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newfallstrangeleaves · 9 months

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Yandere in the apocalypse

Strawberries

M!Yandere X GN!reader Warning: stalking, mentions of killing. Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned. Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!

Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…

Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you. But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes.

The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him.

Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation.

“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says.

"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?”

“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts.

“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.”

"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering.

“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you.

“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment.

“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.”

“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.

Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries.

When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you, Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away.

But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries.

Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!

When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot. Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders.

He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.

He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers.

He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders.

The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible.

As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen.

When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again.

Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps.

Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop.

He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second.

The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you while he was away grows stronger by the day.

When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal.

Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.

The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it.

“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers.

“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud.

‘Got these for you.

Until we meet, A.’

“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.

“What do I do with these?” You ask.

“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.”

Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him.

But all he does is pick up the berries.

He knows revenge will come in due time.

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #tw stalking #post apocalyptic #yandere x y/n

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klausysworld · 1 year

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Any chance of something With Klaus and reader, where reader is worried about how much time Klaus and Cami spend together, but Klaus plus everyone tells her not to worry. It their anniversary and reader is all ready for the night out that Klaus has planned but Klaus doesn’t show and comes home to find reader asleep on their bed still dressed in her gorgeous dress it then he remembers their anniversary.

You were with Cami

Pt 2

For weeks i had listened to the entire Mikaelson family had been persuading me that Klaus was loyal and would never do anything to harm me.

See he’d been spending the majority of his time with his new friend Camille, i’ve met her a few times and she’s so unbelievably nice. Like she’s polite, smiles, gives her perfect opinions and makes everything laugh. And just to top it off she likes me, decided we should be friends too. We even went out for lunch. She’s lovely. I would want her too. And i hate her for that.

It’s wrong to be mad at her but she must know that she’s some what harming mine and Klaus’s relationship. You can’t be giggling at every little thing he says with your hand on his bicep without knowing that you’re flirting.

One time she kissed his cheek right in front of me, she gave me such a kind smile i would have looked like a dick if i didn’t return it. When i brought it up to Klaus he told me i was being dramatic and needed to ‘calm down’

Somehow i’m not allowed to talk to a single being of the male community but if i get upset over him dancing with a gorgeous blond then i’m being jealous and pathetic. I thought at least Elijah would back me up being the ‘feminist’ he says he is but noooo “Niklaus loves you y/n, you’re imagining things. You’re hid redemption and you can’t be thinking silly things, it will ruin your relationship”

Well bet they weren’t prepared for me storming through the compound in a very expensive body con dress. One i had spent hours choosing so that my own boyfriend or whatever he was meant to be would notice me

See he had asked me to meet him at this restaurant and let me just say it was nice restaurant with a lot of snobs sat in it. Lets imagine the immense embarrassment i felt when i sat waiting at a table for over 4 hours. Thankfully the waiter was sympathetic and felt bad so he gave me some free drinks. I actually ended up having a pretty good chat with him, his fiancé had left him a week before their wedding, i think we both cried a little too much and the people in there did not like us.

Once the place closed i came back to the compound and the second i stepped foot inside it seemed to hit me again. He left me alone, no text, no call, no excuses. I was holding together until the other Mikaelsons came into view and Rebekah just had to mention him

“where’s Nik? i thought you two would’ve been back ages ago”

and i burst into tears. I saw the panic in all their faces as they quickly went to comfort me. Rebekah wrapped her arm around me and Kol took my hand but i shoved both of them off

“no! none of you get to pretend you care anymore, you all knew didn’t you? you knew he was with her, knew he wouldn’t come to be with me because why would he anymore!? And i swear if anyone of you says that i make him a better person i think i might just scream, i am not his redemption and i don’t mean anything to him anymore, your entire family is one big lie, you’re all liars and i hate all of you, i’m staying the night and that’s only because i have drank way too much to be driving but i don’t want any of you saying goodbye because i will be gone by the time you wake up and yes Elijah i know you get up fucking early” half of my words were definitely slurred but i think the message was clear regardless as i made my way upstairs and collapsed on Klaus and i’s bed. The bed that i thought we would both come back to, instead i was cold, alone and drunk.

———————————————————————

(third person)

Klaus had just got home to three nervous siblings. Elijah was pacing the length of the living area while Kol chugged his scotch and Rebekah chewed at her once perfectly manicured nails. Klaus narrowed his eyes as they all froze upon his arrival

“who did something stupid?” he asked with a sigh and Kol hesitantly raised his hand

“don’t dagger me but um i think you did…”

“what?”

“i’d check upstairs if i were you”

and so he did

Klaus turned the light on only to find his love curled up in a beautiful tight dress and a tear stained face. It took him a minute before he finally realised what had happened

“no no no no” he whispered as he lifted her passed out body, the smell of alcohol was strong as he held her in his arms

“oh my love, please forgive me” he uttered as he peppered her face with kisses

“i’m so sorry” he told her despite her unconscious state.

“you look so gorgeous sweetheart, you look like an angel” he whispered rocking her gently

“i’m going to make this all up to you when you wake up, i promise you y/n, i love you so so much” he carefully removed her dress and slipped one of his shirts onto her, he wiped her once flawless makeup off of her face

“i’m so sorry” he repeated continuously while getting her ready, slipping her heels from her feet and taking out her elegantly styled hair before brushing it through and plaiting it for her. He didn’t bother changing his clothes as he got into bed and held her as close to him as he could

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t with you”

“you were with Cami” she tiredly uttered, still pretty much unconscious though that didn’t stop the flow of tears in her sleep. His heart hurt as he heard her broken voice

“i’ll never speak to her again, i’ll never see her again” he promised both her and himself

“i love you” he muttered kissing her lips softly

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stusbunker · 15 days

Text

Spotless: Dolce

Chapter Twenty One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Word Count: 1787

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, minor backstory, they're idiots your honor, unbeta'd

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. Apart from being sick, I second and third and quintuple guessed myself on this chapter and then thoroughly ignored the difficult parts and just let them have a conversation on their own. That's it, it's just a phone call. xoxo Stu

Forgive me @lastactiontricia <3

Series Masterlist

You stood in your kitchen staring at the food in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you had options.You just hated them all at that moment. You closed the door and slogged over to the pantry. It was the Friday night after Dean’s birthday and you wanted nothing to do with your phone or work or anything social media related.

So you had turned off your ringer and left it to charge.

You grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn out of the box and ripped off the plastic wrap. It was a poor excuse for dinner, but it at least would tide you over while you decided what you actually wanted to eat. Then you poured yourself a glass of wine, a sweet white because you were not a snob about it. No matter how many trips to Napa people took you on, you really weren’t going to spend an arm and a leg on a bottle that you only half-heartedly appreciated.

Once it was ready, you took the puffed up bag of popcorn with you to the living room because what was the point of making another dish? And decidedly resorted to turning on the tv.

The thing about streaming shows is that even though your attention wavered, the consistency of the characters on the screen made you feel less alone. You got through six episodes before you realized you never made anything for dinner. And at that point, it was too late to start. You stomped around trying to remember where you left your phone only to find a missed call from Dean and a dozen random texts from other people.

You double checked you didn’t have any voicemails and scrolled down to order delivery. Once dinner was finally sorted, you poured yourself the last of the bottle of wine and called Dean back.

The phone rang in your ear as you sat in the corner of your couch, criss-cross applesauce while turning on the next episode on mute. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Trouble, hey!”

“You rang?” You took a sip. Wherever he was was loud, but you could hear him moving through the buzz of passing conversation and cutlery.

“Yeah, you got a minute?”

“The night is my oyster, what’s up?” You leaned forward and set your glass on the coffee table, stretching back and settling in for whatever fire you were going to have to put out next.

The sounds surrounding Dean ended abruptly and he exhaled. “Not much, just grabbing drinks with some people from the label with Bela. You know, schmoozing the uppity ups.”

“Oh— good luck with that.” You shifted onto one hip and hugged your knee. “Tell her she has to pick where we’re getting brunch because the place I wanted is closed for remodeling—- and that she’s paying.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’ll fucking cover it, okay? Anything else you need me to tell her? Cuz I could go back in there and just hand her the phone if you want—”

“Nope— no, sorry. It’s fine. You okay?” Something in his voice was setting off a proximity alarm in your head, not full blown panic mode, but enough to let you know something had appeared on the horizon.

“Yeah, ‘m good. It’s just not my kind of thing—- Bela’s great at these things— I just stand there wishing I could be anywhere else.”

“I’m surprised you even showed up— especially with rehearsals starting Monday.” You grabbed your wine again, waiting Dean out.

“Gotta play nice— you said so,” Dean teased, you could hear the soft hum of his smugness before he shifted gears. “Listen— that whole thing with Cas and the birthday bus— and the whole day actually—”

“Are you really gonna start bitching about that now? Dean, it is so not the time— don’t you have someone’s ass to kiss?”

“What?! I’m not— would you let me finish?! Jesus. I was trying to thank you!--- Don’t know why, now, but yeah.”

You bit your lips and perked up, straightening your back and wagging your head a little back and forth. “Oh? By all means— continue.”

“Yeah, okay, smart ass.”

You cackled and let him stew a bit.

“It was seriously the best, okay? Like, top five of all time.” Dean switched ears and you tried not to squee with the idea of making him so happy he’d been thinking about it for days. That he had to call you to tell you— even as an excuse to escape a less than stellar social situation. Everything seemed to sparkle on your skin, but that could have been the Reisling. “And about dragging Cas out— that was an unexpected gift. So, yeah, thank you— for all your trouble.”

You groaned.

“Oh come on! That one wasn’t that bad.” Dean pretended to be affronted and you pretended to be annoyed.

“Sure.”

He sniggered. “It was good to see him. It’d been too damn long.”

“Seriously. We had lunch and just getting to hang out with him made everything better.”

“Yeah.” Dean was thinking and you let him.

The television was frozen on the prompt screen, judging you for still watching, but you ignored it. You finished your wine and looked at the last drops through the curved glass, distracted by the reflection of your empty living room.

“You think he’s doing alright? I mean— he’s got a freakin’ kid. That’s got to have been a total mindfuck— you know?”

Naturally, Dean was worried about how Cas was, not about harboring grudges or blaming him for the rift between them. At least not out loud.

“I cannot imagine— and luckily we don’t have to worry about anyone trying to pull that again.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Fuckin’ Lisa, I almost forgot about that. That was like the first big thing you had to bury when you started.”

You sat up and climbed onto your knees, like getting taller would help make your point. “Oh, I know! God that was such an uphill battle, even when she pretended to play nice. I still get the heebie jeebies when I pass her yoga studio on the way to Charlie’s.”

Dean chuckled. “Man— the things we do for fame. We are paying you, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Okay, good, probably should be more though, especially with all the Bela stuff.”

“Dean— I make well over the industry standard percentage with you guys. Plus, you barely even charge me rent. I’m doing fine.”

“Whatever—- still, want you to know your hard work is appreciated.”

You settled back down and picked at the seam of your leggings. “That is the weirdest way you could have said thank you, I hope you know.”

“Fuck off— Thank you, okay? THANK YOU. Should I spell it out? Maybe say it in Spanish?”

“Claro.”

“Como se dice ‘bite me’, huh?”

“Muérdeme.”

“Uhhh—- yeah, not gonna try that one while I’m standing in an alley alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “You should probably go back inside. People are waiting on you.”

“They barely even looked up when I stepped away— Bela’d message me if it was a problem.”

“Deeeeeean.”

“Trouuubbbllllle,” the way his voice rumbled with your nickname made it hard to remember you were even wearing clothes.

You climbed off the couch and decided to put your glass in the dishwasher for something to do. He wasn’t going back into the restaurant, but he wasn’t exactly keeping you from anything either.

“Why’d you call if you were out anyway?”

“Heh— I called you to talk me into going through with it.”

Oops. “Well good job on getting there on your own.”

“I was already halfway to Bela’s anyway. Paps perked up real fast when we rolled up. Gonna have to switch out Baby for a rental one of these days. Don't like the way they hone in on her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Probably a good idea, especially if you need privacy.”

“Not really the point of this little arrangement is it?”

“Okay, but still, be safe.”

“With my car? Always.”

You smiled to yourself when there was a knock at your door.

“Somebody there?” You hadn’t realized he could hear it over the line.

“Just dinner.” You beelined through the living room, suddenly starving. You pinched your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you unlocked the front door.

“So, what? Just another night in for you? Lemme guess, messy bun and no bra, maybe some leggings?”

You made sure everything was in the bag where the driver left it and dragged it back to the kitchen for a plate. “Is this you asking me what I’m wearing?”

“Maybe.”

You stopped short, and had to lift the bag up onto the counter a second time to keep it from becoming one with the floor. “Ha, ha.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna do anything here. Just making conversation.”

You ground your teeth, anger spiking from this sudden turn into teasing. “Yeah, well, when it’s the closest thing to a come on I’ve had in months— it feels a little bit more than that.”

You feel the penny drop.

“Dry spell, huh? I was wondering about that.”

“Oh shut it. You’ve got a fairytale fake girlfriend and I’ve got a band to keep relevant, neither of us is really out there mingling.”

Dean cleared his throat. “You can take time off—- if you need, you know that right? Hell, find somebody’s discarded boyfriend backstage and burn off some steam or something. ‘S one of the perks of a tour.---- But take care of yourself first, alright?”

You look up at the ceiling at the rows of spotlights Dean installed, once upon a time, that framed the island and sighed. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you— like— ever again.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll have a sleepover and braid Sam’s hair.”

You sputtered and then went back to dishing up your food.

“Muérdeme, Dean. Then we’d have to listen to all the kinky shit him and Madison are into, no thank you.”

“Touche.”

You heard Dean’s phone buzz with a notification. The metaphorical clock struck twelve.

“That’s Bela, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Okay, well, it’s been fun.”

You inhaled and sent him off, “go get ‘em, champ.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks again for the birthday shenanigans. I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be at rehearsal, but I’ve got calls and stuff scheduled throughout the day.”

“Sounds good. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Something lingered between you in the silence and before you could say something you’d regret, you finally ended the call. It almost felt like he was waiting you out, making sure not to be the one that hung up first.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean winchester fluff

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shaunamilfman · 7 months

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Dating Nat Scatorccio

pre-crash headcanons

nsfw mentions

i feel like you'd start hanging out in the first place because you pretended to be a fan of a band she likes. you mispronounce the band name one day and she's like "wym we listened to all their albums??" and you're just like "Nat, baby…". she'd pretend to be all offended but honestly be so pleased that you'd go through all that effort to hang out with her. "I can't believe you :(" but she's blushing.

"however could I make it up to you baby?". "well…" she trails off suggestively.

i know everyone headcanons Nat as a top but considerrrrr. i don't think Nat has ever had anyone that truly cares for her at this point. sure she's got her friends but still. i really don't think she'd know what to do with all that attention.

like your focusing fully on her and she's just shifting nervously. there's just something about pinning her down and just making her feel good. she'd be so pretty when she blushed. breathy little moans because she's embarrassed to be loud.

i think she'd give you little gifts like cool rocks she found on her way home or like a cool piece of glass she found. i feel like she'd love to give you things she made for you. just wants you to know she loves you.

Nat loves when you mention thinking about her when she isn't around. you'll give her some dumb magnet and be like "i thought of you when I saw this :)" and she'll undress so fast you get hit by her flying clothes.

"was it the magnet???". "you're so lame. come here"

sneaking out to pick Nat up in the middle of the night after she got in a huge fight with her mom's new boyfriend. bringing her home and holding her while she pretends she doesn't want to cry.

she's such a little spoon. desperately craves your love and affection, but tries too hard to be aloof about it.

Nat trying not to laugh as she hides under your bed the next morning when you and your mom are arguing in your room.

sneaking off too make out in a closet and having to run to practice after you lost track of time

picking a fight with Jackie after she calls Nat a burnout again.

i don't think Nat would really know how to react when you stick up for her as she's never really had anyone to do it before. i think she might react a little hostile at first because she feels like you're pitying her, but she would definitely warm up to it after a while. she's spent so long being seen as a burnout loser that she's probably started to believe it herself

thinking about Nat pulling a chair up to you in the library and straddling it while she convinces you to skip and go smoke with her. Nat laying her head on her crossed arms on the back of the chair as she mockingly pouts at you.

desperately need Nat wearing an old shirt when she sleeps over because it's the only thing that fits. she's like 5'6 but she always seems so small??

Nat climbing into your bed with no makeup on to sleep. she'd look so soft without it. holding her and gently stroking her hair as she falls asleep

laying in bed watching Nat put her eyeliner on in the morning.

100% believe she would be a music snob. She’d gently poke fun at you for listening to music that she doesn’t ‘approve’ of, but would sometimes get so serious it would turn into an actual argument. I feel like she listens to music for lyrics and doesn’t care as much about how it sounds.

#if you can spell scatorccio without looking it up first i envy you #can never remember if its two t's or c's #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader

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gfcheol · 1 year

Text

late blooming pt2 | j.wonwoo

pairing: wonwoo x f!reader

genre: slowburn, sugar baby!au, smut

word count: 5k

tags: emotionally constipated trustfund kid!wonwoo, snarky roommate!jeonghan, food ment, insecure artist!reader, fingering, making out, jealous!wonwoo, miscommunication, angsty ending

tag list: @bangchanbabygirlx , @amiga-qmilagraso , @listxn , @bloomyroses , @yoozuku, @revluv909 , @laylasbunbunny , @thinkinboutwonu , @springdaybreaks , @97-liners , @weakforsvt

In those two weeks, since you'd agreed to let Mr Jeon Wonwoo financially take care of you, you'd learned three things about him.

One - He'd gushed about every cat picture or meme you'd sent to him, commenting on the pretty fur or the shape of their triangle ears. During one phone call, you even got him to meow for you. You'd laughed almost a solid minute at the sound of his dark voice, clearly enunciating a very lifelike "meow". If only you had thought of recording it.

Two - He loved to read. You weren't really sure about which books were to his liking but everytime you'd mentioned an author you'd liked, he'd tell you he was either familiar with their work or had read their work as well. It was difficult, to say the least, not to feel intimidated by his intellect, though you didn't mind as much once you'd realized that, even though he already knew so many literary works, he still listened quite intently to your opinions on them.

And three - He asked a lot of questions.

It was almost embarrassing, in hindsight. How much you were willing to tell him, about your upbringing, weird food habits you'd developed as a child, about the time Mingyu and you got food poisoning from your favourite fast food place, back in college. It felt easy to confide in him. Your own personal confession booth. Wonwoo was a good listener and despite leaving snarky comments here and there - there was understanding laced in his every word, making it hard not to fall deeper into conversation with him. Maybe, just maybe, it had helped that all of these talks happened, while you were on the phone with him, either on your way from work or tucked in bed.

"It's probably bad timing", he had sighed, "but I'll have to leave the country for a week. It's purely out of formality, although necessary. Or so I've been told, at least."

His explanation had seemed sincere enough, a tired smile playing on the edge of his lips, yet you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment from you. Selfish desires be damned, you actually hoped to spend time with the man who'd provide you with money for whatever reason. It still felt somewhat strange to you, no matter how rational he had been while explaining his intentions with you, the skeptic in you was hard to please.

You'd only shaken your head in response, your "No, it's fine! I hope you'll still manage to have fun", sounded insincere even to your own ears, though Wonwoo had enough courtesy not to mention it.

You hadn't quite expected him to still try to stay in touch, thinking his hectic schedule would suffice in keep him busy. But apparently, Wonwoo had a tendency to defy your expectations about him. His first text had comee as a surprise to you, your eyes almost bulging out of their socksts, as you sat slumped and exhausted in the driver's seat of your car. Work had been the usual hell, customers and colleagues robbing you of every nerve you had left until they left you a complete shell of yourself - Not like you hadn't been used to it.

[Wonwoo J - 17:55] Are you as bored as me?

You had blinked several times, mind feeling a bit too numb, attempting to remember that, yes, this was indeed The Jeon Wonwoo, billionaire, business man, and art snob, texting you oh so casually.

[y/n - 17:56] more like tired rip just got done working

[Wonwoo J - 17:57] Oh? Hope I didn't interrupt anything

[y/n - 18:00] literally sitting in my car rn lmao

[y/n - 18:01] gimme 15 and then i'm free to chat

You remembered rushing home, quick to brush Jeonghan's half hearted greeting off, ready to lock yourself in your bedroom and panic an appropriate amount before calling him back. Though in the end, all panic had ebbed away the second his tired voice muttered your name in greeting, at the other end of the line. And despite your worries, it'd felt so natural to share your day with him - His faint laugh, whenever you'd complain, proving to be your very own remedy against bad moods.

Maybe he'd merely been polite this whole time, your insecurities were quick to point out. A cynical viewpoint for sure, but not unrealistic. Not impossible.

It'd be so easy to drop all caution, to ignore every bad experience and disregard every hurtful comment ever thrown your way by previous romantic partners. It'd be so easy to trust the silly old fashion emojis he sent your way, or the way his laughter grew louder everytime you gasped out in mock offense to any of his jabs. It'd be so easy to let your heart ache at every whispered goodnight you'd mumbled into the speaker of your phone. But easy was naive. You weren't a teenager anymore, you knew better or were supposed to at least.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Hmm, Episode IV. Easy question. Obi Wan might be hot but he doesn't beat childhood nostalgia. Next question."

"Obi Wan hot? Questionable. Hey, how come you're not tired yet? I thought you said that your shift was draining 'as fuck'."

"Why do you have to remember everything I tell you, oh my godddd. You know what, I change my mind, guys who only pretend to listen get a bad rep."

"You just don't want me to point out that you should stop rambling about Star Wars and catch some sleep."

"Not my fault that we're not in the same timezone right now, Mister. C'mon, ask me another question."

"Fine... Have you always been this difficult or do I get special treatment from you?"

"... Wonwoo, I hope you know how lucky you are that you're not within fighting distance."

"Aw, I was hoping you'd get so huffy, you'd hang up and finally rest."

"You're mean."

"And yet you're still insisting on talking to me."

"AND a smug bastard."

"Goodnight, y/n. I'm... looking forward to talking to you tomorrow. I'm uh- enjoying our talks."

"Oh. Y- yeah, same. I mean- goodnight to you too."

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jeonghan's form was draped across the couch, arm covering his eyes to shield him from the intrusive rays of sunshine that dared to tickle his oh so sensitive face. The apartment lay in comfortable silence, a rare occurrence these days but not unwelcome. You aimlessly scrolled through your phone, enjoying the luxury of being lazy on one of your rare off days.

Usually, it wouldn't be you who'd have to suffer because of Hannie's tendency to take up too much space. It'd become quite normal to see his current conquence and him lounging on the couch, limbs, as well as lips, entangled in a disgustingly open display of love. You'd roll your eyes, questioning yourself, if you'd ever been as bad as him, while you were with any of your exes. You shuddered at the mere thought of them. The past was the past for a reason, wasn't it? You should know this by now.

"Wanna watch a movie today?", you asked absentmindedly, eyes still glued to the colorful pictures of your screen - Pinterest truly was a rabbit hole to get lost in.

Your roommate barely reared his head. "Only if i get to pick. Sick of watching Pride and Prejudice over and over with you."

A groan. "Fine... No movie then." Giggles erupted out of you when you felt Jeonghan's foot digging into your side.

"Is your sugar daddy not gonna call you today?" You felt the heat in your face rise at the teasing edge of his voice. "Or are nudes enough to get him to shut up?"

Your head perked up, your tone quiet "Nudes?"

"As in 'sexy pictures to help him beat his meat on his sexy man business trip'?", Jeonghan raised his arm to glance you up and down.

For some reason, it had never even crossed your mind that this very adult man with adult needs would desire - well - adult pictures from you. You were simply too enthralled by the sweet words thrown your way, that the skeptic within your mind forgot to remind you that this was not, in fact, a normal relationship. Money and talent and contracts were involved in this. And while a large part of why Wonwoo felt drawn to you, must have been your potential as an artist, there was very likely sexual interest as well. Embarrassment simmered in the depths of your stomach, groaning into the air. "Oh fuck."

"Wow, you've never even sent him a sexy selfie or something?"

"Well, it never really came up in conversations!", you squeaked, voice too nervous, too shrill to sound rational.

He pushed himself off his cozy, little spot on the edge of the sofa, a grin now evident on his features. "You guys don't flirt?"

"You know what?", you narrowed your eyes at him, shoving his leg away from your side. "Single you fucking sucks! At least your girlfriends all liked it when you were being an absolute dick to them. Now you just kinda- inflict it all upon me. I can't help it that you're bored without a girlfriend!"

The dig didn't seem to affect him much, the sheer Schadenfreude he felt was enough to brush off your insult. How in the living hell did he always have the upper hand in every argument you guys had? Your leading theories were either A) he had enough practice in torturing his little sister and was happy enough to treat you the same way or B) he was one of Lucifer's very own lackeys. Your money was on theory B. One of these days, you'd find the portray he'd sold his soul for in order to stay young and live out his hedonistic lifestyle - Oscar Wilde style.

"I'm sure I'd be way less bored, if we could watch a different movie that doesn't star Keira Knightley's angry pout", Jeonghan huffed, raising his brow - and while you knew, this was a mere attempt to get a rise out of you, you couldn't help but gasp in offense.

"How dare you? She's a delight in-", your phone vibrated in your lap, attention shifting immediately to the notification you'd received. Your anger was put on halt as you noticed, it was indeed Wonwoo, who had texted you, offense melting away in an instance. "A sec", you mumbled.

"Oh, he's got you whipped!", he laughed.

Pressing on the notification, you gave him one last exasperated look, lips pressed into a pout, "Hannie, please."

[Wonwoo J - 14:12] Flying back today. Care to have dinner at my place tomorrow?

"Oh." Your heart felt like a young bird, threatening to escape the cage that was your ribcage, beating so loud, you barely reigstered your own reply. You'd met him before - more than once, even! - why were you so fucking nervous? Was this normal? Oh god. "H- he invited me to his place tomorrow."

"Oh fun, spicy second date then?"

"What?! Oh my god, he wants to fuck me?! I- I haven't even shaved in like a month!" You shot up onto your knees, fingers still firmly grasping your phone as you stared down at your roommate with panic in your eyes. "He wants to fuck me, right? This is what this means! Right? Right?!"

"Holy shit, calm down." The way his tone remained basically unbothered, only added fuel to the whirlwind of thoughts coursing through your brain, a string of whines slipping past your lips.

"What if he wants to fuck?"

"Then he wants to fuck", he shrugged, nonchalant smirk slowly creeping back onto his face. No matter how annoying Hannie could be, his quiet confidence worked wonders on you in times of stress. "You don't have to do anything, geez. If you also wanna smash your bits together, then wear something sexy or something. Didn't your ex get you the tacky lace set for your birthday? If you don't - then don't? He didn't buy you, y/n, you can say 'no', I'm pretty sure he'll live."

This gave you pause. He had a point, a pretty good one even. Nothing explicit had been stated so far, as to what Wonwoo expected from you in your arrangement. There was... an undeniable interest he had you, that much seemed obvious to you - yet the details were fuzzy to you. What was it that had piqued his interest in you? Sure, there was you talent for are - which you'd have to discuss with him again tomorrow evening - but what else was there? A teeny, tiny part of you screamed and begged for it to be romantic interest - though the more rational part within you wasn't quite so sure. He's a man who could have anything and anyone. So why would he require someone like you in his life, if not, for some strange power fantasy that you probably would never really understand.

You let yourself fall back to your previous position, brows still furrowed as you pinched the bridge of your nose in a feeble attempt to calm your approaching headache. The question still stood - Would you want to fuck Wonwoo? All insecurities and feelings of pressure aside, did you want him? He was attractive, that's for sure. There was something special in the way he presented himself, you felt, a bit awkward, a bit stiff, yet still elegant. You liked the way he texted like a man 20 years his senior, liked that he sent you passages of books he'd read, liked his deep laugh. You swallowed.

"Why the fuck do you still remember the lace set Jonah got me?", you grinned, wrinkling your nose at the memory of your ex.

"Because, for some reason, he thought it was necessary to ask me for my opinion. Such a charmer."

You smacked his arm. "And then you guys got me the tacky one? Tsk, you call yourself my friend."

Jeonghan's smirk only deepened. "You mean, you call me your friend. I just kinda let you." Another smack, this time a tad less gentle than the previous one. "Ow- Alright, alright! Put that energy into your hookup."

Moreso a question than a statement, your gaze shifted back to the display of your phone, thumbs hovering over your keyboard. "Shush you", you snickered. "I gotta respond before he thinks I'm blowing him off."

[y/n - 14:27] sounds good xx pick me up from my place?

Wonwoo's reply came in a matter of seconds.

[Wonwoo J - 14:28] Send me your address

[Wonwoo J - 14:28] I'll send my driver to pick you up.

[y/n - 14:30] will do!! have a safe flight!!!

It should be illegal to feel this giddy about dinner plans. Illegal enough for you to be locked up, so you could calmly succumb to your feelings of yearning for a man so incredibly out if your league, it almost hurt. A sigh on your end, "He'll be so disappointed to hear I haven't done any painting while he was gone."

"Eh", Jeonghan chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be the first thing on his mind once he sees you."

♡♡♡♡♡♡

John Everett Millais, you read, tuning out the distinct chatter of your parents' conversing with your father's work colleague. Your seven year old self had been enthralled by the dark hues on the painting you'd noticed above their dinner table. A woman floating in water, hair a soft shade of red, mouth agape, surrounded by water and flowers - you could feel something profound stir inside your gears then. The unknown evoked emotion you had no inkling of yet, though it felt, as if she could pry them out of you just by her presence.

Why was she in the water? You'd wondered to yourself, your dessert that consisted of cheap strawberry ice cream, completey forgotten. And why was she still wearing her dress? Was she a rich lady? A princess maybe? A sad princess who wanted take a bath in a pond? But if she was a princess, then didn't she have a bathtub in her castle?

Maybe the painter, John Something, knew the answer to all the questions that were floating inside your brain, distracting you from the sweet taste on your tongue. Maybe there were secrets only painters knew when they looked upon a scene to capture. You frowned, thinking about your own pictures. While yours gained a lot of praise from your parents, comparing them to the glamour and sadness of Princess in front of you, let a strange sense of disappointment course through your veins.

And you quickly realized - You weren't one to settle for disappointment. There was a drive, inside that bundle of shame you were subjected to. A drive to do better, to improve, to create. A smile crept its way to your lips. Maybe your mother was right to bring you along to the boring business dinner after all.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

You almost jumped at the sound of your phone vibrating with a new notification, nerves already on edge.

[Wonwoo J - 18:02] Should arrive in ca 10 min. I'll see you later.

As soon as you'd received the text, you rushed to the bathroom mirror, reapplying your bold shade of lipstick for the millionth time that evening. Your reflection stared back at you with wide eyes. Would he notice the amount of effort you put into looking effortless?

The drive to Wonwoo's apartment was relatively quiet. His driver had parked directly in front of the entrance to your building, exactly ten minutes after you'd gotten the confirmation, a polite smile graced his lips. It felt a bit too spacious to sit all by yourself in the back, windows tinted black and driver completely silent, focused on the busy road ahead of you. Although, you'd most likely dislike it even more, if he had decided to start a conversation with you - You didn't quite mind, being alone with your thoughts. Fidgeting with the hem of your dress, you listened to the hum of the motor, attempting to drown out the sound of your rapid heartbeat. This would be your second maybe-something-akin-to-a-date... an almost-date. Or did the several phone calls count as something?

"Miss?"

You blinked a few times, turning your head towards the driver, fingers still clutching your dress. "Yes?"

There was a hint of a smile in his tone, as he raised his brows, meeting your eyes through the reer view mirror. "We're here."

"Oh", was your reply, only now realizing how the car had come to a halt, the hum of the engine gone. With heavy legs, you shuffled to open the door. "Thank you so much for picking me up."

He gave you a nod, smile lines appearing around the corners of his eyes. "No problem, Miss. Have a wonderful night."

The calmness of this stranger acted like an antidote to the anxiety poisoning your thoughts, offering a shy smile in return. The kindness stood in stark contrast to the playful harshness your best friend usually soothed you with, though nonetheless effective.

The building was huge, entry halls adorned with minimalistic art, you'd never even seen before. The simplicity of the design, you mused, was too pretentious to admire. The echo of your shoes hitting the marble floor, felt like an intrusion. The gall, the echo sneers at you in your mind, the nerve you must possess daring to trespass. Wealthiness evidently could not buy good taste.

After a dreadfully long elevator ride (and a very awkward coversation with the concierge), you finally find yourself right amidst Wonwoo's four walls. If you could call it that. You weren't quite sure what you'd expected to find - A coffin and a chandelier? White walls and a furniture made of glass? Though reality was far more grounded than one could expect. A row of paintings adorned his walls - some of them modern, some of them clsssics - soft music was coming from, what you presumed to be, his kitchen. It almost seemed... ordinary. You frowned.

"Y/N?", you heard his voice from somewhere out of sight. "Yeah, hi! It's me! The uh- concierge? Let me up, I hope that's okay."

His reply was instant. "Why wouldn't it be? I told him I'm expecting a lady." Your frown melted into a smile at his words. "Come to the kitchen, will you? Dinner's almost done."

Rounding the corner, your ran your fingers through your hair as one last effort to tidy yourself up more. Any confidence you'd tried to muster up prior, faltered at the sight of him. Gone was the usual business suit, traded for a nice black shirt and jeans. You were painfully aware of your contrasting attire, the urge to curse yourself feeling unbearable. His back was facing you, unscrewing a way to expensive looking bottle of wine.

"Hi", you greeted again.

His eyes immediately lit up as he turned to face you, a smile hanging off his lips. "You- Oh, wow." his brows shot up, his long fingers adjusting the frame of his glasses, as if he to check the validity of the image in front of him. "You look-"

"I'm sorry if this is too much? I don't know why I thought, you'd meant like a proper dinner, that's on me", the longer you spoke, the heavier your chest, your brain begging you to shut up already.

Wonwoo merely shook his head, softly laughing. "Well, I'm not complaining, don't worry-"

"Also so sorry I interrupted you, I didn't mean to." A pause followed.

"Hm", he cocked his head to the side, gaze searching your own. His frame, even in casual clothing was just as intimidating as you remembered. "Still so shy and nervous? I didn't expect that."

"I'm not shy-"

"But the evening's still young", he smiled at the appearance of your pout. "And I hope you like take out. I tried cooking one of Mingyu's recipes and it was... not as easy as expected."

Any snarky comment died right on your tongue at his tone. Taking one of the half full glasses located on his marble counter top, you quipped, "Harder than it looks to recreate artistry like that, right?"

He gazed down at you, taking a sip of wine himself. "And you're a great cook then, I assume?"

Without meaning to, your shoulder brushed against his arm, the proximity after all these evenings getting to know him making you dizzier than the alcohol. This is the same Wonwoo, you reminded yourself. The same cat loving, nerdy man you've been talking to all those days. "That's for you to find out next time."

For a blink of an eye you thought you saw his chest rise and shoulders stiffen, though his face remained the same mask of indifference you were used to. You considered this a triumph. "Well uh- I can't wait to find out."

Once dinner finally arrived, korean food made a restaurant you'd never heard of, you settled in his dining room with your second glass of wine of the evening. Deciding to ignore the gnawing question of just how expensive the bottle must have been. The food was way too well prepared to let bad thoughts ruin it either way. Conversation was just as easy as you remembered it. You'd gasp at any teasing remark and he gave affirming nods when you vented about work, art or your very impossible roommate. Though the latter conversation topic never seemed to earn you any smiles.

"And Layla was the...?", his face scrunched up as he tried to remember, leaning back in his chair. "Waitress? She seems sweet from what you've told me, what happened?"

You shook your head, giggling into your glass. "Exactly! What happened!", a sigh. "But he's great. Sometimes that is. When he's not lying to make me look stupid or convince me to do dumb stuff."

"Like what?", he asked, fingertip brushing alongside the glass. You really did hope he had yet to catch you staring at his hands.

You waved him off with a flick of your wrist, groaning at the memory of all of Jeonghan's previous shenanigans. "One time he gaslit me - and yes, it was gaslighting! - into making me do his laundry for a month! A month! I can't believe I fell for it too", you'd bury your face in your hand if you didn't have any makeup on. "He even convinced me to wear all this, can you believe him? Dress, lace set, hairdo-"

"Lace set?", Wonwoo repeated. Your smile dropped in an instant.

"What?"

"You said he made you wear a lace set." It wasn't a question, really. It was a statement the needed an answer. A response, an explanation, a confession. Every fiber of your being stood alert, ready to flee the scene and fling yourself off the balcony if needed.

Your eyes drifted to your empty plate, looking for an appropriate response in the remnants of your kimchi rice. "I did?"

"I'm afraid so." You weren't sure when Wonwoo had left his seat, his long legs looking too handsome as he sauntered closer to you. "Were you hoping on me seeing you in it tonight?", he asked, now only a few steps away from you.

A trap question. He knew your answer already, you were sure. It was the hidden sadistic nature in him that urged you out of your shell and into the humiliation of utter vulnerability. In a last act of defiance, you blinked up at where he stood, not paying heed to the beating of your heart. "Hannie told me to-"

"Since when are you doing what anyone tells you to?" The warmth of his fingers found your cheek. His touch felt electrifying. "If you don't want me to see, all you have to do is tell me. Use your words."

Your breath hitched in your throat. "I... hoped you would."

A smirk spread on his lips, bending down until he was on eye level with you. Licking his lips, his eyes drifted down to yours, an unspoken question lingering between you, before he rasped, "That's what I thought."

He had you on your back, dress long discarded between the couch and the dining room, as you lay there writhing in your underwear, his mouth pressing open mouthed kisses to you neck. The friction of your bra against the silky fabric of his shirt felt almost sinful as his hand reached for your chest, quiet whines slipping past your lips. Whatever you'd hoped for, you'd never have thought he'd actually want you like this. Maybe the alcohol had messed with your brain too much.

"You're so pretty like this", Wonwoo breathed, slipping your panties to the side before he ran his thumb over your clit. A sharp inhale escaped you, body jolting against him in surprise. He smiled into your skin. "Let me hear you."

It felt forbidden to see him still this in control, while you were somewhere between bliss and anxiety. He lay fully clothed on top of you, using his knees to spread your thighs apart for easier access, glasses foggy. You'd almost giggle at the sight. "Fuh- Oh", you gasped, a finger finally sliding into you, wetness coating his hand in the blink of an eye. "Wonwoo..."

A soft laugh. "Yeah?"

"More", you demanded, hips grinding into his steadily moving hand.

"More? Whatever could she mean?" He grinned at your frustrated huff, kissing the top of your lace covered breasts.

"You know!", you grumbled. Or whined. You weren't quite so sure anymore.

He complied to your demands, adding another, long finger, heel of his palm rubbing against your sensitive clit. Moan after moan tumbled from your parted lips, pressure rising in the pit of your stomach with every flick of his wrist. It'd been too long for you to properly relish this moment, pleasure almost too fleeting before even falling off the edge. An artist's curse to live in melancholy and nostalgia.

As your hip brushing against his crotch, he finally let a moan of his own slip, squeezing his eyes shut. The sight was almost too much to bear for you. He looked so handsome like this - cheeks flushed, slightly out of breath. You stared in awe. "Your pussy's so tight", he sighed.

"Won-" a gasp. And with a brush against your spongie spot inside you and the friction against your clit, you let go. Pleasure illuminating your whole body. Wonwoo could swear you shined as bright as any beacon at that moment.

He kissed your lips for the final time, soft and sweet, before he gathered you up in his arms, hugging your fucked out form closet to his chest. "What about you?", he heard you mumble, face buried in the crook of his neck. He only shook his head, reaching for a blanket to cover you with. "I'm tired."

You'd slept surprisingly well on his couch, the fabric of the cushions softer than most of the bedsheets you'd slept in. Though as you stretched out to find the man on your mind, you were met with an empty spot. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, after sex exhaustion and alcohol making your lids feel especially heavy this morning. "Oh fuck", you cursed softly, images from last night flooding your mind. The memories of his lips on your skin, his kisses, his hands... It was way too early to think about all of this.

You rolled to your side, on the search for your phone, a creme colored envelope catching your eye immediately. Careful not to tear the paper, you squinted trying to make out Wonwoo's handwriting.

Last night was lovely. I transferred some money to your account - There's a new art dealer in town. Let's talk soon.

Money. Oh. Yeah, you remembered. This is what this was about, how could you forget? It's an arrangement first and foremost. Your fingers felt numb as you held the piece of paper in the too big, too expensive, too empty apartment of Jeon Wonwoo. Wealthy trustfund kid, CEO to be Jeon Wonwoo. How could you forget?

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #wonu x reader #wonu smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut

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withacapitalp · 9 months

Text

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 16

Part One Part Fifteen Link to Ao3. Part 17

So late but I needed to post this as soon as I was happy with it haha! Thank you to @stevethehairington for betaing and @thefreakandthehair for listening to my endless rambles

Step Sixteen: Fix What You Brea

Decorating a christmas tree was an interesting experience.

It wasn’t like Eddie had never seen a tree before, it just wasn’t something he had ever personally done. Before living with Wayne, his parents had never stayed in one place long enough to have a tree, and after he moved in with Wayne, they both agreed that the money would be better spent on having a present for Eddie instead of a tree to just stare at. Eddie had always thought it would be kind of stupid anyway. What was the point?

But decorating Steve’s tree was actually pretty enjoyable.

Sure, Frank and Jeff were fighting over eating the popcorn string instead of hanging it up, and yeah, Jonathan kept making little side comments to Nancy about it that were almost a shade too sarcastic for comfort, but the air was filled with laughter, and Steve was directing him on where to put the important ornaments, so it wasn’t all bad.

“What about this one?” Eddie asked, holding up a delicate glass design. It was shaped like a pair of ballet slippers, hanging on a pink ribbon that gleamed in the lights on the tree.

This was the best part in Eddie’s opinion. Every single one of the ‘special’ ornaments had some story attached. A family anecdote or a tradition long held. Steve wasn’t on Eddie’s level of storytelling, but there was something incredibly cozy about holding out an ornament and listening to Steve tell the tale as they hung it up together.

“That ones my mom’s,” Steve said, his voice inordinately warm as he took the ornament and leaned into Eddie’s space to place it on the right side of the tree almost all the way at the top. “She was a ballet dancer back in the day. The ribbon is from her first set of pointe shoes.”

“That’s cool,” Eddie said, looking closer. Sure enough the satin was too thick to be a traditional ribbon, and there were rips in it that had been sewn back together with pale pink thread.

“Yeah. You have to replace pointe shoes every twenty hours of dancing or so, but my mom’s family never had much money, so she used hers until they were too broken to dance,” Steve explained, tracing his index finger down the side of the ribbon, his eyes far away somewhere Eddie couldn’t quite reach.

Huh.

It was strange to think of anyone in Steve’s family as anything but rich. The Harringtons were well known snobs, and although Eddie didn’t personally know Steve’s mom, he had definitely heard about her. Head of the PTA, head of the ladies auxiliary, head of the church prayer group. She was a socialite through and through.

Initially Eddie had heard the word ‘ballet’ and imagined an uptight little prima in a sterile looking studio with starched white tutus and perfect form. Steve’s story had shifted that, and now Eddie’s mind was conjuring up images of a tiny girl practicing and practicing her steps with shoes that were tearing at the seams. A small child trying and trying to be as good as everyone else when the tools she was working with were nowhere near what everyone else got to have.

The same way Eddie himself had practiced on his first guitar before he had started dealing and was able to afford his Warlock.

“Why’d she stop dancing?” Eddie asked softly, suddenly desperate to know the answer. He needed to make the two images connect, needed to find the through line that could turn a poor kid who just wanted to dance into a formidable small town queen.

“She married my dad,” Steve replied, giving the exact answer Eddie hadn’t wanted to hear. “They moved here, had my brother, and Mom didn’t need to work anymore. The back room used to be her studio, but my parents decided to make it a second office for my dad.”

Eddie bit his tongue, looking at the tree but avoiding the shimmering ballet slippers sitting on the branch above his head.

Steve’s mom had been like him, then she married a rich guy, and gave up all the things that mattered for money. She had been just like him, once upon a time.

Would that happen to Eddie?

Was he turning into someone different now because of his crush on Steve?

It wasn’t a completely lunatic idea. He was here decorating a tree, which is something he normally saw as completely arbitrary and useless. He was letting a jock into hellfire, and not just any jock but the King.

Would being near Steve chip away at all of Eddie’s long held beliefs? Would he move backwards and backwards because of this idiotic infatuation, until his guitar was just an ornament on a tree?

“Eddie?”

And then with just one look, Steve erased the entire idea. One flash of those big brown eyes and that little side quirk of his head, and Eddie is a goner. There was no way Steve would ever turn his partner into some cookie cutter perfect picket fence person, no planet on Earth where Steve wouldn’t love someone enough to love their weird bits too. This was Steve.

And besides, it wasn’t even like Eddie was the kind of person that had a shot with Steve in the first place. For a lot of reasons.

“Sorry, got lost in thought, Sweetheart,” Eddie said, crooking his mouth into a half smile and ignoring the panging ache of guilt crushing his chest. Steve’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned closer, letting his arm rest against Eddie’s.

“Well, don’t go somewhere I can’t follow,” He murmured, the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his body sending Eddie into a tailspin.

Just like before when their hands were joined and Steve’s warm breath was blowing across his frozen fingers, Eddie’s mind stuttered to a halt. The endless loops and running thoughts were stuck in place, held motionless by the enigma that was Steve Harrington. It was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at the same time, and Eddie needed to get away from it before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“C’mon, we’ve still got work to do, lazy bones!” Eddie chirped, slipping away from Steve and practically jumping over to the box of carefully packaged decorations. He was so focused on escaping, that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings until it was a moment too late.

At the same time Eddie picked up the next ornament, Jeff and Frank’s battle over the popcorn string reached its apex. Jeff let go of his side of the string, and Frank flew backwards. He barreled into Jonathan, who crashed into Nancy, who stumbled and bumped into Eddie just enough to make him lose his grip.

The air was filled with the terribly delicate sound of breaking porcelain, and everything seemed to freeze in place. All six of them stared at the ground, where a tiny angel rested in three pieces where it had once been whole.

“Shit, I’m sorry-”

“We were just fucking around, but we shouldn’t have-”

“Steve, I’m so-”

Floods of apologies from the rest, but Eddie stayed silent. He was watching Steve like a hawk as he slowly bent down on one knee and began to collect the pieces of the broken ornament.

Steve hadn’t said a word yet, but he was still saying plenty. His shoulders were almost at his ears, and his fingers were shaking as they tried to grab onto the porcelain remains. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were starting to take on an honestly terrifying shine, and his blinking was getting more and more rapid by the second.

Eddie should have left it alone, should have given Steve space to collect himself, but he had never been good at leaving things be. So, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, Eddie knelt down by Steve and reached out to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s fine,” Steve instantly replied, a completely hollow smile materializing on his face as he continued to blink far too much. He leaned away from Eddie’s touch, a tiny jerky movement that put a twenty pound weight on Eddie’s chest. Steve scrambled upwards, cradling the broken ornament close to his heart as he continued to fake a smile. “It was an accident, Babydoll. No worries.”

It was an accident, but that didn’t make it ‘fine’. Steve was obviously so far from fine, and even that little silly name wasn’t enough to assure Eddie of the lie. It actually made it worse, like Steve was trying to appease him, to make Eddie let it go, when he really didn’t think he should.

“I’m gonna go see if we have superglue. It doesn’t look too bad,” Steve said to the entire group, still faking it. Unlike Eddie though, the rest were buying it, tension leaking out of them with relieved smiles and quiet sighs. “You guys finish up though, people will be here any minute.”

And then he was gone, ducking into the kitchen and disappearing from view, leaving Eddie unmoored and unsure of where to go. Every fiber in his being wanted to chase after Steve, catch him alone and hope that he wouldn’t keep trying to hide, but he was stuck in place. Steve had leaned away, escaped as soon as he could, that had to be a sign that he didn’t want Eddie near him.

Wasn’t it?

“Nice job, butterfingers,” Frank joked, gently jabbing an elbow into Eddie’s ribs in an effort to lighten up the air around him.

Eddie threw him a distracted smile, still staring at the doorway Steve had disappeared through and trying to ignore the part of him that was desparate to follow.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Nancy murmured to Jonathan, nearly inaudible over the sound of Jeff and Frank looking for a broom to get any remaining slivers of porcelain on the ground. Jonathan nodded with a quiet hum, kissing Nancy on the cheek before letting her go without even a word.

Because it was oh so natural for an ex-girlfriend to leave her current boyfriend in the dust to go check on her ex-boyfriend.

Eddie watched her perfect little curls bounce in their perfect little ringlets as she practically skipped out after Steve. Now Nancy was going to go in there and comfort Steve, act all sweet and soft and drag Steve into thinking that she cared when she was the one that had cheated. Hell, maybe they would even kiss, and she would have her hooks in Steve again.

Why wasn’t Jonathan upset about this?!

… Why was Eddie so upset about this?

Eddie let his eyes slip shut, his breath escaping in one huge gust as he finally began to wilt. It wasn’t really any of his business. He and Steve were friends. That was all. If Steve wanted to kiss Nancy, then he would kiss her, and that wasn’t Eddie’s choice. All Eddie had was a fanciful crush, a ridiculous dream, a hope for something that he should never have let himself hope for.

But still.

“I’m gonna find a bathroom,” Eddie muttered to no one, slipping out of the room and carefully creeping down the hallway towards the kitchen.

He could hear the indistinguishable sound of voices coming from the room ahead, the open door tempting him closer and closer for a taste of what Steve and Nancy were discussing.

Was Eddie really doing this?

Yes. Yes he was.

Resolved, Eddie leaned against the hidden side of the doorway, letting his head hit the wall as he shut his eyes and focused on eavesdropping.

“-really don’t want to talk about it, Nancy,” Steve said, sounding utterly exhausted as cupboards opened and slammed shut.

“Okay,” Nancy relented, clearly not happy to let the subject go, “let’s talk about the other thing?”

Other thing?

“Other thing?” Steve asked. Eddie bit back a snicker, his heart fluttering at the way Steve had mirrored him without even knowing it.

“You invited Eddie?”

The humor instantly fled, rushing out of the hallway along with all of the oxygen, leaving Eddie dizzy and struggling to breathe. His indulgent smile soured into a scowl, and his hands curled into tight fists.

It was the tone. That tone that Eddie had heard his whole life. The condescending, lower-than-me, dirt on the shoes of society tone. It was the kind of thing that girls like Nancy could use because they lived in perfect two story houses on cul-de-sacs, and Eddie was trailer trash from the bad side of town.

Well fuck her. Fuck Nancy Wheeler and her stupid perfect life, and fuck her for hating him just for existing. Eddie could hate her right back. He had hating the conventional down to a science, an art form almost. He was brilliant at striking first, and he had half a mind to walk in there and tear her down a few notches, just for the fun of it.

“What is your problem with him?”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, blinking his eyes open and staring in shock at the wall in front of him, watching Steve’s shadow turn to face Nancy’s.

“I don’t have a problem,” Nancy scoffed.

“Obviously you do, Nance,” Steve shot back, crossing his arms “Eddie’s a good guy. They’re my friends.”

A good guy.

It wasn’t exactly a glowing recommendation or anything, but the words and the protectiveness in Steve’s voice was doing terrible wonderful things to Eddie’s stomach. His fingers were still burning from being held by Steve before, and now his brain was on fire too, caught in the blaze that was Steve damn Harrington.

“I… I just think he might be trouble,” Nancy admitted softly, quickly continuing when she heard Steve’s inhale of interjecting, “and not in the way you’re thinking! I promise.”

A long silence, one that gave Eddie too much time to think, one that left too much room for endless questions with zero answers.

What kind of trouble did Nancy think Eddie was dragging Steve into? What would Eddie do that she was so scared of? Did she really care that much about Steve’s reputation? Steve didn’t even care about it anymore!

Was she scared for her brother? Why was all of this so damn cryptic?

“In what way?” Steve finally asked, and Eddie leaned in, needing the answer.

“Just-” Nancy cut herself off with a frustrated little sound, and her shadow eclipsed Steve as she stood on her tiptoes to put her arms around his shoulders.

“If you ever need to talk. About anything. Me and Jonathan are here. We would never judge you for anything. You know that right?”

Eddie barely heard it, the words muffled between the two bodies, but he heard Steve’s soft chuckle, and saw the way his shadow arms wrapped around Nancy.

Even just an image of them on the wall looked so… right.

It made a small part of Eddie die inside.

He closed his eyes once, hating the burn that was already there waiting. He shouldn’t have come over and listened. He shouldn’t have done any of this. But as Eddie took a step back to walk to the living room with his tail tucked between his legs, Nancy spoke again.

“And you need to tell them about El before she gets here.”

El?

Who was El?

“Shit, you’re right,” Steve sighed, pulling away from Nancy, “I totally forgot.”

“Do you remember the story?”

“Nancy I’m the one that came up with it,” Steve said, annoyance tinging his voice, “I remember the story.”

Story?

Eddie was definitely eavesdropping about something bigger than relationship woes now, and the mystery of it all dug right into his soft spot, pulling him away from his aching heart and tugging him forward with a desperate need to know more.

This was the thing that Wayne always tried to warn him about. Eddie’s need to know everything was always getting him in trouble, and he had heard plenty of times about what curiosity did to cats.

That was all true… but the thing that Wayne always seemed to forget was that satisfaction brought that cat back.

“It’s important that we get this right, Steve. You know what-”

But whatever Steve knew, Eddie didn’t seem destined to hear it. As he leaned closer, intent on catching every word, he overbalanced, tripping over his own feet and slamming his entire body against the other side of the doorway, coming into full view of both of them. Steve and Nancy both jolted, pulling away from each other and staring at Eddie with slack jaws and wide eyes.

Fuck.

“This is what I get for never tying my shoes,” Eddie joked awkwardly, trying to be casual as he straightened up and let out the world’s worst fake laugh. His brain was racing, running as fast as it could to come up with any rational reason for him being there besides eavesdropping.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, his brow furrowing. He didn’t even seem to catch what was going on, but Nancy was practically glaring, her lips pursed in quiet fury.

“I’m fine, Sweetheart,” Eddie reassured him, ignoring Nancy’s look in favor of focusing all of his attention on Steve. If he played it right, then Nancy calling him out would just look like she was against him, which Steve had already tried to stop.

He wasn’t being manipulative. This was just strategy, the same kind of strategic thinking that any dungeon master worth their salt would employ. It was improv, a game, an act. Nothing bad. Nothing wrong.

So why was guilt creeping cold fingers down Eddie’s spine?

“What do you want?” Nancy asked, clearly trying to go for nonchalant but coming off completely cold with her crossed arms and flat inflection. It wasn’t working in her favor if Steve’s quick sharp look was anything to go by, and Eddie did his best not to preen under Steve’s protection.

“Drinks? The boys were wondering if you had anything stronger than eggnog,” Eddie wondered, coming up with his excuse on the fly. It would work. Frank was never one to turn down a stiff drink, especially if it came loaded with whatever ridiculously expensive alcohol the Harringtons were keeping stashed away here.

Nancy tossed her hair over his shoulder, raising a single brow as her expression stayed firmly unimpressed. It made Eddie want to squirm in place, but he held firm, meeting her head on.

“You know there’s gonna be kids at this party, right?” Nancy said, her voice a little less frosty, but a hell of a lot more condescending. “And the chief of police.”

Eddie bristled, opening his mouth to tell her exactly where Hopper could stick it, but Steve intervened before he could.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a little,” Steve offered in a mediating tone, already moving towards one of the high cabinets and starting to open it. “But just one before they get here. Last thing I need is the brats trying to convince me they’re old enough for whiskey.”

“Jack and Coke? Or are you spoiling me with the good stuff?” Eddie asked, possibly laying it on an inch too thick, but unable to help it when Steve was giving him that fondly annoyed side eye.

“We do not drink the good stuff as a mixed beverage,” Steve lectured, grabbing a fat bottle from behind a box on the shelf and bringing it down, “but I think breaking out the crown wouldn’t be amiss.”

“A crown for a king!” Eddie crowed, taking the bottle of Crown Royal from Steve and wiggling his eyebrows. Steve huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head at Eddie’s antics and turning towards the fridge.

“Here, Nance,” Steve said absentmindedly, holding out a bottle of coke for her, “take that inside and you guys can make your own before everyone else gets here. I’ll be in once I find the glue.”

“Why don’t I help you?” Eddie blurted out, his mouth moving before his mind even caught up with what he was saying.

“Oh, sure,” Steve agreed, still distracted as he began to root around in cupboards.

“You’ll be needing this,” Eddie said sweetly, offering up the bottle to Nancy as she walked past him.

Nancy’s eyes narrowed impossibly further, and she let out a short sigh, taking the bottle of alcohol with a vicious little swipe and striding out of the room. Eddie watched her go, barely resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at her retreating form.

He had won. That was what mattered.

Did Eddie even know what he had won? No, but he still felt like he did.

Once it was just the two of them, Eddie’s hackles began to slowly lower. There was no need to be on guard when it was just him and Steve. He idly twirled around the kitchen table, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen and looking around the room with distracted curiosity. He had been in the kitchen before, but never really cared enough to explore the details.

Now every fridge magnet was a new discovery, and the way that the spices were lined up on the rack was information that seemed important. But the most interesting thing in the kitchen was the angel on the counter right by Eddie’s fingers.

It was a pretty thing, delicate, but somehow still beautiful, even in parts. The sculpted wings were curled around the figure of a little boy, kneeling with his hands cupped over a star. At the bottom of the ornament was the name ‘Jaime’ in ornate script.

Jaime.

“Who’s Jaime?” Eddie wondered aloud. He had mostly been talking to himself, but his words caused Steve to stop short, flying around from the drawer he had been searching through and whirl around to face Eddie.

“Where did you…” Steve trailed off, noticing the angel. He wilted like a dying flower, biting at the inside of his cheek as he turned his back to Eddie, returning to the drawer of odds and ends.

“Jaime’s my brother,” Steve said shortly.

Eddie’s shoulders were starting to tighten, but he pushed through the feeling. It wasn’t a rejection, or an outright refusal to speak. Steve was just being cagey, secretive the way he sometimes was.

Eddie could crack that.

“Ah, yes, the elusive mystery brother,” He joked, putting on a fake accent and bopping over to Steve’s side, bumping against him in an effort to get Steve smiling again. “Will the elder Harrington sibling be making an appearance at tonight’s festivities?”

Maybe if he was, Eddie would get some answers. Reasons for the panic attack at the Hideout, or some details on the mysterious ‘El’. The possibility of unraveling another part of Steve was enticing, coaxing Eddie further down the rabbit hole.

“Um…”

Just like that the curiosity was gone. Instantly killed by the way Steve’s adams apple was starting to bob, and the sharp shaking inhale that went along with it. Eddie’s heart fell to his feet, and his fingers felt cold for the first time since Steve had touched him.

“I was just kidding around. You don’t have to-” Eddie began.

“It’s okay,” Steve interrupted, still worrying his lip as his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at Eddie. He was gearing up, trying to find what he wanted to say or maybe trying to force it out. Either way, Eddie was going to be frozen in place until Steve was ready to speak.

“Jaime um… Jaime died,” Steve finally managed, the word practically shooting out of his mouth the second he was done choking on it.

It was like being dunked in a freezing cold shower and tossed out in the snow. Not only had Eddie forced Steve into talking about his dead brother, he had broken the ornament obviously meant to commemorate him.

If he had a gun, he would be pushing it up against his temple. Nope. Even that wouldn’t be enough.

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed out, wishing he could just shut his damn mouth for once, but he was too keyed up to stay quiet. The apology was worthless, but it was already spilling out of his mouth, vomiting itself up, “Steve, I-”

“Really, it’s fine,” Steve insisted, busying himself with looking for the glue. “How could you know? Besides, he died before I was born, so…”

“So?” Eddie prompted, not really sure where Steve was going with that.

Steve said ‘so’ like that meant it didn’t matter, but from just one glance Eddie knew how much this did. Steve, who was one of the most open people Eddie knew, was hunched over, practically trying to disappear from Eddie’s gaze, hiding away whatever emotions were trying to push themselves up to the surface, demanding to be felt.

“So- I don’t know,” Steve said, cutting himself off with a sigh. He held up the tiny bottle of superglue, walking over to the other side of the counter, his back to Eddie again. “But it’s my mom’s favorite ornament, and she would get really upset if she came home and it was broken,”

Steve gave a tiny laugh that wasn’t really a laugh, the tip of his finger running over the edge of the wing like it had run over the satin of the ballet slipper ribbon.

“Not that I even know when she’s coming home again,” He whispered, the bitterness in the words so heavy that it was sitting on Eddie’s tongue.

It was just wrong. Eddie had never heard Steve sound so beaten down, even in the parking lot the other night. This was somehow worse than just watching Steve shake through an unseen panic that he couldn’t control.

But, unlike that night, Eddie could do something about this. So, rather than satisfy his own curiosity, Eddie put his needs to the side.

“Can I?” Eddie asked, holding out his hand for the glue and the angel. “I work on miniatures all the time. I’m super steady.”

Steve looked down at the hand outstretched toward him, then up at Eddie. A long slow look that went deep in Eddie, making him want to squirm with how far it was going.

Then, finally, Steve relented. He handed over the pieces and hopped up onto the counter, watching Eddie like a hawk.

Eddie immediately went to work, bending his head close to the angel and narrowing his eyes as he carefully glued first the broken wing on, and then the small corner of the name plaque. He held both in a firm but soft grip, balancing the ornament effortlessly between his hands as he waited for the glue to bond the pieces back together. And, as he did all of that, he worked up the courage to say what he was thinking.

“You know it’s okay, right?” Eddie whispered, unable to make his voice any louder.

“What is?” Steve whispered back, just as quiet.

“If you aren’t okay,” Eddie replied, braving a quick glance up at Steve’s face.

It was the wrong thing to do. The blank look of utter shock on Steve’s face was painful, hurting Eddie inside in a place he didn’t even know existed.

All at once Eddie was sure that he was the first person to ever tell Steve such a thing, and that was just… too much. It was too much pressure, too much potential to fuck it up and hurt Steve even more, too much of a chance that Eddie would say the wrong thing.

But it was also too much to not be sure Steve knew that it was the absolute truth.

“You’re allowed to not be okay,” Eddie said, gently placing the repaired angel in Steve’s palm.

Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

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mosylufanfic · 3 months

Text

Linen and Kisses

For Fluffbruary! The prompts for today were table | blush | laundry. Thanks to @toooldforthisbutstill for sharing the snippet of a marriage contract that inspired this.

Linen and Kisses

The music had switched from Wagner to Nine Inch Nails, so Cassian knew his girlfriend was taking a break for at least a few songs. She couldn't listen to anything with words when she was working, she said because languages got tangled up in her head, so she had massive playlists of classical and instrumental music to blast as she was head-down in some manuscript or other.

He went out to the kitchen and found her filling the kettle. The ravages of her morning's work spilled out over the table, multiple dictionaries and her battered old computer and printouts with penciled notes and highlighted words.

"What language today?" he asked.

"Japanese," she said.

Before meeting her, Cassian had considered himself reasonably multilingual. Spanish, English, and about halfway to fluent in French. It was two-and-a-half times more languages than most people spoke in this country.

But Jyn was fluent in all those and more. She worked as a freelance translator, and since moving in together, he'd gotten used to having half the bookcase filled with dictionaries and having to guess which language she was using to talk on the phone and why.

French, Japanese, Arabic, Russian? Some connection of hers on another continent.

Spanish, with a lot of laughing? Probably his sister.

Danish? Her father, and there would be cursing afterwards.

"Are you done?" he asked. "Or just taking a break?"

"Done for now."

"Good, I was going to start lunch. Any requests?"

"Edible," she said, starting to clear up her mess. "Thanks." She hooked her arm around his waist and leaned up to kiss his cheek. She got taciturn when fighting with a particular translation - well, more taciturn.

By the time she'd cleaned the table off, he'd gotten some of his homemade tomato soup in the microwave and assembled a couple of cheese sandwiches for grilling. She leaned against the counter as he cooked.

He rarely liked having someone in his kitchen, but Jyn was the exception.

"What's wrong?" she asked, breaking a corner off the cheese block and tossing it in her mouth.

"Nothing," he answered, a hair too fast. "Why do you ask?"

She eyed him. "I dunno, you just seem a little tense."

"Because you're eating all the good cheese."

"Oh no," she said, cutting off another corner. "Whatever will happen if we run out of cheese? We might have to go down to the store. How awful."

He waggled his spatula at her. "That's the good stuff. You don't get that at a fucking Walmart."

"Snob," she said, and took another corner. "And anyway, we don't get anything at fucking Walmart because you're banned for talking to the cashiers about unionizing."

"Only because I wouldn't let you vandalize the store manager's car."

"Is slashing tires really vandalism?"

"I think you'll find, yes."

She shrugged. "They never would have caught me."

The microwave beeped, and she pulled out the bowls, just in time for him to plate the sandwiches. With the addition of cutlery and tea in heavy mugs, lunch was served.

He wasn't fool enough to think she'd been distracted or deceived, and if he had been, the canny look she shot him would have disabused him of that notion. The woman knew him far too well.

"So," she said. "What've you been up to this morning?" She dipped the corner of her sandwich in the soup.

It was as good an opening as he could have hoped for.

"Messing around online," he said, digging in his back pocket. "Actually, I found something and did some practice translating, but I'm not too sure if I got it right."

"French? Your French is coming along."

"It's not as good as yours," he said, and she nodded in agreement. "Can you read it over for me? This is the original here. Something from a marriage contract in the middle ages."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You trying to get me to work for free?"

"Good point. What's your price?"

She leaned across the table and kissed him firmly on the lips. "There." She took the paper from his hand and unfolded it. "Mmm. Hmm. Awwwww."

"There's a part I didn't quite get," he said. "About the laundry?"

"Linen," she murmured. She'd majored in European history, and it still emerged from time to time. "Underthings. What you wore next to your skin underneath all the - " She flapped a hand. "Velvet and brocade, if you were rich, or wool if you were poor."

"Ye Olde Fruit of the Looms," he said.

"Mmm. But it was still expensive because everything was spun and dyed and woven and sewn by hand. Cheap clothing is a really modern concept." She looked at the contract again. "This is a legally binding promise that she'll have the things she needs, always."

"Practical," he said.

"And kisses," she added. "It's a really sweet turn of phrase. Linen and kisses." She smiled over it for a moment, then looked up. "What was your translation?"

He dug in his pocket and passed it over. He tried to eat a little soup as she read it through, comparing it with the original, but had to put the spoon back in the bowl and hold his mug tightly.

She read it aloud. “I swear to protect you from poverty, to cover your back with linen and kisses, to watch over your sleep and bring you all the delights of this world as long as I walk it with you.”

Her eyes paused on the last line, spaced a little below the rest of his translation. She lifted her eyes. "This wasn't in the original."

He knew what it said without her having to read it aloud. "No," he said. "But it fits."

She looked at it again.

Jyn, will you marry me?

"I know we've only talked about it a few times," he said. "And I don't have a ring or anything. I thought you'd probably want to pick something out yourself. But I - " He gestured. "I read that. And it felt like a sign."

He didn't normally go in for signs. Neither did she. But reading that had felt like - oh, this. This is what I want. And she's who I want it with.

She set the translation on the table and he looked at it, wondering if he'd been too hasty. If she was about to let him down gently, or not very gently, or -

She got up, came around the table, and settled herself in his lap. His arms came around her instinctively, pulling her close.

"Oui," she said, smoothing her thumbs along the edge of his beard. "Need that translated?"

He let out all his breath in a rush and rested his forehead on hers. "Listillo," he muttered, and she laughed until his mouth covered hers.

The soup and the sandwiches were stone cold by the time they got back to eating them, but he found he didn't mind. She smiled at him over her soup, clearly not minding it either.

"So you'll cover my back with linen, will you," she said.

"And kisses," he said, stretching over the table to press one to her lips. "Don't forget the kisses."

FINIS

#Jyn Erso #Cassian Andor #rebelcaptain #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #rebelcaptain fluffbruary #star wars #search your feelings you know it to be queue

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bibiwrld · 7 months

Text

Nerdy loser Anakin Skywalker!— Turned Bad Boy!

Pairing: Nerdy loser Anakin! x Black fem oc!

Author’s note: I honestly thought this was a cute and funny idea. Kinda short, but I’m thinking of a part 2, idk.

Bad boy! Bad boy!

Whatcha gonna do?

Can’t run away from ‘em

💋!

They weren’t girlfriend and boyfriend, that’s what they agreed on until Sydnee was ready and he was fine with that. Anakin thought what they had was special and he wouldn’t want to ruin it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when he’d see Sydnee talking to other guys around campus. They didn’t look like Anakin, they looked cooler— wearing fashionable and darker clothes, messy dark hair, piercings, always had a cigarette between their lips and they spoke with such vulgars words.

Was that allowed? Talking to other people?

Even if he wanted to, Anakin couldn’t, no other girl caught his eyes quite like Sydnee did. She was the only one for him.

He paced his living room with his phone to his ear, listening to it ring. “Pick up, pick up—”

“Anakin, it’s late, this better be some type of emergency.” Obi-Wan, his older brother, groaned.

“I-it is!” Anakin interjected, standing in place. “I met a girl.” His voice now a little more hushed.

Obi-Wan almost choked. “A girl?!”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He said with rolled eyes. “I just need..a–a little advice.”

“I’m your older brother, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Do you think girls like edgy bad boys?” He plopped down on his couch.

“Some girls do, yeah. Girls think they’re cooler, more attractive, assertive. They like laid back guys, very nonchalant, guys who just don’t give a shit, y’know?”

Anakin was none of those things.

“I should just fake it, huh?” He adjusted his glasses.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Little did Obi-Wan know what he told his younger brother, was the worst advice ever.

Right after that phone call, Anakin went on a shopping spree. Buying a new wardrobe that consisted of dark tees with cool graphics, dark long sleeved shirts and baggy jeans. He also stopped at Target and bought black and blue hair dye, fake piercings and contact lenses.

He stood in front of his mirror, listening to the audiobook of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, with a patch of blue in his hair.

He couldn’t believe he was going through with this. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling.

His arms grew tired as he dabbed a section of his hair with a hair dye brush coated in black hair dye. He prayed this came out good, finally putting a clear plastic cap on his head.

💋

“I was thinking of hitting up this club tomorrow night, I heard they got male strippers.” Lilian slowly scrolled on her phone giggling.

“Wait for real?” Chloe leaned all the way into Lilian trying to look at her phone. “Oh my God, they’re hot.”

Sydnee didn’t really care to look, she had other things to worry about, like where Anakin was. He didn’t send a good morning text like he usually does every morning, as he’s always up before her, she hasn’t seen him around campus and it usually doesn’t take long for her to see him walking around.

“What’s your problem, Sydnee?” June asked with obvious attitude, chewing her gum obnoxiously as her nails clicked against her phone.

Sydnee doesn’t know why she still hung around this girl, she was so rude and annoying. “I’m just wondering where Anakin is, that’s all.”

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t see him in Physics today.” Chloe rested her chin into her palm, suddenly thinking about Anakin.

“Seriously girl?” June scoffed. “You’re still hung up on that guy? It was one thing to fuck him, but to actually give a shit about him is crazy.”

Sydnee’s fist balled up, slowly turning her head towards the obnoxious snob. Before Sydnee or Chloe could say something in defense of Anakin, Lilian cut them off.

“Is that..is that Anakin?” Her tone was a mix of surprised and a bit of disbelief.

Sydnee quickly turned around, searching the busy cafeteria for the boy with glasses, but she didn’t see him at all. She squinted, then noticed a tall guy in an army green tee, baggy ash jeans, grey converse and black, messy hair, sluggishly walking over to them.

She could only stare in awe, her eyes just following him as he got closer. She noticed he had on black eye shadow, messily smeared on his lids.

He dropped his bag on the floor, sitting beside Sydnee. “Hey doll face.” He removed the cigarette from his lips, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Doll face?” Sydnee silently muttered to herself. He’s never talked like that, ever.

“Sup girls?” He nodded to the 3 girls.

“Uh..hey?” Lilian rose a brow.

“What’s with the look?” Chloe asked.

He focused hard on every word, trying not to stutter.

“Can’t a guy express himself?” He snapped, slouching and spreading his legs.

“I think he looks better this way.” June gave small nods.

Of course she did.

Sydnee rolled her eyes at June, then brought her attention back to Anakin. She reached her hand out to fix his hair . “You have bed head, Ani—”

He corrected her, moving his head so she couldn’t touch it. “Anakin and that’s just how my hair is.”

“Well Anakin, you missed Physics class.” She narrowed her eyes at him, taken back by his actions. “And you didn’t text me, I was worried.” Her voice softened, a pout on her lips.

He took a small drag from his cigarette. “Woke up late.” It took everything in him not to choke.

“You never wake up late.” Her brows furrowed.

“Are you wearing eye makeup?” Chloe leaned over, examining him.

His voice was a bit shaky, trying to maintain that dominant tone. “No…?”

“Okay, liar.” Lilian chuckled.

Sydnee looked him over and over again, noticing every detail about him. She didn’t hate the look, but she was a bit confused.

“What’s with the cigarette? You don’t even smoke cigarettes.” Sydnee felt like she was losing her mind. “And your hair…did you dye this yourself? And when did you get all these piercings?”

Anakin shrugged. “I’ve found myself, y’know?”

Sydnee knew something was up, but she didn’t know what. “Where are your glasses?”

“Don’t need em.” Smoke escaped his pink lips.

“Can you stop with the smoking? We’re indoors.” She screwed up her face.

“Whatever.” He took the cigarette from his lips, smushing it at the heel of shoe, then flicked it off somewhere.

June then jumped in. “Why don’t you stop complaining and appreciate that your boy toy looks hot?”

That was it.

Sydnee grabbed her bag and abruptly stood up. “Go fuck each other.” Looking June and Anakin in the eyes before storming off.

Anakin internally panicked, this wasn’t going how he planned it was.

“What’s her deal?” June screwed up her face.

“You obviously don’t know what the deal is because there is no fucking deal.” He spat before grabbing his bag to chase after Sydnee.

Sydnee hustled down the hall, stepping harshly with arched brows.

“Sydnee!” His voice called out. “Sydnee!”

She rolled her eyes and stopped walking, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “What is it, Anakin?”

“Y-you’re mad.” He frowned, standing in front of her.

“Well duh.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He breathed out. “I thought you’d like m-me..like this.”

“I don’t hate how you look, but the way you’re acting, why would I like that?” She looked away.

“B-Because I saw you talking t-to guys…that l-looked like this.” He breathed out. “I-I thought i-if I–uh— if I looked and acted like them, maybe you’d l-like me more.” He hung his head low.

Her arms gradually unfolded at his confession. “Anakin, what?”

“I-I know, it’s sooo em-embarrassing.” He groaned. “I-I hate cigarettes!” He then tugged off one of the fake earrings. “Th-these aren’t even real!”

Sydnee couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too cute, Anakin.” She cupped his face, bringing it down to hers.

“Call me Ani, plea-please, I like it when you call m-me that.” He nuzzled his face into her hands.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t ever change yourself, I like you just as you are.” She brought her lips to his, tasting the cigarette he smoked, but she didn’t care.

His hands found her waist, bringing her in closer.

The smacking of their lips were the only things heard in the empty halls. She softly tugged on his bottom lip, making him moan out.

“So cute.” She muttered before pulling away. “You do look really hot though.”

“Really?” He beamed.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “How about we go back to your place and fuck with your little bad boy cosplay on, hm?”

He covered his mouth in excitement. “Oh my God, y-you’re so insanely a-attractive.”

She giggled, holding his hand. “Come on, bad boy Anakin.”

💋

#my works💌🌷#anakin the nerd💋!#college anakin skywalker #nerdy anakin skywalker #sw anakin #college anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #nerdy anakin #soft Anakin Skywalker #star wars anakin #modern anakin #bad boy anakin skywalker #hayden christensen

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19burstraat · 6 months

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anyone want to hear my six of crows x jane austen's emma au. yes of course you do don't be silly. the only person allowed to be silly is me as I descend into madness in the course of trying to cast this. (if you think 'I've heard this before' yes I've posted abt it before tho I think it was on my main)

kaz is emma, a bored, overintelligent rich bitch stuck in a country house with a bunch of shit idiot neighbours and almost no one to entertain or match him. fucking useless dad per haskell / mr woodhouse is a weaksauce hypochrondriac, and jordie / isabella has gone and got married and ditched kaz, the bastard. the only consolation is their neighbour inej / mr knightley, who is rich, sensible, popular, and elegible as hell... glory be, an intellectual equal for kaz!

in order to be less bored, kaz takes on a protege, mysterious randomer and natural son wylan / harriet smith, who kaz decides to mould in his own image and make a good match for. wylan is in love with gentleman farmer jesper / robert martin, but kaz is a snob and tries to push him towards local vicar kuwei / mr elton (I KNOW. I'M SORRY KUWEI), but that all goes tits up bc turns out kaz is a fucking terrible matchmaker, who'd've known.

meanwhile, unassuming and a little cold, but locally well-liked matthias / jane fairfax has arrived back in the village, and kaz busily commences hating on him because he's another accomplished young man and he makes him feel inadequate. hot on his heels comes the mysterious nina / frank churchill (NINA I'M SO SORRY I FUCKING HATE FRANK BUT THIS IS WHAT WORKS FOR THE COUPLES YOU CAN BE A NICE FRANK CHURCHILL ): ), who kaz is kind of fascinated by and enjoys sparring with, and hence kind of misses the really obvious signs that nina and matthias are secretly engaged, even though inej, ever thief of secrets, has lowkey noticed something's up, like matthias getting mysterious gifts from someone. kaz ends up being convinced that possibly it's inej that's pursuing matthias, which nina encourages because it helps her cover, and kaz kinda panics.

everyone has petty village drama which culiminates when kaz sneers at pekka rollins / miss bates (LISTEN. LI actually you don't need to listen bc I laughed out loud when I thought of this comparison but hear me out, if you just think of it as the equivalent of the church of barter scene except instead of 'I buried him' it's 'when have you ever stopped at three?' it kind of works. sorry to miss bates tho who is still kinda my fave austen character) at box hill, which culminates in inej going BOY WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM and kaz is like wow she kind of has a point should I be a better person :/

uhh what else even happens. there's a ball after nina massively encourages one, inej saves wylan from being partnerless and later dances with kaz (think of the gloveless dance scene from the 2020 adaptation? yeah? yeahh??). the regency gender conventions here are getting so messed up lmao, never mind. in emma harriet fancies herself in love with mr knightley and emma is forced to realise that she likes him, so let's say that wylan pretends to be after inej, in order to strong arm kaz into realising that he's wanted to marry inej this entire time. wylan's dad turns out to be minted (I'm stretching the book here to make it work w SOC but never mind) but that's after kaz has admitted he fucked up and sent wylan off to marry gentleman farmer jesper, yaaay. nina's relatives who are stopping her from marrying matthias die and hence there's a massive revelation with 'oh they were engaged this whole time lol', kaz is PISSED bc he didn't clock it. uh. everyone gets married and now kaz can escape the shit village and actually go places. the end.

#this would read less batshit if I could draw bc I would just DRAW it #unfortunately I cannot. LOOK AT MY TEXTPOST BOY #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #soc au #six of crows au #helnik #wesper #crooked kingdom #yk the lads would kind of eat those regency clothes tho. kaz doesn't dress THAT differently honestly except for those damn breeches fjd

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starcrime · 7 days

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do you mind doing more cameron headcanons haha... i run the cam ask blog and honestly i've been fixated on his character ever since lmfao. loser moment because everyone else hates him </3

thanks a bunch, no pressure !!

hey, ofc!

i definitely understand, although cam's not my fav he for sure gets wayyyy too much hate. personally im more than a cameron apologist and his actions, however shitty, were completaly understandable for a kid in his situation

anyways! still i don't have many cam hc just laying around so this isn't all that easy

first id love to point you to lexical-gustatory synesthetic cameron headcanons, if you haven't seen them (not mine!!) bc that's the post that solidifed the hc in my mind

his bio dad was french and he spent the first 5-6 years of his life in france

so technically english is his second language

his bio dad died when he was like 9 and his mom remarried pretty quickly

he is an only child

refuses to laugh at ANY of charlie's jokes . bc he's petty

i ve always imagined that cameron's family - grandparents n cousins specifically - live on a farm where he spends a all his summers

he actually loves typical farm activities too

he's a cow person. he has his favorite cow friend. her name is buttercup, she has huge pretty eyes and loves listening to him rant while cuddling <3

the first car he ever drove was a farm truck when he was 15

he's a lightweight and a giggly drunk, it's jarring how laid back and in a good mood he is when drinking. like everything is funny to him

he's (unintentionally) so hilarious . like look at him

like he has such an honest face, you can always tell what he's thinking and it's histerical.

he has no idea and can't lie bc of it

can never tell if he's being flirted with. he dislikes romance in general, actually. he feels a breeze of it in the air and his flight-or-fight immediately starts going off

still he somehow he gives pretty good dating/relationship advice

only drinks coffee black. not bc he's a snob (i mean he is, a little bit), he just likes it that way. his fav is an americano with sugar

#recked #dead poets society #dead poets fandom #hellton boys #richard cameron #cameron dead poets society #ch: think he'll test us on that stuff?#mailbox #nowhereindiana

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lawrites · 6 months

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Gender neutral! Reader X Gotham Rogues Crochet Headcanons

This is so self-indulgent and too detailed for how dumb this concept is...my God. Anyway, crochet headcanons for the Gotham Rogues. How do they react to your crochet hobby? What do you make for them?

Featuring: The Penguin, The Riddler, Zsasz

The Penguin (Ozzie my beloved)

One of Oswald's most prominent love languages is gift-giving (he is SUCH a sugar daddy, c'mon)

So whether you already know how to crochet before meeting him or gently bring up wanting to try it while sharing dinner one night...

He is already getting out his card. A set of beautiful, ergonomic crochet hooks with colors to differentiate between the sizes, a leather yarn bag and organizer, plus yarn to fill it up.

He IS such a snob about fibers tho, he would get you local wool spun right outside of Gotham, bamboo, etc. anything expensive and natural and beautiful. (Even if you beg for some cheap acrylic just to start out with)

He also gets you little penguin stitch markers. He does his research on gifts and makes sure you have EVERYTHING you need to start a new hobby. (Now why is that so hot? Anyway)

He enjoys nothing more than sitting by the fire with you, drinking brandy, (or sometimes nice hot tea), and letting you cuddle up to his side as your nimble fingers create something.

He never gets tired of the cute face you make when you concentrate, or the joy and pride you show when you finally finish a project.

The first project you EVER made had to be a little amigurumi penguin. It was terrible and lopsided and you were almost ashamed to show him. You wouldn't have, actually, if he hadn't been sitting by you the whole time you were making it.

"Little Dove, is that for me? You shouldn't have." His hands plucked it from yours before you could protest, and he hugged it to himself and complimented you. He was so cute and so genuinely happy with it. And it stays on his little bedside table to this day.

BUT to truly make something for him? You try to go with the classics, as Ozzie is a classic guy.

Hat, scarf, mittens.

You use smaller yarn and stitches to give it more elasticity, the yarn is all a deep, darker purple and SO soft. (Cashmere bought on his dollar but it's the thought that counts right?)

You even managed to make a little penguin on only one side of the scarf, making it a little secret for Ozzie while still keeping the scarf classy.

He loves any gift from you but this? He starts planning his winter outfits to match your creations immediately.

He can smell you on the scarf still, since you spent so much time with that yarn, and it makes him smile even as the wind bites at him on cold days in Gotham. 💜

The Riddler

Listen, he's great but we all know he is kinda patronizing and a little bit of an asshole right? (Some versions more than others)

So he supports your hobby, even if your yarn and supplies take up space that he could be using for traps or riddles.

He does to research and figure out as much as he can about the hobby, but he won't dedicate time to it like you will, so he never gets as good. But he DOES know the basics, which means he can now critique you.

You are having trouble with a pattern? "Darling, that's just a double crochet into a half-double crochet into a triple crochet repeated 10 times into a magic ring. Simple."

You lost track of your stitch count? "Well I guess we can't all be multitaskers like me. I'll be silent for a bit while you count. 🙄"

With that in mind, he DOES leave you riddles in crochet pattern form occasionally. They take forever to solve but he's with you for a reason. And success is always...pleasurable for you both. 👀

Your first creation around him was just a little round frog. Green, because you thought you could gift it to Eddie.

It turned out misshapen and lumpy (listen all first projects are like this). And he teased you mercilessly for it.

"I suppose it could be a frog, from a certain angle. Maybe it's supposed to be abstract?"

It went missing after that. (Secretly Eddie keeps it at his workbench and squishes it when he's feeling stressed. The cute face you put on it does make him smile, too, but don't tell anyone 🔪)

For your actual real gift for him? You make a little crochet Riddler plush! You know the man well and he loves himself just a bit too much sometimes. (except maybe Dano Riddler but he would love it too for different reasons)

You decided to not go for realism and keep it simple in the face. But you DID go all out with the clothes. A little green suit jacket, pants, even a belt!

And you found little glasses to put on it. 🤓

When you presented it to him, he was speechless.

He takes it from you, examines it, and the wonder in his eyes makes your heart swell with pride. That is until he opens his mouth again. "I couldn't think of a better subject, truly. Though the face needs some work, dear, it doesn't truly capture my likeness."

But he says this all while hugging it to his side absentmindedly. He hugged it to himself for the rest of the night, actually. (And he now has another crochet project at his work bench)

You sometimes hear him talking to Ed Jr. while he's working, and you just smile to yourself and leave them be, turning back to your own crochet project and enjoying the peace.

Victor Zsasz

My headcanon is that Zsasz is into needlework and crochet, maybe someone in his family taught him?

He recommends what most seasoned crochet people will tell you, don't buy the fancy stuff and get some $3 goodwill hooks to start out with.

He also gifts you some yarn remnants to practice with, and when he doesn't have a job he'll sit next to you on the couch while you watch a movie, patiently helping you with steps you may struggle with.

Sometimes he may silently correct your form, showing you a different way to hold yarn tension or helping you remember how to make a slip stitch.

Your first project was just a simple washcloth. ("Nothing fancy to start out with, get the basics done first and then we may start with other stuff. If you do good.")

And you succeeded! Turns out it IS easier to do something basic at the beginning. Who knew. (Victor did)

After that you continued to have YouTube Video Essay/Needlework nights. Victor would sometimes not even work on anything and just lay against your side.

Sometimes he would even lay in your lap, spitting out any yarn fragments dramatically if they got in his mouth and pouting up at you until he got your attention.

Anyway. The actual project you made him was a nice, cozy sweater. And it was HARD to hide from him. Luckily, his profession DOES sometimes take him out of your apartment for hours upon hours at a time, so you have the ability to work in secret.

You think a simple black sweater is just perfect, something made of cotton or wool and maybe lined with red on the collar/trim, but that's it.

His immediate reaction when you gave it to him was to kiss the LIFE out of you, thanking you for thinking of him.

Then he pulls it over his head immediately, poking his head out and grinning goofily at you.

That night, you don't work on any crochet projects because he takes up your whole lap, cuddled up in his sweater and rubbing his hands up and down your sides, your hips...

Yeah he distracts you well.

And he wears the sweater proudly, but not on jobs. He reserves it for walks around town with you, so he can say his partner made it for him.

#lawrites #reader #gotham x reader #gotham rogues x Reader #gotham rogues #batman rogues #batman rogues x reader #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #the Penguin x reader #victor zsasz x reader

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