom swung, he threw himself off and then grabbed hold of the silk rope that hung several feet away. He tangled himself up in the silk and then made an aesthetic pose.

The audience clapped loudly and Dick joined in, in awe despite seeing acrobatic acts every night as a vigilante.

Phantom continued his routine doing more and more impossible and beautiful stunts. Dick's breath caught each time as he watched him soar through the air like a bird.

By the end, Dick couldn't help but dream of flying alongside him.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny phantom x dc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #ask #danny fenton #anon ask #dick grayson #death defying ship #ty for the ask!#jazz fenton

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coffeeshades · 10 months ago

Text

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART XI

—this must be the place

summary: two idiots who got their shit together and now love each other unconditionally.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut, p in v, unprotected sex, lots of fluff, cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, dual pov so watch out for that, and reminding everyone this is a work of fiction so just sit back and relax and enjoy! but if this isn't your thing, move along :)

masterlist!

January 18th, 2024

Los Angeles, CA

January was a whirlwind. Awards season came faster than either of you could’ve anticipated. After years of grueling work, both of you were at the pinnacle of your careers. The Golden Globes were just the beginning, and somehow, you found yourself receiving best actress nods at every award show that followed. Each time your name was announced, you were stunned—as if each award was a surprise gift wrapped in disbelief.

Pedro? He was right there beside you, proud, beaming, like he’d won every accolade himself.

And in a way, he had.

The Emmys came next. Pedro was dressed like a hot English teacher—a title you bestowed on him while posing for photos on the carpet. He blushed at your words, but his imagination clearly ran wild through the entire ceremony. You’d catch his mind drifting, the corners of his mouth twitching with thoughts you could only guess.

But when the time came, he lost his category. You turned to him with an exaggerated sad face, eyes wide, and before he could even fake another mournful look, you took his face between your hands and whispered in his ear, “You might be an Emmy loser, but you’re my Emmy loser, baby.”

He chuckled softly, a mix of amusement and adoration, his hand resting on your thigh, fingers tracing absentmindedly. “Maybe we can celebrate the loss later,” he teased, and you grinned, your shared laughter barely masked by the applause surrounding you.

February 25th, 2024

Los Angeles, CA

Pedro wore Prada that night. A crisp white button-down shirt, half the buttons undone, his chest peeking through like a prince stepping off a ship in some romantic novel. His hair was so much longer, curling softly around his ears, a curl decorating his forehead, and when you both arrived, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“You look dreamy,” you’d whispered, your hand lingering on his arm.

You shared a tequila shot for luck before the ceremony, a ritual that seemed to work for both of you. When Pedro’s name was called, you watched in awe as he walked up to the stage, shock evident on his face. He was adorable, overwhelmed, and completely unprepared, but still effortlessly funny.

"And thank you to my love for being my biggest supporter," he said during his speech, eyes finding you in the crowd. "I love you."

The audience roared with laughter as he joked about having a panic attack. You covered your face with your hands, laughing with him, but your heart swelled with pride. When your category came not long after, you got up there, thanked everyone, and finished with, “And last but not least, thank you to now SAG Award winner Pedro Pascal for also being my biggest supporter."

Later that night, you posted a picture of the two of you holding your statuettes, captioning it, “a couple of winners,” a nod to the moment and your shared triumph.

March had rolled faster than anticipated. The Oscars themselves were here, and there you were, sitting in the middle of Hollywood’s most glamorous circus, your name announced as a Best Actress nominee. The whole thing was surreal—like, pinch-me-I’m-dreaming kind of surreal.

Pedro sat next to you, gripping your hand for dear life. He had been holding it for the last half hour, unable to let go, which made you wonder if he was comforting you or himself. Maybe both.

You gave him a quick glance. He was calm on the outside, but you could tell by the subtle way his thumb kept moving over your knuckles that his nerves were bubbling underneath too. You squeezed his hand back, your silent way of saying, Hey, we got this, right? Though, in truth, you weren’t sure who “we” were anymore. You hadn’t breathed since they started announcing the nominees.

And then it came—the moment. The envelope opened, the pause, the suspense that felt like it dragged on for an eternity, and then... someone else’s name. Not yours.

The applause in the room felt both deafening and distant, like you were watching it all through a fog. You let out the breath you’d been holding since they called your name and tried to steady yourself. You smiled, clapping for the winner because, hey, they deserved it. But inside, you were thinking, Well, damn.

Before you could even process the mix of relief and mild disappointment, Pedro turned to you. His eyes were gentle but mischievous, the exact combination that both made you feel better and also a little nervous. He tilted his head, looking at you like he was about to drop the world’s most important line.

“You might be an Oscar loser,” he said, grinning that cheeky grin of his, “but you’re my Oscar loser.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing, because of course he would say that. But he leaned in and kissed your forehead, so sweet and sincere, that you felt your heart melt just a little. Leave it to him to make losing feel like a win.

You rolled your eyes, more at how much you loved him than anything else. “Nice one, P. I feel so much better now,” you teased, shaking your head.

"You did the same to me; I had to."

"That's just cruel."

You elbowed him, laughing despite everything. Because at the end of the day, you realized something—you hadn’t lost at all. You were sitting there with the person who made you laugh when you needed it most, who held your hand through the stress and teased you when you least expected it. And that, as far as you were concerned, was the best kind of win.

•••

The next few months were filled with so much love and so much laughter. Pedro went with you to every concert you had scheduled, sitting backstage or in the crowd with your friends, watching you command the stage. It became your new routine, traveling to different cities with Pedro beside you for each show.

June arrived, and with it, Pedro’s filming schedule kicked back into full gear. This time, though, it was a little different. Instead of the usual months of long-distance calls and late-night texts across time zones, he was filming in New York. That meant he came home every night to your shared brownstone.

It felt wonderfully domestic.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch, the windows open to let in a soft breeze. You could hear Pedro moving around in the kitchen, humming to himself as he tried to figure out what to make for dinner. He had arrived early today and insisted on taking care of it. The scent of garlic and olive oil was already beginning to fill the room.

You smiled to yourself, getting up to join him. “Need some help, Chef?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him stir something in a pan, his brow furrowed in concentration.

He looked up, a grin spreading across his face when he saw you. “I’m handling it. Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control.”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to peek into the pan. “Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time."

“Okay, first of all, I told you that was ‘blackened’ for flavor,” he shot back, pointing the spatula at you. “And second, tonight’s different. I’m on it.”

You laughed, moving closer and slipping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “Mmm, smells good though. Maybe I’ll give you a pass this time.”

He leaned into your embrace, his free hand coming up to hold yours around his middle. “Only a pass?” he teased, turning his head slightly to catch your eye. “I was aiming for full marks.”

“You’ll have to earn that,” you replied, your voice playful as you squeezed him tighter. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

He twisted around in your arms to face you, a mock-serious expression on his face. “You are looking at a masterful creation of... stir-fry.”

“Fancy.”

“Very. It’s gourmet,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer. “It’s got vegetables and everything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh; the ease between you was just so comfortable.

It wasn’t about the food or the dinner itself—it was about the quiet rhythm of life you’d found together, the simple joy of these little moments. The kind of comfort that only comes from knowing someone so well and loving every bit of it.

As the food sizzled away on the stove, Pedro pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand still resting on your back. “I like this,” he murmured.

“What, my expert critique of your cooking? Because I can keep going."

He laughed softly. “No, I mean…this. Us. Coming home to you every night. It feels right.”

A smile spread across your face as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “It does, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “I could get used to this.”

“Well,” you said, grinning as you stood on your toes to kiss him, “good thing you’re stuck with me.”

He kissed you back, his lips warm and familiar, lingering just long enough to make you lose your train of thought. “Best decision I ever made,” he murmured against your lips, pulling you closer.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling the warmth of him seep into you, grounding you in the moment.

“Alright, mister. Let’s eat before your gourmet stir-fry turns into another ‘blackened’ creation.”

“Noted,” he laughed, turning back to the stove with you still wrapped around him.

July 25th, 2024

San Diego, California

The morning had a slowness to it that Pedro liked.

The two of you were still wrapped up in the sheets, limbs intertwined in a comfortable, familiar tangle. The sunlight crept lazily through the curtains. He felt your body stir next to his, your warmth pulling him further out of sleep. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, soft kisses trailing across your skin, while his fingers lazily traced patterns on your back.

"You nervous for today?" you asked, your voice still sleepy but carrying a smile that he could hear.

Pedro groaned slightly, his morning voice raspy. "A little," he admitted, his face half-buried in the pillow.

"You’ll be great. They’re going to eat you up," you said, teasing but reassuring, your lips brushing his neck. "Anything I can do to help?"

He smirked, his eyes still closed as his hand found its way down the small of your back, pulling you closer. "Actually, yeah… I’ve got a couple ideas."

You laughed, straddling him, your hair falling over your face as you leaned down for a slow, lingering kiss. The kind of kiss that promised more, the kind that was a language only the two of you spoke. Pedro’s hands moved with familiarity, tracing the lines of your body as if he were memorizing you all over again.

He discarded yours and his clothes too. Your perfect breasts in his face as soon as you straddled him again, knees on either side of his thighs as you sat down on his cock. His head fell back on the soft pillow as you dug your nails into his broad shoulders.

For a while, it was just your steady breathing as you rode him, smooth and constant. Your moans—a delicious symphony to his ears—filled the room, mingling with his own groans of pleasure. And then both of your movements became more urgent, and he held you down to his chest, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands gripping your back tightly as he pushed himself deeper inside you.

"Need-need you deeper."

He heard you say, and with a low growl, he complied. "Lay down."

You quickly got on your front, head turned to the side, ass in the air, and he entered you from behind. He filled you, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, stretching you in the most delicious way.

"Yes, yes, yes."

It fueled him to see you and hear you so fucked out and desperate for more.

"Goddamn," he breathed, pulling out before gliding in again, this time a little harder, a little deeper. He repeated the motion several times, each time pushing you into the bed harder and harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. It's filthy. His hands dug into your hips. Your moans grew louder—consuming him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

You were close; he could tell by the way you were clenching around him. He cannot take it anymore. It's stupidly, brilliantly too good. Too intoxicating. He leans forward, chest pressed against your back, skin slick with sweat. "Come for me, baby."

He sees your eyes go blank as you reach your peak, your body shuddering with pleasure. The sight of you unraveling beneath him pushes him over the edge, and he follows right after you, his hips turning erratic, heat spreading inside him, and his release mixing with yours.

You don't move, and neither does he. He stays buried deep inside you, both of you trying to catch your breath and come back down from the euphoric high you just experienced together. The only sound in the room is heavy breathing and the occasional whisper of a kiss against your skin.

•••

Later, the chaos of Comic-Con surrounded him, but Pedro was good at playing it cool, even if he didn't really feel like it. He’d been in the industry long enough to know how to handle the intensity of the spotlight, but today, something felt a little more electrified. It could’ve been the crowds, but as soon as you arrived and caught sight of him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Oh my god, what did Marvel give you?” you said, grinning up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “You look ten years younger—I’m scared.”

Pedro chuckled, turning a little and glancing down at himself. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, babe. You know that.”

"Right. Smoke, mirrors, and a little bit of Marvel magic."

You stole a quick kiss. "I'll be right here when you're done, P."

He loved how you could always ease him with just a few words. No matter the situation, no matter how chaotic or overwhelming things got, you had this way of cutting through the noise and grounding him. It was something he never took for granted, especially in moments like this—before the whirlwind, when he needed to remember who he was underneath it all.

"Now, get out there and win them over, handsome."

•••

Summer turned into fall; life became a blend of filming and fleeting moments of domestic bliss.

Pedro’s schedule took him to London for Fantastic Four, and you had your own projects to attend to, which meant falling back into the familiar rhythm of long-distance. It was tough—long nights filled with texts and video calls, stolen moments across time zones—but somehow, the two of you made it work. You'd promised you would.

One night, as you lay together in bed before your next trip, he whispered, “I’d rather have you 3 days a year than anyone else all the time.”

You smiled.

Weeks later, Pedro went back to New York after a short break and found solace in the little routines.

He loved coming home to you.

He found himself doing little things for you. He’d never been much of a "chores guy," but there was something solid about washing dishes while you hummed in the next room, or folding laundry. It made up for the time he spent away, the guilt he sometimes carried for being gone so much. Doing these little things felt like his way of making sure you always knew how much he loved you, even when he wasn’t physically there.

One night, after a particularly long day for you, you flopped into bed. He was finishing brushing his teeth in the bathroom. As he walked into the bedroom, he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes. You were sprawled out on the bed, your blouse slightly rolled up. He pressed a knee against the edge of the bed and hovered over you.

You looked up at him, your voice a soft whisper. “You’re the only calm thing in my life.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at that, his mouth instinctively forming a smile. “And you’re the best kind of chaos in mine,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. But beneath the joke was something deeper—a truth he felt in every fiber of his being. You had become his home.

He crawled back down slowly, peppering you with gentle kisses along your neck and sternum. You unbuttoned your blouse as he continued to trail kisses down your body. Each one a promise.

He bit your hip playfully, leaving a faint mark, and when the red faded, he did it again.

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. “Always leaving your signature.”

“All part of the service."

•••

As fall settled, Pedro found himself reflecting on everything that had led him to this moment—this life he had built with you. All his lonely days, all the times he had doubted whether love like this would ever find him, seemed like a distant memory now. Everything he had been through had led him to this.

And there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t grateful.

As he watched you move around the London flat he had rented, his home for the next few months, catching you mid-laugh or lost in your own world, he felt whole. Complete. Every piece of his life had finally fallen into place.

And he knew, without a doubt, that there would never be a time when he had enough of you. You were his everything, and he would always come back.

Always.

a/n: the end!! sad because i'm gonna miss them so much :( but happy to have finished this the right way. thank you everyone who reads, likes, reblogs and leaves a kind message <3

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #love is complicated fic #pedro pascal fluff #my writing #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you

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demonboysdelight · 4 days ago

Note

Poly Saja boys x ZhouZhou! FEM! Reader yessss (Featuring S/O's bestie once againnn)

Summary: The Saja boys came to visit China (Since ZhouZhou is Chinese, the reader is also Chinese) where s/o lived in her small hometown when she was younger but... It seems she's famous... Everywhere

Video ✨:

https://youtu.be/XIks0LkhjiU?si=gX82_zIrOAAvis6p

(This one cracked me up 💀)

Haha, here you go love. (3

Ps, Chinese transition may be wrong since I used Google Translate.

Me in the future: Uh... I forgot to add bestie in this fic, sorryyyy. I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Famous in My Hometown

The humid summer air of your small hometown in rural China felt different today. Not because of the weather—no, that was the same sticky heat that had clung to your skin every summer since childhood. It was different because for the first time in months, you were genuinely nervous about coming home.

You clutched your phone tighter as you walked down the familiar dirt road that led to your grandmother's house, the same path you'd skipped down countless times as a child. The irony wasn't lost on you that the very videos you'd filmed on this road, dancing and being your authentic, chaotic self, had somehow blown up internationally. What started as silly content for your friends had morphed into something you never expected—viral fame that had caught the attention of five very special someones.

Your boyfriends. All five of them. The Saja Boys.

When you'd started dating them (individually at first, before realizing you were all somehow drawn to each other in ways that defied conventional explanation), you'd been just another face in the crowd of Seoul. A Chinese exchange student who'd fallen head-over-heels for five demons disguised as the most charming K-pop idols you'd ever met. They knew you made content, sure, but they'd never seen your hometown videos—the ones that had made you accidentally famous across Asia.

"你好! Y/n回来了! (Hello! Y/n is back!)" called out Mrs. Chen from her fruit stand, waving enthusiastically. Her excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but beam back at her, that same bright energy that had made your videos go viral bubbling up naturally.

You'd barely made it three blocks before you realized the extent of your... situation.

"Y/n! 可以拍个照吗? (Y/n! Can I take a picture?)" A group of teenagers had materialized seemingly from nowhere, phones already out and cameras ready. You blinked in surprise—when had your little hometown gotten so... aware of internet culture?

"当然可以! (Sure!)" you laughed, automatically falling into the bright, energetic persona that had made you famous. You struck a few playful poses with the girls, your natural charisma and humor shining through as you joked with them in rapid Mandarin, making them giggle and squeal with delight.

What you didn't notice was the black van that had been following at a discrete distance, or the five sets of eyes watching you from behind tinted windows with expressions ranging from bewildered to utterly enchanted.

Earlier that day...

"Are you certain this is the correct address, hyung?" Baby had asked, his usual deadpan expression tinged with curiosity as he peered out the window of their rental van. The colorful newsboy cap he wore sat at a jaunty angle, making him look deceptively innocent—a stark contrast to the demon lurking beneath.

Jinu checked his phone for the hundredth time, his dark eyes scanning the GPS coordinates you'd sent. "This is what she gave us. She said to meet her at her grandmother's house." His voice carried that smooth confidence that had charmed millions of fans, but even he seemed uncertain about venturing into rural China.

"I still can't believe our precious little girlfriend has been hiding from us that she's some sort of internet sensation," Romance drawled from the middle seat, his perfectly styled hair catching the sunlight as he dramatically draped himself across the seat. True to his name, everything he did seemed calculated for maximum visual impact, even when it was just the five of them.

Mystery, sitting in his characteristic silence with his purple hair falling across his face in a way that obscured his eyes, simply hummed in acknowledgment. His voice, when he did speak, was soft and melodic: "She never mentioned the... extent of her popularity."

"Extent?" Abby scoffed, his muscular frame taking up considerably more space than necessary as he gestured wildly. "Mystery, she has twelve million followers across platforms. Twelve. Million. And we're just finding out about this now?" Despite his dramatic tone, there was no real anger there—just genuine bewilderment mixed with pride.

The truth was, none of them had realized the scope of your internet fame. You'd always been modest about your content creation, mentioning it in passing as "just some silly videos for fun." You'd shown them a few clips here and there, usually the ones filmed in Seoul, but somehow you'd managed to keep your most viral content—the hometown videos that showcased your authentic, unfiltered personality—hidden from them.

"Look, there she is," Jinu said suddenly, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been awe.

And there you were, practically glowing in the afternoon sunlight as you posed with a group of local teenagers. Your laugh carried even through the closed windows of their van, that bright, infectious sound that had first drawn each of them to you. But this was different from the you they knew in Seoul. This version of you was somehow more vibrant, more animated, completely in your element.

You were speaking rapid-fire Mandarin, your hands gesturing expressively as you made the teenagers laugh. Your natural charisma was on full display—the same energy that had made your videos go viral was now being directed at these local fans, and the Saja Boys could see exactly why millions of people had fallen in love with your content.

"She's... radiant," Romance breathed, and for once his dramatic flair seemed entirely genuine.

"This is why her videos exploded," Mystery observed quietly, his hidden gaze fixed on you. "She's not performing. This is just... her."

Baby let out a low whistle. "No wonder she accidentally became famous. Look at her—she's a natural entertainer."

Abby crossed his arms, but his expression had softened. "We should have known. I mean, how did we think she was just some 'casual content creator' when she moves like that?"

Jinu said nothing, but his dark eyes never left your figure. As demons, they were all naturally drawn to souls that burned brightly, and yours had always been particularly luminous. But seeing you in your hometown, surrounded by people who clearly adored you, he was beginning to understand that they'd only seen a fraction of who you really were.

Back to the present...

You'd finally extracted yourself from the impromptu photo session and were walking toward your grandmother's house when you spotted the familiar van. Your heart did a little flip—they'd actually come. Despite your protests that your hometown was "just a boring little place" and that they "really didn't need to make the trip," they'd insisted on visiting.

You practically bounced on your toes as the van doors opened and five devastatingly handsome figures emerged. Even in casual clothes and sunglasses, they were unmistakably extraordinary. Jinu stepped out first, his tall frame and natural leadership evident in the way he moved. Romance followed, somehow making even the simple act of leaving a vehicle look like a scene from a music video. Mystery emerged silently, his hair still artfully arranged to hide half his face. Abby stretched dramatically, his shirt riding up just enough to flash his famous abs. Baby hopped out last, his youthful appearance at odds with the ancient wisdom in his eyes.

"Hi," you said, suddenly feeling shy despite having been with them for months. There was something about seeing them in your hometown that made everything feel different—more real, somehow.

"Hi yourself," Jinu replied, that familiar warmth in his voice as he approached you. But instead of his usual smooth confidence, there was something almost... reverent in the way he looked at you. "So. Internet celebrity. Were you planning to mention this at some point?"

You felt heat creep up your cheeks. "It's not... I mean, it just sort of happened? I never expected any of my videos to blow up like that."

"Twelve million followers, jagiya," Romance said, his tone somewhere between impressed and accusatory. "That's not 'just sort of happened' territory."

"You've been holding out on us," Baby added, his deadpan delivery somehow making the words sound fond rather than critical.

Before you could formulate a response, a commotion erupted from the direction of the main road. A crowd was forming—word had apparently spread that not only was local internet sensation Y/n home, but she'd brought friends. Very attractive friends.

"Oh no," you muttered, recognizing the building excitement in the voices carrying on the wind.

"What?" Mystery asked, his hidden gaze following yours toward the growing crowd.

"I think..." you swallowed hard, "I think people are starting to recognize all of us. Together."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "And that's a problem because?"

"Because," you said, tugging at Jinu's sleeve and starting to pull him toward your grandmother's house, "when twelve million followers find out that their favorite chaotic internet personality is somehow dating all five members of the hottest boy band in Asia, things are going to get very complicated very quickly."

But it was too late.

"是Y/n! 和... 等等，那些是... (It's Y/n! And... Wait, those are...)" A teenage girl's voice rose above the crowd, and you watched in horror as recognition dawned on face after face.

"Saja Boys!" someone screamed.

"Y/n和Saja Boys在一起! (Y/n and Saja Boys are together!)"

And suddenly, your quiet hometown erupted into chaos.

The crowd surged forward, phones appearing as if by magic, and you found yourself instinctively moving into damage control mode. But instead of panic, you felt a familiar thrill—this was your element, after all. You'd been handling unexpected attention since your videos first went viral.

"大家好! (Hello everyone!)" you called out, your voice carrying that natural performer's projection that had made your content so engaging. The crowd quieted slightly, eager to hear what you had to say. "I know this is exciting, but let's all be respectful, okay? These are my... friends." The pause before 'friends' was probably a dead giveaway, but you forged ahead anyway.

You glanced back at the Saja Boys, expecting to see some level of discomfort or annoyance at the disruption. Instead, you found five pairs of eyes watching you with something that looked suspiciously like adoration.

Jinu stepped forward smoothly, that natural charisma that had made him a perfect demon idol kicking in. "Thank you all for the warm welcome," he said in surprisingly good Mandarin, though his accent was distinctly Korean. "We're happy to be here in Y/n's beautiful hometown."

The crowd practically swooned, and you had to bite back a laugh. Even when they were trying to be low-key, your boyfriends were absolutely incapable of not being devastating.

Romance, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, struck a casual pose that somehow managed to look like a professional photo shoot. "Y/n has told us so much about this place. We've been looking forward to visiting."

"Can we get pictures?" someone called out, and suddenly the requests were coming from every direction.

You looked back at the boys questioningly. This wasn't exactly the quiet hometown visit you'd planned. But Mystery gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Baby actually stepped forward with something that might have been enthusiasm.

"Sure," you said, falling back into your natural content-creator mode. "But let's make it fun! Everyone line up, we'll do a proper group photo session."

What followed was perhaps the most chaotic and delightful hour of your life. You moved through the crowd with practiced ease, your natural energy and humor making everyone feel comfortable and included. The Saja Boys followed your lead, and you watched in amazement as they adapted to your style seamlessly.

Jinu, despite his usual composed demeanor, found himself genuinely laughing at your rapid-fire commentary as you posed with different groups. Mystery, who typically preferred to remain enigmatic, was drawn out by your inclusive energy, even allowing a few photos where his hair was pushed back enough to show both his eyes. Romance was in his absolute element, turning every photo into a miniature work of art while somehow making sure you remained the center of attention. Abby discovered that your local fans were just as enthusiastic about his abs as his international fan base, leading to some hilariously flexed group shots. And Baby, despite his usual deadpan expression, kept getting caught almost-smiling in photos as your infectious laughter got to him.

"你真的很厉害, (you are really awesome,)" an elderly woman told you as the crowd finally began to disperse, patting your cheek affectionately. "These boys, they're good for you. I can see it in how they look at you."

You felt your cheeks warm, but before you could respond, your grandmother's voice cut through the remaining chatter.

"Y/n! 你终于到家了 (You're finally home.)! And you brought the boys!"

You turned to see your tiny, fierce grandmother approaching with a speed that belied her age, her arms already outstretched. Behind her trailed what appeared to be half the neighborhood's elderly population, all clearly eager to get a look at your famous boyfriends.

"奶奶! (grandmother!)" you called out, breaking away from the group to throw yourself into her arms. She was even tinier than you remembered, but her hug was just as strong and warm as always.

"Let me look at you," she said, holding you at arm's length and studying your face with sharp eyes. "Too thin. And tired. These boys better be taking care of you properly."

"Nai Nai," you protested, but she was already turning her attention to the Saja Boys.

What followed was perhaps the most surreal experience of your relationship. Your grandmother, all four feet and eleven inches of her, proceeded to interrogate five supernatural beings disguised as K-pop idols with the thoroughness of a military tribunal.

"You," she pointed at Jinu, who straightened unconsciously under her gaze. "You're the leader?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied respectfully, bowing slightly.

"Good. That means you're responsible for all of them. And for her." She gestured at you. "She's precious cargo, understand?"

Jinu's expression grew serious, and when he spoke, there was something deeper than his usual charm in his voice. "I understand completely. We all do."

She nodded approvingly, then moved on to Romance. "You're very pretty," she said bluntly, causing him to blink in surprise. "But pretty boys are often trouble. Are you trouble?"

Romance, for perhaps the first time in his existence, seemed genuinely flustered. "I... no, ma'am. I mean, I try not to be."

"Hmm." She didn't sound entirely convinced, but she moved on to Abby. "Strong," she observed, poking at his arm with one finger. "Good for carrying groceries. Do you cook?"

"I... some?" Abby replied, clearly unsure if this was a test.

"We'll work on that," she decided, then turned to Mystery. For a long moment, she simply stared at him, and you held your breath. Mystery, for his part, remained perfectly still under her scrutiny.

"Shy one," she finally announced. "That's good. Quiet boys listen better." She reached up and, to everyone's surprise, gently pushed his hair back from his face. "There. Much better. You have kind eyes."

Mystery actually blushed, which you were fairly certain was the first time you'd ever seen him display such an obviously human reaction.

Finally, she reached Baby, who despite being the taller than her somehow managed to look incredibly young under her grandmother's maternal gaze.

"Baby," she said simply, and he nodded. "You're not actually a baby."

"No, ma'am."

"But you're the youngest?"

"In the group, yes."

She nodded as if this confirmed something important. "Good. Every group needs someone to spoil. Come on, all of you. Dinner."

And just like that, you found yourself being herded toward your grandmother's house by a tiny Chinese woman who had somehow managed to adopt five demons without batting an eye.

Dinner was an experience you'd remember for the rest of your life. Your grandmother had apparently decided that feeding five supernatural beings was well within her capabilities and had produced a feast that seemed to materialize from nowhere. The dining table, which you remembered as being quite modest, had somehow been expanded to accommodate everyone, and dish after dish kept appearing from the kitchen.

"Nai Nai, when did you cook all this?" you asked, genuinely bewildered.

"A grandmother always knows when important guests are coming," she replied mysteriously, ladling more rice into Baby's bowl. "Eat. You're too skinny."

The Saja Boys, to their credit, adapted to the family dinner experience with remarkable grace. Jinu complimented your grandmother's cooking with genuine appreciation, Romance helped serve dishes with theatrical flourish that made her laugh, Mystery quietly ate everything put in front of him with obvious enjoyment, Abby asked for seconds of everything, and Baby somehow managed to look even younger as your grandmother fussed over him.

"So," your grandmother said as the meal wound down, "you boys are staying for a while?"

You nearly choked on your tea. "Nai Nai, I'm sure they have to get back to Seoul soon. They have schedules and—"

"We cleared our calendar," Jinu interrupted smoothly. "We wanted to spend time here, get to know the place that made Y/n who she is."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest, and you had to look down to hide the sudden emotion in your eyes.

"Good," your grandmother nodded approvingly. "Tomorrow, Y/n will show you around properly. The market, the temple, the lake where she used to swim. You need to understand her roots if you want to understand her heart."

"Nai Nai," you protested weakly, but she silenced you with a look.

"And you," she pointed at you, "will stop trying to hide who you are from them. These boys fell in love with you, not some version of you. Trust them with all of yourself."

The silence that followed was heavy with meaning, and you found yourself looking around the table at five faces that had become so dear to you. There was something in their expressions—a patience, an acceptance, that made your chest tight with feeling.

"She's right," Mystery said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "We fell in love with you. All of you. Including the parts you think you need to hide."

"Even the chaotic internet personality parts?" you asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Especially those," Romance said dramatically, then his voice softened. "Seeing you today, in your element... it was like seeing the sun come out."

"You're so much more vibrant here," Abby added. "Not that you aren't amazing in Seoul, but this... this is you without any filters, isn't it?"

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I was worried you'd think I was too much. The real me, I mean. I'm loud and chaotic and I never know when to stop talking, and my videos are ridiculous, and—"

"And perfect," Jinu interrupted, his voice firm. "You're perfect exactly as you are."

Baby, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly spoke up. "The first video of yours I watched—the one where you tried to teach yourself traditional dance in your dorm room and kept falling over—I must have watched it fifty times. Not because it was funny, but because you were so genuinely yourself. No pretense, no performance, just... you."

You stared at him in shock. "You found my old videos?"

"We all did," Mystery admitted, his usual mysterious air abandoned in favor of sincerity. "After we realized how famous you actually are, we went down a rabbit hole. Hours and hours of content."

"The cooking disaster series was my personal favorite," Romance added with a grin. "Especially the one where you tried to make dumplings and somehow managed to set off the smoke alarm."

"Oh god," you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "You saw the dumpling incident?"

"We saw everything," Abby said gently. "And we fell in love with you all over again. Every video, every moment of authentic chaos, every time you laughed so hard you snorted—"

"I do not snort!"

"You absolutely snort," Jinu said fondly. "And it's adorable."

Your grandmother, who had been watching this entire exchange with obvious satisfaction, stood up and began clearing dishes. "Good. Now that that's settled, tomorrow we start the real tour. Y/n, show them the places that matter. Boys, pay attention. You're getting a masterclass in loving someone properly."

As if summoned by the mention of tomorrow's plans, your phone buzzed insistently. You glanced at it and immediately felt your expression change.

"What is it?" Romance asked, noting your sudden tension.

"Social media notifications," you said weakly. "A lot of them."

You opened your phone and immediately regretted it. Photos from today's impromptu meet-and-greet were everywhere. #Y/nSajaBoys was trending globally. Fan theories were running rampant, ranging from collaborative content plans to full-blown relationship speculation.

"How bad?" Mystery asked.

You scrolled through a few more notifications before setting your phone face-down on the table. "Well, the good news is that everyone thinks you're all incredibly attractive and charming."

"And the bad news?" Baby prompted.

"The internet has definitely figured out that we're more than friends."

The silence that followed was broken by your grandmother's amused chuckle. "Young people today," she said, shaking her head. "In my day, if a girl brought five boys home to meet her family, nobody needed the internet to figure out what was happening."

Despite everything, you found yourself laughing. Here you were, worried about internet speculation, while your grandmother had taken the entire situation in stride without missing a beat.

"So what do we do?" Abby asked.

You looked around the table at five faces you loved more than you'd ever thought possible, then at your grandmother, who was watching you with knowing eyes.

"Tomorrow," you said finally, "we have fun. We do the tourist thing, I show you my favorite places, and we deal with whatever comes next when it comes. Tonight, we're just... us. Here. Together."

"I like that plan," Jinu said softly.

"Me too," Mystery agreed.

Romance raised his water glass in a mock toast. "To tomorrow's adventures and tonight's peace."

"To family," your grandmother added, surprising everyone.

"To family," you all echoed, and for the first time since coming home, you felt completely at peace.

As the evening wound down and sleeping arrangements were discussed (your grandmother had somehow procured enough bedding for everyone, leading to suspicions that she'd been planning this longer than she'd let on), you found yourself on the front porch with all five of your boyfriends, watching the stars emerge in the clear rural sky.

"Thank you," you said quietly, not sure if you were addressing them or the universe in general.

"For what?" Jinu asked, his arm warm around your shoulders.

"For coming here. For seeing all of this," you gestured vaguely at the house, the village, the life you'd grown up in, "and not running away screaming."

"Why would we run?" Romance asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Because it's a lot," you said simply. "The fame thing, the family thing, the 'me being completely different here than in Seoul' thing..."

"You're not different," Mystery said softly. "You're just... more. More yourself, more vibrant, more everything we fell in love with in the first place."

"Plus," Baby added with his characteristic deadpan delivery, "we're literally demons disguised as K-pop idols. I think we can handle dating an internet celebrity."

"Fair point," you conceded, laughing.

Abby pulled you closer to his side. "Besides, have you seen the comment sections on your videos? Your fans love you exactly as you are. And if they love you, they'll learn to love us too."

"And if they don't?" you asked.

"Then they don't," Jinu said simply. "We didn't fall in love with you for your fans' approval. We fell in love with you for you."

As you sat there surrounded by five supernatural beings who had somehow become your entire world, watching the stars appear over the village where you'd grown up, you couldn't help but think that maybe your grandmother was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding parts of yourself and trust that love—real love—could handle all of you.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, more internet speculation, and probably more chaos than any of you were prepared for. But tonight, you were home in every sense of the word, and that was enough.

"I love you," you said quietly, the words meant for all of them.

"We love you too," came the chorus of replies, and for the first time in months, you felt completely and utterly yourself.

The internet could wait. Tonight was for family.

Epilogue: Three months later

The collaborative content series "Y/n's Hometown Adventures with Saja Boys" became the most-watched crossover content in internet history. Your grandmother became an unexpected internet sensation in her own right, with fans dubbing her "Nai Nai Supreme" and begging for her to start her own cooking channel.

But more importantly, you learned that love—the real kind—doesn't ask you to be less than you are. It asks you to be more.

And with five demons disguised as the world's most attractive K-pop idols by your side, being more was the easiest thing in the world.

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firefly--bright · 20 days ago

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HEYY I LOVED YOUR JEAN SPENDING HIS SUMMER WITH HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER I JUST WANTED TO ASK IF YOU COULD MAKE MORE I LOVE ITS ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT

LOVE YOU<333

HI IM SO SORY FOR THE LATE REPLY I'm unfortunately very employed rn. busy touching grass and whatnot. BUT YES OFC!!

✿ I've always headcanoned that he has like. a MILLION hats. Connie and jean are like. the Hatted Brothers because Connie always wears beanies and jean always has a hat. he does the cringe thing of "hat worn backwards means sports mode 😈" ok man

✿⁠ anyway. his favourite time of the year is summer. he gets to wear slutty ass tanktops. his entire wardrobe is made only for his summer essentials and he barely has winter clothes. he has like 20 swimming trunks that look so good on him..

✿⁠ he also has an entire excel sheet with the best beaches. rates them according to each aspect (least crowded, best sunsets, distance from home, etc) and he takes you to the top five. he'd surprise you with random beach days the entirety of the summer break

✿⁠ he's such a SAP he'll go to ANY cafe you ask him to go to. he'd hold your purse or bag and will not let you hold ANYTHING if you're going out for shopping. and he doesn't do the "this isn't my purse haha" thing that men usually do either. he fully embraces the Purse Lifestyle if that's what you prefer carrying. hangs it from his shoulder and everything. even keeps his phone in there

✿⁠ he takes so many pictures of you. most of them are TERRIBLE and blurry but you appreciate the fact that he keeps going at it. sometimes he asks you to pose and those pictures turn out really amazing (he makes one of those his lockscreen) but most of them are just candids that he's never going to show you. if he really loves one he'll commemorate it by drawing you a million times <3

✿⁠ he also takes you to visit an amusement park if there are any near your area. he loves rollercoasters and acts really nonchalant about it but he's the first one in EVERY line. he also makes sure to win every prize that catches even an Eighth of your attention

✿⁠ spreads his entire body over the mattress. he's a very warm blooded person and gets really hot really fast so just don't judge him if you find him lying starfish on your bed with nothing but his boxers on

✿⁠ if your air conditioning stops working, not only does he invite himself over with a whole toolkit but he also uses it as an excuse to not wear his shirt. he loves lemonades so if you make one for him he's going to forever cherish you (not that he doesn't already)

✿⁠ hes usually very handy with this sorta stuff but if he can't fix it, he takes the L ("love, your a.c. sucks ASS what the hell these parts are gonna take forever to get here....haha...") he proposes to go to the air conditioned grocery store next door

✿⁠ proceeds to browse thru EVERY item and makes terrible jokes about them. "sabra? i hardly know ha" pls die I love you

✿⁠ he's a sporty person so he does ask you if you'd like to go on a hike with him. like he has so many sporty activities he'd like to do with you. he rents two bicycles and you guys cycle thru the city on a beautiful afternoon together and have an early dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves those pizzas with brie cheese on top that he does Not Know how to eat. he pretends to be a wine connoisseur and pronounces the name of the wine in his beautiful french and sniffs the drink and spins it around in his glass ("oh yeah this has hints of...like, it's nutty," "yeah ur being really nutty jean" "ur supposed to LOVE me") also lowkey spills some on his white linen button up

i hope you liked this!! again, so sorry for the late reply I've been Running Around

luv u!

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #modern au

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

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I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️”

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions.

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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helloitstsyu · 3 months ago

Text

Wicked Game | Tom Cruise 18+

Fantasize series | Previous part

Your heart is already racing before they even call your name.

You grip the edge of the vanity like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth. Your chest is tight—too tight. The mirror shows a woman glowing in designer silk and confidence, but behind your eyes, something cracks.

You’re not fine. Not even close.

You try to breathe deep, but it’s shallow and uneven, like you’ve forgotten how. Your lipstick’s perfect. Your eyeliner, sharp enough to cut. But your hands won’t stop shaking.

You’re not usually this anxious. You’ve done product launches before—flawlessly. But this one feels different. Heavier. Like the whole weight of your future is balanced on its success. Because if this falls apart… there’s nothing left to hold you together. No backup plan. No safety net. Just you, stranded in the city you hate, trapped in a life that suddenly doesn’t feel like your own.

You hear your name being called over the mic—sweet and enthusiastic.

“Aaannd here’s our bright founder! Y/N Y/L/N!”

Showtime.

You paste on the smile. Shoulders back. Spine tall. And you step out into the spotlight like it doesn’t burn.

Applause hits you in waves. Camera flashes go off like lightning. You wave, you speak, you smile—all while your insides coil tighter and tighter. You’re performing. Every word, every movement, choreographed to perfection.

And then—you see them.

Your father, beaming with pride. And beside him—

Tom.

Time hiccups. The applause fades under a deafening rush of blood in your ears.

Of course he’s here.

He walks beside your father like it’s natural, like it’s not the most dangerous thing he could’ve done. He’s in black suit—no tie, open collar, jaw clenched like he’s forcing himself to stay polite. His eyes—those goddamn green eyes—find you instantly.

Your smile falters.

“Congratulations, cupcake! I’m proud of you,” your dad says, pulling you in, kissing your cheek. You cling to that moment like a lifeline.

“Thanks, Dad,” you manage, but your voice sounds distant.

He steps aside, and suddenly there’s him.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” Tom says. He offers a handshake—appropriate, careful, calculated. But his fingers brush yours like a secret, like a memory.

Like that one in the private lounge. Where he touched you like he owns you.

Your skin flinches. You pull away a second too fast. “Thank you,” you say, short, brittle, already unraveling.

You move through the crowd like a ghost, answering questions, laughing at jokes, posing for photos. But your pulse pounding in your ears. Every nerve feels lit. Every inch of your skin feels watched.

Because he is watching you.

Even when he's upstairs, standing beside your father, schmoozing with other guests, he doesn’t stop. His eyes never leave you. And you feel them. On your back. Your throat. Your thighs.

Burning.

You hear your name again—louder this time. Laughter erupts. Lights flash. Your dress clings to you, suddenly too tight, the heat unbearable. You blink, but the world tilts sideways.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You try to swallow. You can’t. You try to speak. Your lips are numb.

The sounds melt into static. Faces blur. Your hands tremble so badly now, you have to clasp them together to hide it.

You glance up—and he’s there.

Leaning over the railing. Elbows braced. Watching you like he knows something is off with you.

His jaw is tight. His brow furrows.

Your vision blurs again. You blink hard. But the ringing in your ears drowns out everything. It’s like your body is screaming without a sound.

Too hot. Too loud. Too much.

You’re drowning in your own skin.

You try to answer the interviewer’s next question, but the words twist in your mouth, and suddenly—

You need out.

Now.

You murmur something, anything. You excuse yourself, smiling too wide, nodding too much, and then you’re walking—no, You're pushing past people, past cameras, into the nearest hallway. Your heels click frantically against marble, echoing like a countdown in your head.

You run, searching for sanctuary. Unfortunately, the only safe haven you spot is a janitor's closet. You quickly dart inside.

The darkness swallows you. The air’s thick, too warm, like it’s closing in. Your chest burns. Tightens. Your ribs feel like they’re caving inward. You know this feeling too well—your lungs clawing for air, your mind spiraling. You're having a panic attack.

You clutch at your chest, desperate to feel your heartbeat, to anchor yourself in something real. But it’s erratic. Loud. Useless. Your hands shake. You squeeze your eyes shut.

Then—

The door creaks open.

Light spills in.

Tom steps inside.

The second your eyes meet his, something shifts. The air thins. Your breath stutters—eases, for a heartbeat. But the fury still bubbles under your skin.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, his voice low, thick with concern.

He already knows the answer. That’s why he’s here. And that knowledge—that he knows—only infuriates you more.

"I'm fine," you snap, sharper than intended.

He closes the door behind him, sealing you both in that small, suffocating space. “No,” he says, unshaken. “You’re not.”

"You shouldn’t be here, Tom,” you hiss, trying to hold your ground. “There are cameras. Press. My father—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts in. “Not when you're like this.”

He takes a step closer. His brows knit in worry, but it's the softness in his eyes that makes your throat tighten again.

And you crack.

"I'm not alright!" you shout. The words tear from you like a scream escaping years of silence. “Is that what you wanted to hear?! I’m not okay—because of you!”

Tom flinches, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

“I’m not okay because I'm trying to stay away from you, and you just—you keep looking at me! Stop looking at me!”

“I’m not—” he begins, quietly.

“You are!” your voice trembles now. “You’re looking at me! You're always watching me. And I can’t breathe. I can’t think. So just—STOP!” You yell.

He’s silent for a long beat. Then his voice comes low. Fractured.

“Do you think I want to look at you?”

Your pulse stutters.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” His voice breaks, raw and almost unrecognizable. “Do you think I want to feel like this every time I see you? Like I’m losing every shred of control?”

You say nothing. Can’t.

"Do you think i want to feel this miserable after weeks trying to stay away from you? God, You're my best friend's daughter. For God's sake, Y/N, I'm almost as old as your father! I should know better.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Agonized.

“Hell, Y/N,” he exhales. “I would give anything not to look at you.”

He says it like it kills him.

And in that tiny, dimly lit room—crowded with truths neither of you can outrun—you’re left speechless. Empty. Trembling not just from panic anymore, but from him. From the weight of everything unspoken and the impossible pull between you.

"Fuck it,” he growls under his breath—and then he’s on you.

There’s no pause, no warning. Just the crash of his mouth against yours, brutal and burning, like he’s starved for you. Like the weeks of restraint have finally snapped. His hands seize your waist, hauling you up and slamming your back against the shelf hard enough to send supplies crashing to the ground.

Your gasp is swallowed by his kiss. It’s not gentle—it’s filthy, ravenous, all tongue and teeth and groaned curses. You claw at his shirt, yanking him closer, hungry for the weight of him, the heat, the fucking feel of him.

His hands are already everywhere—skimming beneath your clothes, yanking fabric away from your skin, exposing you inch by trembling inch. He mouths down your neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses that make your head drop back. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans, grinding between your thighs.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants into your throat, voice shaking.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

And you don’t want to.

He lifts you with a grunt and slams you onto the desk behind you, knocking papers and pens aside. His lips never leave yours. You wrap your legs around him like you’ll die if you don’t feel him closer. His cock presses hard against your soaked panties and your hips lift instinctively, desperate for friction.

It’s reckless. It’s forbidden.

It’s everything you’ve been aching for.

Your hands tear at his shirt, nails dragging down his back. He groans—deep, low, feral—and buries his face in your neck like he’s losing his goddamn mind. “Y/N…” he moans your name like a prayer, like a curse.

One hand cups your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple until you cry out. His mouth finds your jaw, your collarbone, your chest—biting, kissing, claiming. “Fuck, you feel like a dream,” he groans, before sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You tremble beneath him, hips canting, chasing friction. When his fingers slip under your panties and find your heat, he freezes.

“You’re dripping,” he says, stunned, like he can’t believe it. “So fucking perfect.” He strokes through your folds, slowly, deliberately, until your thighs shake around him.

Then—he drops to his knees.

Eyes blazing, he peels your panties down your legs, slow and reverent. He doesn’t toss them aside—he slides them into his back pocket like he needs to keep them.

He spreads your thighs with trembling hands, kisses up the inside of your leg, breath hot against your skin. And then—

His mouth devours you.

You cry out, thighs clamping around his head. He eats you like a starving man, groaning into your cunt, tongue flicking, sucking, fucking worshiping you. Your fingers bury in his hair, your hips grinding into his face, chasing the sharp edge of release.

You’re close. So fucking close—

And then he pulls away.

“No!” you gasp, breath ragged, teetering on the edge of madness.

But he smirks, cocky and wrecked. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs darkly, undoing his pants with a flick of his fingers. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, aching.

He fists it once, twice, then lines himself up with your entrance. Presses his forehead to yours.

“Look at me.”

You do.

He pushes inside—slow, brutal, deep.

Your gasp is strangled. He’s big, and the stretch is maddening. You cling to him, legs tight around his waist, eyes shut as he fills you to the hilt. He groans through gritted teeth, forehead slick with sweat.

“Eyes on me,” he snarls.

You obey—barely.

He thrusts again, and your back arches, a cry torn from your throat. His rhythm builds—fast, hard, desperate, each stroke slamming you back against the desk, his hips snapping forward like he’s trying to brand himself into your body.

“Tom—fuck—don’t stop,” you plead, nails raking down his back.

“Never,” he growls. “You feel too fucking good—mine—you’re fucking mine.”

His lips find yours again—sloppy, frantic kisses between moans. Every thrust makes your whole body tighten, tremble. The knot coils tighter, until it’s blinding.

“Shit—OOOHHH!” You don’t even get to warn him.

The orgasm hits like a goddamn explosion. Your whole body shakes, legs convulsing around him, tears stinging your eyes as you scream his name.

“Fuck!” he snarls, barely holding on. He pulls out just in time, spilling across your stomach with a deep, guttural moan, his body trembling as he collapses against you, forehead buried in your neck.

For a moment, all you can hear is your pounding heart and his gasping breath.

Then—

“You okay?” he whispers, voice rough.

“Yeah… you?”

He takes too long before he answer. You could see the self conflict through his eyes. The layers of guilt appearing.

There’s a silence between you now.

Not the awkward kind.

The heavy kind—the kind that says everything has changed. "Yeah," he retorts. Though his eyes says otherwise.

You rest your forehead against his, skin damp, breaths tangled. Neither of you dares speak the truth sitting in both your chests: that this wasn't a release—it was a breaking point.

--------

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