#it is always strange to me when people 'go home' for the holidays | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 1 year

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you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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01zfan · 5 months

Text

non-refundable | j. sc

ex-boyfriend!sungchan x fem. reader | 5.5k words

yeah if its not obvious im literally insane and feral after sungchan posted those photos.

contains: non refundable trip with your ex, jacuzzi sex, unprotected sex, semi public

you loved the beach. you loved feeling the sand underneath your feet and the sun on your skin. you loved being in the water, and you loved seeing people around you enjoy it too. what you hated was your ex, and having to be there at the beach with him.

he had booked the villa at the resort months prior to your breakup. at the time it was very exciting, the idea of being able to escape the cold and celebrate your anniversary in the sun. but when you broke up with sungchan, the trip became the furthest thing from your mind. you had completely forgotten about it until sungchan forwarded you an email with the reservation. you had forgotten to get his email when you blocked everything related to him.

in the email sungchan told you that it was too late to cancel the villa and he’d be out an ungodly amount of money if he didn’t go. you bickered back and forth via email the whole day, with you telling trying to give sungchan solutions to his problems.

call the front desk? i already did, they said no exceptions.

take shotaro. he hates the beach.

go by yourself. you want me to look like a loser?

you were adamant about not going until you talked to your friends about it. they nearly knocked you head off your shoulders, telling you it would be stupid to turn down an all expenses paid trip to a nice villa and the beach. you had been overworked this holiday season, and you deserved a break more than anything. they didn’t seem to care that it was a trip with your ex. when one of your friends brought up the possibility of sungchan taking some random girl in your place, you found yourself sending him an email back that you’ll go with him.

“maybe it’ll get your mind off the breakup.” your friend joked.

you were pinching your friend for her terrible joke when sungchan emailed you back.

so less than three days later, you were getting driven to the villa by your ex while you sat in the passenger seat. it was insanely strange, especially seeing sungchan’s hand that would always be on your thigh while he drove awkwardly resting on the center console. the car ride was spent mostly in silence, except for the music. you know you could’ve talked about your relationship, maybe even apologize for somethings you knew you should’ve apologized for but you kept your eyes on the road, trying not to think about sungchan sitting next to you.

things were easier once you got to the villa. not being in the small space of the car helped you get away from him. after taking in the scenery of the beautiful vacation home you’re happy you didn’t bail. before you knew it you set your stuff up in the bedroom and changed into your bikini. you hesitated before putting putting on the revealing set, thinking about your ex on the other side of the door. would he react if he saw you in your two piece? you change into your bikini anyways. maybe you should show him what he’s missing.

you assumed sungchan was watching television or was putting away the food you guys bought on the way down. even though you were no longer together sungchan didn’t even let you take your card out, paying for everything without a second thought. you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t nice, especially seeing him load the snacks you liked wordlessly into the cart. you thought he would be preoccupied when you came out, and you would be able to sneak off to the beach without him noticing. but sungchan noticed, and he saw you completely. he was in his own swimsuit, with two towels on his shoulder and mouth agape as he took you in.

sungchan wasn’t sure what he was expecting. he thought that you would be bashful and wear a swimsuit that covered your body more, not wanting to be put on display for your ex. but you stood before him in all your glory, a colorful bikini that made your eyes pop and your skin glow. sungchan had to put on his best act to walk past you and seem unbothered. the way your eyes raked down his body gave him the confidence to smirk like you didn’t almost make him pass out cold.

“we can get to the beach through the backdoor.” sungchan said.

“i know that.” you said, walking past him to get through the siding glass door.

you were steadily ahead of him the whole way to the beach. you didn’t dare to look back at sungchan, but you swear you could feel him looking at you entire time.

you rented a large umbrella and set up at an empty spot. the large umbrella was perfect, giving you shade while you lathered yourself in sunscreen. you were almost able to get all of your body, except for that pesky spot in the center of your back that was just a little bit out of your reach. just in time, sungchan appeared with two pina coladas and your towel.

“need help?” sungchan said, setting the drinks on the table.

you looked up at him from your spot on the sand. he blocked the sun from getting in your eyes, a shadow cast on your face. you were grateful you had put your shades on so sungchan couldn’t see where your eyes were truly looking. you had them trained of his abs, and they flickered to his toned arms. there was no way sungchan didn’t know the effect he had on you. you put your head back towards the water, trying to look at something else.

“no.” you huffed.

your pride kept you from being honest. you rather let that small spot on your back get a little tan before you let sungchan touch you. just as sungchan sat down you got up, getting ready to go in the water. sungchan scoffed at your childish behavior. you could hear the cap of the sunscreen open and close.

“want to help me?” sungchan asked.

you snapped your head to look down at him, just to see a big toothy grin on his face. he laughed at your reaction and you had to play the mean ex girlfriend to cover up the fact that he got you so good.

“you can get a sunburn.” you said.

sungchan continued to put on sunscreen as you walked to the water. you wasted no time going up to your neck in the water, loving the cool feeling against your skin. you truly were grateful to be here at the beach, back home all you had was deadlines and stress. but here you had the sun and good drinks. so you let your body float around as you looked at the sun, basking in the warmth.

sungchan stayed at the shore for a long time. he kept an eye on you, making sure everything was alright. he wasn’t much of a swimmer anyways, he hated how sand got everywhere and how sunscreen felt on his skin, but he loved how much you seemed to enjoy it. it looked like you were in your own little world in the water, floating around while spread out like a starfish. when sungchan couldn’t take anymore of just watching you, he paddled out to where you were.

you could hear sungchan coming through the water towards you. he was loud even in the water, the sound of water thrashing filled your ears. you could hear him treading water next to you. you kept your eyes closed and continued to float.

“did you come all the way to the beach just to float around like a dead person?” sungchan asked.

“did you come all the way here just to spend time with your ex?” you said back.

you couldn’t stop a mischievous smile from coming across your face when sungchan let out a small sound of shock. you descended from the floating position to tread water like he was. you saw through your tinted shades that sungchan was smiling too.

“and what if i did?” sungchan asked.

he seemed almost as unbothered as you were. he shamelessly looking at your chest through the clear water. you put your sunglasses on top of your head so sungchan could see you looking through the water at his body too.

“i would say you’re pretty desperate, honestly.” you said.

both of your eyes still looked at the others body. building up tension like this with sungchan was always fun. it was one of the highlights of your relationship, how bold he was when it came to letting you know how he felt. it didn’t help that he was a tease and naturally doting either. you didn’t expect any less to happen on a vacation with your ex.

“there’s a dinner tonight that we have a reservation for.” sungchan said.

his gaze went back to your eyes. for some reason it was harder to look at him when he held your eye contact like this. you let your sunglasses fall back on your face, tinted shades saving you from embarrassment.

“can’t cancel?” you asked.

sungchan shook his head and your eyebrows raised.

“no. i can.” sungchan said simply. “it was that place you picked out. i thought it would be wrong to cancel unless you wanted to.”

you thought about it for a minute. you remembered the restaurant and the way it stuck out to you. it seemed like a fancy place though, one that was romantic as well. you were surprised sungchan remembered the reservation. you assumed it would be soon. the beach was starting to clear out, a sign that dinnertime was approaching.

“if we were to go...” you said.

“not a date.” sungchan said, shaking his head. “unless you want it to be.”

sungchan smirked and you splashed water in his face. his smug expression was replaced with a shocked one. you quickly started swimming back to shore before he could retaliate. he was laughing behind you the whole way and you couldn’t hold back your laughs either.

when you made it to the shore sungchan followed behind you. you couldn’t help but gawk at him, his wet hair and the way his abs body caught in the sunlight. you almost tripped over yourself staring at him to hard. sungchan was one step ahead of you, catching you before you fell down. he’s joking demeanor was replaced with a serious one as he helped you back to your feet.

you were the closest you had been to sungchan in a long time, your chest almost touching his. you had flashbacks of being in this same position before getting on your tiptoes to kiss him, or when you’d wrap your arms around his to give him a hug. it was too intimate to be this close to him, especially when you could feel his hands on you. sungchan seemed to know it too the way he looked down at you with big eyes. it took a couple moments for you to come back to earth, clearing your throat before stepping away from him. you hated feeling his hands leave your body.

“we should probably go back to the villa right? to get ready for the dinner.” you said.

you started heading off to your spot on the sand before sugnchan could reply. he messed with his hair a little bit to shake out the water while he composed himself. you downed the rest of your pina colada, hating that you could barely taste the alcohol. you came to the conclusion that you would need something insanely strong for the all inclusive trip if you wanted to get through the weekend. sungchan let you drink his too, looking at you with wide eyes as parts of the slushy dripped down your face.

you ended up carrying the towels back to the villa while sungchan carried everything else. he returned the umbrella and the cups used for the drinks all while holding the bag with all your stuff in it. you were too embarrassed to ask to hold something else, you knew that sungchan would just decline you holding anything anyways. plus, you think he enjoyed giving you a little show of how strong he was, hands full while not breaking a sweat. you had to look away while his arms flexed putting all the stuff down back in the villa.

you retreated to the bedroom while sungchan went to shower first. you stayed in your room the whole time while the water ran. you were trying to think how you would get through the night with the image of sungchan on the beach basically haunting you. if you were still together you knew that you two probably wouldn’t have even made it to the beach to begin with, too busy trying to break in the bed of the villa. the tradition of fucking on virtually every surface anytime you went somewhere with sungchan was in the back of your mind, but now it occupied everything. the mattress was comfy and giving underneath your experimental bounces. you could see yourself so vividly getting pressed into the mattress while sungchan would fuck you from behind, telling you how pretty you looked in your little swimsuit. sungchan was the type to not even want to waste time taking off your bottoms, simply just pushing them to the side before making you take all of him. you had to beat away the thought of going into the bathroom and joining him. you had some sort of reputation to uphold, you didn’t want to be the one to fold so easily.

you had to avoid looking at the dining room table and the couch as you made a beeline for the bathroom. sungchan came out, of course only covered with a towel around his waist. the same amount of his body was covered as it was on the beach, but the unspoken fact that there was nothing on underneath the towel made you lightheaded. you barely said a word to him as you closed the door.

sungchan exited the bathroom with a plan to get you to fold. he wanted to be the best ex-boyfriend ever, doting on you the same way he did when you two were together. now that you were no longer his girlfriend it tortured him to no end. he counted his lucky stars that you didn’t turn down coming on the trip with him. to sungchan, he saw it as an opening, a chance to win you back. he hit the gym religiously after seeing you agree to go with him, making sure the reservation for the dinner was perfect.

he put on his outfit while you got ready in the bathroom. he was tempted to stay in his towel, giving you another view of his body incase you didn’t get to see it last time. sungchan laughed at himself in the bathroom as he lowered the towel to show off as much as possible. it wasn’t in vain, your shy actions letting him know he got you acting out of character.

sungchan was fully dressed and ready to go when you. got out of the bathroom. you came out fully dressed and ready, in a dress that sungchan helped you pick out when you were still together. he stood up instantly from his spot on the couch. the directions to the restaurant on his phone completely forgotten. it was hard for sungchan to explain how you made him feel. sometimes he enjoyed getting you shy, or the way your bikini made him hot and bothered earlier. but now as you stood before him in that dress he saw an entire future with you, and his heart was beating at a dangerous rate in his ribcage.

“are you ready?” you said to sungchan.

seeing him in something a little more formal made you dizzy. you wanted to go to the restaurant, but you also wanted to see his dress shirt wrinkle underneath your clenched fists as you brought him in closer. sungchan nodded and held out his hand towards the door, following behind you as you walked to it.

there was absolutely no way you were going to make it out of this weekend trip unscathed. you came to that conclusion when sungchan brought his hand to rest on your thigh while driving you to the restaurant. you hated to admit that you moved your thighs closer to him, giving sungchan better access to the area. he smiled and tapped on the steering wheel with the other hand.

“i read the reviews for this place. it’s supposed to be really good.” sungchan said.

you could only hum in agreement. you were distracted for the rest of the night, mind only going to how sungchan looked at you and took care of you the whole time. he opened doors, pulled out chairs, and ordered wine that you didn’t know you’d end up liking. he spoke for you to the waiter and didn’t even let you see the bill. the food was amazing but you couldn’t even properly enjoy it while thinking about sungchan. you found that it was suddenly hard to look at him in the face, heat spreading across your face when he told you how pretty you looked in your dress. you desperately wanting sungchan to tell you more, preferably him whispering in your ear while he was on top of you. you almost caught yourself laughing at your depravity, how no one in your life has ever had you like this.

you were grateful when the check came. it meant you were one step closer to locking yourself in the bedroom of the villa so you could think about sungchan in private.

on the way home, sungchan opened the car door for you and helped you in. his hand went back to its home while he was driving. the car ride was silent again, but you could feel sungchan’s gaze flicker to yours occasionally.

once you were back at the villa, sungchan helped you out, closing the door behind you. you let the same hand that was on your thigh go to your lower back. sungchan used the excuse to touch you under the guise of helping you to the door. the drinks you had throughout the day had no effect on you this late in the evening, but sungchan was treating you like you were made of glass. you enjoyed the feeling, missing the feeling of sungchan dote on you.

once inside of the villa, you couldn’t look back at him. his hand still was on your back, pressing gently to let you know he was still there. you cleared your throat, walking a little too fast towards the bedroom.

sungchan said something to you but you didn’t hear him, too busy trying to be alone.

it was too ironic, getting away from sungchan just so you could think about him in private. you laid in your bed in silence until the sun started to set, giving the room an orange glow. you stayed in bed even through the sun completely setting. you didn’t get up until the view of the beach was clearing out. you needed to do something, your body too tense to sleep. you remembered the jacuzzi on the porch, and the beautiful view you got of the beach from that spot. so you quietly changed from your dress back into the almost dry bikini.

you take a quick peak and see that the television is still on. you can see sungchan’s long legs hanging over the edge of the couch, but you can’t tell if he’s sleeping or not. you think about what you should do, if you should just go to sleep and hope that you wake up feeling better or if you should walk out. you think about the warm jacuzzi and the thought of sungchan possibly joining you has you thinking hard. you decide to take you chances as you slowly walk to the sliding glass door.

you could see sungchan move from his spot on the couch, getting up to look at you. you made eye contact with him as he sat up.

“it’s too dark to go to the beach.” sungchan said.

“i’m just going to the jacuzzi.” you said.

“oh, alright.” sungchan said.

you could practically hear him holding back his tongue, still staring at you while you continued to open the sliding glass door.

“can i join you?” sungchan asked.

before you could even think about saying no, you nodded you head. sungchan got up from his spot on the couch and stretched, taking off his shirt quickly. you turned away to situate yourself in the jacuzzi before he came out.

your back was facing the villa, but you could hear the sliding glass door open again. you saw sungchan in only his basketball shorts pass by him. your head followed his every move as he went to the other side. it was later in the night, the time of day where everyone had retired back to their dwellings to get ready for the next day. you probably should’ve done the same, being up this late with just sungchan would only lead to mistakes being made. but for some reason you stayed in your spot, looking up at your ex-boyfriend as he looked down at you.

“you just can’t get enough of the water can you?” sungchan said casually.

sungchan slowly came to the side of the jacuzzi opposite of you.

“neither can you.” you say.

sungchan only shrugs before letting himself sink into the water. he lets himself lean against the side of the jacuzzi, elbows coming out of the water to rest on the edge. you look at sungchan from across the jacuzzi, the water separating you two feeling like the ocean. you think about the looks you’ve been exchanging all day, the tension that has been building up since he picked you up this morning. it was a terribly bad idea to come on this trip with him.

“i had fun today.” sungchan says.

“me too.” you say.

you start playing with the bubbling water of the jacuzzi to occupy your mind. you can feel sungchan staring at you, you focus on the bubbles waiting for him to stop.

“you were staring the whole day now you won’t look at me?” sungchan said.

you looked up for a moment to see the smile on his face. you wish you had your tinted shades on now, or something to cover your entire face as you could feel the heat spreading everywhere.

your eyes only got wider as sungchan closed the distance between your bodies. he put hands on either side of you, giving you no option but to look at him. you could never get used to that look in his eyes, the one that told you he wanted to fuck you senseless.

“tell me to stop and i will.” sungchan whispered.

his eyes scanned your face and you nodded, feeling his eyes gravitate towards your lips.

sungchan brought you in slowly, so slow that you had to close the rest of the distance. you had to awkwardly extend your neck to deepen the kiss, but a hand on your face helped you. you leaned back against the edge of the jacuzzi, feeling sungchan’s body press against yours. you could hear the low hum of the machine in the jacuzzi and the waves crashing on the beach. the wind moved the branches of the palm trees slightly and your hand went to sungchan’s hair to move it out of the way. his hand was delicate on your face, bringing you gently to peck your lips over and over. you receive each kiss, following his head each time he pulls back wanting more.

sungchan looks at your face again. your eyes are already blown out and low as you look at his lips. sungchan sucks on your lower lip and uses a hand to slowly grab your covered breast. you end up pulling your lips from sungchan’s mouth when you lean your head back, letting it rest on the edge of the jacuzzi. you arch your back, bringing your chest closer to sungchan’s body. he laughs at your current state, so touch starved you whimpering just from his hand and a few chaste kisses.

“you’re such a tease, you know that right?” sungchan said.

he’s amazed at how pliant you are, how you whimper a yes and nod your head. sungchan isn’t even trying to be dominant but you naturally follow everything he says. sungchan doesn’t know how he was so stupid to let you slip through his fingers.

sungchan’s hands underneath the water play with the ties on the sides of your bikini, undoing them with one simple motion. when you bring your head back up, you see your bikini bottoms floating on the surface of the jacuzzi. you whimper when you feel sungchan’s hand caress the skin of your thigh. he brings his hand so close to your folds before retreating playfully. he wants to hear you whine and beg for him.

“you wanna get fucked by your ex so bad, huh?” sungchan says.

when you only nod your head sungchan puts two fingers inside of you suddenly. your grip on his hair tightens and you can’t stop the moan that comes out.

“yes.” you moan.

you’re lucky the beach has cleared out. you can see the beach clearly from here, the dark water washing up higher and higher on the shore. anyone from the beach would be able to see sungchan’s back on your hand marking it. you’re sure people in the surrounding villas might be able to hear you as well.

the possibility of getting caught doesn’t stop sungchan at all. in fact, this only eggs him on to bring you to the brink faster. he figures that if he fucks you here you’ll let him carry you bridal style back into the villa so he can fuck you properly on bed. maybe next you’ll let him take you on the kitchen counter and then the couch while the television plays. if you’ll let him, sungchan will gladly have you up the rest of the night taking him over and over again while he asks you to give him a second chance. but for now, he has to settle with bending his fingers inside of you while he watches you try and collect your thoughts.

“so tight baby,” sungchan says. he adds another finger. “do you think you can even take it like you used to?”

you are able to come out of your state of bliss to nod your head eagerly.

“i can take it.” you mewl.

“are you sure?” sungchan teases.

“yes.” your whines have almost become cries as you look at sungchan desperately.

you start reaching for sungchan underneath his swim trunks, feeling his hard dick through the fabric. you squeeze him tight, the way you know he likes it. sungchan looks down at your hand underneath the water. you go to pull at his waistband and sungchan uses his free hand to help you. in no time both of your swim bottoms float together on the surface of the water.

you grab sungchan’s length and jerk him off desperately. you don’t remember the last time you felt like this, like a horny teenage doing everything in your power to get off. sungchan feeds off of it, and he wonders what he did today that has made you so pent up.

“can’t believe this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me a couple days ago.” sungchan says, humping your hand “what changed?”

you don’t have the answer for him. instead you just jerk him off faster as he lifts you underneath the water. you wrap your legs around his waist easily. he puts a hand on your back where you make contact with the edge of the pool so you don’t get scratched by the rough edge. this also helps him press your body against his.

“god i missed you so much,” sungchan says. “missed this pussy, too.”

“i missed you too.” you say pitifully.

you help sungchan guide his dick inside of you. you forgot the anticipation and excitement that bubbled over your entire body before sungchan would push into you. he takes you all in, pressing his lips against yours as he slides in.

you are both moaning pitifully into eachothers mouths, taken over by the stimulation. you hate to admit how close you are to asking sungchan to be your boyfriend again when he bottoms out. you missed the doting and the teasing and how he always made sure you feel good. he wastes no time picking up the speed, knowing how desperate you must be. you mentioned to him once that you liked when he didn’t always give you time to adjust and he still remembered by the way he fucks you.

“so fucking tight.” sungchan seethed.

“you’re so big.” you moaned.

“i know baby. i know.” sungchan mockingly cooed.

sungchan continues to work against the buoyancy of the water, causing tiny waves as he fucks you against the wall of the jacuzzi. you hold onto sungchan’s shoulders, digging your fingernails into his wet skin. he’s so big inside of you, your walls haven’t felt the stretch in so long. you can’t stop yourself from clenching around sungchan with each thrust, the way he grunts into your ear from the exertion has you clamping around him even more.

“your dick is perfect.” you say between each thrust.

sungchan smirks into your neck before biting the skin, causing you to clamp around him again. this time it’s sungchan moaning into your ear. his hand on your back is no help as you press into the edge of the jacuzzi, it’s a pain you welcome if it means sungchan continues to fuck you like this.

sungchan pulls away from your neck to look at your chest. the thrusts have your breasts breaking the surface of the water and sungchan watches in amazement as they jump up and down.

“so beautiful.” sungchan says.

“take off my top for me baby.” you tell him.

sungchan uses the hand on your back to undo the tie. immediately your boobs spill out, pressing against sungchan’s chest. this lights a flame underneath sungchan, he ruts his hips into yours desperately. his hand that was holding your hips up pries between your two bodies so he can press a finger to your clit. you dig your nails deeper into sungchan’s skin at the feeling, and he locks into your face as he speeds up his fingers.

“i’m close.” you whimper.

“me too.” sungchan says.

the thought of sungchan seeing you cum suddenly makes you nercous. you think it would be better to face the inside of the villa while you moan out his name. if you look at him in the face you might really do something you’ll regret.

“turn me around.” you say.

your words are breathless and broken off by sungchan’s ministrations. to your dismay sungchan shakes his head, the rare occasion he doesn’t listen to you. he only picks up his speed and your mouth opens.

“i wanna see your face,” sungchan says. he pauses just for a moment to lift your body up, letting you rewrap your legs around his hips. “is that alright?”

sungchan says it with a smirk on his face because he knows you’ll fold. not even a second elapses before you nod your head quickly, bringing his body closer to you with your legs.

“go ahead,” sungchan’s pace is unrelenting, some water splashes on your chin. “cum for me baby.”

you don’t last another second. a high pitched cry leaves your mouth and you slump against sungchan as you try desperately to come down. you con’t stop yourself from crying out his name and an i love you’s, something you always said when orgasming. sungchan says it right back to you as he finishes inside of you, hips stilling as you milk him dry.

both of you are slumped against the edge of the jacuzzi as you try to catch your breaths. sungchan is the first to come back down to earth, pushing his wet hair from his face as his covers your skin in kisses. he kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, anything his lips can reach. you come back down to earth in a panic, realizing you told your ex you loved him like you two were still together.

sungchan gets out of the jacuzzi first and silently offers a hand to you. you can already feel the wear of your body, slightly sore from pressing into the rough lip of the jacuzzi. you take sungchan’s hand, getting ready to tell him you didn’t mean the love confession. just like always he is one step ahead of you, kissing your lips before you can get a word out. he leads your through the door of the villa and starts heading towards the bedroom.

“let’s see if you still don’t mean it by the morning.” sungchan says

#01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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faeriekit · 11 months

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New In Town (dp x dc)

ALRIGHT! 👏🏽 A prompt. (Or, well. A premise.) I’m schtealing a lot of worldbuilding from @mediumsizedpidegon‘s post here so bear with me please.

The Bats, however they catch wind of Amity, catch wind of Amity Park. Of course they do. Amity Park has a very distinct presence— Or, well, a lack of a presence. It may have an abundance of documented weirdness online, from folk stories to abandoned livestreams to concerning details in expats’ online blogs.

But there is no online evidence of Amity Park that leaves Amity Park.

So. What is a family of detectives to do when confronted with the need to gather physical evidence? Road Trip, baby!🏄🏽‍♂️🚗🚞🚡

Everyone hops in the car/Batplane and makes their way to Amity Park; they make hotel reservations, ring up the only reasonably rich enough people to even touch their social circle (the Manson family, and Vlad Masters, apparently), make an itinerary for all the documented tourist stops to hit up while in town off the town website, and prepare themselves for whatever dimensional weirdness is causing a complete tech blackout on the town and an inability to be found by satellite.

They get about ten feet into Amity proper when they meet the first local.

His name is Danny. He’s nice! Affable. He looks a lot like any other Wayne sibling, actually, if a little on the younger side. He notices it’s their first time in town. Do they need any help getting around?

Best way to get information is to ingratiate with a local, so...sure, why not? They get a free tour guide, Danny gets to show off his town; they see all the sights, like the local burger joint, the school, the Manson home, the town hall, the city proper. They’re having a clothing swap in the temple parking lot, actually. You should go check it out!

For whatever reason, it’s all...Punk? Goth? There’s a couple of lolita dressed tossed in, and some crocheted things. Everyone has a trunk out their car, eyeliner, and at least two piercings in their face; everyone here seems to know each other on a personal level. Well, small towns are small towns. Whatever.

Danny isn’t deterred by their reactions. If they want, there’s the movie in park tonight! If not, they can catch dinner, though; their hotel restaurant closes at 8pm sharp. (He just...knows this off the top of his head?)

They split up. Some of the family people watch at the restaurant. Everyone is...weirdly courteous to them. A little standoffish. But not at the Wayne name, just at...them being there.

The people at the park find out they’re watching The Night of the Living Dead. This would be much more normal if the park wasn’t also clearly the cemetery, in the middle of July? Which is. Why? It’s not even for any holiday or special time of the year? It’s just...clearly a movie night in the summer? There are little kids here, playing among the gravestones while their parents set out blankets and snacks. Why is this considered a family event??

Well. At least Jason has fun.

Everyone goes to bed and reconvenes in the morning. When they wake up and roll out for the day, Danny manages to find them again, this time with two new friends, bright and chipper in the morning. There’s a farmer’s market today! Everyone’s worked really hard on this week’s harvest; don’t they want to see?

...Sure?

And the longer they’re in Amity Park, the more they begin to realize how convenient it is, that they’re ferried around so easily; that there’s immediately a local who takes a liking to them, that there’s always something else to do; how suspicious it is that no data can get in or out of Amity now that they’re in it, or how they can’t seem to get close to any of the more suspicious parts of town they want to infiltrate. The town is entirely closed to outside influences. The fashion trends are strange and foreign. They only eat things grown in the area, by people they know, and it’s all sort of...green. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone knows where to go. Who to talk to. The superstitions— make no wishes, step on no cracks, wear no large jewelry, cross no shadows of any person (living or dead, apparently), speak to no one without full view of their eyes.

But nothing seems dangerous— not until a few of them try to investigate Axiom Labs, a subsidiary of the otherwise national Dalvco company, and are met to the face with a blaster that uses tech they’ve never seen, by a red fighter in an ultra-synthetic suit.

Overnight, the extremely polite and welcoming town becomes a hostile entity to fight their way out of.

#...or something.#dp x dc #this is *technically* a subset of the Amity is Danny's Haunt au #he can physically feel how they don't fit. But he is TRYING to be a good host #everyone else is nervous around new people who Don't Get the local vibes #or even notice the dead people who are scattered all over Amity #dpxdc #dcxdp #I just wanted Danny to be So Cheerful and Nice it turns back into like stepford wife spookiness completely on accident #Danny seems Tailor Made to be liked by them and it's kinda freaky #Places they also fail to get into: Mayor's office. Vlad's bigass house. Fentonworks #Oh Boy does Danny's attitude change when they try to get into Fentonworks #dcu crossover #free to a good home

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reallyromealone · 4 months

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Title: slice of life

Fandom: apothecary diaries

Pairing Jinshi x maomao + baby reader

Warnings: child reader, baby reader, fluff, cute, platonic (obviously), slice of life

Notes: none

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

(name) gave a big stretch as he was held by his mom, maomao having the babe in her lap as she went over papers, the once commoner now wife of the Emperor's brother was pleased that she could continue doing what she loved though she did have to stop ingesting poisons for her beloved son who loved being helpful in his own way, the Apothecary often gave him little toy versions of her tools so he could learn even if he was only eight months.

"Let's go see your papa, yes?" Maomao said to her son, a warmness she didn't extend to many people-- hell her own husband didn't even get that level of warmness unless it was on special occasion.

It was strange for people to see her dressed as someone of such high class, her old friends bowing at her with a smile as she went to look for her husband. Everyone looked at (name) fondly, recently the boy had learned to wave and decided that everyone needed to be waved at no matter what class, maomao smiling softly at the boys antics "you are just like your father" her words fond as the boy patted her face, he had his smile that was for sure.

Jinshi was absolutely thrilled to see the two "you came to see me~" he teased and maomao kept a passive Expression "no, we were just passing by" a total lie but it was enough to make the other pout in annoyance before gently taking (name) and holding him close, letting the boy hold his finger in his tiny hand and doted on the babe who babbled, maomao would rather die than admit she found the scene absolutely heartwarming. (Name) loved his parents, the two always gave their full attention to him and included him in many things.

"I was thinking of having him visit my father..." Maomao said absentmindedly as the babe tried grabbing his dad's hair "you wanna see your grandpa, little one?" (Name) perked up at the mention of 'grandpa' and began bouncing slightly "eeea!" He squealed and that was their answer "I'll make the necessary preparations, maybe we can visit him on our way to our holiday, yes?"

Jinshi kept his face hidden, the babe confused but didn't cry or anything when seeing his father look strange "dad! We're here" the older man looked up from his grinding stone to see his grandson smack his little hands together and reach from maomao to him "my, you grown" he mused and took the boy "you look just like my maomao" he whispered to the boy as the two parents watched, Jinshi had taken it upon himself to get maomaos adoptive father a better living situation, upgrade some stuff for the apothecary.

"He's been figuring out walking, soon he will be all over the place" jinshi said fondly and the older man chuckled "Maomao was a speedy baby, she would want to see everything"

They stayed for half hour, having tea the Jinshi brought for his father in law as (name) munched on a small tiny portion of a treat, resting on his mother's chest content.

"He's so peaceful when he's eating" jinshi teased his son who barely paid attention, focused on his tiny bit of honey as his mom fixed his hair "he will surely cause chaos when he's older, like his father"

"Hey!"

(Name) paid the adults no mind as he glanced around, the home always warmer when they were always together, the boy sliding down from his mom's hold when he spotted his toys, crawling towards them happily "he's growing fast" the two parents felt their hearts warm at their little one who played so sweetly "he's going to be quite a good man when he's older" (name) turned his little butt around to see his parents before surprising everyone, standing shakily in his two little chunky legs and attempting to walk to maomao with his little "I want food" whine "my, were going to have to lock things away it seems" maomao teased as (name) smacked her chest lightly with a huff "I think this is our queue to leave" jinshi said as maomao hugged her dad, taking little (name) out of the home, a much nicer one as a "thank you for letting me marry your daughter" gift.

"Mama!" (Name) said angrily as they got in the carriage "yesyes, you little brat" she teased as jinshi watched.

He was definitely his father's son.

#the apothecary diaries x reader #the apothecary diaries #the Apothecary diaries x male reader #jinshi x male reader #jinshi x reader #maomao x jinshi #maomao x reader #fluff #male reader #x male reader #child male reader #baby male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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strangemaleswaps · 6 months

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Strange Christmas Family Swap

Christmas is supposed to be the time of year where you celebrate joy with your family and loved ones. But everyone has that one family member no one looks forward to seeing, and I’m no different. For me that person would be my grandpa. He'd always been a really cranky guy who, I swear, could find something to complain about on literally any topic. I don't know why he even comes over for the holidays in the first place. Maybe he's just lonely? At least my siblings are coming home. They're all older than me and left for college years ago. Sometimes I felt like I was behind everyone just because I was the youngest, but they always tell me to enjoy being young while it lasted. At least I still had my dog, Lucy, to keep me company.

“Shoot. Ferris, we forgot to buy your grandpa a present,” my mom mentioned while preparing dinner for Christmas Eve.

“Does it matter? He's not gonna like anything anyway.”

“Yes I know. But it's Christmas. The time of year where you need to treat even those you dislike well. Could you quickly go to that gift shop and buy some cheap ornament?”

“Mom, it's Christmas Eve! Half these places are closed or closing soon.” She looked up a store on her phone and showed me that it closed at 5. It was 4:38.

“There's that one hallmark store within walking distance still open. You can make it in time! I just don't want to cause a scene.” I wanted to take the car, but it would take too long to shovel all the snow, so I walked. The store wasn't that far by foot, but it was still an awful time in the freezing cold. When I arrived, there was a single employee at the counter - an old lady with a messy bun. She greeted me and asked what I needed.

“I have just the thing.” She walked over to the shelf and showed me a little Santa ornament that was wearing a galaxy pattern suit instead of the regular red. It was actually a pretty good gift because my grandpa loved outer space, not to mention he kinda looked like Santa anyway, just without the beard.

“This is perfect.”

“Then why do you look sad?” Her response caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy!”

“That's probably easy for others. But for me, Christmas means family time and I don't exactly like someone in my family.

“That's a shame. You're lucky to have a family at least.” She looked down at the floor sadly. It was clear what she meant by that.

“But since you still have people in your life I'd like to help you with your problem. Could I have that ornament back please?” I assumed she was about to check me out so I started reaching for my wallet, when she walked into the backroom with the present instead. As soon as the door closed, the power suddenly went out and I was in pure darkness until there was a weird purple glow coming from the door. All of this only lasted about 10 seconds and the power came back on as if nothing happened. Did I just imagine that whole thing? It was weird. The woman walked back out with a big smile on her face.

“Did the power go out or something? And what happened in there?”

“Oh nothing,” she said with a grin. “Merry Christmas!”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I guess.” She checked me out and I was on my way back home.

When I arrived, my siblings were already there, as well as my grandpa.

“Hey! It's Ferris!” said my oldest brother Calvin. He had definitely gained a lot of weight since I last saw him, even though he was an athlete in college. Looks like he still refused to shave the messy beard he started last year. My older sibling Sam grinned at me. They looked exactly as they always did - expressing their love of anime with a nerdy t-shirt and wearing ear gauges that have gotten bigger since the last time I saw them. My sister Em walked up to hug me. She was always the one I was closest with, since she was only 2 years older than me.

“I got a present for Grandpa.” He suddenly looked at me, and then to the bag I was holding.

“It's about time you buy me something! Lemme see.”

“Well not until Christmas.” Despite living to see many Christmases, Grandpa was still an extremely impatient person. He'd actually opened up his Christmas presents early before because he just couldn't stand the wait. This was my first time buying one myself for him (even though it was really just my mom sending me) so I guess he was beyond curious.

“Come on. It's basically Christmas anyway.” He got his large ass out of the seat and approached me. He was wearing a tucked in blue plaid shirt that covered the gut hanging over his pants. He stumbled over to me until we were face to face. I could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, almost making my eyes water.

“Boy, give me the gift.”

“Dad, just wait until Christmas. You're gonna spoil the surprise.” My mom thankfully defended me and started walking over.

“Fine, but I-” He faked content and snatched the bag from me.

“Dad! Enough!” My mom shouted but it was too late. He had taken the ornament out of the bag, but clumsily dropped it. It shattered all over the floor before he even had a chance to react.

“Oh man.” Sam gulped.

“Now look at what you've done! You ruined my present!” Grandpa yelled in my face.

“Dad! Dad! Calm down. I think you need to go to bed now.”

“Fine! But only because your idiot son ruined my Christmas!” My mom escorted him to the guest room and Em picked up a broom. We both swept together as my mom walked back into the kitchen.

“Could he possibly be more…you know…” I started.

“Horrible? Pathetic?” Calvin added.

“Gross? Nasty?” Sam added.

“Your grandfather is just lonely really. His parents - my grandparents - let him do whatever he wanted. He's a real spoiled man. But I don't think there's any changing him now so let's just endure the day tomorrow and you won't have to see him for a while. Got it?”

“Fine.” The rest of the night was much better and I had a great time with my family. Calvin scarfed down the food so fast he almost choked, Em told me all about what college was like, Sam bragged about his new gauges, and Lucy practically flew under the table as soon as my mom dropped a piece of ham.

When it was time for bed, my siblings got settled into their rooms - Calvin and Sam sharing the same bedroom they did growing up, and Em sleeping in the basement because her old room was turned into an office. I looked at the Christmas tree glimmering with lights and decorations, excited to see what the presents underneath it would look like in the morning. It's a shame that Grandpa's present broke and we had to throw it away, but I guess he got what he deserved for being such a dick. I headed into my bed, where Lucy was already snuggled up in, and nestled up under the covers.

The next morning I woke up to the sounds of shouting, which was unfitting for what was supposed to be a peaceful Christmas morning. It was coming from the room next to me and sounded like my brothers, which was weird because my room was across the hall from them. But it sounded so close. I started getting up, to see what was going on, but when I looked around, I realized I actually was in the guest room

How did I get in here? I gazed down to find my stomach seemed swollen in my white tank top. I lifted it up and to my horror, I realized my slim chest was replaced with a flabby belly! How did I get so fat? I know I ate alot last night but this was ridiculous! The gut flopped out, to a bit over my waist. It felt weird knowing a part of my body was just hanging there. I noticed a bit of chest hair, which was foreign to me, but when I noticed they were gray hairs, it finally hit me. I was a fat old guy in the guest room. I somehow switched bodies with my grandpa!

I heard the voices leave the room so I stumbled over to the door, not quite used to the shift in weight compared to my old twink body, and was about to put my hand on the doorknob when I saw someone looking at me in the mirror. I turned my head to find that it was my grandpa…I mean me…staring back.

I really did look disgusting, not just because of my looks, but because I now had the face of an impatient jerk. I tried doing different facial expressions; it looked weird because I rarely had ever seen my grandpa smile at all. I noticed that I couldn't see my own dick past the belly, not that I would want to. It was probably all wrinkly and gross! What was I going to do? I opened the door to find Calvin walking to the living room. He looked pretty concerned, which was unusual for the carefree personality he usually had.

“Hey uh..Grandpa?” Fuck. Looks like I'm not imagining it after all. I hated this. “Sorry for the noise, it's just that…”

“I'm not even gonna try to pretend.” I spoke, but my voice came out gravelly and deep. It scared me a little bit. “I'm Ferris, not Grandpa. I don't know how it happened! I just-”

“Shit! That's great! I mean not because you're Grandpa now. But because I'm not alone! I'm actually Sam.”

“Sam?” It was actually kinda funny, Sam and Calvin switching bodies. They were close but still completely different people. I couldn't contain my laughter and started giggling, even though it came out as my Grandpa's gruff wheezes.

“Oh sure. I'M the funny one when Mister-wheeze-a-lot can't laugh without sounding like he's dying.”

“Hey! Well Mister-” I stopped myself trying to continue the joke. “Wait, how does that work?”

“The gender is all up to the person. Sure the…” they stared down at the new extra pounds they now carried and shook their belly. “...expression might be different, at least at the moment, but I'm still me. BUT the idiot who looks like me doesn't seem to understand.” As if on cue, Calvin in Sam's body appeared, walking in a macho way, something that Sam would never do.

“Check it out Grandpa! I'm an enby!” Sam gave a huge facepalm.

“Calvin my sweet brother, We. Have. Been. Over. This.”

“Hey whatever. I think it's cool. My face feels so empty though. Maybe I'll start growing a bea-” Sam cut him off right there.

“If you go out there without a clean shaven face, I'm shaving YOUR beard.”

“God no please. It took me like a year to grow that!” Calvin pleaded.

“Hey hey, what about me?!” I interrupted their arguing.

“Oh yeah,” Sam started. “That's not Grandpa. It's Ferris.”

“Oh man Ferris. You're a fucking old dude now!” exclaimed Calvin. He then poked my new belly. “Welcome to the chub club! Well…” He glaced down at Sam's slim figure. “My membership is on hold for now.”

Just then we heard a scream coming from my mom's room. We quickly opened the door, already knowing what happened. We found my mom staring at the mirror with a look of pure horror on her face.

“It's ok Em, we're all body swapped too.” She seemed to calm down when she realized that she wasn't alone in all this.

“Weird case of Freaky Friday here. Especially with Em….and Mom,” added Calvin. Just then my mom, in Em's body, walked in to join in the confusion.

“Well this is awkward. Two of my kids in each other's bodies, my own son in my dad's and I'm in my own daughter's body. Could this Christmas get any crazier?”

“Where's Grandpa?”

“Probably still sleeping.”

We headed over to my room, expecting him to still be asleep, only to find him flexing in the mirror - in my body. I didn't actually have any real muscles, being a skinny twink, so he didn't really have anything to flex. That didn't stop him from admiring himself. When he noticed us, he walked over smiling. It was a creepy sight, not only to see my body move on its own, but also knowing it's my grandpa inside there smiling.

“Hello everyone. It's good to be young again!”

“Uh hey Grandpa.” He looked right at me. “No, no! Call me Boris! YOU'RE the grandpa now!”

I felt so humiliated. He was actually…cool…in my body! And I was just the fat old guy that nobody liked!

“Dad, we need to figure out what happened so you can become your old self again. Ok?”

“Hell no! I'm young again for the first time in years. No way I'm giving away this opportunity!”

“I got it!” Em suddenly exclaimed. We all turned around wondering what she meant. She showed us her phone - or rather my mom's phone.

“What?”

“How we all swapped bodies! That ornament that Ferris got! There's an ancient artifact that can take on different appearances. It says it's been known to cause mischief when broken.”

“What kind of ancient thing is meant to be broken? How has it lasted this long then?”

“That's the thing. Everytime it breaks, it finds a new place and takes on a new appearance. But it always takes on the appearance of an object that its next victim will need.”

“Shit. And that's why the present seemed perfect for Grandpa.”

“Hey! I got a much better gift than any of you!” cheered my grandpa as he flexed his arms once agaih.

“But…how do we find it again?”

“Y-you don't. Unless you want to search the whole world for something you don't even know what it looks like.”

There was a deafening silence after she spoke those words. We all realized the truth was that we would never return to our old bodies. I was stuck as an old man forever!

“Hey, it's not so bad,” my grandpa started, seemingly reading my mind. He leaned over and lifted up my shirt, exposing my gut, and slapped it. “The belly is pretty comfy after all. You'll love it.” Maybe he was right. I'm sure I could make the silver bear look work. As I thought about that, I noticed a bulge starting to form. Grandpa turned to look at everyone with a huge smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas everyone!”

#strangemaleswaps #body swap #male body swap #male tf #weight gain

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my-castles-crumbling · 6 months

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Warmth- Jegulus holiday fluff!

Hi guys! You voted on a holiday present and this is what you chose! It's hogwarts-age jegulus, AU-no Voldemort, background wolfstar holiday fluff! Enjoy!

Regulus always associated the holidays with the cold.

A cold house. A cold bed. The coldness of his family.

And he was so used to the way his family did things.

It started with planning. So much planning. Making sure everything, every minute detail, was perfect. That the menu was impeccable. The decor, superb. The outfits, tailored and luxurious.

Regulus and Sirius were expected to be flawless representations of their House and ‘Superior Bloodline.’ Put-together and polite; seen, not heard.

The pressure was more than intense.

And the actual party?

So many people. So many high standards.

The chit-chat was suffocating, and Regulus always dreaded it.

There was nothing personal about the holidays. No time for family. Only networking. Putting on a show. Making sure their family was constantly on top.

It was cold.

Regulus spent the entire day feeling lonely.

So, when Regulus first agreed to spend the holidays at the Potters’ he wasn’t sure how to feel. He knew, of course, that the Potters were pureblood. Well-off. They probably had fancy parties, too.

“What shall I pack?” he asked his boyfriend one day while they were studying, close to break, realizing his old dress robes might not fit any more. Did the Potters expect him to wear his custom-made twelve-piece robes, or would some of his more comfortable three-piece outfits suffice?

“Pack?” James asked, looking a bit distracted. He was currently trying to figure out what looked like a botched Potions essay, and Regulus knew he would have to take pity on him and help soon. “I mean, it’s a bit cold. Make sure to pack some extra jumpers.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, endeared by the taller boy’s oliviousness. “I meant for the party.”

“Party?” James asked, looking quite shocked. “We’re going to a party?”

Now his patience was wearing a bit thin. “On Christmas, James. Won’t your family have a party?”

James laughed out loud at that. “I mean, it’ll be my mum, dad, Sirius, Remus, and both of us. Is that what you mean?”

Regulus thought about that. “So…no party?”

“No,” James answered, looking a bit concerned. “Is that alright? I know your family-”

“It’s perfect,” Regulus nodded, quickly pulling James’s mess of an essay toward himself. “This is not.”

As soon as the boys arrived in the bright, warm kitchen of the Potter Manor, a woman swept Regulus into a hug so quickly he almost yelped with surprise.

“Regulus. It’s wonderful to meet you,” the woman hugging him said warmly.

“Don’t suffocate him, mum,” James admonished, throwing Regulus a grin as he hugged what could only be his father.

But Regulus, who normally hated being touched, especially by those he didn’t know, found himself melting into the embrace. He realized almost instantly where James got it from- his safe, kind, accepting persona. His warmth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. and Mr. Potter,” Regulus stammered as Euphemia released him. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Effie and Monty,” Monty replied easily. “And how could we not? James talks so much about you, you’re practically family already."

James turned bright red at this, and Regulus smirked a bit. Sirius made a gagging noise from behind them.

“As if you don’t talk just as much about Remus,” Effie chided him, pulling him into a hug as well.

“Mum! I’m supposed to be the favorite!” Sirius pouted, making Effie grin.

“I have no favorites. Though if we’re going by number of times I’ve gotten letters of complaint from Minerva McGonagall, then Regulus is currently the favorite,” Effie retorted, making Regulus turn pink.

Even though both Sirius and James protested more about that, it was clear that all the comments were in good fun. They were laughing. Smiling. Enjoying each other’s company.

He’d never experienced family like this before. It was strange. The warmth.

Regulus quickly figured out that he liked Potter Manor almost as much as he liked Hogwarts.

He, James, Sirius, and Remus (when he arrived a few days later) spent their days flying, lazing around, going into the Muggle town nearby and exploring. He knew that Monty was a Potioneer, but he was thrilled to find that once he tentatively asked the older man about his work, Monty was eager to show him everything he was working on. He even let Regulus help.

He also found a piano, tucked away in a lonely room on the fourth floor, and spent hours at a time just playing, reveling in being able to just be, while James, Sirius, and Remus caused chaos Merlin-knew-where.

He felt safe. Wanted. This, he realized, was how family was supposed to feel.

He’d believed James, of course, when he’d said there wouldn’t be a party. But he was still unsurprised, somehow, when on Christmas morning, he was awoken at dawn by someone shaking him awake. Good thing he packed something presentable.

“Happy Christmas, Reg!” James whispered into his ear.

“Mmmpfh,” Regulus mumbled into his pillow. “Thought you said there wasn’t a party?”

“What? No, I…I have something to show you. Will you come with me?” James asked, looking a bit nervous.

“Alright.”

It was early, and cold. And Regulus was thankful, really, that he’d listened to James and packed multiple jumpers because he pulled two over his head, blearily following the taller boy out of his room.

“Sorry it’s so early. It’s just…I’ve been trying to get you alone for days and I figured if I try before Sirius is awake, I’d have more of a chance,” James grinned a bit sheepishly.

Regulus snorted. Sirius had been quite the nuisance over the past few days. Every time James and Regulus had had two minutes alone, he just appeared. “He’s your best friend, Potter.”

James chuckled, leading Regulus to the front door.

“Outside?” Regulus blanched. He might have two jumpers on, but he wasn’t dressed for the snowstorm currently raging outside.

“Trust me?” James asked, levelling a challenging look at Regulus.

And fuck James Potter, because he knew that the answer to that question was yes.

“Alright,” Regulus murmured, shivering as James rapped his wand sharply on Regulus’s head. A feeling of warmth slowly seeped through Regulus’s very veins, like he’d stepped into a hot shower.

“C’mon,” James said, grabbing his hand and guiding him into the storm.

They walked for a few minutes, hand-in-hand, through the raging snow. Even as the storm persisted, however, Regulus could only feel warmth. No wind, no cold. Just the comfortable heat of James’s spell and their intertwined hands.

It was loud, however. And it was hard to see. “James, where the hell-?” Regulus yelled, feeling a bit nervous.

“Not much farther now! It’s just here!” James called to him, dragging him a few more feet before stopping.

Then, James pulled out his wand again and tapped it on seemingly nothing, before pulling Regulus a few more feet forward.

Regulus was thoroughly confused for a moment, until-

Quiet.

They seemed to be in a bubble. Almost a reverse-snow globe. Their little space on the ground, about ten feet in diameter, was quiet. Warm. Free of snow. But outside, the snow still fell and the wind whipped it around.

It was strangely beautiful. Haunting but safe.

“Just here,” James said softly, guiding him to a blanket on the ground.

Shocked, Regulus lay on the blanket, allowing James to pull him close, as they looked up and watched the snowstorm surrounding them.

“James, this is-”

“We used to do this all the time when I was a kid,” James explained, circling his thumb on Regulus's back soothingly. “On Christmas, especially. If it snowed, my dad would come out and set this up. And we’d just sit out here and watch. Be together.”

Regulus moved a bit closer to James, feeling so incredibly content. “This is what your family does on Christmas?”

He felt James shrug next to him. “It’s nice to just…escape sometimes, you know? And I just wanted to be with you.”

Regulus felt tears prickle his eyes as he took that in. It was somehow precious, to be shown this tradition. To be allowed this window into James’s life. To be included and wanted and loved.

And it was so warm, here.

Here, in the snow. Here, in James’s arms.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing James softly.

And he lost himself in the warmth of the kiss.

Hope you guys liked it! Please leave comments and kudos, I need them more than I need a nap (a lot!)

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rin-fukuroi · 6 months

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: Neuvillette x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationships, just cute holiday's fluff!

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Ed Sheeran - Perfect

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I'm not going to say anything, just let me give this lovely man the holiday he deserves (╥﹏╥)♡

art: @kiyoomiya__

— Are you sure I… won't be superfluous?

Another doomed sigh leaves your chest while you put the purchased groceries in a bag, which is held by a drooping Neuvillette, who has been pestering you with the same type of questions all day.

— I told you, this is a family holiday, Neuvi, and you are my family.

— But you invited your friends, and I…

— They're your friends too! — you put your fists on your hips, giving Neuvillette a disapproving look before putting your wallet back in your bag and kindly saying goodbye to the salesman at the bakery. — Don't even think about not coming! If necessary, I know where to look for you, and I'll drag you home by force.

— It will be superfluous, — the lips of the stubborn Chief Judge barely lift noticeably when you interlace his fingers with yours again, continuing your little shopping trip before the New Year.

Even such small things still seem embarrassing to Neuvillette. Is he worthy of just walking around holding your hand like that? You always find it so easy to find a common language with any people, you are always full of energy even in the most depressing circumstances, and you are so kind to him, who barely understands what «family» means in principle. Doesn't it hurt you to realize that it's hard for him to understand your feelings? Although Neuvillette is trying his best. He knows that you are dear to him, he knows that there seems to be no more significant person in his life than a girl who has so recklessly imbued with warm feelings for him, but is that enough?

Is that really enough for you to call him your family?

✧ ✧ ✧

Nauvillette feels such excitement for the first time in his life. His heart is pounding so strangely in his chest. Previously, this muscle pumping blood through his veins trembled only from your presence, which people seem to call a sign of the very feelings that he managed to share with you, but now… is he afraid? Worried? Is he embarrassed to just knock on the door of your house?

You really shouldn't have invited him. But how can he break his promise now?

Therefore, an alarmed man still finds the strength to raise his hand and knock softly twice. There are muffled voices outside the door, your hurried footsteps, sounding louder and clearer every second, almost in sync with the frantic pulse of blood in his ears.

You open the door abruptly.

— Neuvi, you've come!

And everything disappeared. The sounds disappeared, everything around disappeared, even the very concept of time, which froze as soon as you appeared before Neuvillette's mother-of-pearl eyes, remaining the only thing that really exists at this moment. Your hair is slightly disheveled, but neatly gathered, exposing your neck and collarbones peeking out from the neckline of a charming red dress that perfectly accentuates all the curves of your petite body. All the epithets were erased from the mind of the mesmerized Chief Judge, as well as the very concept of beauty, which was rewritten as soon as he saw you. It was hard for him to realize and accept this before, but now he really understands how beautiful you are.

So much so that Neuvillette just freezes, continuing to look into your sparkling eyes, which gradually reflect notes of concern when you don't hear any response from your lover.

— Neuvi? Are you okay? — you tilt your head to the side, crossing your arms over your chest.

Your worried voice intrudes into the bubble detached from reality, in which Neuvillette unwittingly found himself, and his eyebrows suddenly rise, and his face looks as if he remembered something important, now clearing his throat and burying his face in a scarf, hoping that the blush that appeared on his cheeks could justify the evening frost.

— I'm sorry, I was thinking a little.

— I wish I could say this is the first time, — you fake a heavy sigh, then giggle softly and step away from the door, inviting Neuvillette in. — Come on, dinner is ready.

— Thank you for the invitation…

As soon as Neuvillette's foot crosses the threshold of your house, he is immediately enveloped in pleasant warmth and the smell of homemade food. Something that had never been in his own home, either on ordinary days or on holidays, which he always preferred to ignore and spend alone. It's so unusual, but… addictive.

Even from the hallway you can see bright lights twinkling on a small Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room in front. Laughter, several female voices and one male are talking animatedly about something behind the wall, which Neuvillette is trying to decide to turn around with you walking in front of him. The sight of your slightly bare back only makes him worry even more, but the man takes a deep breath, hesitantly stepping outside the threshold of a large room from which the noise of your guests' conversations could be heard.

— Monsieur Neuvillette! — Sigewinne notices the Chief Justice first, and after her, Wriothesley, who is sitting next to her, turns his head towards the doorway, nodding briefly to Neuvillette.

— Oh, we thought you'd decided to run away, Monsieur Neuvillette, — Navia breaks into a brilliant smile, leaning back on your sofa to get a better look at the guest frozen at the door.

To her right, Clorinde also raises her head, also nodding respectfully in greeting.

Neuvillette stumbles slightly over the words, awkwardly adjusting the collar of his jacket.

You roll your eyes, hurriedly running behind your lover and slightly pushing him forward.

— Come on! Sit down next to me. I remember that you said, "just pour me some water", but that won't do, you'll have a glass of wine!

Unable to resist your pressure, the man nevertheless sits down on the chair to which you led him. No wonder there is such an attractive smell in your house. The table is literally packed with a variety of dishes from simple appetizers to exquisite desserts, and Neuvillette glances at each of them in confusion before he is interrupted by a loud female voice.

— Help yourself! I made my best cakes for the occasion!

— Your cakes are always the best, Navia, — you giggle sweetly, leaving a glass half-filled with wine in front of Neuvillette before sitting down next to him.

— And I really wanted to bring my new nutritious cocktail for you for dinner, but for some reason the duke tried to persuade me not to do it for a very long time.…

— Shouldn't your cocktails remain special and be associated for Monsieur Neuvillette with such rare visits to the fortress? — Wriothesley awkwardly scratches the back of his head, earning a suspicious look from Sigewinne.

— Oh, I suppose if it was supposed to be a gift, then…

— I think there's enough food and booze on the table to not to worry about it! — you hurriedly interrupt your lover by tightly squeezing his knee under the table.

It's so unlike you, but Neuvillette decides to keep quiet.

— Fair enough, — Clorinde agrees, nodding curtly.

— Ah… Anyway, Monsieur Neuvillette, how is your health? I could arrange an examination the next time you visit us!

— I'm pretty sure Neuvi is okay, but I'd love to get checked out. I'm sure my back will hurt like crazy after today! — you complain, flexing your shoulder and causing Navia and Wriothesley to chuckle softly.

It's all like that… Unusual. Neuvillette watches you smile, how your friends laugh, sitting at the table, happily clinking glasses of wine when the clock strikes twelve o'clock. Although ludex is mostly silent, for some reason he does not feel superfluous today. All the people present at the dinner have been familiar to Neuvillette for a long time, but now they all seem completely different to him. Their faces shimmer with a palette of very different emotions even when they turn to him, but is today any different from all the previous ones? Wriothesley and Sigewinne always warmly welcomed Neuvillette within the walls of Meropid Fortress, Clorinde, although she remained as laconic as ever, but perhaps this was exactly what ludex appreciated very much in her company, and Navia's presence still seemed to make his heart feel out of place, but her radiant smile seemed to say without words that, although the past cannot be changed, there does not have to be a place for regrets in the present.

And you.

You are the main source of the indescribable warmth that seeps under Neuvillette's skin. You gently squeeze his hand, worried that Neuvillette may still feel uncomfortable, but for some reason this little worry even seems to you in vain.

This feeling is so new and which ludex has yet to explore… Is this what it means to be a «family»? The feeling of an invisible connection that has formed between everyone present at this small table, around which comfort hovers. And the overwhelming desire to touch you, which Neuvillette desperately suppresses.

«You're not a stranger to anyone anymore, Neuvi»

Perhaps there was some truth in what you said, which Neuvillette had blindly tried to deny before.

✧ ✧ ✧

Bonus:

— Here…

— What is this… Did you buy me a present?! — you clap your hands, noticing the tiny box on Neuvillette's outstretched palm.

— Yes, I didn't know when it would be appropriate to give it to you, so I decided to just wait until we were alone so as not to embarrass you, — ludex clears his throat, awkwardly averting his gaze as you take the box from his hand, curiously twirling it in his hands.

— Come on, Neuvi. Rather, you waited for the end of the holiday so that no one could see your embarrassment, — you laugh teasingly, noticing how the pale skin on Neuvillette's face is barely noticeably pink.

— N-no, I told you…

— NEUVI, WHAT IS THIS?! — your scream interrupts the words of Neuvillette, who now anxiously returned his gaze to your frozen figure, holding in his hand a silver ring with a small mother-of-pearl stone, somewhat reminiscent of the one that adorns the collar of the Chief Justice.

— I'll understand if you don't wear it. After all, I still don't know anything about what girls like...

— IS THIS AN OFFER?! — you stand on tiptoe, looking straight into Neuvillette's dilated eyes, who has slightly backed away from your sudden violent reaction.

— An offer?..

— Oh, we haven't known each other for a long time, this is such a serious step, — you mumble something unintelligible to yourself, carefully stringing the ring on your ring finger, but then the most dazzling smile that Neuvillette has ever seen in his life stretches on your face. — What the hell, I agree!

Neuvillette is still going to have a rather awkward conversation, but anyway… hasn't he already decided for himself that he wants to see that charming smile and plunge into the warmth that you exude, over and over again for the rest of his days, if you let him?

#headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin fluff #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #neuvillette fluff #fluff

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littlemisshyperfixation · 2 months

Text

Jin Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

One Shots

Golden Boy (s) ⊹₊⋆ The golden boy of the porn industry, prettier than half his female co-stars. Will sue if you pull his hair. Always bothering his neighbors with pizza delivery.

glazed & dazed (s f) ⊹₊⋆ Vanilla, that’s what you do best as one of the industry’s most loved stars. Only you want a change. Taking the plunge to taint your pure image, knowing so many fans would love to see it sullied, even if just for one movie. There’s only one man for the job in your eyes. One you’ve always admired from afar, and the only one who’s perfect enough to take your innocence in the most fitting way. Seokjin Kim. Even more famous than you; a pro, a veteran, and someone you can’t wait to give your all for. Together you will be unstoppable.

meet me at the bar (s f) ⊹₊⋆ You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Stuck with you (a s f) ⊹₊⋆ It’s the first Christmas since your dad passed away. You, your mum and sister are going to his favourite place to do his favourite thing, skiing. And yet you’re not there. Stuck. Stranded. Trapped. In seemingly the single hottest place in the world. Your transfer flight cancelled so you’re now stuck between home and your family. A snowstorm that causes all flights to be cancelled, heat that just seems wrong at Christmas, your sister crying and shouting down the phone at you, and to top it off, the most annoying man in the world who’s in the same position as you and seems to think you’re friends because of that fact. Merry Christmas to you.

fast lane (a f s) ⊹₊⋆ “Disgruntledly, you think to yourself how frustrating it is he can be quite so awful of a person and still be so good looking.” Alternatively; Boy Toy racer Kim Seokjin lives to test; the laws of speed, how many women he can bag, how much money he can convince people to give him, and quite how far you can be pushed before you snap.

small tuna fish (f s) ⊹₊⋆ Kim Seokjin is a really nice guy. (Not to be confused with a ‘Nice Guy’). Too nice for someone like you, you’re sure. Which is why you’ve been attempting to ignore what’s going on between you. He couldn’t possibly be flirting with you. He couldn’t possibly like you. Could he?

Lost and Found (a f) ⊹₊⋆ What do you do when your whole world comes crashing down around you? When everything you loved turns out to be a lie? When your fiancé tells you he’s been having an affair, you feel like your whole world comes crashing down, but then you find an antiques shop and the strange man that runs the shop helps you slowly rebuild your life and realise maybe not everything about you is broken.

Sit. Stay. (f a s) ⊹₊⋆ Your new puppy, Zinnia, has turned your world on its head. She’s ruined everything from your sleep schedule to your favorite shoes, and you know it’s your own failure to train her properly. When your cute upstairs neighbor tells you about a local obedience academy, he slowly starts to make himself a place in your schedule, your life, and your heart. After your last relationship went up in flames, will his affections be something else you can count as a failure?

Last November (a s) ⊹₊⋆ you two broke up on good terms. even seeing each other on your friends’ yearly end-of-november trip was never awkward. so why did this trip feel so different? and why does it feel like the end of something that wasn’t even there in the first place?

Cherry Topper (a s) ⊹₊⋆ Seokjin is a chaotically fun-loving guy who works long and hard hours at his successful, family owned candy store named Kim’s Sweet’s Shop, located on the corner of Cherry Lane. Being consistently busy with the labor of his work schedule and attending college to finish off his masters program, he has a very little social life and definitely does not have time for dating on this romantic, hectic holiday. But from right under his nose, one of his many admirers just so happens to be the sugar-coated treat that he’s been missing out on.

you've been avoiding me all day (a f)

#seokjin x reader #seokjin #kim seokjin #bts x reader #bts #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #jin x reader #jin #jin bts #jin smut #jin angst #jin fluff

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

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soulmate au where you can hear what song your soulmate has stuck in their head. Steve gets confused as to why he always hears heavy metal, because he always thought he'd fall for a girl who listens to cheesy romantic pop music, and Ed gets frustrated from all the Top 40 songs constantly playing in his head

Since my last soulmate AU was sad I should do another fluffy one so Ty for the prompt.

Eddie doesn't really remember a time a song wasn't playing in his head. He assumes there was probably a time when he was little bit his memories of childhood are fuzzy at best anyway. However, no matter how loud he plays his metal songs, the poppy top 40s songs of his soulmate will often drown them out. It almost drives him insane, until one day all the songs stop.

In the cold winter of 1983, Eddie Munson wakes up one day with no song in his head. This wasn't completely unusual, his soulmate was often an early riser but the holidays were coming up so people slept in more. What was strange however, was there was no song, all day. No song the next day and no song for weeks. Eddie knew something very bad had happened to his soulmate and he didn't know what to do.

Steve will often tell people he does bad at school because his soulmate plays the loudest music. When Steve was a kid the songs would only be now and then but since Steve was nine there was always some loud metal music rattling around his brain. Steve would spend years looking for some cool metal chic, but all the girls he met liked cute pop songs.

Steve was suspicious that Nancy was a secret metalhead when he fell head first in love with her. She wasn't, he wasn't surprised she always had indie music playing in her head. After he faced the Demogorgan, Steve didn't feel like listening to the radio, the staticky sound put him on edge, he sat in his room, all the lights off so they wouldn't flicker, and held his nail bat tightly. He would listen all day for the sound of danger, the only noise he heard was his soulmate. When his parents returned a few weeks later he had to go back to normal.

When Eddie woke up to some dumb song he heard on the radio once, he almost cried. His soulmate was ok.

In 1984, Eddie's soulmate had another blip, Eddie held his breathe, but the songs would return and his soulmate was ok.

In 1985, Eddie's soulmate had the dumbest songs in his head. Weeks after the fire Eddie would figure out he heard the same songs playing in the mall. He was glad he could still here them, his soulmate was still ok.

In 1986, Eddie felt bad for his soulmate. He'd been practicing Master of Puppets for weeks as soon as it came out, his soulmate must be sick of it. When everything started happening, Eddie's soulmate was quiet, Eddie hoped he was ok, that he wasn't dead somewhere like Chrissy.

Eddie silently apologised to his soulmate as he played his favourite song once more, he hoped they would forgive him if said song saved the world. As Eddie laid bleeding out in Dustin's arms, he wished he could hear a dumb pop song one more time. Maybe his soulmate was waiting for home on the other side.

...

....

.....

Eddie blinked his eyes open, the lights were bright, wait, bright lights? Eddie looked around as his eyes came into focus, he was in a hospital, he was alive. That wasn't the only surprising thing, Steve Harrington was asleep in a chair next to his bed.

"Hey, pretty boy, wake up."

"E-Eddie? EDDIE! Fuck you're awake! You're ok!"

"Yeah, seems like it, I'm guessing I have you and the others to thank."

"Yeah, couldn't let my soulmate bleed out in that hellhole."

"Soulmate?"

"Dustin told me what song you played."

Steve flicked Eddie's arm.

"Um OW! I'm injured here Stevie have mercy."

"That's for making me listen to that song for weeks, Eds!"

"Well it saved the world didn't it?"

"Yeah I guess it did."

"Plus you made me listen to cheesy pop songs sweetheart so we're even. You um, I thought you were dead sometimes, there would be no songs for weeks, I thought Vecna had killed you when there was no songs again this time."

"Don't like listening to songs when all this shit is going down, distracts me. I don't think my head has ever been as quiet as on that drive it the hospital, don't do that again ok?"

"I promise, Stevie, gonna be stuck with my loud as fuck music for life."

"Sounds good to me, Eds."

Guess Eddie's soulmate was waiting for him on the other side after all.

#stranger things #soulmate au #steddie #steddie au #steddie soulmate au #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #stranger things season 4 #ty for the prompt #ficlet #steddie ficlet

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its-time-to-write · 4 months

Text

please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault.

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality.

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions.

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car.

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second.

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month.

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you.

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping.

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make.

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do.

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready.

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond.

But they don’t.

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you.

It’s inevitable.

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League.

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League.

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love.

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult.

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week.

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions.

I won’t change for you.

Except you hear from him every day.

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you.

I won’t change for you.

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family.

I won’t change for you.

You never asked him to.

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now.

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible.

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks.

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen.

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently.

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend.

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head.

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me.

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone.

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy.

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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lumosinlove · 7 months

Text

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

One: Finn

King’s College

London, England

“So, to wrap up…”

It was nearly a half hour too early, but Finn was tired. This class wasn’t clicking with him, not like his 11:00 o’clock. Maybe it was because it was nearly Christmas holidays. Not even a week left. The students were sluggish. They were giddy. They wanted to go home so badly—homemade meals and presents and holiday markets—that it didn’t even occur to them to think anything other than that Professor O’Hara would want to do the same.

Finn didn’t want to go home. Home wasn’t there to go to. Just a building now. Just a room.

“Um.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I know this is the last reading of the semester guys, but let’s at least try to be a little comprehensive. Austen is badass, okay?” They laughed. Somehow, swearing always worked to crack open a class’ shell. And Finn was an expert. “Give the ending what it deserves.”

He looked up when no one said anything. Hands were on bags, poised to go, and it ticked something wrong inside of him. He wanted out, too, but he didn’t know where. “All right. See you on Wednesday for our final class.”

Even before he finished speaking, people were leaping out of their chairs. He’d expect half attendance. Tops. He tried to clean up his desk quickly. Tried not to forget anything here.

You’re always leaving something, mon amour, aren’t you?

“Professor O’Hara?”

Finn looked up. “Oh, hey, Martha.”

Martha. He could always count on Martha. She was a third year, took almost all of his classes. She was smart, if not a little eager and quick to cut her classmates off.

“I just wanted to say that I won’t be here on Wednesday. I have a pretty long way to go, and the flight was cheaper. I hope you don’t think I’m ditching.”

He could almost always count on Martha.

“Nah, of course not.” Finn picked up his books. “Have a good break.”

“Thanks. Um. And this is for you.”

She was holding out a tin. Cookies, probably. Or, biscuits, as they called them here. It was always something with her. Last year, she’d given him a scarf and he really had thought he’d have to sit her down and firmly say that, not only was he her teacher, but he had a husband.

Finn almost laughed. Almost.

Mon Rouge, they all have crushes on you. Don’t even pretend you don’t know that. Hands in his hair, familiar mouth on his cheek. But you always come home to me. All for me?

“Thanks that’s really kind of you.” He dredged up a smile. He took the tin. “Happy holidays.”

“Are you and your husband doing anything special?”

A strange cotton-buzz started up in his ears.

Martha blinked, a little confused, and pointed tentatively at the background on Finn’s phone, which had lit up with an email.

“That’s your husband right? You always mention him—or—sometimes you do. And he came to our class once, remember? Last year. I think he’d just gotten back from a business trip and he surprised you. It was so cute, everyone was talking about it for ages.”

Finn remembered that. Logan had been gone for a month. A month. Remember when he thought a month of spaced out phone-calls from strange numbers was difficult to deal with? Last week, someone had gotten a wrong number at 9:30 at night and Finn had sobbed himself to exhaustion on the kitchen floor. Hope was stubborn, it was so stubborn.

“Yes,” Finn said. “I remember.”

He stared at the phone background. Logan, early in the morning. About a year and a half ago now, Finn had received a ticket to Spain with a little heart drawn on it. It had brought him straight to Logan and the most luxurious hotel he’d ever set eyes on. Private suit. Private pool. A whole week, just the two of them. No sudden phone calls, no pulling the go-bag out from the back of their closet, no apologetic smiles, and no last kisses that Finn knew, despite all of his efforts, would fade eventually.

Logan, early in the morning. On the balcony, softer than the sunrise. Oh, that smile. Finn couldn’t do this. How was he doing this alone?

He needed to start telling people. More than their families, people in his daily life. He had been given a story by the agency and everything. It was the story given to Logan’s family. His parents. His three older sisters. God, Noelle’s voice on the phone, the two of them crying to each other. The one Finn had stumbled through for his brother Alex and his parents. He needed to. Logan Tremblay had died in a freak accident while overseas for work. He’d been killed on impact and had felt no pain. He had died overseas. Finn had seen the body, that was how the story went. Finn had seen it off the plane and he’d correctly identified him.

But there had been no body.

Only silence, which felt just as dead.

“I don’t know.” Martha shrugged. “Beach trip?”

Finn managed to shake his head. “No.” He swallowed. He put his hand against his chest. Logan’s necklace rested there. It was a ritual that he guessed was dead, too. Logan put the fleur-de-lis pendant, silver, around Finn’s neck every time he left. Finn placed it back around Logan’s every time Logan came home. “The usual.” That wasn’t really an answer at all. “Family.”

“Oh, lovely.”

He was planning on going to New York. His brother Alex and his family would be there. His parents. He thought his mom’s sister, too, maybe. What he would do there, he didn’t know. It would all be absences. One after another. Oh God.

“Have a great vacation, Martha,” Finn said. He grabbed his phone, and his notes, not bothering to even put them back in his bag. The tin of cookies. “Don’t worry about next class. You’re ahead anyway.” He didn’t know if that was true.

In his office, Finn shrugged into his jacket. He paused, looking at the green scarf on his office’s coatrack.

Two hands pulling him in.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Finn said against Logan’s mouth.

“No one ever knows where I am.” Logan smiled into their kiss. “That’s kind of the point.”

Finn came to—and it was like that, like waking up from a horrible sleep every time—from the force of catching himself with his palm against his desk. His chest hurt. He should tell someone about this. About losing time like this to memories he knew better than his own present. The tears came like this sometimes, too, unstoppable. He sent a glance towards the the small window in his door, but the blind was shut. He kept it that way now for this exact reason. The first breath heaved out of him and he sucked it right back in, dropping to a knee.

Happy holidays, happy holidays, happy holidays.

It was cold enough to feel like Christmas was coming. Finn hoped he didn’t look too horrible in the evening light as he made his way towards the Underground. His bag felt heavy and his eyes still felt warm from crying. Had it been crying? Part of him wondered—and sometimes he dreamed—that he was reliving Logan’s death somehow. Like if Logan had had to go through something, he needed to go through it, too. Maybe he had drowned. Or suffocated. Killed by someone? An accident? A cover-up, dragged through an backroad, buried in a shallow grave—Finn was about to get pulled under again, hand already against the brick wall, when a voice said his name.

He looked up, the wind brushing his hair off of his forehead. It was snowing, he realized, very lightly, and he had to blink against it to see who had called to him.

He actually didn’t recognize them at first. He supposed that was their job. Shifting shadows. A million different identities at once, depending on what they wanted a target to see. Not that he was a target. Their clothes were unimpressive, nothing to be remembered. No long dark coats, no hats. James didn’t have his glasses on and Sirius’ black hair was ruffling back in the wind. He might remember how handsome they both were, if he was a stranger.

But he wasn’t. Those were Logan’s team members, and Finn wasn’t supposed to know that.

Finn couldn’t look them directly in the eye as he approached. They waited for him.

“What are you doing here?” Finn asked. Logan?Logan?Logan?

James said nothing, but Sirius took something out of his pocket and handed it to Finn.

It was a photograph of Remus Lupin. Remus. Finn had really liked Remus, and so—he looked up at grey eyes—had Sirius.

“This was captured on a bank security camera in Athens,” Sirius said.

That’s where Remus and Logan had been. Accident. Not recovered. No more information. Back road? Shallow grave? Shot in the back of the head? Bruised wrists from tight ropes? Plastic bag struggle—

“What,” Finn began but had to cut off. It was happening—was it? Again. The panic. The sick sadness. The air just…went. Disappeared. Just like Logan. “Does this tell us what happened?”

He couldn’t stand the way Sirius hesitated. He reached out and gripped his arm. He didn’t feel like a ghost like Finn had expected him to.

“Does this tell us how they…” Finn whispered.

James stepped forward, hazel eyes looking so different without his glasses. “It was taken five days ago, Finn.”

#Christmas Eve Will Find Me lumosinlove #winterfic lumosinlove 2023 #finnlo #spy au

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blingblong55 · 11 months

Text

Invisible String Theory- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

F!reader, fluff, establish!relationship

One single thread of gold tied me to you

The invisible string theory: All your favourite people will be hidden in plain sight until the universe decides you are ready to meet them.

As you sit with him, you can't help but think of all the moments in your life when he wasn't present, because now, he is there, holding you in his arms. You two are looking through the scrapbook he made for you, photos and souvenirs of your story, so far. As you look through you find a picture of task force 141, they were in the u.s., in the background, a lake with some people near it. Then once you look at the next page, there you were, with your friends in the same lake, a group of men in the background of the picture.

You had set for a small holiday in the u.s. because you wanted to study there the next semester. You couldn't help but notice that the same group of men was him and the task force and in his picture it was you and your friends as the background. You two were so close to each other, living different lives without knowing that the love of your life was not too far from you.

But at the time, he nor you were meant to cross paths. He wasn't ready for the life he now has and you weren't ready for his love or the life he has given you. It's beautifully strange when you think of it, so close yet so far from the one you'd be going home to. At the time of the photo, he was still very dedicated and not looking for any sort of romance, let's be clear here, when he met you he wasn't even ready for it and at times he feels like your love is so good it must be fake.

When you were in that lake, you were still a student, holding onto that degree like your life depended on it. You went out, visited parts of the world you never knew about, made friends and lost some in the process. But, in some beautiful way, he was there, unbeknownst to him, you were there too.

When he was at that lake, he was nothing more than a soldier, holding onto a mask to feel like he belonged. He lived a life full of guns and war, a helmet on his head and a knife at hand, he lost men to these wars but made a family with a group of fierce men along the way.

You look at him, a proud smile worn on his lips. He found that photo one day before he finished the scrapbook. To be honest, he was looking for a photo of you before you two met and by some beautiful coincidence he saw himself and his team. So of course he had to use that one. You were the girl a guy like him could only dream of, a goal that would never be obtained by a man with such a life as his. No soldier gets this lucky, especially not him.

You were his sunshine, the one he'd waited hundreds of years for. He wasn't much of a vocal man, you got the best of him, you are everything he could ever want and more. His mask kept him safe on the field and was a shield to protect Simon but when he is home, a single smile or a hug is shield enough for him. Ghost is just a soldier, Simon is a man, with wants and needs. Anyone can see it in his face, he is one lucky son of a bitch to land such a woman like yourself.

You once told him something he can never forget about; if he was lost in the light, it's okay because you can see in the dark. Love like this happens once if you are lucky enough and if dodging bullets or surviving betrayals wasn't proof enough he was lucky, one look at you and he'd know he was more than lucky. Soap always reminded him, of his fortune when he landed you. Gaz and Price did too, they knew you were valuable to a man like Simon. A fragment of a life he was worthy of.

So, if the invisible string theory is real, you and he are proof of it. You both hid in plain sight, meant to love the other when the time was right and what a time it was when he first met you. All the strings pulled by his hand and luck landed him with the greatest woman of all time. His love, his little piece of heaven and the proof that the theory was in fact real, at least to your love story.

A/N: felt the need to explain the page of the scrapbook so you get the idea of what I tried to write about.

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girlgroupshots · 1 year

Text

The Producer - PART ONE

pairing: male oc x jessica jung word count: 3.3k summary: An unproven producer is tasked with creating a successful group. Shenanigans ensue.

When you answered the phone in the middle of the night only a few hours ago the last thing you expected was to be standing in front of an office building. The call had come from your uncle saying he had an opportunity for you and that you needed to catch a train to Seoul in the morning. Now as you waited for him to arrive you could only guess at what kind of ideas had popped into his head. As far as successful businessmen went he was certainly on the – well, eccentric side. On the other hand, you had little to your name other than a business degree, a shitty office job and dreams of one day being a successful producer.

"Nephew!"

Before you could contemplate any further a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to greet your uncle who you hadn't seen in some months only to be slapped on the shoulder and pulled into a hug before you could even extend your hand.

"How are you, my boy?"

Park Jongmin. A man in his sixties who could have retired in his forties if he wanted to. He made a fortune in the early years of the South Korean technology boom and hadn't looked back since. However, for all his wealth and success he was largely known as an enigma or just strange depending on who you asked. Adding to that image was the fact that he decided to create a music label a few years back despite having no expertise in the field. Truth be told he wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.

"I'm good, uncle" you responded once you had finally managed to free yourself from his grasp. "I was surprised to get your call, I thought something bad had happened."

He laughed off the concern, apparently not seeing the problem with receiving a vague call at 2 a.m. in the morning.

"You know me; once the wheels in my brain start turning I can't rest until I see it through to the end."

"Have you…slept yet Uncle Min?"

"Of course not! In fact, I'm only on my fourth cup of coffee."

You could only shake your head in response. This was who Uncle Min had always been so it shouldn't be surprising that old age hadn't changed his demeanor. If anything he seemed a bit more loose than he was back in the day. A man who said and did what he wanted with little care for the judging eyes of society. Though perhaps that was a luxury of wealth. It was an enviable disposition to have, especially these days. Not to mention it had always made for entertaining holidays with the family.

"So, uh, is this your label building?" you questioned, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Why yes, yes it is. It's beautiful isn't it? I like to think it has a quaint, personal feeling."

You looked back to the building and you couldn't say you disagreed. By the same token though, it didn't seem to be anything too special. A three story building with a decent amount of width to it. It's key features were the tall glass windows that framed parts of the building. It was certainly quaint but not exactly holding a candle to the grand designs of some of the bigger companies.

"Not everything has to be grandiose" as if reading your thoughts your uncle interjected. "If there's forty-floors how are people going to connect? It's the interwoven relationships that build a good company."

As a business major and officer worker with far too many hours logged you were tempted to disagree with that notion. But then again who were you to disagree with someone who had made millions?

"Well, are we going to stand out here all day or shall we head in? I can give you the tour, you'll love it."

You nodded and led the way to the double door entrance. Your uncle was still being coy about why he had asked you to meet him hear of all places instead of his regular offices or his home; in fact he hadn't addressed it at all. Definitely not suspicious. For now you'd just have to go along with this ride and find out what was waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. Whatever it was he certainly seemed excited about it. Or maybe that was just the four cups of coffee coming through.

"...Our building is separated into three levels" you tuned back into your uncle's speech as he took the lead, "The first is where all the music production takes place. Recording booths, mixing rooms, anything a producer might need to get that perfect sound is available at your finger tips. I'm sure you'd find more than a few toys to your liking in there."

Producer? Recording booths?

"The second floor is where our artist spend a lot of their time. There's a lounge and kitchen for anyone to use and we have our practice room there as well. We also have two free rooms if anyone wants to use it for homework or whatever the kids get up to."

Way to sound your age, uncle.

"Lastly, the third floor is where we have all our offices for staff and management. That's where you'll be spending most of your time. Now I know – "

"Wait, what?"

"-- it mind sound a little weird being at the top but trust me it's a great space."

"Wait, Uncle, what do you mean where I'll be spending most of my time?"

"Please, nephew, save all your questions for the end of the tour."

You could see the mischievous glint out of the corner of his eyes and knew he was getting a kick out of this. He wasn't going to let you get a word in and even if you did it seemed he was intent on ignoring any questions you had. Meanwhile your anxiety was rising by the second. Just what had this old man done?!

Anxiety aside, the building was impressive. Everything was state of the art when it came to the technology and all of the furnishings were modern and neat. That said you did notice the building felt particularly...empty. If you remembered correctly from what your mother had told you, Uncle founded this label a few years back. One would think by now it'd be brimming with staff and artist coming in and out. Maybe he had given them day off so he could give the tour? As flattering as it was that seemed like a complete waste of a work day. And of course asking about it now would net you no answers.

The tour finally came to an end on the third floor, the management floor as he had put it; which was also void of any personnel.

Your uncle led you into a rather spacious office that you assumed to be his. He gestured for you to take a seat in one of the plush chairs against the wall and seated himself next to you. His eccentric demeanor seemed to fade a bit and It seemed like now was the time to finally get some answers.

"I know you have a number of questions for me" Uncle Min started, "But I also know you're a very smart young man. I'm sure you've begun to piece together why I asked you to come here today."

Not really, no, but I could take a swing in the dark.

"You want me to work here for you? Uncle, I appreciate the thought really, but honestly...I don't want to take any handouts."

You remembered when he was first starting the company your mother suggested asking for a position. Any reasonable individual would have jumped at the opportunity, hell there were a number of college graduates that would kill for such a connection. For you though, it had just left a weird taste in your mouth. You could call it pride or stupidity, it was likely a mix of both. Now, despite having questions as to whether that had been the right decision, you felt obligated to stick to your original sentiment.

"You're a stubborn man, just like your father was" he chuckled softly as he patted your hand, his tone wistful as if recalling an old memory, "But you should know I didn't make my fortune by taking no for an answer."

"I'll be honest with you, this hasn't been my most successful venture. In fact, everything thus far has been a net loss. Fortunately, I've funded everything myself, there's no board of directors or investors to answer to. But even I have to acknowledge when something is a lost cause."

Your jaw had loosened a bit, your ears not quite believing what they were hearing. You had always had a vision of your uncle as the supreme businessman, a genius who made no missteps. Yet here he was admitting that something he had poured who knows how much of his own money into possibly being a failure. In a way it was surreal.

"But the people that do work here, the trainees who have trusted us with their dream, they deserve a real shot. A chance to see it through before I call it quits" Uncle Min focused his gaze on you and you couldn’t remember ever seeing him quite so serious. More than that he seemed genuine, even vulnerable as though he were speaking from the heart. "I don't want you to simply work for me. In fact, in a way you won't be. I want you to run this company. Produce a successful group and help fulfill their dreams."

"..."

"I know what you're thinking. Why me? Why not someone more qualified? Now I could tell you it's because of your work ethic, I know you won't take this lightly. And your potential both as a businessman and a producer; both of which are true. However if you really want to know why I'm offering it to you it's because it's what my gut is telling me to do."

"Uncle, I'll be honest with you, I’m starting to think that might be why you lost so much money in this."

You both shared a laugh, the tension in the air easing slightly. Leave it to Park Jongmin to hand a company over to his nephew on a gut feeling.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you so you don't have to give me an answer now. But think about it. I'd like you to meet the staff and girls as well; they really are good people."

You could only nod your head in acceptance despite your apprehension. After all, this was my uncle and he was offering an incredible opportunity, even if misguided. If nothing else you owed it to him to give this your full consideration.

"Alright! That's enough of the serious stuff!" Uncle Min abruptly stood up, "Do you want a coffee? I could go for one myself."

You laughed, "Uncle, I don't think you should be drinking anymore coffee today. It can't be good for your health."

"Bah, you sound like your mother. If I only did what was good for my health I'd get nowhere in life!"

Now that was the uncle you were familiar with.

"Mister Park!"

You had just exited the building when you heard someone calling out. You turned my head to see a petite brunette, dressed in a blazer and cream skirt walking towards you with a couple of binders in her grasp. You were fairly certain you didn't know her. You’d definitely remember seeing a woman like that.

"Miss Jung! You have impeccable timing as always."

"Oh? And you're flattering me, you must have had your third cup of coffee."

"Fourth, actually."

"You know you really need to cut down on that."

As the two conversed you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost, or worse: an awkward third wheel between two good friends. At the risk of making things worse you cleared your throat to make your presence known. As if he had actually forgotten about you, your uncle's attention was jump started.

"Ah, right! Jessica I'd like you to meet my nephew. Nephew, this is Jessica Jung; she's been in charge of this project for me. No one knows our trainees better than her."

"Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you" you extended your hand to her.

"Likewise. You should know Mr. Park has talked you up quite a bit. I hope you decide to join us."

Oh, she was good.

Her tone and demeanor alone mixed just the right amount of professional and personable. Unlike yourself, you could see why uncle would hire someone like her.

"This is perfect. I was going to contact you later and ask if you could introduce him to our girls. He hasn't made a decision yet but I want to let him get a feeling for everything we have to offer."

A pearl smile was offered in response as Jessica nodded, "I'd love to. We can set something up tomorrow if you like. Or we can get started tonight if you’re free for drinks?"

It took you a second to realize that you had been brought into the conversation. Straightening your posture you nodded, “Uh, yeah. I’m free for sure. We can definitely do drinks.”

“It’s a date then.”

As you watched her pencil you into her calendar, you couldn’t help but wonder just what you were getting yourself into.

“What I can’t figure out is why you don’t just throw your hat in the pile. You clearly have this down pat.”

You voice was raised as you spoke to your ‘date’. Partially to be heard over the music that was currently playing, partially because you were already two drinks in and feeling a slight buzz. Thus far you hadn’t actually learned much about the business. If anything, the two of you had spent more time getting to know each other. Which wasn’t the worst thing, especially if you were going to potentially be working alongside her.

“There’s a difference between managing people and producing a group. Or even running a company,” Jessica said, drink in her hand. “I’m good at what I do.”

“But you had to have thought about it? Doesn’t it piss you off my uncle just brining me in off the street.”

“Well it didn’t but now that you mention it…”

“Okay, wait, wait. I take it back,” you put your hands up in surrender. “But still, you’ve got to feel over-qualified for your job, no? From everything you told me it sounds like my uncle would be lost without you.”

Jessica gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and took a sip of her drink. “In his defense, he pays me my worth. Besides, it’s not all about power and status. I’ve got a soft spot for those girls as much as I hate to admit it.”

You wondered if the alcohol was making her sentimental or if it was making you dense. Maybe it was a bit of both because you still found yourself asking questions. “But –”

“Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to get out of here?”

You stopped short, the question practically evaporating out of your mind. Jessica raised her eyebrow, looking at you expectantly.

Well then.

Jessica had barely gotten the key out of her door before you were on her. You cupped her face, kissing her – or at least trying to kiss her. There were times when you kissed her nose or landed on her chin, eventually settling for attacking her neck as she kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Immediately, you pressed her up against it; her skirt riding up her slender thighs as they parted for you.

“This is…probably going to be bad…for our potential work relationship…”

“Stop talking about work and start fucking me.”

Her bluntness caught you off guard but you’d be damned if it wasn’t attractive. And she said she couldn’t be a boss? If she gave orders like that she’d have a whole office in line in no time. She certainly had you standing at full attention in more ways than one. Following her orders your hands moved, fumbling with your pants to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. The cab ride back to her place had been heated to say the least, to the point that your fingers had slipped inside her pussy and your cock was practically begging to be freed from its constraints.

As you finally obliged it, Jessica hooked a leg around your hip, drawing you closer so that your tip was pushing against her soaked entrance. Needing no further invitation you pushed forward, your mushroom head pushing past her folds. Immediately you felt her walls constricting around your cock deliciously.

“Fucking tight,” you panted.

“Did you expect otherwise?” Jessica taunted.

A taunt you knew better than to respond to, even after a few drinks. Instead you focused on stuffing her with the rest of your length. Her leg flexed tighter around you the more you pushed in until you were buried to the hilt inside of her. You wallowed in the sensation for a moment because, wow. It might’ve been a while since you had any action but you didn’t remember anything like this. Slowly you began pumping in rhythm, fucking her against her apartment door.

“That stretch…it’s so good…” Jessica’s arms clung to you, her head falling forward.

Any thought of maintaining a professional relationship to avoid problems in the future had gone out of your mind. All that remained was pleasure, or rather the pleasure you were getting from sliding in and out of your potential co-worker. A mindset that Jessica clearly shared. She lifted her other leg, locking it around your waist and giving you the freedom to fuck her harder and faster. Incoherent words began falling from her lips but you were too focused on your task to try to decipher them. You had one job and that was driving her over the edge before you inevitably blew your load.

Jessica’s nails dug into your bicep and if it weren’t for the fact that you hadn’t even taken off your jacket she’d undoubtedly be leaving red marks all over your skin. If this was how she relieved stress from her job then maybe you’d have to second guess your hesitation. Although, when you were balls deep inside of her, waking the neighbors each time her ass hit the door, it likely wasn’t the best time to be making such decisions.

“Cum…Going to cum…” Jessica managed to get out.

You increased your efforts, pounding into her to make sure she went well and truly over the edge. The way every limb clung to you as her body shuttered in orgasm told you that you had succeeded in your task. Her pussy clenched around your length as you fucked her through her orgasm; inviting you to join her in euphoria. It was an invitation you’d soon take her up on.

“Jess…where do you want me to…?”

“Inside…” she muttered, barely coming down from her high and still clinging to you.

That was all the okay you needed. You slammed your hips into hers, her back hitting the wall as your release surged through you. You were fairly certain you were seeing stars as you spilled your seed inside of her. In that moment you weren’t two professionals. You weren’t even two potential co-workers. You were just two well-fucked strangers who had unloaded a pound of stress.

When your cock finally stopped twitching your let go of the breath you were holding. Jessica was already breathing deeply, clinging to you for a moment longer before she finally unraveled herself from you, the mixture of juices seeping out of her.

“If that was an interview you would’ve gotten the job.”

“...Wait, that wasn’t an interview though, right?”

Jessica let out an airy laugh, running a hand through your hair. “No, that wasn’t an interview.”

author’s note: another series so this is a fic i never published from a while back. originally it was meant to be a more wholesome series but we’re putting that aside from now bc fck it. if it seems a bit wonky it’s because i’m editing it from being a first person POV to second person as well as doing updates to my old writing. WITH ALL THAT SAID if you’re just looking for smut there will be plenty.

#snsd jessica smut #jessica jung smut #jessica smut #male reader #tumblr getting rid of horizontal breaks is a criminal offense

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