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altruisticalastor · 7 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

☒ Summary: Your heart felt full as Alastor continued his lead. You both danced to the melodic sounds, relishing in the shared embrace. That night was one that you cherished for months to come. But on the contrary, your blossoming relationship with Alastor solidified the beginning of the end.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, prequel to the first two parts, alastor and reader are human in this part, 1930's period typical misogyny (NOT from alastor), fluff, falling in love, obsessive!alastor, reader is in hell for a reason, murder, gunshot wound, major character death, one suggestive scene involving finger sucking *giggles*, domestic!alastor, reader and alastor being an absloute power couple, blood, alcohol consumption, dancing

☒ Word Count: 6,276

You often dreamt of trading places with your dear old friend, Elaine. She had it all; money, family, respect.

You, on the other hand, had none of those things.

When your parents left without notice on your eleventh birthday— you ended up homeless in a matter of weeks. Elaine’s family took you in out of pity, and they made it very known throughout your childhood that they only cared for you to make themselves out to be saints. It didn't take a fool to see that they treated their own flesh and blood better than the rubble they picked up off the streets.

Elaine was often condescending toward you, but you put up with the brunt of it. It's not like you had any other choice- and when her father offered you a typist gig at his local radio broadcasting studio- you had no other option but to accept.

Your treatment from others at the studio was no better than the one you received at home.

If you could even call that loveless place a home.

The broadcasting biz was male-dominated, as most jobs were in your day. So, of course your counterparts looked down upon you as a woman. You were less than to them, and the constant berating about how you should be wed by now with kids to dote on ticked you off even further.

That was not on the itinerary for you.

The plan was to save enough of the slim earnings you made being a typist to run far away from this place. To be free of these people, from this town. You dreamt about how lovely it would be not to bite your tongue and endure all the nasty things people spat at you just to have a roof over your head.

Soon, just a little bit longer.

Grin and bear it. Don't let them know what you hide behind the façade.

"My, my! What a lovely smile!" A smooth voice pulled you from your stupor. You flinched back from your desk as the man standing before you ducked low- extending his hand.

"What's your name, little darling? I'm Alastor! It's a pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!" You took the man's hand, shaking it slowly sharing your name, and offering the same pleasantries, before peering up to get a good look at this Alastor fellow.

Based on first impressions, you thought he was a well-put-together fellow. His crimson vest hugged his slender frame well, you noted. His white dress shirt underneath contrasted beautifully with the seamless leather gloves adorning his large hands. The black bowtie was simply the cherry on top of his polished look. His features were handsome, and that darling smile of his caused your face to grow hot. His chestnut eyes peered at you behind his round-framed glasses, gazing at you as if you hung the stars in the night sky.

You had never been captivated by a man until this very instant. You always believed romance was a waste of time. But now... you weren't feeling as opposed.

"Say, what brings a fella like you to a place like this?" You stood from your seat as his hand released yours. His gloved fingertips lingered on your palm for a moment- but it was long enough for you to notice.

"Why a job, of course! You're looking at the new host of the biggest radio broadcast in all of Louisiana!" Alastor's grin widened as he puffed out his chest proudly, bringing his hands up to straighten out his bowtie.

"Oh, my! Congratulations, Mister. I look forward to working with you." Your voice was as lively as ever, putting in your best effort to come off as friendly. Alastor's deep chestnut eyes studied yours. It was almost intimidating.

Almost.

"Just call me Alastor, my dear! A beauty such as yourself is more than qualified to be on a first-name basis with me." His flirtatious nature had your heart rate accelerating at an alarming gait. Plus, the wink he shot your way to emphasize his statement only added fuel to the fire.

You were at a loss for words, simply nodding in agreement at his terms. Your gaze averted from Alastor's as you rubbed at your arm nervously. You had never been this flustered before. It was... uncharacteristically exciting for you. "Excuse my fowardness darling, but would you allow me to take you dancing tonight? It is a cause for celebration, after all!"

His offer left you stammering as you clutched your arm tightly, your sweaty palm bleeding through your vermilion dress sleeve. "Are you positive you want to celebrate with a woman you only just met?" You chuckled nervously, meeting his gaze once more.

"It would be my pleasure, little darling." You swore your heart skipped a beat as those words left his lips. Alastor was an enigma of a man, and he left you needing to know more about him. "If you insist! I'm flattered, truly."

Alastor chuckled lowly at your words as he took ahold of your hand once more. This time, he turned your palm downward before pulling the back of your hand up to his lips. Alastor's eyes bored into yours as he placed a chaste kiss atop your knuckles. His lips lingered on your skin for a few beats longer until he inevitability abjured from you.

"Lovely! I'll be waiting in the lobby once the workload is finished for the day. Meet me there?" You could only nod in agreement as your heartbeat resounded in your ears. Alastor bid you farewell, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He just asked you on a date- didn't he?

Shit, shit- shit! A relationship was not on your to-do list.

The workday trickled on slowly. You were beside yourself— too focused on your plans with Alastor tonight.

Was your dress formal enough? It’s not like you could go home and change now— and you didn’t have the proper heels on. The pair that you usually switched into before you went dancing.

It would be fine— why were you even stressing over the little details?

More importantly… what were Alastor’s intentions with this— date?

You mulled it over the whole trip to the lobby of your workplace. You felt your nerves prickle your skin when your eyes met Alastor’s.

He was already waiting patiently for you near the exit. Alastor had a blazer on now, you noted— and he was smiling wider than ever. “Ah, there you are! Ready to head out, dear?”

Alastor’s voice was equivalent to a smooth amaretto. Silky and delightful, with a little bit of an edge to it. Your mouth felt like it was full of cotton from the nerves— and all you could muster was a quick nod.

“Wonderful! We better get going while the night is still young— ha!” Alastor opened the door, tilting his head; gesturing toward the exit. You got the hint, wobbly legs guiding you out of the building and to the dimly lit street.

You knew a speakeasy just up the other street, so you figured that was the spot Alastor intended on taking you. As your feet led you in the direction of the bar, Alastor let out an amused hum. “My, my… am I correct to assume you know your way around these parts of town?” You giggled nervously, as you felt Alastor’s arm brush up against yours as he walked beside you.

“You’re spot on. I’ve lived here all my life, and for a brief period, I was living on these streets.” Your voice was quiet as those words left your lips. Perhaps you should have kept that detail to yourself. You kept your eyes forward as you walked along the sidewalk. But you could feel Alastor’s eyes on you— without peeking over.

“Might I ask why, darling?” You swallowed harshly, not expecting a follow-up question. You secretly hoped Alastor would have skirted past that little detail about your past. “Ah well, my parents moved out of town on my eleventh birthday. I think they forgot what day it was, truthfully. They were too hopped up on pills and booze,” You laughed bitterly at the memory before continuing. “My parents owed the bank a lot of money, you see, so the first thing those brokers collected was the house I still lived in at the time.”

You shook your head in disbelief, scoffing as you continued the recollection of your youth. “Those money-hungry sharks didn’t even give me a month to collect my things or find somewhere to shack up. When the cops arrived, I told them I’d be staying with a relative— but that was a bold-faced lie!” The speakeasy was in your sights, so you tried to get to the end of this pitiful little tail. “Long story short— I lived on the streets for a couple of weeks until my friend’s parents took me in.”

Alastor swiftly opened the bar door for you, gesturing you in. You were met by the smooth sound of jazz the moment you stepped foot in the joint. The smell of cigarettes and liquor saturated the space. Alastor interlocked your arm with his as he led you to a nearby table. You felt heat rush to your face from the unexpected touch. “I’m truly sorry you had to experience such hardships at such a young age, my dear. That must have been very difficult for you to process.” Alastor’s voice was soft as he offered his sympathy. He pulled the wooden chair out, allowing you to sit comfortably. Alastor gently pushed your seat in before taking his across from you.

“Thanks for saying so. You’re the first person to actually consider my feelings.” You chuckled, raising your hand and gesturing your fingers in a come hither motion to grab the waiter's attention. “What ever do you mean?” Alastor propped his elbows on the table, cupping his face with his hands as he leaned forward. His eyes swirled with curiosity. Alastor was genuinely curious to know you better— your heart skipped a beat from the notion.

“Well— most people just praise Elaine— that’s my friend… if you could even call her that— anyway, as I was saying! Most folks boast about how heavenly Elaine’s parents are for taking in a poor old nobody like me.” The waitress knew you well, so he kindly placed your usual atop the creaky table. One for you and one for your date. You offered the fellow a warm thanks before taking a sip.

“Praise? Those folks did the bare minimum! Tell me more about your friendship with Elaine, hm?” Alastor didn’t bother downing the liquor just yet. He was too enthralled by you and your musings. You felt nervous under his curious eyes— so you took another sip of the saccharine quencher before continuing. “You sure—? I feel like I’ve been talking an awful lot, and where are my manners? I haven’t asked you a single thing!” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling embarrassed with yourself for your rude display.

Alastor’s gloved fingers wrapped around your hand in the blink of an eye. Your eyes flickered down to where the two of you were now connected before his voice tore your gaze back to his face. “Nonsense, my dearest! Please, I insist. I’d be delighted to know more about you.” His words were so earnest, and he spoke with much confidence. All you could focus on was the feeling of his gloved fingertips caressing the back of your palm and the echo of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

“Alright— if you insist… but if I ramble too much, just tell me to shut it, will ya?” You downed the last of your drink as a laugh escaped Alastor. “I would never silence you, darling. Don’t ever allow a single soul to treat you that way for that matter, understood? Now, carry on!” You felt your blood pressure spike from his kindness, and your hand twitched under his grasp from the giddiness you felt before you continued on. “U-Understood. Anyway, um, Elaine is an old-school buddy of mine. But we grew apart the older we got… so, by the time we reached junior high, she practically hated my guts!” You laughed at the recollection as the alcohol buzz began to kick in.

“Elaine would make up nasty rumors about me and then deny the fact that she did. Any other friend I tried to make, Elaine would somehow do or say something to make them dislike me. I couldn’t do anything about it— I had to play nice because of the living conditions. I still do!” Alastor’s eyes never left yours, and neither did his hand. He continued to rub the back of your palm soothingly as you rambled on.

“Even my job at the radio station… it wasn’t my choice. But Elaine’s father owns the company, so he offered me the typist position. Not like it was really an offer, though— I had no choice but to accept the opportunity. Otherwise, I would have been ungrateful. Christ, I really hate those folks… they look at me as if I’m—“

“—Scum?” Alastor chimed in. His voice was low as he leaned in closer. Your head was a bit fuzzy from the alcohol as you felt his breath fan across your cheeks. “Yeah… like scum.” You felt his hand tighten around yours. His smile was smaller than before, a bit more rigid, for that matter.

“I knew you and I were the same. The moment laid eyes on you, I knew,” Alastor paused, bringing his free hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You see, I was treated that same way my entire life, my dear. Until I decided I was quite the opposite of what those disrespectful wretches deemed me as.” His hand lingered by your face, daring to cup your cheek.

Alastor's breath had a hint of coffee and spice to it— you noted— as his face inched even closer to yours. “And you are too, my dear. Those fools don’t hold a candle to your magnificence.” Your body felt light, and all you could focus on was Alastor’s chestnut eyes— every breath you took fogged up his glasses a little.

“You really think so?” You muttered, a lazy grin stretching across your face as Alastor finally allowed his gloved palm to rest against your cheek.

"I know so, my sweet girl.” He caressed your burning face with much tenderness. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and your thoughts were all out of sorts as you tried to articulate a proper sentence in your drunken stupor.

“What did you mean before when you said— that you and I are one and the same?”

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, causing your eyes to flutter shut for a moment. He leaned over the table, invading your personal space. Dipping his face low— lips lingering next to your ear. “You use your smile as a tool. Hiding how you truly feel behind that pretty little mask of yours.” Your breath hitched from his words— was it that obvious? Could everyone tell that your welcoming smile was nothing but a lie? Before you could spiral further— and as if Alastor could sense your worries— he eased your mind with his words. “Worry not, my dear. Only I can see through your façade. One should recognize themselves when looking into a mirror, yes?”

Alastor slowly pulled his head back. Allowing his face to come into your line of sight. “So you… and I… are alike in that way, huh?” You mumbled out, letting an airy chuckle escape you. Alastor squeezed your hand once more before he leaned back in his chair. You watched as the man sitting before you picked up his untouched glass of liquor. He downed his drink in the blink of an eye slamming his glass against the table before standing up from his seat.

“I take pride in keeping my promises, and I have intention to dance with you tonight, my dear. So, shall we?” Alastor outstretched his hands toward you, his toothy grin cascading across his features. You took hold of him without hesitation, giggling youthfully when he pulled you to your feet with ease. “I’d be delighted!” Alastor wasted no time pulling you to the open floor. The music was as vibrant as ever now that you were closer to the live band. The vibrations of the music reverberated through your sternum; as did the butterflies when you felt Alastor’s large palm drape around the small of your back.

His other hand took ahold of yours, and instinctively, you placed your other palm flat against his shoulder. Alastor began leading you to the melody of the song. Your cheeks hurt from how wide your grin was. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and meant it before tonight— all thanks to this mysterious man you met today. “Alastor, I know we only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life!” You shouted loud enough for only Alastor to hear beyond the music. His chestnut eyes swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on as his eyebrows lifted in shock.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, my dearest! The moment I saw you, I knew you would be truly magnificent.” Alastor dipped you low, his grasp on you tightening to support you. He was slow when he dragged your upper half back up, allowing your chest to slot against his own.

“Well, did I meet your expectations?” You joked. Alastor ducked his head low, allowing his face to invade your personal space. This time, his nose brushed against yours, lips mere centimeters from colliding.

“You exceeded them.” Alastor’s voice was quiet, but you heard him. Loud and clear.

This moment felt too good to be true, and the longer you gazed into his captivating eyes, the more lost you became in Alastor. Your lips trembled in anticipation— and your hand at his shoulder clenched and unclenched— a small habit to help ease the nerves.

“Would it be foolish of me to say that I… feel like I’m falling for you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you searched for any displeasure that dared to cross his face from your confession— but you found none.

“And if I admitted to reciprocating those feelings… would that make me outlandish as well?” Alastor’s hand released yours, now opting to slide up between your bodies to cup your chin beneath his gloved fingertips. He tilted your head up just a touch more.

Alastor finally closed the gap between your lips and his. Your eyes widened in shock from the chaste kiss he gave you. You caught Alastor’s intense stare on you while he pressed further into you before your eyelids fluttered shut. The grip you had on his shoulder tightened as his lips danced along yours. They were warm and cracked slightly from his incessant smiling. But you didn’t mind it one bit. He tasted of your favorite liquor and conviction.

Your mind went fuzzy from the mix of alcohol running through your bloodstream and the feeling of sharing your very first kiss with a man you met only earlier today.

It’s strange. Even though you only crossed paths with Alastor this morning— he was the first person in your life to ever see you; the real you. The woman you kept hidden behind a plethora of masks and musings. You prided yourself on your foolproof façade, so when Alastor just waltzed past your guarded walls, it threw you for a loop. But this change of pace was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. For the first time in your life, you felt a sense of control over your own life— over your own freedom. Alastor believed in you, so why shouldn’t you believe in yourself?

Alastor parted his lips from yours slowly, savoring the moment with you for as long as he could. Your eyelids peeled open, taking in Alastor's pleased countenance. "Oh, my darling. There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight now."

Your heart felt full as Alastor continued his lead. You both danced to the melodic sounds, relishing in the shared embrace. That night was one that you cherished for months to come. But on the contrary, your blossoming relationship with Alastor solidified the beginning of the end.

You could hardly stay away from Alastor after your first date. It was as if a magnetic force was pulling you to him. He walked you home from the radio station each night and met you at your doorstep each morning. He even told you one time that he memorized absloutely every part of your day so you could always have time for each other. It was the little things that made you fall even harder for him. Alastor would leave a bouquet of roses atop your desk every Friday when you took your lunch break so that when you arrived back, you would be pleasantly surprised by his gesture.

Alastor was a proper gentleman, and his kindness and care toward you almost made you forget about the rotten things in your life— almost.

Elaine grew jealous of your new beau. She noticed you were livelier than ever, and that just wouldn't cut it. Misery loves company, after all.

She had her father triple your workload, forcing you to stay after hours. It took a toll on you and made it harder to keep time for Alastor.

But that wasn’t all— your room would be trashed by the time you came home. And somehow, your very few belongings started going missing.

The last of your patience went out the window when you noticed the locket Alastor gifted you for your one-month anniversary was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t take a genius to realize Elaine was behind your sudden stroke of bad luck. You put up with the torment all your life, but not anymore. You were at your wits end with Elaine and her arrogant family.

“Christ, I hate that wicked woman!” You groaned in frustration as you barged into Alastor’s apartment. The lanky man whipped his head in your direction from where he sat at the piano. His fingers stilled against the keys, ending his song with a dull note. “What did she do this time, my dear?” You stormed over to him before slotting yourself beside Alastor on the piano bench.

“The locket you gave me for our one-month anniversary is missing! She stole it— I just know it!” You gritted through bared teeth. Alastor wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hugging you close to his side as he cooed at you. “You know, the offer to move in with me still stands.” His voice was gentle as he placed a kiss atop your head. His large palm smoothed over your arm; in an attempt to ease your nerves.

Heat rose to your face from the mention of his proposition. Sure, you thought about it countlessly. But you and Alastor were only approaching that six-month mark of your flourishing relationship. You always believed in the notion of waiting to live with a partner until after marriage. That’s what you conveyed Alastor. “You know we can’t… unless you are willing to get hitched tomorrow,” You joked, turning your head slightly to peer up at him.

“Darling, you know I would marry you in a heartbeat. But one of us is not ready for marriage quite yet!” He quipped, dipping low and nuzzling his nose into yours. Your heart did a flip from his unyielding confession.

You knew Alastor would do anything for you at this point— this man was like no other. He worshipped the ground you walked on, yet you still were on the fence about marriage. You still had your personal goals you wanted to achieve before tying the knot, and Alastor respected your wishes. But you knew deep down he was aching to put a ring on your finger and claim you as his for good.

“Hey— don’t tease! I just… It’s becoming harder to put up with their nonsense. I wish they would all disappear! Elaine, her father, and her mother.” You let out a long sigh as your body slumped forward. You rested your head atop Alastor’s broad shoulder, smiling softly at his familiar scent.

“Well, I could make that a reality for you, my sweet girl.” Alastor’s voice was low and dripping with mystery. You laughed at his cryptic utterance. “Yeah, by doing what? Throwing them in a ditch?” You joked, raising a brow as his hand halted against your arm. The air became thick with tension as the silence grew louder.

“…Well yes, my dear! But the ditch part would be after all the fun.” You quickly turned to face him, your frantic eyes scanning his features for any semblance of falsehood. You found nothing of the sort.

Alastor’s features were as relaxed as ever. As if he asked you something as mundane as 'what day was it?’

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Your voice was level as your eyes locked with his chestnut ones. You nervously anticipated his response. “Quite so! Have you noticed the lack of journalists around the radio station lately?" His question threw you for a loop.

Now that you thought about it- yeah, there has been a lack of jerks around the office. The same fellows that undermined you just for existing.

“Well now that you mention it— yeah, I have. What does that have to do with anything?” You tilted your head slightly, still not following where your boyfriend was going with this. Alastor’s grin sharpened as his eyes flickered to your lips. “My, dearest, you are too pure for your own good. It drives me crazy.” Alastor’s other hand drifted from the piano keys. His thumb and forefinger came up to grasp your chin. He pulled you in close as his eyes flickered back to yours.

“Well, I took care of those nasty good-for-nothings! They are resting comfortably in a ditch deep within the preserve. So, no need to worry your pretty little head over it!” Your eyes widened from his confession— his even tone and frenzied stare proved that what he said was factual.

“They had it coming! Speaking down to you in such a way. I could hardly stand it any longer, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” Alastor sounded pleased with himself as he confessed to murder so casually. Your eyebrows rose in shock as he tugged you closer. Your lips ghosted over his. “You killed those men for my sake?”

You could smell the whiskey on his breath from this proximity. Alastor’s hand— that rested on your arm— now found purchase around your waist. “Indeed, and I would do it again in a heartbeat for your sake.” You could sense his anticipation to kiss you at that moment.

His love for you was suffocating in the best way possible. You didn’t know you were capable of drowning until you sank into his touch. “And I would take pleasure in ending Elaine and her parents’ lives. If it meant your precious mind would be at ease.”

Your heart fluttered as you closed the gap. Your lips molded against his, moving in tandem. You turned your body toward him through your shared embrace, sliding a leg up and over the piano bench— now straddling the seat. Alastor’s grip on your waist tightened. His fingertips twitched with need as they danced further along your side. You reached out for him, desperately carding your hands through his chestnut locks. Alastor’s chest pressed tightly into yours as his lips moved against yours with a searing desire. You only dared to pull back when your lungs started burning. Alastor rested his forehead against yours as you shared the same air.

“You really mean it?” You asked breathlessly, allowing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“My dear, I would die for you,” Alastor paused, the pad of his thumb swiping across your bottom lip sensually.

“I would lie for you,” His thumb pushed past your parted lips, and your tongue instinctively swirled around his deft digit.

“I would happily follow you to hell if you asked me to.” You gave his finger a playful suck, reveling in the sight of Alastor’s deep blush.

His chestnut gaze fixated on your mouth as you pulled off of his thumb with a wet pop. Alastor shuddered at your sultry display. His grip on your waist was firm.

“Please, Alastor. I want to be a part of it this time. We will be unstoppable together.”

Alastor swore he fell in love with you a thousand times over the moment those words left your lips. You couldn’t be any more perfect for him.

Alastor wanted to tell the whole world about the colors he saw in your eyes; the colors a man out of love could never recognize. He truthfully would have married you the first day you met. It was fixation at first sight.

He was overjoyed to commit murder alongside you— one of the many memorable first times you would come to share. Alastor saw the pieces fall into place before his very eyes the moment he witnessed you take someone’s life.

The frenzied stare you harbored; the blood spattering over your perfect face, decorating your smile in a picturesque way. Alastor swore meeting you was his life purpose, and assisting you on your first kill solidified that sentiment for him.

Alastor could not suppress the urge to touch you at that moment. He pulled you close, taking the lead like many times before. You danced around the dead bodies, laughter filling the barren space as the record player skipped from the other room.

He always knew red was your color. The first time you met, you were wearing a vermillion dress. But the deep crimson blood covering you from head to toe was your best look yet— he thought.

After you both hid the evidence and any proof of life— fabricating notes on Elaine and her parents' behalf to make it seem like they went abroad— you celebrated.

Celebrated the past no longer having you in its clutches.

Celebrated the freedom of never having to grin and bear it to survive; ever again.

Celebrated the ever-growing love you held for Alastor— as he did you.

Celebrated the new beginnings and the best that was yet to come.

You saw life in a new light from that day forward, seizing each day with delight.

With Elaine’s father out of the picture, Alastor became the man in charge at the radio station. He had full creative freedom to take his radio show in any direction he pleased. If folks dared to disagree, Alastor would promptly take care of them.

Business was booming for Alastor at the radio station, and you were finally out pursuing hobbies and careers that inspired you.

Alastor ended up popping the question a couple of months later as things began to settle down for you both. It was romantic, really. His gesture was over the top and grand in the best way possible but still entirely authentic to Alastor. You finally felt ready to take the next step in your relationship. And so, you said yes.

Alastor was over the moon when you agreed. You could have sworn you saw a single tear roll down his cheek— but he denies it vehemently.

You didn’t have any friends or family, and neither did Alastor— with his mom having passed years prior, so you truthfully had no need for a grand ceremony. Alastor sorted out the date for you to be wed. The anticipation only elevated your excitement by the day. And when the date finally approached, you could hardly contain your joy.

You took on the day like any other— you made breakfast, hung the laundry on the clotheslines, participated in your favorite pastimes, and met up with Alastor in the preserve to assist him in burying his most recent victim.

You didn’t know the dead fellow, but you were sure Alastor had a fair reason for killing him. The man probably took the last jar of special spice from the store that Alastor used to recreate his mother’s jambalaya— and in that case, the prick had it coming.

It was dusk. The sky was a mesmerizing red and orange ombré as you walked hand in hand through the woods with Alastor. Your free hand held a shovel, and his free hand gripped the ankle of the deceased man whom he dragged from behind along the rocky path. Now and then, the dead man’s clothing would cling to a stubborn stone, making Alastor halt in his stride. You would share a chuckle before he tugged the man free, continuing down the path with you by his side.

You were so excited to get this over with, so you could head to the courthouse with your beloved Alastor. As you recited your vows in your head, you suddenly heard a loud boom before your hearing failed you entirely. Everything was motionless after that.

Your mind scarcely processed what had happened until you turned to face Alastor. The sight before you had your stomach in knots. Your beloved was bleeding from his forehead, and as if you were in slow motion— your arms reached up to him as his legs buckled beneath him. You knew you were screaming by the burning sensation in your throat, but your ears were still ringing in a deafening manner. The last thing your conscious mind ever saw was the grim view of all light leaving Alastor’s eyes.

Those same eyes that grounded you. That brought you purpose and offered you nothing but love and devotion.

All of that was gone in a split second.

After that, you felt a searing pain in your head before your vision went dark.

It was as if you were underwater. You felt lighter than air as you sunk deeper into uncharted waters. You could hear muffled voices and flashing lights shining from the surface— but it was all out of reach. You just sunk peacefully. Enjoying the enshrouding darkness.

However, your peace was torn from you as quickly as it was obtained.

“She’s a Jane Doe. Poor girl got caught in the crossfire. I bet she didn’t even know the guy she was walking with was a serial killer!” Your eyes burned from the bright lights and the nauseating white ceiling that took up your line of sight as the distant people continued to chatter. “I bet he tricked her into thinking he was a good guy— bet he led her out in those woods just so he could kill her like that poor fellow he was dragging out there!”

The rhythmic beeping increased as all your focus shifted to the intense shooting pain coming from your head. “Oh— she’s awake! Miss, can you hear me?” You groaned softly as an older woman came into your line of sight. She was peering over you. You must have been lying down— you thought.

“Loud and clear.” You mumbled, trying to sit up only to be pushed back down by the stranger. “Miss you can’t do that! You’re in the hospital. You suffered from a severe injury. Please, don’t make any sudden movements.” Her words took a moment to process through your semi-conscious mind.

“What happened to me?” You managed to mutter as you closed your eyes. The intense lights were causing your head to ache even worse. “Miss, you were shot in the head. It was a hunting accident gone wrong,” The nurse paused, giving you a moment to digest her words before continuing.

“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That Alastor fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer,” Your mind was struggling to piece things together as the nurse rambled along.

“The bullet you took probably was the exact reason you’re still alive! Who knows what that maniac would have done to you? Which reminds me, do you remember your name, sweetheart? You didn’t have identification on your person. We asked around the area to see if anyone recognizes you, but we've had no luck with that.”

You were surely dreaming, right?

Everything this woman was saying sounded outlandish. How did you even end up in a situation like that, and more importantly—

Wait… what is your name?

“I… I don’t know. I can’t… remember a thing.” You shook your head, which only caused you more pain as your eyes shot open. You were still met by the sight of the noisy nurse, and the white hospital walls.

Nope, not a dream.

The nurse looked at you with a horrified look. “Oh geez… the doctor said your injury could cause memory loss, but it was a slim chance. Let me go fetch him. This is way out of my pay grade.” The sound of her footsteps echoed through your head before they slowly dissipated. You gaped up at the blank wall.

A clean slate, nothing to give the surface any character.

Ironic.

You had no clue who you were and no memories of your life before this accident.

You were left with more questions than answers.

The only thing you knew about yourself was that you were one of many Jane Doe's.

Fuck.

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loveanton · 3 months

Text

my universe | lee anton

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: if anyone were to ask your husband what matters most to him he’d undoubtedly respond with, “my family.” you and your three children, soon to be four, are his whole universe.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: husband!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: slice of life au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.7k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: screaming kids, tantrums, mentions of pregnancy, protective anton, fear of water, accidental hitting, you and anton shower together, overall just cute family time hehe :)

⏤ 𝑎/n: want anton to father my kids 🫨

"Mama, up!"

You glance down at your youngest, his small arms reaching up towards you from the floor as you hover over the stove, carefully tending to breakfast for your bustling household. His sleepy eyes and rumpled pajamas tug at your heart, but you know you have to keep moving.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," you say gently. "Mama's making breakfast."

But your explanation does little to soothe him, and his pout quickly turns into a full-blown tantrum. He wails, stomping his little feet in frustration, the noise echoing through the kitchen. Before you can intervene, Anton's calm, firm voice cuts through the chaos.

"Buddy, come here."

Your son turns, still sniffling, and runs into Anton's waiting arms. Anton scoops him up effortlessly, his voice soothing as he explains, "Mama's making breakfast. She can't pick you up right now, okay?"

Your son, now snuggled against Anton's shoulder, seems to understand. He buries his face into his father's neck, his cries subsiding as sleep overtakes him once more.

Just then, the twins burst into the kitchen, their energy filling the room as they dart around. The two children create a whirlwind of laughter and shouts, making it almost impossible for you to continue cooking. Your son stirs and starts to cry again, overwhelmed by the sudden noise.

"Hey, hey, calm down, everyone," Anton says, his voice authoritative yet kind. "No running around in the kitchen. Go wait in the living room until breakfast is ready."

The twins, recognizing the seriousness in their father's tone, grab each other's hands and run out, still bubbling with excitement but now more contained. You sigh in relief, though your son's cries continue, his small body writhing in Anton's arms.

"Here, let me take him," you offer, stepping towards Anton.

But Anton shakes his head, his eyes gentle but firm. "No, love. I don't want you carrying him. Remember, you're pregnant."

You roll your eyes slightly but smile, appreciating his concern. "I'm fine, Anton. I can handle it."

"I know you can," he says, brushing a stray braid from your face. "But I'd feel better if you didn't pick him up for a while."

You relent, understanding his worry, and return to cutting up the fruit, grateful for his support. Anton sways gently, soothing your son until his cries turn to soft snores. Just then, your mother-in-law descends the stairs, her presence warm and reassuring.

"Good morning," she greets, taking her grandson from Anton with practiced ease. "I'll take this little one."

"Thanks, Mom," Anton says, his hands now free to help you finish breakfast. He moves to your side, starting to plate the food with efficiency born of practice.

The sound of breakfast preparations and the occasional clatter of dishes fills the kitchen. You and Anton work in a seamless rhythm, a testament to the years of shared mornings and teamwork. As you place the final touches on the plates, Anton calls out, "Okay, breakfast is ready!"

The children come running back, their excitement renewed. As they crowd around the table, the twins start to bicker over who gets to sit next to their dad, their voices rising in discord.

"Girls, you can share the chair," you interject, cutting off the argument before it can escalate. "No more fighting, okay?"

They nod, clambering onto the same chair, their brief squabble forgotten in the excitement of breakfast. As they dig into their plates, the sound of footsteps inform of the arrival of Anton's father.

"Grandpa!" The chorus of excited voices fills the room as the kids rush to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. Even your youngest joins in, having wriggled free from his grandmother's grasp.

He chuckles, bending down to tickle them. "Alright, alright, let's finish breakfast first," he says, his eyes twinkling with affection.

Anton hands you a cup of tea, his eyes meeting yours with a loving smile. "Good morning, Dad," he says, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"Good morning," his father replies, settling into a chair with a contented sigh, watching the lively scene before him.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace amidst the chaos. Anton often tells you that your family is his whole universe, and in moments like these, it's easy to see why.

As breakfast progresses, the noise level rises again, though this time it’s filled with the happy chatter of children and the clink of utensils. Your mother-in-law, having settled your youngest comfortably on her lap, joins in the conversation, sharing a story from Anton’s childhood that has everyone laughing.

"Did you know," she says, "when your dad was your age," she points at one of the twins, "he used to run around the kitchen with his brother just like you, driving me up the wall!"

Anton shakes his head, grinning. "And now it's come full circle. Thanks for that, Mom."

The twins giggle, and you see them exchanging looks that promise future mischief.

As you move to enter the kitchen, Anton stands and follows you, placing a gentle hand on your back. "Need a hand?" he asks.

"Just need some water," you reply with a smile.

He obliges, pouring a glass of water for you before topping off his own cup with some more coffee. "You know," he says quietly, "I think we should tell everyone soon. About the baby."

You nod, looking through the kitchen entryway at the gathered family, feeling a wave of warmth and gratitude. "Yeah, soon. But not just yet. Let's keep this little secret between us for a bit longer."

Anton agrees, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "I can't wait to meet this one."

___

As breakfast winds down, Anton’s father stands up, signaling the end of the meal. "Alright, girls," he says, clapping his hands. "Who’s up for a game outside?"

A chorus of cheers follows, and the twins scramble to clean up their plates, eager for the next adventure. Anton helps you clear the table, his hand occasionally brushing yours, a silent reminder of his love and support.

Your mother-in-law, still holding your youngest, stands and stretches. "I'll take him for a little walk in the garden," she says. "Give you two a bit of a break."

"Thanks, Mom," you say, truly grateful.

As the children spill outside, their laughter echoing back into the house, you and Anton share a quiet moment in the now peaceful kitchen. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"You know," he murmurs, "I wouldn't trade this for anything."

You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Neither would I."

Anton and you retreat to the kitchen, the comforting sounds of family now a backdrop to your conversation. Together, you start washing the dishes, working side by side. Anton takes up the sponge, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a plate, while you rinse and stack the clean dishes.

“Remember when we first found out we were having the twins?” you say, smiling at the memory.

Anton chuckles, his eyes warm with nostalgia. “How could I forget? We were both in shock. Two babies at once.”

You nod, laughing softly. “I thought we’d never sleep again.”

“And we didn’t, for a while,” Anton replies, shaking his head. “But look at them now. They’re growing up so fast.”

You both pause, gazing out the window above the kitchen sink. The large yard, a non-negotiable for both of you when buying this house, stretches out in front of you. The twins run around with their grandpa, their laughter ringing through the air, while your son clings tightly to his grandmother’s hand, exploring the garden.

“I’m so glad we insisted on a big yard,” you say, watching the children play. “I wanted them to have the space to explore, to grow up with nature. Not glued to screens all the time.”

Anton nods, his arm brushing yours as he hands you another plate. “They’re having the kind of childhood we always dreamed of for them.”

You turn to look at your husband, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Our son looks just like you, you know. Acts like you too. It’s like having a little Anton running around.”

Anton smiles, a tender look in his eyes. “And the twins are all you. They’ve got your energy.”

As you share this quiet moment, your oldest twin comes barreling into the kitchen, her voice high with excitement. “Beach! Daddy, Mommy, beach!”

Anton’s father follows her in, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry about that. I told them about how much you and your brother loved swimming in the ocean when you were their age. They got a bit obsessed with the idea.”

You and Anton laugh, your kids’ enthusiasm infectious. The twins cling to your legs, their faces pleading as they beg to go.

“Please, Mommy! Please, Daddy!” they chant, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Anton glances at you, then back at the kids, a smile spreading across his face. “Well, it is nice out. How about a family outing to the beach?”

The twins squeal in delight, racing off to their shared room to pick out their outfits. You chuckle, shaking your head at their energy.

“Looks like we’re going to the beach,” you say, leaning into Anton.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “Mhhmm, excited to teach Chanwoo how to swim.”

With the dishes done, you start gathering the necessary items for a beach trip. Towels, sunscreen, snacks – everything you’ll need for a day of fun in the sun. The twins reappear, dressed in their swimsuits and hats, bouncing with excitement.

“Ready, ready, ready!” they chant, unable to contain their enthusiasm.

Your mother-in-law comes in, your son still in her arms. “Looks like we’re all set. This little one is ready for his first beach day too.”

You take a moment to look around at your family, feeling a profound sense of happiness and fulfillment. Anton catches your eye, and you share a smile, knowing that these are the moments that he appreciates most.

As you all pile into the car, the kids chatter excitedly about the waves, the sand, and the fun they’re going to have. Anton starts the engine, and you lean back in your seat, hand resting on your slowly growing belly. Anton's parents follow in their own car, ready to join the beach adventure.

The twins, Yechan and Chanmi, start firing off questions as soon as you hit the road. "Mommy, how big are the waves?" Yechan asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"And will we see dolphins?" Chanmi adds, bouncing in her seat.

"The waves can be pretty big, but we'll stay where it's safe for you to play," you reassure them. "And maybe, if we're lucky, we might see some dolphins."

Your son, clutching his favorite stuffed animal, pipes up. "Mama, what about cwabs?" He tries to say 'crabs' but stumbles over the word, making you smile.

"Crabs, sweetheart," Anton corrects gently. "Can you say 'crabs'?"

"Cwabs," your son tries again, furrowing his little brow.

"Crabs," Anton repeats, and the twins join in, encouraging their brother.

"Crabs, crabs, crabs!" they chant, giggling.

Your son concentrates hard, then finally says, "Crabs!"

"Yay!" The twins cheer, giving him high fives, which makes him giggle in delight.

You feel your heart warm at the sight of your children supporting each other. Anton reaches over to squeeze your hand, his eyes reflecting the same affection you feel.

“Daddy, why don’t you swim anymore?” Yechan asks suddenly, her question catching you off guard.

Anton glances at you before answering. “Well, sweetie, I stopped swimming to follow another dream. I wanted to sing, so I chose that instead.”

Chanmi gasps, her eyes wide with admiration. “You’re so cool, Daddy.”

Anton laughs, his voice soft and even lower than usual due to his bashfulness. “Thank you, Chanmi. That means a lot to me.”

When you arrive at the beach, the twins are practically vibrating with excitement, ready to dash into the water. You manage to corral them long enough to apply sunscreen, with Anton helping to ensure they’re properly covered.

“Can we go now? Please?” Yechan begs, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Alright, alright,” Anton says, laughing. “Let’s go.”

He tries to take your son along, but the little boy screeches and buries himself in your arms, clearly frightened of the water. “Looks like he’s not ready for the waves yet,” you say, soothing him with gentle pats. “We’ll stay here and build a sandcastle, okay?”

Your son nods, his grip on you tightening. You find a good spot on the beach, and soon, you’re both immersed in building an elaborate sandcastle, complete with moats and towers.

Your mother-in-law and father-in-law join you, sitting down in the sand to watch and help. “This is such a lovely day,” your mother-in-law says, her voice warm with affection. “Thank you for making our son so happy.”

You glance up, surprised. “Oh, it’s my pleasure. Anton means the world to me.”

She smiles, her eyes softening. “I was always worried, you know. With Anton’s job, I feared he’d never find someone who truly loved him for who he is. But you’ve been his rock. Despite the hate and the invasive fans, you stayed by his side. There’s no one else I could ever see him loving.”

Your father-in-law nods in agreement. “We’re grateful for you. You’ve made him so happy, and that’s all we’ve ever wanted for our kids.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, smiling. “Thank you. That means a lot. I love Anton, and I love this family we’ve built together.”

As you chat, you keep an eye on Anton and the twins in the water. They’re laughing and splashing, Anton’s strong arms steadying them against the small waves. It’s clear they’re having the time of their lives, and your heart swells with pride and joy.

Your son, now more relaxed, starts to enjoy the sandcastle project, his little hands patting the sand into shape. “Look, Mama! Big tower!” he exclaims, showing you his handiwork.

“That’s amazing!” you praise, giving him a high five.

Your mother-in-law watches the scene with a tender smile. “He’s so much like Anton at that age. So determined and full of wonder.”

“He really is,” you agree, looking at your son with love.

After a while, Anton and the twins return, their faces flushed with excitement. “Mommy, did you see us? We went so far out!” Yechan says, her eyes sparkling.

“I saw! You were so brave,” you say, hugging her.

Chanmi nods vigorously. “Daddy was the best lifeguard ever!”

Anton grins, ruffling their hair. “You two were amazing swimmers.”

As the excitement of swimming subsides, you turn to your son, who’s been contentedly building sandcastles by your side. “Do you want to try the water, sweetie?” you ask him gently.

He hesitates, looking out at the waves with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Mama, water scary.”

You smile reassuringly. “I know it seems that way, but Mommy and Daddy will be right there with you. We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

He looks up at you, his little face thoughtful. After a moment, he nods. “Okay, Mama. I twust you.”

You stand and take his small hand in yours, feeling a swell of pride at his bravery. “Let’s go to the shore, then. Daddy, can you help?”

Anton joins you, taking your son’s other hand. “Ready, buddy? We’ll take it slow.”

Together, you walk toward the water, your son gripping your hands tightly. When the first wave gently rolls over his little toes, he shrieks at the sensation but doesn’t pull away.

“See? It’s not so bad,” Anton says, smiling down at him. “Do you want to go in a bit deeper?”

Your son looks up at you both, then back at the water. With a firm nod, he says, “Yes, Daddy. Deeper.”

You caress his cheek, your heart swelling with love. “That’s my brave boy.”

As you walk in a bit further, the water rises to his knees. He giggles, now more accustomed to the feel of the waves. He pulls his hands free from yours and starts splashing around, his laughter echoing over the beach.

Anton giggles along with him, scooping him up and tossing him gently in the air before catching him. Your son squeals with delight, his fear completely forgotten. Anton tickles him, and the two of them laugh together, the joy of the moment infectious.

After a while, you head back to join the rest of the family for lunch. You spread out the picnic blanket, and everyone gathers around, their faces glowing with happiness and the warmth of the sun.

“Look at this spread,” your father-in-law says, rubbing his hands together. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

You smile, handing out some gimbap. “I had a lot of help.”

The kids settle down with their food, and soon the air is filled with the sound of chatter and laughter.

“Grandpa, do you like sandcastles?” Yechan asks, her mouth full of mango.

“I love sandcastles,” he replies, winking at her. “Especially when they’re built by my grandkids.”

Chanmi, always the curious one, turns to her grandmother. “Grandma, did Daddy build sandcastles too?”

Her grandmother smiles, brushing a stray hair from Chanmi’s face. “Oh yes, he did. Your daddy loved the beach when he was your age. He used to spend hours building the biggest sandcastles you can imagine.”

“Wow,” Chanmi says, eyes wide. “Daddy, did you really?”

Anton nods, taking a bite of his sandwich. “I did. I loved making towers, just like you do.”

“Can we build one together later?” Yechan asks, looking up at her dad with hopeful eyes.

“Of course,” Anton says, smiling. “I’d love that.”

Your son, having finished his sandwich, looks up at you with a proud smile. “Mama, I not scared of water no more.”

You ruffle his hair. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You were very brave.”

Anton’s mother looks at you with a soft smile. “You’re doing such a wonderful job with them. Thank you for giving Anton such a beautiful family.”

You feel a lump in your throat, touched by her words. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

Your father-in-law chimes in. “We couldn’t have asked for a better daughter-in-law. You’ve made our son so happy.”

As the afternoon progresses, you enjoy the easy camaraderie of family, the children’s laughter mingling with the soothing sound of the waves. You build more sandcastles, take turns flying a kite, and even manage to get your son to dip his toes in the water again, this time with even more confidence.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you gather your belongings, tired but content. The kids are still buzzing with energy, talking animatedly about their day.

“Can we come back tomorrow?” Yechan asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

“We’ll see,” Anton says, chuckling. “But for now, it’s time to head home and get some rest.”

You pile back into the cars, the kids’ chatter a comforting background noise as you drive home. Anton reaches over and takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender gesture.

“I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling the truth of those words deep in your heart.

As you pull into the driveway, you can’t help but reflect on the day’s events. It’s in these simple, yet profound moments that you find true happiness. However, as you prepare to go inside, you realize the day isn’t quite over yet.

Anton carries your son, who fell asleep during the car ride, into the house. “Looks like someone’s completely worn out,” he says, smiling.

Inside, the twins start arguing as soon as they hear Anton mention showers. “If he’s not going to take a shower, then we won’t either!” Yechan declares, crossing her arms defiantly.

“That’s not fair!” Chanmi adds, mimicking her sister’s stance.

Anton sighs, his tone firm but gentle. “Everyone will be taking a shower tonight. No exceptions. We’ve all had a long day at the beach, and we need to get cleaned up.”

Yechan and Chanmi groan but relent, seeing that their father won’t budge. Anton carries your son to the bathroom while you start running the water, getting everything ready.

“Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up and take a quick shower,” you whisper, gently shaking your son awake.

He stirs, his face scrunching up in protest. “No, Mama, too sleepy.”

Anton chuckles softly. “I know, buddy, but you’ll feel better after a quick rinse. We’ll make it fast, I promise.”

Reluctantly, your son allows himself to be undressed and placed under the warm water. Anton keeps him steady, washing off the sand and salt while you help the twins get ready. Despite the initial resistance, the warm water helps soothe everyone, and soon the bathroom is filled with giggles and splashes as the day’s adventures are recounted.

After the showers, you wrap your son in a fluffy towel and carry him to his room. He’s barely awake, his head resting heavily on your shoulder. You and Anton moisturize his skin before dressing him in some pajamas and tuck him into bed, kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, my brave boy,” you whisper, brushing his hair back.

“Night, Mama. Night, Daddy,” he mumbles, already drifting back to sleep.

With your son settled, you head to the twins’ room. They’re in their pajamas, bouncing on their beds with boundless energy. “Alright, time for a bedtime story,” you announce, trying to wrangle them into bed.

“Yay! Storytime!” they cheer, finally settling down.

Anton picks out a book and starts reading, his voice soft and animated. The twins listen intently, their eyes wide with fascination. As the story ends, Chanmi immediately pipes up. “One more, please, Mommy!”

You shake your head gently. “No, sweetie, it’s time to sleep. We’ll read another one tomorrow.”

This answer doesn’t sit well with Chanmi, who starts to pout. “But I don’t want to sleep!” she declares, her voice rising.

“Chanmi, we agreed on one story,” Anton says, his tone firm. “It’s time for bed now.”

Chanmi’s frustration hits a head, and she starts to cry, thrashing around. In her tantrum, she accidentally smacks your stomach with her little hand. Anton’s eyes flash with anger, and he steps in immediately. “Noémi Chanmi Lee, that’s enough!” he says sternly. “You need to stop this right now. Hitting is not okay.”

You wince slightly at the impact and the use of your daughter's full government name but try to reassure Anton. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” you say softly, placing a hand on his arm.

Anton shakes his head, his eyes still on Chanmi. “She needs to understand what she did was wrong.” He kneels down to her level, his tone gentler but firm. “Chanmi, you need to calm down. It’s not okay to throw tantrums and hit. Even if you didn’t mean to, it’s still not acceptable.”

Chanmi’s tears start to slow as she realizes the gravity of what she’s done. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she says, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

You kneel down beside Anton and pull Chanmi into a hug. “I know you didn’t mean it, sweetie. I forgive you. But you need to listen when we say it’s time for bed.”

Anton wipes away Chanmi’s tears, his expression softening. “I’m sorry for yelling, but I was worried about Mommy. It’s important to behave and not throw tantrums, okay?”

Chanmi nods, sniffling. “Okay, Daddy. I’ll sleep now.”

You and Anton tuck the twins in, kissing them goodnight. “Sweet dreams, my loves,” you whisper, brushing a stray hair from Chanmi’s forehead.

“Night, Mommy. Night, Daddy,” they murmur, finally settling down.

As you close the door to the twins’ room, you and Anton exchange a look of shared relief and exhaustion. “Parenting is no joke,” Anton says with a tired smile.

You chuckle softly. “No, it’s not. But we’re in this together.”

Hand in hand, you head to your bedroom, the weight of the day’s activities starting to settle in. Once inside, you start getting ready for bed. You change into your robe and begin to wrap up your hair. Anton watches you with a soft smile, his love and admiration evident in his eyes.

“Shower?” he suggests, his voice warm and inviting.

You nod, feeling the day’s weariness melt away at the thought. “Yes, please.”

In the bathroom, Anton turns on the water, adjusting it to the perfect temperature. He helps you out of your robe and then sheds his own clothes, leading you under the warm spray. The water cascades over you both, washing away the sand and salt from the beach.

Anton takes the soap and lathers his hands, starting to wash your body with gentle, loving strokes. He’s careful and thorough, his touch tender as he cleanses your skin. When he reaches your growing belly, he bends down and kisses it softly, his lips lingering for a moment. “Hello in there,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

You smile down at him, your heart swelling with love. “You’re so sweet,” you murmur.

He stands back up and finishes rinsing you off before taking his turn. You help him wash, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. After you both are clean, you step out of the shower, drying each other off with fluffy towels. Anton wraps you in a warm embrace, his hands resting on your hips.

Back in your bedroom, you both get dressed in comfortable pajamas. You slip into bed first, sighing contentedly as you sink into the soft sheets. Anton follows, climbing in beside you and pulling you close to his body. His arms wrap around you protectively, his warmth seeping into your skin.

You nestle against him, feeling safe and loved. “Today was wonderful,” you say, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet room.

“It really was,” Anton agrees, his hand resting on your belly. “The kids had so much fun, and I loved seeing them so happy.”

You nod, placing your hand over his. “And seeing our little one growing inside me, it makes everything feel even more special.”

Anton smiles, his eyes softening. “I’ve been thinking about the baby a lot. I really hope it’s a boy this time.”

You laugh softly, teasingly. “You scream girl dad, Anton. You should be thankful you have at least one son.”

He chuckles, giving your belly a gentle pat. “I know, but it’d be nice to balance things out a bit. The girls have such strong personalities, and sometimes I think it’d be fun to have another little guy running around.”

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment. “Well, whatever this little one turns out to be, I know we’ll love them just as much as we love the others.”

“Absolutely,” Anton agrees, his voice filled with sincerity. “I just want our family to be happy and healthy.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “And they are. Thanks to you.”

He shakes his head slightly, a modest smile on his lips. “Thanks to us. We’re a team, remember?”

You nod, your heart swelling with love for this man who has given you everything. “Yes, we are.”

Anton leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispers against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice filled with emotion.

As you settle into his embrace, you close your eyes, feeling completely at peace. The day has been long and tiring, but it has also been filled with love, laughter, and precious moments with your family. And as you drift off to sleep, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you and Anton will face them together, with love and gratitude for the beautiful life you’ve built together.

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hxnbi · 3 months

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⸻ °♡⃘ . WIND BREAKER BOYS AS ROMANCE TROPES

pairings. umemiya hajime, choji tomiyama, sakura haruka, endo yamato, kiryu mitsuki x gn. reader (separate)

got a part two with other characters along the way :) will update with the link once it comes out

UMEMIYA HAJIME + childhood friends to lovers

in my eyes, umemiya is one who would undoubtedly prefer someone who knows him better than himself and connects with him than anyone else—that person being the one he grew up with, someone who can bear his craziness and his occasionally unhinged behaviour. scratch that, his consistently unhinged behaviour.

with all the hardships he had been through in his life, from scraped and bloody knees from playing in the park to shared secrets between you two, you were always there for him, and so would he. umemiya has been your constant since childhood, and the same goes with him. the transition from friends to perhaps something more was seamless. almost as if it had always been meant—waiting, patiently, to happen. friendship formed the foundation of your relationship, and it would be what remains. as you both grew, so did your feelings, maturing into a love that was as enduring as umemiya himself. only when he faced the idea—the terrifying possibility of losing you, did he realize.

“that’s it…”

hiragi’s face scrunched up, peering over at umemiya, whose face was compressed onto the desk he was laying on. “the hell are you talking about?”

with a burst of energy, umemiya suddenly lifted his face from the desk like a startled meerkat, “THATS IT! THAT’S WHAT IT IS! I LOVE THEM!!” leaving hiragi practically hyperventilating, sighing heavily before popping more than a few pills into his mouth for good measure (not medical advice).

“still don’t understand who you’re referring to…”

that’s just it… you weren’t “just a sibling” to him. he never thought that way. he never ever saw you in only that way.

he began dreaming up a future with you. after all, you knew him best, had been through his best and worst moments, and even then, stuck by him. his desire to be protective over you was a comforting presence, even if it was sometimes perhaps a bit overbearing, but that was umemiya’s personality. through the years, his commitment to you never changed, never wavered, for his mind was already made up.

he didn’t know that the one he needed by his side was there all along. you’ve always been by each other’s side, and now, as you both grow older and as the years tick by, umemiya can't, he just couldn't imagine a day without you. you mean too much for him to just let you go. friendship turned into love, and before you knew it, you both would be together, dancing at your wedding.

...or so was umemiya’s dream when he woke up that morning, just wishing for that to be a reality.

CHOJI TOMIYAMA + love at first sight

a simple, straightforward case of who has caught your eye sort of trope, but choji knew that this was different. choji was never one to hide his emotions—wearing his feelings very much on his sleeve, and when he saw you for the first time, his heart made its intentions clear. the world stops around him the first time he sees you, and he very obviously stares and gawks at you with no shame. it was love at first sight.

togame’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights. “w-what? are you sure?”

“yeah!! it was like nothing i’ve ever felt before,” choji sighs exasperatingly, leaning on his chair with a clear conscience, “they were so dreamy… i wish i could see them again.”

and see you again, he would. Not by accident, as what you initially thought, but choji and choji alone would pull the strings to make every meeting seemingly happen, all the while acting as naturally as possible.

choji’s larger-than-life personality meant he pursued you with an earnest intensity. his eyes would light up every time you entered the room, glowing with delight every time everytime you paid him even an ounce of affection, and despite that, choji still wanted more. he wanted so much more. his affection was genuine and pure, devoid of any pretence. even togame couldn’t question the authenticity of choji’s supposed affection for you. the boy was utterly smitten.

choji finds any and every way he can to approach you. and his efforts aren’t for naught, as even you could see the sparkles in the boy’s eyes, down to the way he would stare down at him without saying a word. perhaps creepy in any other instance, but it never felt that way to you.

a nervous yet friendly smile would frequently accompany choji’s awkward attempts to get close to you. there was something just so endearing in choji’s gaze—a kind of innocence and even childlike admiration that made your heart soften. he wasn’t just staring; he was taking in every detail of your face and expression as if trying to memorize your presence. his eyes, wide with wonder, held no malice nor ulterior motives, just a simple, unspoken, pure and honest adoration, all underlining his true sincerity.

HARUKA SAKURA + forced proximity

from when he was young, sakura has always distanced himself from people. he had never been one for social interactions, preferring the solitude of his own thoughts rather than the scrutiny of a crowd watching him, judging him. to him, his existence in their lives was a curse. only he deserved it, and only he would bear it. but when circumstances forced you into close quarters, his aloof and icy exterior began to thaw. the closeness of your body next to him, the warmness of your breath, made sakura uneasy, and yet, he didn't pull away.

initially, like with everyone else sakura ever connected with, he followed his usual pattern of what he knew to do best—pushing you away. not just metaphorically but physically, shoving you to the ground when all you did was to try and lightly tap his shoulder. he had hurt you. this was what always happened without fail. but even still, you never went away, like a rather pesky mosquito.

during the unfortunate times when you were forced to share a small space with him, seeing first-hand the rare moments of openness he usually kept hidden, even from those who supposedly knew him best—because no one actually did. the forced short proximity in the cramped quarters revealed an authentic side, all in the subtle ways he watched over you that your eyes slowly caught on to.

“stay away from me. it’s better for both of us.”

time and time again, you would wonder and question why he continuously tried to gently push you away, but never to the point of truly physically shoving you away and hurting you. even so, sakura, still cared about you. that, he would never deceive.

“no, it’s not, sakura. i told you, i’m not going anywhere.”

while it did hurt for him to say that about you when all you did was to be his heart, it hurt you, even more, to know that this was truly how he thought of himself to be—a “person” who didn’t deserve love and affection.

“...i don’t need anyone. especially not you.”

“...maybe. but maybe you need someone who won’t leave, no matter how hard you push.”

“YOU’RE JUST GOING TO BE HURT WITH ME—”

you smiled. “then let me be the one to decide that for myself. right?"

no matter how many times he would push you away, despite his constant attempts to distance himself, you were never going to leave that easily, and perhaps sakura knew that his face flushing red. a small crack had formed in sakura’s defences. you never thought that “being stuck” with sakura was a curse, but a chance to see the true person behind the mask.

ENDO YAMADO + opposites attract

endo was your complete opposite in every conceivable way. his piercing, intense gaze was a contrast to your own vibrant, pastel, and borderline revolting energy, balancing each other’s strengths and differences, light and shadow. rather than a mix of oil and water, it created a dynamic that neither of you could have predicted.

endo is more on the serious side. no, very much on the serious side, so your fun and excitement help him loosen up. to many, your contrasting qualities complemented each other, filling the gaps that the other lacked. some would say that your kindness filled the empathy that endo very much lacked, but regardless, endo’s initial skepticism turned into a fascination, and he found himself drawn to the very traits that set you apart from him. he finds it adorable when you do things he would never even dream of, like dancing in the rain, but he never particularly commented on them to keep his composure.

he admires your personality in a rather subtle, aloof way, although he would never say those words out loud. his pride is too great for that. you’re each other’s comfort and sanctuary, finding things in each other you both never had. so strong, in fact, that your honey-coated words and presence can hardly push you away from him, and over time, endo lets you.

your contrasting qualities complemented each other, filling the gaps that the other lacked. anyone who even dares to threaten the solace of your company at your side, endo treats as a literal threat to himself.

after all, you were quite literally his other half.

“yama… why do you always act like you need to protect me?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you would give him a look that said, “you can’t fool me,” and he would only tsk and whisk his head in the other direction.

you’re important to him, more than he can ever put into words. every glance, every small gesture, and every moment. endo doesn’t bother himself with the extravagance of affectionate words and grand declarations, but his actions go far beyond that. the second he notices something out of the ordinary—specifically, that you weren’t at his side at that exact moment of the day like always—he starts beating people up in a fit of rage. he goes berserk and sees red, and only when you arrive (after being frantically called in through your cellphone) does he finally calm down, asking you furiously where you were, with your shoulders being held in the grip of steel.

“fuck… you’re such a troublesome person.”

he needs to protect you, endo thinks. you’re the total opposite of him. you were kind, docile, and gentle, you were like his other half. the opposite of him that he cherished. whoever hurt you meant that they had to deal with him too. no one hurts his lover and gets away with it. everyone in the area knew this fact.

perhaps, opposites do indeed attract.

KIRYU MITSUKI + the boy next door

kiryu was the quintessential boy next door. he was a sweet neighbour and a total gentleman that everyone admired. looking back at you and his first visit, it could have been more timely. as soon as the doorbell rang, your eyes would groggily open as you went to get the door to see who on earth was the person who disturbed your sweet nap. and as you opened the door, you saw a cute guy standing with a basket of miscellaneous goods in his hands. you almost thought you were still dreaming until you rubbed your tired eyes. “

“i’m mitsuki kiryu, your new neighbour. i just moved into the house beside yours. i met your parents yesterday but you weren’t here, so i figured i should introduce myself personally since we’re the same age and all.”

startled, you were very visibly taken aback, “o-oh, thank you. but, uh, shouldn’t i be the one giving you something?” you said sheepishly.

“oh, well, then you can always just give me something later!” he replied with the brightest smile imaginable, making you sweatdrop.

‘that’s not… what i meant.’

granted, your first impression of him was pretty unexpected, but he quickly proved to be a friendly person who truly had a heart of gold. you found yourself slowly falling for him after spending some time with him as a friend—his easy smile and warm eyes offering a sense of home.

but to find out that your life wasn’t the only one that changed, and that kiryu felt the same. as you grew older, so too did your friendship with the boy you first considered to be a mere neighbour. you were hardly even surprised when you heard that kiryu was a part of bofurin—a gang even you had come to admire. in a way, you weren’t surprised; it suited him and his upstanding moral compass. it didn’t, and never did, drive you away.

he was the boy next door, but also so much more—your confidant, your partner in crime, and your love.

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 1 month

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Grabbing König's body when you think he isn't looking. König x Pervert reader. Established relationship/situation, whichever way you wanna read it. FUCKK I ADDED COMFORT FOR KÖNIG AT THE END I SUCCUMBED IM SOFT ASF.

Looking for a quick squeeze of his stomach when you hug him from behind. Hand sliding from the front of his hip all the way to his shoulder. Downright dirty and seamless. Sure the man whiplashes every time he feels someone touching but you think you're slick enough to just get this quick feel. Just while he reacts. Got it, scott free right?

"Ah there you are Schatz, scared me for a moment."

—

Your hands reaching over his sleepy form in bed while you 'look for something'.

"Move aside König gotta grab the-"

And your fingers are squeezing at his tits, sliding across as your arm squishes against his breasts, just enough to linger on the way his boobs surround yours like a pillow before you say aw shucks! Guess the water isn't there! Silly you!

"Sorry love, must've forgotten", you didn't even try to conceal the smile in your voice.

—

The last straw was when you were out at the beach. You couldn't resist yourself! Who could blame you when he was just wearing those tighty whiteys of shorts! A size too small too! What a slut!

You just had to cop a feel. Or two. Or three. C'mon couldn't he see you we're practically cumming over it!

"You want to help me with my sunscreen? That ist nice Schatz." And you're kneading at his back. Drooling over the way his muscles dented under your skin.

"Ach- I can reach there- No? You want to do it?? Hm, okay?" And you're creaming over his lap, lathering the sunscreen as if you were molding his thighs for him. Listening to his timeless gasps as you relax the sore muscles, they deserve a little break too from carrying this behemoth for so long. After all he's been so good you both deserve a little treat too.

—

It's hard not to act so perverted when he looks at your food with those eyes. Soft, pleading, almost naive but you'd know better than to call the monster that. He's only soft around you, and you'll take advantage of it.

Soft enough to let you feed him. A purposefully small cookie in your pointer and index while you carefully balance it on the sides. Fuck, his lips were so soft shit you're cumming-

"Ooh ja, tastes good", and he huffs out the hot air. Hopefully he didn't notice how your hands trembled.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

But he did.

"Schatz? We need to communicate better I believe."

"It's about how you've been...touching me. I find it rather confusing."

A pause and a sigh.

"Be honest with me, do you enjoy me only for my body? I do not care if you do but ah, just be truthful, bitte."

And oh how his eyes softened at you while yours lusted at him. Your heart was all for him couldn't he see that? But he's no mind reader. Just a man who held you close after you talked with him.

"I'm sorry, I love you." And all he can do is just dry heave into your shoulder. Anxiety clawing away at him from the first hug you shared down to the latest, ripping him up inside out until his words were forced out of him.

Silent once again. Much more than he was at the beginning but he's happier. Even while your hands pat his back, trying not to come across as sensual while you usher him closer. Just close enough for him to rest on you. He just wants to be the only one you think of, not just the body you think of :(.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

You ease up on the touches and he's eased up. Or you can tell him downright and he'll be calmer when you're clear about it, two options and a healthy[Ish] relationship.

Masterlist

#something something insecure jealous König is my fav esp if he acts just like a normal person iddk im so delusional jesus Christ #cod #call of duty #hcs #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x you

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eddiesghxst · 1 year

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her.

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun.

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage.

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect.

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow.

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside.

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars.

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner.

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high.

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more.

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you.

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room.

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses.

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation.

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.”

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature.

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers.

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is.

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you.

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away.

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it.

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him.

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

658 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 5 months

Note

Hi ^^

Could I request a jungwon fluff, where he is a kinda shy and smart classmate from reader, who has a crush on him. (Reader is very social, has lots of friends, but still feels shy around jungwon but wants to Get to know him better) :)

✿ — sticky notes to love letters | y.jw

pairing. ⌂ shy classmate jungwon x f. reader ⌂ contains. kissing, flirting, lots of inner dialogue, mutual pinning, can be interpreted as both a college au & hs au ⌂ word count. 2449 🖱 ⑅ path to the bookshelf ◍

Jungwon.

From the day he stepped foot into your school, you’d already started annotating a mental log of all his characteristics, interests, and other miscellaneous details.

So far, you had gathered just a few things about him.

Above all, he was an introvert with looks that both intimidated and captivated his fellow peers.

Contrastingly, you were more extroverted in school, though, Jungwon turned out to be one of the first people you ever struggled to approach properly.

He was cute, talented, and already making a name for himself in various subjects and extra curricular activities.

The only thing lacking from his seemingly seamless academic experience was a good friend, and you planned to be just the person who'd change that.

You called today “Day 14,” which marked Jungwon’s official first 2 weeks on campus.

One way you kept your social circle so big was by approaching everyone on your 14th day of knowing their existence, not any sooner or later than this.

You’re not sure how you came up with this method, but it proved to be successful nonetheless.

Every student here was in favor of you, their precious social butterfly, flitting in from group to group with a contagious vibrancy.

Your peers looked up to your confidence and near-perfect people skills, and by now, they were all anticipating the moment you’d approach the mysterious Yang Jungwon, earning his companionship before the day was out.

The classroom hummed with its usual energy—the clattering of chairs beneath desks, the rustling of thick textbooks against each other, and the occasional bursts of laughter followed by whispered jokes filling the space.

In the midst of it all, you sat quietly in your seat, gaze drifting toward the back row where Jungwon was... the boy whom for whatever reason decided to sit in the back of the classroom…. the quiet genius existing in his own little world.

He had a way of making your confidence falter, and though part of you wasn’t fond of it, it somehow attracted you to him even more. His shy smile, the way his eyebrows furrowed whenever he worked out difficult equations, or his habit of adjusting his glasses with a little sniffle—it all intrigued you.

As your interest in him soon developed into a crush, you made it your mission to befriend the boy who hid behind his textbooks, and who rarely spoke yet achieved high in all his accolades.

The bell finally rang for lunch, a cue for you to gather your courage before making your move in the cafeteria.

As expected, you found Jungwon sitting alone, your heart practically doing somersaults in your chest as you approached him.

“Hi,” you greeted with a surprisingly steady voice, “mind if I sit here?”

Jungwon looked up at you through his glasses, eyes wide in shock that you had even asked him that. “Uh… sure,” he stammered, shifting his books and lunch tray to make room for you.

At first, you two sat in companionable silence, the cafeteria noise fading into the background as you studied the stack of textbooks he sporadically flipped through while alternating between taking a bite of his sandwich.

“I hate to be cliché,” you began, “but what’s your favorite academic subject?”

Jungwon’s sentence-highlighting hand paused at the paper as he blinked in thought.

New mental note unlocked: Jungwon has the prettiest hands you’ve ever seen—

“Math,” he replied, interrupting your enamored thoughts, “I enjoy solving problems. It’s like... unraveling a mystery, I guess…”

“You’re a mystery yourself,” you teased with a smile, tilting your head at him. “Always so quiet… keeping to yourself even though everyone’s dying to know more about you… You’ve got this whole enigma thing going on...”

A glint of playfulness sparkled behind his shiny specs, your heart fluttering at his now blushing face. “I guess I’m just not great at small talk,” he admitted timidly. “But… I do like observing,” he went on, closing his books now that a conversation had started.

Operation Day 14 was off to a fantastic start.

“Observing what?” You repeated, leaning in closer.

“People,” he answered plainly, “Their characteristics, interests, other miscellaneous details... It’s fascinating.”

And incredibly familiar, you thought to yourself.

Just that easily, you felt a connection with Jungwon start to blossom.

“May I ask what you’ve observed about me then?” You challenged, the two of you now holding an intense eye contact.

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, deciding on one thing to say instead of rambling, “I’ve noticed you’re intimidated by new things but nonetheless open to exploring…”

“Explain that for me, please…”

He took another bite of his sandwich before speaking, “Well, you’re an extrovert who’s comfortable with what she knows best, and that’s socializing. It’s what motivates you to succeed in class, sit with the quiet new kid at lunch, and so on…”

You chuckled out loud, watching his lips curve into a smirk at the sound of your laughter.

“That’s why,” he continued cautiously once you finished laughing, “approaching someone like me… someone quiet… different… it was harder for you.”

“Woah,” you exclaimed under your breath, thinking of how well he read you just as easily as he'd read any other book in his field of vision.

“And you’re certain math is your favorite subject and not psychology?”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, a shy hand covering his mouth as his eyes stretched into pretty crescents.

“I uh,” he stammered, still getting over the giggle in his chest, “I like to be challenged when it comes to subjects… I often ask myself why favor something you’re already good at?”

You nodded at his words before continuing, “Sooo… you’re bad at math?”

“Terrible, actually,” he admitted, a smile still faint on his features.

“We should study together then,” you obliged, voice returning to its usually enthusiastic octave, “I’m not a math wiz myself, but I’m sure our two minds together can think it through!”

His gaze fell to the tabletop, reaching out a hand to move your lunch tray closer to you as you’ve been avoiding it this whole time.

“Eat well, first… and then, I'll ask our math professor if we can maybe hang back to study in the classroom instead of attending the bake sale this evening.”

Smiling softly at his thoughtfulness, you opened your container of fruit and started to take a few bites, appreciating in your heart his efforts in arranging this little study sesh between you two.

“Sounds like a plan,” you nodded cheerfully, looking forward to ‘this evening’ with Jungwon later...

◍ ◍ ◍

Finally.

The math lecture came to an end, as a few of your friends waved you off as they went to join everyone else at the bake sale.

“I'll save you a cupcake, okay? Good luck studying!” One of your closest friends called out to you while waving goodbye, her pixie cut framing her radiant smile perfectly.

“Awww, thanks Nini! Have fun at the bake sale,” you returned warmly, watching her frame disappear with the cluster of other students bustling out of the classroom.

All except for you and Jungwon, who were given permission to stay back for an extra two hours to study the material.

“Thank you, Mr. Ha,” Jungwon bowed graciously, just as the professor locked the door behind himself, leaving you two alone to study.

You helped by pushing two desks in front of each other to create a little table for you and Jungwon to study on.

Both of you had been studying for just over 1 and a half hours before you became absolutely sick of looking at functions.

“Okay, if I mix up the input and output in these equations one more time, I think I'm gonna snap every pencil in this classroom,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back in his seat to stretch his aching back.

“Same,” you huffed similarly, eyes not being able to stop themselves from staring at him, the golden hue of sunshine that spilled from the windows painting his skin a heavenly shade. “That was a pretty aggressive statement coming from a shy guy like you, though....”

“Shy, huh?” He repeated, quirking a brow at you, “y'just think you’ve got me all figured out...”

“I could say the same thing to you about me,” you clapped back.

“Sure,” he agreed nonchalantly, “but it’s a well known fact that talkative people are always easier to read…”

You shrugged at his words. “Fine then. Tell me. What secret is the mysterious Yang Jungwon hiding about himself from everyone?”

“Well,” he started, now sitting back up as he leaned over the desk, forcing proximity, “that’s not something I can tell you in one day, but for starters, I am anything but shy.”

“Please,” you scoffed with amusement, “as if you weren’t a blushing mess the entire time we talked in the cafeteria earlier.”

“You say that like you weren't blushing, too, though?”

“Because I wasn't... it was just the makeup making me look that way,” you corrected, trying your best to seem serious even though the grin on your face said otherwise.

“Really now?” Jungwon asked with feigned surprise, “And here I was thinking you were naturally pretty...”

“Wow, you're hilarious,” you announced sarcastically, giving him a sassy look.

“Does that surprise you?” He pondered, voice falling a tone or so deeper as his eyes keened in on your face.

“No, actually… not even a little but,” you lied, just before your stomach fluttered at the playful smirk that grew on his face.

He thought on your words for a moment, watching as you started to put away your stationary before his voice stopped you in your tracks, “I bet by the end of the day, I’ll do or say something that surprises the hell out of you.”

Humming at his words, you continued to put away all your supplies, “Go for it, then… your confidence is applaudable, but I seriously doubt you'll win this little bet of yours...”

All he did was smile in response, his face reading an inaudible "We'll see" as silence soon followed his daring announcement.

Neither of you were ready to leave the classroom just yet, especially not with how much fun you were having talking so far.

That's when you both noticed how quiet the school had become with most of everyone being outside to enjoy the baked goods.

“Do you like anyone here at school?” Jungwon asked abruptly, scattering your inner thoughts back into the clouds.

“You mean like... in a romantic way, right?” You asked, only for him to give you a non-verbal cue by nodding his head.

“Well,” you started, dragging out the syllable as you got ready to tease him, “he’s around our age so you might know him, but his name is Leehan.”

You smirked to yourself at the way Jungwon's face looked now, avoiding eye contact for what felt like 10 whole seconds before looking back up at you. “Never heard of him,” he lied, and you could see right through his adorable poker face.

“What about you then?” You returned curiously, “anyone special that catches your eye here?”

“Yeah,” he responded almost instantly, “her name's Hanni... Hanni Pham.”

You felt your face drop at his words, “Jungwon, that’s my best friend—”

“Yeah, and I could tell,” his voice trailed off cheekily, watching as you got up from your seat, approaching the door with haste.

“And where d'you think you're going?” Jungwon asked, not even turning to look your way until he heard you struggling with the doorknob.

“I'm... ugh... I-I'm trying to... shit, why won't this stupid door open?”

“Okay, relax before you break something,” Jungwon warned, getting up from his seat to join you where you stood, “let me see...”

Click, click.

The doorknob twist and turned with his movements, but to no avail: you two were officially stuck in the math room together.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you sighed annoyedly, the reality of your situation setting in quickly.

“If you're in a hurry, wanna try escaping out the window?” He tried hopefully.

“Nah, the fall would be too risky,” you replied, now standing with your hands on your hips.

“Hmm. Maybe we should check Mr. Ha’s desk drawers for spare key?”

Without hesitation, Jungwon slid past you, opening drawer after drawer in his brief search, only to find nothing.

“They probably forgot we’re even in here by now,” you sulked, walking over to take a seat on Mr. Ha's desk, your arms bracing your exhausted weight behind you.

Sure, studying was tough, but the possibility of being locked in this classroom for longer than anticipated was even more tiring.

“Well… we could always go over our notes again in the meantime?” The feline eyed boy offered optimistically, voice trailing off as the sound of footsteps thrummed outside the classroom.

“Wait, I think someone’s coming—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Jungwon removed his glasses and took your chin in his hand, guiding your gaze towards him before sealing the space between you two with a kiss.

Your eyes widened at his action, especially once you felt his free hand rest on your thigh with no intention on stopping just yet.

So you gave in, letting your eyes flutter shut as you tilted your head into the contact, the gentleness of his hands being enough to make your heart melt into this shy collision of lips.

That’s when you heard Leehan's voice, coupled with the sound of Hanni and your math professor mumbling at the door before it slung open.

“Are you guys oka- oh, you’re more than okay,” Mr. Ha stammered, turning his head at the sight of you and Jungwon making out on his desk.

Jungwon tore away from your lips with an almost embarrassingly wet smack, shyly meeting the eyes of the three people now taking in the view of this steamy scene.

“Mr. Ha, we're so sorry for—”

“First kiss with the new kid, huh? Atta girl, ____!” Hanni interrupted with an enthusiastic cheer, “Maybe I should've brought two cupcakes, hehe...”

Meanwhile, Leehan stood in utter shock at the sight before his eyes, a pink hue flushing his cheeks as he struggled to find the right words. “I uh… I think I’m just gonna go now,” he stuttered, slipping past Hanni and your instructor before leaving.

“Fantastic then. Hopefully you two had fun studying in here because it'll never happen again,” Mr. Ha clarified, thankful that you were finally off of his desk and making your way down the hall with the rest of your belongings, Hanni, and Jungwon walking beside you.

“So,” Jungwon started shamelessly, “same place tomorrow?”

“Definitely not… but I think you've at least earned a repeat at the library,” you smiled, Hanni not-so-discreetly eavesdropping as you two spoke.

“Earned it? How?” Jungwon asked, readjusting in glasses over his nose with a familiar sniffle.

“By surprising me,” you answered plainly, giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “And you're a really good kisser, by the way...”

And there it was... that same pretty pink blush that rose to his cheeks whenever you flattered him.

You liked this Jungwon... the shy one with little to say and lots to share... all sticky notes and math equations...

But... you also liked the other side of him... the side that no one else got to see... all love letters and stolen kisses.

◍ ◍ ◍

Fin.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this lil piece here! Writing it made me realize that everything I've written for Jungwon has been only smut ;-; so it was really nice coming up with something more fluffy about him this time! And as always, feel free to request more stories like this anytime! Lots of love ~ ◍

✿ — tags: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @watamotee33

#𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 🎂#jungwon fluff #jungwon ff #jungwon x reader #enhypen #enhypen ff #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon #enhypen fluff #jungwon soft hours #jungwon soft thoughts #enhypen layouts #enhypen soft thoughts #enha #enha fluff

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call-me-copycat · 2 months

Text

Only You

➤ Welcome - Introduction and request rules (requests are open + some info about me)

▶ Characters: Shinso x GN Reader

▶ Genre: Comfort

▶ Summary: You've been feeling a little forgotten, Shinso's popularity bringing in people who take up more of his time. Shinso, however, lets you know that you're far from that.

▶ Word Count: 3134

▶ Warnings: Feelings of insecurity

U.A was the school everyone went to when they dreamed big. It was easy to do such a thing in such a large, colorful world. One of the biggest things a person could dream of was being a hero, a dream everyone possibly held at one point. Over time, as one grew they realized that that's all it was - a dream. And so, it was dropped.

You admired Hitoshi since day 1. He quickly proved that he wasn't like the others, putting up with all negative allegations thrown at him and continuing to push forward towards that dream he held so close to his heart. You liked to say that heart was made of gold.

It was at the entrance exam that you noticed him, standing slightly aways from the large group crowding the doors. Back then, he seemed just like another face in the crowd. But you kept running into him. Over and over. You saw how frustrated he became, how unfair the exam was towards those without physical quirks. You worked up the courage and talked to him after the exam was over, something you didn't regret doing despite the hushed whispers that would go on around you two.

It was just you and him. Versus the world.

It used to be so simple. He got into the General Course, you in the Hero Course. Still, you continued pushing and pushing him - something you didn't even have to do much of seeing as his drive to become a hero was a burning flame of passion that flared with an intensity that'd put others to shame.

You and him.

School was the only time you used to see him, and that eventually morphed into going to his house to study every now and then. Then, to taking casual walks to the corner store. All the way to you both taking daily bike rides together, and at that point it had gotten where you both couldn't go a single day without seeing each other.

You both matched each other perfectly when it came to passion. His passion to achieve, and yours to support and love almost mirrored each other. It was one of the reasons why he showed up on your door step one night, his face red as he pushed a single rose into your hands.

You both kept at it, and when two passionate souls get together to achieve something it's only bound to go one way.

And... He did it. He made it to the Hero Course. Class of 2-A, with a new seat right next to yours.

But...

You couldn't help but feel that things weren't going as planned. You thought it would be seamless, he'd go into the Hero Course and would just be another student as all the others.

You had forgotten just how popular the Hero Course was.

It was natural for him to garner attention. He had the looks and the charmingly grumpy personality, and paired with that burning passion that Hero Course students seem to love it made sense that he'd be seen as 'the perfect hero student'.

Suddenly it wasn't just you and him.

People greeted him in the halls, people invited him to lunch, people asked him to come to their houses. They were invading your space, and you couldn't go anywhere without seeing at least one person trying to befriend him.

It began to drive you mad. Of course you weren't entirely against the fact that people liked him now. But... Where were you in this equation? With so many new faces, would he discover other people he liked better? What if he got tired of you?

Thoughts like these plagued your mind daily. You couldn't help but tighten the grip you had on your bag as you reminisced on the beginning of your first year. Where were these people then?

"Hey. "

You jumped a bit at the sudden hand Hitoshi placed on your shoulder. It was the end of the school day, and you both were walking down the empty halls (hopefully without interruption).

As you looked up at him, he couldn't help but feel something was off about you. Your demeanor just wasn't the same, it hadn't been for the past few days - something only he could tell.

"Everything alright?" His tone was soft, a stark contrast from how he normally greets others.

You turned your full attention onto him. His bag was left a little ways open, one of his shoes were untied, and his hair was ruffled in its usual messy stance. You could only think of how much you cherished him in that moment. There didn't seem to be a way you could confess your worries without coming off as greedy.

"I... I'm sorry if this comes off as a little selfish, but..." Sighing, you could only try to piece together how you'd word this. In response to your furrowed expression, Hitoshi gingerly went up and brought his arms around you. He wasn't one prone to outwardly showing affection much, but he felt this moment was an exception.

He ran his fingers gently through your locks of hair as he sensed you were getting worked up, and frowned at the thought. Selfish? You were the light in his life, the cheerleader he never knew he needed. You were the furthest from it.

"Nothing you can say will convince me that you're selfish, I'm serious." He kissed the top of your head. "You can tell me anything, what's on your mind?"

You squeezed him a little before pushing yourself away from him so you can focus a little better. It was hard, and you turned to picking at your fingers as you tried explaining yourself. With your attention directed to the ground, you started.

"I...I- We've been together for awhile, haven't we?" Thinking back to all you've been through with him, you began going through it all with a deep fondness. "I remember meeting you at the entrance exam, and I remember the moment you were told you had gotten into UA... And how happy you and I both were", you sighed a bit, remembering every detail.

The anxiety that you both felt the weeks after the entrance exam. The excitement at the announcement of you both getting into UA together. The consolation after it was decided he'd be in General Studies and you in the Hero Course.

"I remember how upset you were when you didn't place the Hero Course. I knew you had the strength though, and that's why I always cheered you on. You know that I was always by your side, right?"

He placed a finger on your chin as he brought your head up so he could face you, not liking the sad expression on your face.

"Of course I know that - you've been by my side since day one. And for that I can never thank you enough for all that support. I- ", he looked away for a split second, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. When he looked back at you, his dark indigo eyes were filled with warmth as he gazed at you lovingly.

"I don't think I'd have gotten this far without you. "

It was touching, to realize just how much Hitoshi remembered. For him to be able to recall everything you've done all in his name so fast only meant that it had a lasting impact on him. And with that, your heart swelled a little more.

Giving him a wobbly smile, you felt your eyes water a bit before you blinked them back to normal.

"And I'd do it all again, too. But, now that you've transferred to the hero course, I can't help but feel that everyone's starting to notice you and your dedication," It sounded so bad when put into words, and you could only attempt to hide yourself by covering your face with your hands.

"I- it's just that..." Sighing once again, you tried your best to recollect your thoughts. "You've come so far... And I feel that there's so many people noticing you. So many people that only care about those that make it far, but don't care about those at the bottom. Those very people that I'm worried about trying to overturn me..."

Your body tensed at the thought. The contrast between now and then made it all feel as though everything good given was artificial, that no one really truly cared.

And then, there were those that do. Would you even be able to compete with them either?

Clenching your fists in frustration, your vision dropped to the ground as your eyes began to water. "You mean so much to me. So much so, that I can't help but feel - but worry - about... Being forgotten."

With your view on the ground you stop fretting about worrying Hitoshi and let your body go lax as tears dot your face. "A-and I can't help but believe that you're going to find comfort in someone else... That you're going to move onto greater things..."

"...And forget that I was always here."

Shock.

Guilt.

Sympathy.

And so much more suddenly flooded Hitoshi's head as he saw you completely drop every worry you've held on to, on top of him. You've always been such a strong-willed person, so to see you've been worrying about so much for so long shook him to his core.

Hesitantly, gently, he pried your hands away from your face so he could hold you close as he did earlier. Pulling you into a tight embrace, he buried his face in your neck as his own eyes started to water.

"I know that becoming a hero has its issues, this is one of many. To start," Breathing a heavy breath, Hitoshi quickly formed a list in his head.

"I will never find comfort in someone else. I don’t ever want to find comfort in someone else because they won’t be you." It was a maddening thought.

Hitoshi was... Picky.

Most people were too loud. Too bright. Too much, too little, too far, too late. They were either one thing or another, and that's why he consistently struggled to make friends growing up. You however, were perfect.

You fit him, matched his pace. He didn't believe there'd ever be another person on the planet to conveniently check off every single box he had on his list the way you did. Alongside that, he was a simple man. He found you, you found him. Why look for someone else when he was perfectly happy with you now?

Why trade in a phone when the one he had worked fine? Why toss out an old blanket and get a new one when it warms him the way it should? He never understood those types of people, it was too much work to do such things - not to mention shallow.

Before you could get a word in, he was at it again.

"Two; I will never leave you behind. I will never forget you. No matter how far I go, I will always remember you." You always thought of him when he needed it, always kept on pushing him forward despite making it into the Hero Course yourself. You had everything, and could have left him behind. Yet, you didn't. Even if you did, Hitoshi believed he'd easily let you back in - he was just too attached.

It was sweet of him to already have a way to reassure you. He was persistent, one of the many reasons he got so far after all. It helped, hearing your partner himself console you. But the voices in your head wouldn't budge, constantly conjuring up worries and aches you couldn't escape.

Sniffling a bit, you gingerly wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch.

"I-I know... I can tell how much you care for me though everything you do," the air was heavy as you paused. "I just... can't help but worry anyway. I'm always worried. There are so, so many other people that like you, that want to be close with you... It hurts a little at all the things that could happen in the future."

In response, Hitoshi brought a hand up to the back of your head, gently cradling it as he ran his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

"You're right. "

You could only move your head away and look up at him in shock, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

"It's only to be expected that I'm going to meet many new people on this path that I'm taking. I might even make some new friends," looking down at you, he gave you a smile filled with warmth and love. "But no matter how many new people I meet, none of them will ever mean as much to me as you do. "

You moved your head back down to rest in his chest after the initial shock wore off. His words were more than reassuring, they were loving. But... The pain always lingered.

"I just can't help but wonder how much you'll love me in the future, after meeting so many new people... And wonder how much you even love me now..." You felt a little hazy at the thought, your mind not working as well as it normally did at that moment.

Tightening his the grip around you for a moment, Hitoshi pulled away slightly so he could look at you properly, gently putting a finger under your chin so you'd look at him properly.

"How much do I love you...?"

He repeated your words in a soft tone, his dark indigo eyes never leaving yours.

"How much do I love you, you ask? I don’t think words could describe how much I love you..."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to control his swirling emotions, seemingly creating an inferno inside of his mind.

"You're... You're my first love, the first one I've ever fallen in love with. My-"

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat in an attempt to keep himself from getting too emotional, Hitoshi opened his eyes once again, everything suddenly clear to him.

"My most precious person."

The air was silent between the two of you for a beat, as all you could do was look up at him in admiration. The bond you both held was special, as it developed and grew over time. And bonds formed that way are normally one of the strongest.

"I-"

He put a finger over your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Let me speak. "

You watched as he took a deep breath, looking almost frazzled. It was odd, as Hitoshi was typically one of the best to keep his cool. Seeing him work himself up so much over you simply confessing your worries to him... Words evaded you.

"I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. You are the most precious person to me. I-"

He let out a small sigh as all the things he’s been keeping inside for too long suddenly poured out, also taking advantage of this moment to truly show you everything he ever felt for you.

Hitoshi was a cold guy on the outside. He kept people away, kept friendships shallow at most - all for the sake of his safety. Bullies tainted his idea of relationships of all shapes and sizes, so he naturally kept himself closed off.

But, you. You were here, and you were in need of consolation. He didn't ever learn how to express himself properly. All he knew was that he loved you, and that he needed to let you know how much he did. Even if he struggled.

"I love you so so much. I-"

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. There was so much he wanted to say, yet at the same time he was at a loss for words.

"No matter where I go, or what happens to me, nothing-" He brought his hands down to grab yours, giving them a quick squeeze, "and I mean absolutely nothing will ever make me stop loving you."

It was hard. Watching him tear himself up so much about your worries. But, he cared. He cared so much. And that was all that mattered to you.

"I may not be a very affectionate person... I know I’m not always there when you need me, and-"

Sensing he was working himself up too much, you took initiative and moved your hands to cup his cheeks. Both your eyes meet, and in between you two, hundreds of unspoken words bounce in the air.

Leaning into your soft touch, Hitoshi brought his hands up and gently wrapped them over yours, relishing the feeling of his skin touching yours. Even in the smallest actions you made him feel so loved. He gazed at you without word, letting all his emotions be conveyed in that look. Love, affection, assurance, protection, and all sorts of emotions that he couldn't quite word.

Hitoshi leaned down just a touch and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead, closing his eyes as he took in the feeling of your warm skin against his lips.

"Nothing and no one can make me stop loving you."

The idea of leaving you behind, and letting some stranger take hold of you almost made his emotions flip 180°. It was such a nauseating thought to him, he cherished you so dearly and fully believed that there wasn't a soul that deserved you in the same way. You both did everything together, both did everything for each other, fit together like puzzle pieces.

"I won’t let anyone take you from me. Especially not some person who doesn’t even-" heaving out a heavy breath, he cut himself off in an attempt to not bring down the mood once more. Neither of you needed that.

It was odd to think about. So odd. Hitoshi also worried the same thing about you in the end as well. He never seemed to show any signs of worry. Never seemed to falter in confidence. Yet, here the two of you were. Sitting and worrying, loving each other too much and hurting yourselves over what might happen.

Suddenly, you felt a little less lonely.

"I-" you grabbed his hands in yours as you stepped back just enough to see his face. "I've been supporting you since day 1. And I intend to continue doing so until the very end." Looking up into his eyes, he smiled a little at the newfound sparkle yours had.

Squeezing his hands in yours, Hitoshi chucked.

"I know. I know you will."

@hitoshisbf

Thank you so much for the request! I'm very sorry for the wait, but I hope this suits your request! I started it on your ask, but I made the mistake of saving it to drafts and in turn it disappeared ( ⌯᷄ ·̫ ⌯᷅ก )

I had to start over in the morning, I apologize for the extra delay (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

If you ever want to request again I'll always be here! Wishing you the best, hope you have a lovely day! ( ˶'ᵕ'˶)و.ᐟ.ᐟ

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinsou #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader fluff #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #copycat writes #✏️

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astradyke · 1 month

Note

If u have dnp fic recs I would owe you forever 🙏🙏

hi, darling anon. i have not one, not two, but twenty two (+) of these! however, i don't want to overwhelm you or my dash, so i am going to go with seven pieces that i think display a range in tone, style, length, etc. if anyone would like other recommendations-- or perhaps at a later time, i'll do this without prompt-- please reach out! i have so many more that are wonderful and all-time favorites <3

(when you gonna realise) it was just that the time was wrong by The_Blonde (T, 96.5k, 6/6)

this is quintessential “i need to sink my teeth into something for the next XYZ hours of my life” — it’s a long, incredibly well-written piece of work. while this is obviously a piece of AU fiction, it really did shift how i view and appreciate Dan and Phil's relationship, and overall is an incredibly well-thought out exploration of love and internal want. masterfully executed, which seems to be a trend of this author. this is what got me into reading more phanfic-- i read this, found it imperative that i read the rest of this author's works, and spiraled into AU content. set aside a few hours and really soak this one in, it's worth it.

back to those tokyo nights by waveydnp (M, 3k, 1/1)

i am so obsessed with reading domestic fics, and this is so perfectly that. it’s a realistic, earnest exploration of the perspective character in a way that masters show not tell and unreliable narrator skillsets. i have other recommendations by this particular author and have found that they are excellent at introspection and dialogue. in 3k words, the author manages to say quite a lot, and i find it a very good read altogether.

now i know there is no other by georgiabread (N/A, 970, 1/1)

a very quick hurt/comfort read that is just nice on sad nights, y’know? i really love this one for nostalgia’s sake— this was one of the fics i believe i read when i was first/last immersed into the phandom, back when i was thirteen or so. i recognized nearly every word— so i’m fairly certain i had seen it back then. perhaps not, but either way, something about it is really familiar and comforting so i’ll put it forward. it's set during the earliest parts of their relationship, and just feels really true to the newness and simultaneous depth of their connection, and how young they are. something about the dialogue really feels perfect for the 2009 era-- the anxiety, the freshness, the infatuation.

walk slow and low on a tightrope by chickenfree (T, 6.5k, 1/1)

with my whole heart, i am telling you, this fanfiction left a seismic impact on me. it’s left me with a lot of new thoughts and perspective on Dan and Phil together (setting aside the speculative nature inherent to RPF, etc. etc., it definitely reflects on love in general and theirs in the more particular). it’s also affected me on a separate, personal scale. it explores loving in a way that is not typically actualized in display, something hard to wrap your mind around if you struggle to feel loved, and in a way that i had my own journey with and found that this piece explores expertly. and again, just the writing style of this author really captivates me. i’ve been meaning to rec this fic for a while now; the author's style is idiosyncratic and may not immediately click, but i maintain that this is a must-read, and is best to read a few times over. i cannot emphasize how much i adore this one, it's top 3 if not top 2 if not top 1.

let chance take me to your shore by basl (G, 15k, 1/1)

astonishingly under-appreciated piece that i am absolutely in love with. very enjoyable magical realism AU that implements hurt/comfort, internal and external angst, and fluffy domestic scenes in a really nice, seamless way. i really love how this fanfiction ends but am very attached to every scene— if you don’t have endless amounts of time, but want to get really invested into an AU setting, i couldn’t have a better fic to rec you.

slutty, slutty soulmates by sierraadeux (E, 7k, 1/1)

my God, this is THE explicit fic while simultaneously being THE soulmate fic. it’s an incredibly sex-positive and consistently sweet piece that has like, to die for prose. the way that the author writes amplifies the sensuality of a lot of scenes in a way that makes it intoxicating and fun to read. it’s honestly a very real, grounding piece, with funny moments and emotional moments as well. definitely top five favorite pieces, really heavily recommend if you are an adult that’s comfortable with explicit content.

as he goes, so i go by cloej88 (mutual alert! @bitchslapblastoids) (E, 16.9k, 1/1)

i am also in love with the companion piece to this fic, but i wanted to recommend the first in this series here. i am selective about works that describe their relationship during tour, and can positively say that i really love this one. i think it’s a really fascinating interpretation of their relationship at this time, and features a lot of key moments in the 2015 era that i really just have to applaud the writer for including in such a seamless way. i love the interesting subtype of yearning that the prose exhibits here. obviously, everyone has their different tastes and draws, but i think this is a strong universal recommend.

let me know if you want any more, and i hope you enjoy these! i tried to hit a wide range, but if you like one author's piece, check out their other works; some of these appear again at other places in my rec list, and i know many of them are active writers and/or have a substantial number of fics!

#astra.recs #astra.ask #recs tag so i can promo more later n have them all connect!#dan and phil #phan #i know my rambles don't make much sense but i hope they r still appreciated

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ghostofskywalker · 1 year

Note

Hey, so sorry to hear that your semesters been rough, I hope it gets better. I am super excited you’re doing the spring ficlets though! Could I request one with Fives and hes just head over heels for this spunky hot-headed reader. Maybe idk they’re going off on someone (who deserves it) and hes just there making heart eyes? Idk do with it what you want, thank you so much! Have an amazing week!! 💖

thank you!! i LOVED your prompt and i hope you enjoy this!!

words: 884

summary: you prove that you aren't one to be messed with, and fives falls even more in love.

clone troopers masterlist

Smitten

“You know you’re staring again, right?” Rex’s voice cut through the ARC trooper’s daydream and Fives barely even acknowledged his commanding officer.

“What? No I’m not.” That was a bold-faced lie, and everyone around him knew it. It really didn’t help that Fives had yet to take his eyes off you as you sparred with a shiny, who had been acting like he was a lot stronger than he was. Most of the battalion knew what was going to happen when you challenged him to a sparring match, and yet the trooper did not heed their warnings that he might be a little out of his depth. A rule was set that no outside weapons could be used in the fight (since you had a habit of keeping at least three concealed on your person at all times), and the spectacle began.

Fives would never speak ill of his brothers, but there were certainly troopers who lacked in the manners department, who acted like they were Maker’s gift to the world around anyone they thought was attractive, and you certainly fit the bill. And given the fact that you weren’t always around (because the 501st didn’t need the help of a bounty hunter for every mission they went on), not everyone knew who you were when you arrived on Coruscant for a little friendly training and bonding before you headed off with the 104th for a campaign.

“You’re so obvious at this point I’m shocked that they haven’t noticed yet,” Rex said. Both him and Fives were watching you dodge every single punch the shiny tried to throw at you, and Fives was desperately trying to keep his jaw from dropping. “I thought bounty hunters were supposed to be hyper-aware of their surroundings at all times.”

Fives shrugged, still not done staring.

“Maybe they’re just as oblivious as Fives,” Jesse cut in, walking across the room to stand next the two of them. “What do they say? ‘Love is blind’ or something like that?”

“Then we may need to get them an eye exam if they really can’t see Fives’ lovesick glances,” Hardcase had now joined the conversation, and Fives was really regretting standing here right now.

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not that obvious about my feelings.”

“Scratch that, we may need to get you an eye exam!”

Fives was about to respond, but his eyes were still drawn to the scene in front of him.

The shiny had just lunged at you, and it was exactly what you wanted. Grabbing his outstretched arm, you turned, twisting your body so that you were using your strength and momentum to push the trooper upward and then send him careening to the floor. To the cheering spectators on the sidelines, it was clear that you had just flipped him, sending him flying through the air and landing (quite unpleasantly) on the padded floor of the training room. Fives had seen you use that move before, and it was just as seamless as the last time you used it on the battlefield, one fluid motion that proved you weren’t one to be messed with.

“Well, I think they won,” Jesse remarked, and the shiny hadn’t yet gotten up off the ground. Everyone knew that he wasn’t really injured, given the floor padding and the armor he wore, but rather that he was embarrassed to have been beaten out by you, to have talked a big game and gotten his shebs handed to him in response.

You caught Fives’ eye from across the room and made your way over to him, smiling and greeting all the other troopers of the 501st that you knew. “Did you kill him?” Jesse asked playfully, nodding back at your sparring victim.

“Oh please, I didn’t even flip him that hard,” you said, a soft snort escaping your mouth. “It’s his ego that’s bruised more than anything.”

“Maybe you and Fives should go a round then,” Hardcase joked. “He could be knocked down a few pegs.”

“Hey!”

You just laughed. “I don’t think I’d want to spar with Fives though.”

“Why? You afraid I’d win?”

Jesse tried very hard to hide his laughter at Fives’ teasing words, and Rex didn’t seem to be faring any better. “No, I just wouldn’t want to ruin your gorgeous face,” you said, a smirk playing on your lips.

Whatever Fives was expecting you to say, that wasn’t it, and he didn’t know what to do in response, his mind completely lost for words at the implication that you thought he was attractive.

“I think you broke him,” Rex commented a smile crossing his face at the sight of his ARC trooper completely awestruck.

The others around laughed, and you smiled. “Wow, and I didn’t even need to pin him down to do it.”

Fives was still trying to form a sentence in response when your name was called across the room, and you waved to another trooper dressed in grey, the symbol of the Wolfpack adoring his armor. “Alright boys, duty calls,” you said. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Right before you left, you leaned in to place a kiss on Fives’ cheek, and his brain short circuited all over again. You were going to be the death of him, that’s for sure.

- the end -

#2023 spring ficlets 🐝#arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x gender neutral reader #clone wars fanfiction #clone trooper x reader #star wars x reader #fives x you #arc trooper fives x you

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sunshowersanddandelionwine · 2 months

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as a former rower, i have to give my latest brainrot seat assignments or i will EXPLODE

coxswain: the only one facing the front of the boat, the cox is arguably the most important member of the team. As such, the two main coxs are farah and horangi, who switch out depending on the need. Farah is the default cox, because she’s extremely calm under pressure, has exceptional leadership skills, and knows exactly how to get what she wants from her boat. She has never looked anything but perfectly relaxed in the stern, face focused and intense. She doesn’t have to yell or scream, but she will if necessary. Horangi, on the other hand, doesn’t cox as often but when he does, he is at an 11 at all times. He makes jokes, taunts the other boats, jeers and snarks at his rowers, and generally does a Lot. It’s not always the best strategy, especially with the wrong person in the stroke seat. But when he works? He fucking WORKS.

eight: also known as the “stroke” seat, they set the pace for the rest of the boat. They have to be steady, sure, and solid. Which is why I think Ghost fits this seat best. He doesn’t let the rush from the bow get overwhelming, he can keep a high stroke-per-minute count without burning out, and he and Farah have a rock solid connection. He sometimes swaps with König (usually when Horangi is coxing because he doesn’t jive as much with his style) but most of the time? That man is in the front

seven: SOAP. SOAP SOAP SOAP. There’s no one else I could think of to be ghost’s seat pair. And not just because I’m a ghoap girlie at heart lmao. But a good seat pair is a balance that’s hard to come by. You have to pull at the exact same time with the exact same force and movements, and soap is incredibly perceptive to ghost’s every move, and always knows without having to see his face exactly what he’s thinking. He has some rush issues, because he gets WAAAAY to into things, but ghost’s immovable pace is the perfect counterbalance

six: the first of the “engine room” middle four, six seat is a powerhouse. They bring the speed and the momentum. And I think Gaz is the perfect six. He’s a leader of the middle, but he’s not quite experienced enough to be stroke. In a few years, he’d have it in the bag for SURE. But for now? He’s got a fire in his eyes and a need to prove himself. He also loves to snipe about the “eyesore” that he’s forced to look at for the entire race.

five: ALEX! Another member of the engine room, five isn’t as focused on technique or finesse. However, it’s the heart of the boat and the core of the team. And Alex has heart in spades. He and Gaz are an amazing duo, and honestly could be a powerhouse stroke pair someday. He’s the connection between the stern four and bow four, keeping everyone in seamless sync.

four: as the middle of the boat, not a lot of people consider four seat often. Which is perfectly fine with König. He doesn’t have to have the absolute perfect technique like the outer four, he doesn’t have to lead like stern pair, and he doesn’t have to think about anything but pulling as hard as he fucking can until they cross the finish line. However, he does sometimes get swapped with Ghost whenever Horangi gets to cox. And while he’s not a fan, he doesn’t seem to mind as much when he is forced up front.

three: three doesn’t get enough love imo. In my mind, it’s the jack of all trades seat. It’s part of the engine room, but far enough to the bow where technique matters a lot, and there’s really only one person I could see doing it well. Roach is the perfect three seat - inconspicuous and seemingly underwhelming but incredibly versatile and flexible. He can also sit in any seat, regardless of whether it’s a starboard or port-side oar (like me when I still rowed! :D) and used to be Ghost’s pair until soap joined the team. He’s not upset about it at all, because three fits him much better lol

two: the bow pair are the farthest from the coxswain, and the most vital for both rush control and technique. Rush comes from the bow and bleeds into the rest of the boat. Which makes alejandro an excellent two. He doesn’t have to be as strong as the middle four (though he is still very very strong, don’t get me wrong), but his form is almost unmatched.

one: there’s only one person who has a more perfect form than Alejandro, and that’s Rudy. He’s straight out of the dreams of coaches everywhere, and often gets recruited as an example for newbie rowers to learn how to sit and how to hold onto their oars. He’s the farthest from Farah, but he is so on point with what she wants from him it’s like there’s no distance at all

price and nikolai are a former pair who moved to coaching after winning a few Olympic medals. Price deals with technique and Nikolai deals with strategy (ie when to hold back and when to open the tank)

kate and her wife are the team managers and owners

Other honorable mentions:

hesh and logan have a pair. hesh is in the stern because hes Big Brother. keegan has a single scull.

(oc warning) cash, mickey, zora, and lia have a four that's coxed by lucas. hes their Baby Brother and they can and will kill for him. ross and larkin (their coaches) look the other way because they would also kill for him.

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britcision · 10 months

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So there’s a trend I’ve noticed lately and it’s weird as a 90s kid but the only thing I could really call it is wholesome gay jokes

Which is wild because when I was a bab gay jokes were all very offensive and the underlying assumption was that it was bad and gross and insulting

But now a thing I see a lot is two nominally straight boys declaring themselves husbands, proudly proclaiming their love, and committing to the bit with all their hearts

And it’s definitely a joke, because it isn’t serious, and it isn’t serious because they aren’t actually gay, but phrases like “gay joke” mean a very different thing to my generation and it’s really nice to see that be stolen back

It’s just very soft and wholesome and normal and occasionally spins off into wild dramatics and “cheating” and “betrayal”, but the fact that it’s gay is barely acknowledged at all

And that makes me happy

I’m gonna pin a thanks on games like Town Of Salem and the Among Us role mods for including things like the Lovers which are fully player agnostic but do change the way you win the game

Committing to the bit to win with your boo makes it that much more seamless and suddenly it’s normal for two men to make kissy faces at each other and keep a running bit as husbands or each others’ special boy

The joke isn’t “oh imagine if we were gay how weird” it’s…

Well fuck

It’s fucking EXACTLY the girls calling each other their wives and proclaiming undying love and being schmoopsy for the bit that we did get back in the day

The lads are allowed to have soft feelings with each other now too and that’s even better

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fights4users · 1 year

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The sounds of Tron-

Something that is often looked over is the fact that Tron not only has a connection with early computing but with early gaming as well. Not just because one of the characters makes games and runs a arcade, video games are absolutely integral to the world. In fact they make up a good portion of how the system looks and functions!

For example most of the transport, ships, and weapons we see come from video games, mainly Flynn’s but extends into encoms catalog. In the vernacular it’s common to mention it as well “video game warriors” “Gonna make you play video games” “video game simulation” etc. but you didn’t need me to tell you this.

The way video games impacted and shaped the digital world of Tron absolutely plays a hand in how seamless it translates into the two tie in Arcade cabinets. Though heavy on the grid bugs they’re beautifully decorated and similar to the games as we see them on screen/would translate in real life. The music stings come straight from Wendy Carlos’s work for the film, to the extent the game contains the entirety of Anthem. [Listen]

Sound cue’s and combat-

Part of what makes the sound and style of the game so accurate to the movie is the sound design. Like in old games there is a sound for everything. Every movement has its own sound, it sounds silly as things in real life also have noise but if you’ve ever played any retro game you know what I’m talking about.

One of the best examples of this is when Flynn is tossed into the cell and stumbles around, there’s a metallic echo to his footsteps. In combat it’s the same thing —very distinct sounds to go with every action. A lot of what older games are is pattern recognition- both visual and audio, certain music loops or sound cues help you get better at the game. Another good example is Tron casting his disc, blocking throws etc- if you know what a disc sounds like you can better dodge etc. I also like how they have almost a ceramic sound when Ram plays with his.

Nothing is more video game than De-resolution itself! The death cry and slowly breaking into bits before getting reabsorbed. You can hear the noise off screen and know what happened, game over.

Apart from video game comparisons I do have such a genuine love for the sound design of the film and how much it fleshes out the world. The blips and bloops of energy flowing through the system. The sounds of a working computer. There’s a dial up esc noise when Flynn is beamed in and judging by the guards reactions it’s not different from a how a regular program would enter/travel between systems. Programs get to make funky little computer noises in my heart 💕(another inhuman attribute I think they deserve, they’re like us in so many ways but then… aren’t.)

I know it’s probably just because it’s older recording equipment but occasionally programs will get a grainy feedback/radio style grain to their voice. I’d like to think it’s intentional- especially considering Legacy does this too (going so far for it to be what some sound like all the time)

The way sound is utilized in the movie is a incredibly underrated aspect of what makes the movie so good.

#tron #tronblr #tron 1982 #Tron meta #video games #love that Pac-Man is canon- has a cameo #retro gaming #retro arcade #sound effects #sound design #tron worldbuilding #worldbuilding #game grid #master control program #Tron game #Tron soundtrack #wendy carlos #Tron lore

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terapsina · 18 days

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Fading Cinders - elejah fic

- ao3 -

Rebekah found Elijah just as he was about to leave the house, noting the heaviness that seemed to weigh down his shoulders.

"Do you think you can go through with it?" she asked, scrutinizing her brother for signs of second thoughts.

"Whatever are you referring to now, Rebekah?" His voice was cold, showing no chinks in his seamless armor. And yet Rebekah had known him for a millennium, she saw the turmoil in his every line of movement. In the way, the skin under his eyes was tight with a fought-back grimace, even while his eyes seemed to remain flinty with oncoming battle.

"Don't treat me like a fool just because you've become one, Elijah," Rebekah scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "Are you ready to threaten her life? You know I'm not going to play a very gentle jailor here, and a threat means nothing if you're unwilling to go through with it."

She saw him close his eyes and found the taste of something like regret at the back of her throat, sharp and a touch bitter.

"She lied to me. And mother-"

"-might be planning something," she finished for him, pain flashing through her chest with betrayed denial like water hitting the surface of boiling oil. It could still be nothing couldn't it? Just Elijah borrowing some of Nik's paranoia and blowing it out of proportion. But could she take a chance that slim? "And you are still a pathetic fool in love with the latest Doppelganger-"

"-Elena," he snapped, eyes opening with a glare.

"Elena," she corrected herself with a roll of eyes. At least he had enough respect for Rebekah's intellect not to try denying the obvious. "So, the question stands, are you really ready to go through with putting Elena's life in jeopardy to find out what big, terrible spell our mother is about to cast?"

"She has left me very little choice in the matter," Elijah said, the heavy air around him seeming to gain a few additional tons of weight made up of pain and the resigned betrayal of a man doomed to scorch his own heart to cinders.

Rebekah had known months ago, the moment her back had crashed against the side of the car, when she'd recognized Elijah and saw the way he hovered in front of Elena like a guardian angel.

He might as well have covered the ground around Elena's feet in a rainbow of flower petals, it would have been less obvious.

Not that Elena was any better. Busy being torn between the two Salvatores and yet somehow still finding time to stare at Elijah like all the wind had just been knocked from her lungs, instead of Rebekah's.

They were honestly straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy. If she wasn't so angry at Elena for her first betrayal, Rebekah would almost have been fascinated by the oncoming trainwreck.

Because Elijah might not see it - busy thinking himself absent from the battle for the human girl's heart - but Rebekah certainly saw - unfortunately.

Elena was maybe entangled in the mess that was Stefan and Damon vying for the first spot for her hand right now. But not so busy as to not have her breath catch, and her heart flutter when someone so much as mentioned Elijah's name in her hearing.

Like Rebekah said that first time - pathetic, the both of them.

"I will do as I must," Elijah said, eyes clouded over with centuries of age "Our family means everything, always and forever."

Something cracked behind his eyes, and she felt the hatred Elena had inspired in her when she drove that dagger through Rebekah's back, doubling in intensity at seeing the breaks in the brother who had remained unbroken for a thousand years.

Rebekah was watching herself lose her brother, she realized with a sharp drop in her stomach. Whether Elena Gilbert lived through this day or not, Elijah would never forgive himself for what he was about to do.

Viciously, Rebekah hoped that Elena would be forced to face the ruin she'd made of her brother's heart.

But it was a vain hope. She knew her brother too well for that, Elijah's old oaths to his siblings meant he could not keep Elena safe this time, - would in fact, have to be the one placing her in harm's way - but he would not use his heartbreak to inspire more pain than he had to in her.

And suddenly Rebekah wasn't sure what drove her bloodthirst more.

That old petty wish for payback? Whatever deal Elena had made with their mother last night while protected behind the secret wall of a privacy spell? Or the oncoming loss of her older brother to his own foolish, foolish heart?

"She doesn't deserve you," she tried, frustrated and angry and terrified to her core.

"No, Rebekah," he disagreed and looked at her with eyes that for once, hid nothing, "if I am about to prove anything, it's that I will never deserve Elena."

#elejah #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #elejah fic #tvd fic #fanfic #otp: i remember reading that in a letter once #family: rebekah x elijah

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ghosts-bandwagon · 2 years

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Say When

A/n: I got a little carried away, but every time I’ve heard this song after getting into MW2, I couldn’t not think of Ghost. Tagging @flaneurpastel bc they asked to be tagged for Ghost content. Hope you like it! 👉🏻👈🏻

See you there

Don't know where you come from

Unaware the stare from someone

Don't appear to care that I saw you, and I want you too

When Ghost first saw you, it was from the back of the room. He watched as Laswell introduced you as the newest member of the team, strong, capable, reliable, efficient. Everything a soldier should be and more. He watched as your eyes coolly regarded everyone in the room, gaze flitting from one person to the next, mentally appraising them. He watched the gears turn in your head as your eyes finally landed on his peering at you through his balaclava.

What's your name? Because I have to know it

You let me in and begin to show it

We're terrified, because we're heading straight for it, might get it

Everything in him itched to approach you after the meeting, he didn’t care about your accomplishments as a soldier, he didn’t care that you were a lethal force all on your own, all he knew was that he wanted to know you. The impulse terrified him, and yet it thrilled him all the same. The lick of humanity that shot up his spine. Ghost settled for just watching your interactions with the team, your airy laugh when Soap said something ridiculous, your warm smile when Gaz started talking to you, your attentive eyes when Price commanded the room’s attention for a moment. And when the moment passed your eyes landed on him, and they held nothing but inquiry, understanding, respect, and knowledge. The knowledge that you were a goner as soon as you saw him.

Your favorite song plays on the background

All alone but you turn it up now

And everyone is rising to meet you, to greet you

You have yet to utter a word to him directly and suddenly he’s clinging off of every sound that passes your lips, every chuckle, every answer, every question, he wants to hear it all. As the meeting ends, everyone is standing to approach you. Price clapped your shoulder with a strong hand which you amazingly didn’t move an inch for, Gaz gently bumped your shoulder with his fist, Soap tucked you under his arm and ruffled your hair. And then they were gone. And it was just you and Ghost.

Turn around and you're walking toward me

I'm breaking down and you're breathing slowly

Say the word and I will be your man, your man

You look at him expectantly. Air full of waiting. And then you take it upon yourself to move. Your legs carry you right in front him, willing your lungs to remain even as your heart pounded in your throat. Ghost was no better. And he hated it. But, still, he loved the humanity of it. The humanness of his hands going clammy in his gloves, his throat going dry, and his mask becoming a touch too warm. And yet, he hated it. It left room for pain. Room for vulnerability. Worse yet, you reached across the chasm between you, arm outstretched, hand inviting his, and he took it. It was warm or maybe it was just him and you smiled at him, warm and radiant,

“I’m looking forward to working with you, sir.” The words poured from your mouth and it was like Aloe Vera on a sunburn, it soothed the scorch in his throat and raised the hackles of his heart all the same.

“Likewise.”

He’s worse than fucked. But if the widening of your eyes as soon as he spoke said anything, then you know that you were just as screwed as he was.

Say when

And my own two hands will comfort you

Tonight, tonight

Say when

And my own two arms will carry you

Tonight, tonight

Come close and even closer

We bring it in, but we go no further

We separate two ghosts in one mirror, no mirror

It’s been months since you were first introduced. So far you’ve gone on multiple missions together, and it was seamless. You really are as good as Laswell claimed. Laser focus and flexible. You mold around him so well, your awareness of him and his movements, planned or not, were nothing short of simply being his shadow. You fought together, trained together, and as time went on, you ate together, decompressed together, and suddenly where one went, the other would follow. It was unspoken, your understanding of one another.

When one needed space, the other would oblige. But occasionally, it was easy to tell when that requested space was a farce. A defense mechanism. And he’d barrel through it, not unlike the doors he’s kicked down with your eyes watching his six. He’d find you in your room, brim of your eyes red, your hues glossy with tears not yet spilled. You’re fretting about your room, documents in your hands as you insist on keeping yourself occupied. He knows you work through your anxiety by busting yourself, whether it’s cleaning, organizing, typing, working out, training, anything to focus that energy elsewhere.

“I told you I was fine, Ghost.” Your tone was exasperated, the tears dancing on your lashes threatening to fall out of sheer frustration,

“‘Course you are.” He shrugged, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed,

“Then?” You threw your arms in the air,

“Then, let’s grab a bite.” His words were casual and seemingly uncaring to an outsider, but he knew you haven’t eaten since you got back. He knew you haven’t been taking care of yourself the way you ought to. And he was calling you out. If you denied his request, he’d know you really weren’t alright, and the line of questioning would begin. And you really weren’t in the mood to play 20 questions, so you sighed. You relented and tossed the folder onto your desk and walked away with him.

Later on, if it turns to chaos

Hurricanes coming all around us

See the crack, pull it back

From the window, you stay low

Then the worst happened. Your stubborn ass decided to play by your own rules and now you were in enemy hands. Ghost was kicking himself harder than he ever had. It was stupid. He should’ve forced you out of there. It should’ve been him. You were at his six, as you always have been, your back against his with your gun pointed in front of you. You glanced to your left as you both walked down the empty hall, you caught the slightest glimpse of a red dot on his shoulder and your body moved before your mind could register the intent. With all your might, you shoved back against your lieutenant forcing him to stumble forward. He turned as quickly as he could, watching in abject horror as a bullet pierced your arm and you were tackled to the ground by the very men you were tasked to kill. You managed to wriggle free, with Ghost’s help. Help, being nearly ripping the men in half with his bare hands. He grabbed you by the straps of your vest and started running,

“Stay with me, Sergeant.”

“I’ve got their focus, Ghost, just go. Get the intel to the RV point and I’ll meet you there.”

“Negative.” You fucking idiot.

The one time he desperately needed you to listen, and you didn’t. You waited until he was through the doorway before you shoved him again, ignoring the white hot pain that seared your arm, and closed and locked the door behind him. It sent him into a rage. The synapses in his head going into overdrive, Ghost was telling him that you had a point and he needed to finish the mission but Simon wanted to rip the door off its hinges and bring you with him.

He cursed as he started running. Shouting into comms that you were on your own and about to be overrun. That was the last he’d see of you for a while. It made him nauseous to think about your smile, to recall your laughter that rang in his ears. That didn’t matter. The only thing that he cared about was bringing you home.

Say when

And my own two hands will comfort you

Tonight, tonight

Say when

And my own two arms will carry you

Tonight, tonight

Come across, you're lost and broken

You're coming to, you're slow and waking

You start to shake

Still haven't spoken, what happened?

He has you in his arms. Smaller than he’s ever seen you. He’s holding on so tight and so gently at the same time, willing the strength in his arms to be just enough to keep you against his chest without causing you further pain. Your small fist is curled against his heart, your head tucked into his chest, your breathing labored and your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so quiet, throat hoarse from crying, screaming, god he didn’t want to think about it.

“Stop it.” His grip tightened ever so slightly, new rage forcing bile to rise in his throat,

“Ghost, please, I-”

“That’ll do, sergeant.” He was short. His words clipped and cold. But you knew he was anything but.

I'm coming back and you just don't know when

You want to cry but there's nothing coming

They're gonna push until you give in, say when

Even now, sitting in the infirmary beside your bed, every bone in his body, every fiber of his being was telling him to run. To get the fuck out of here. He refused. He sat by your bed, watching your chest rise and fall steadily, eyes never leaving your closed ones. Watching to make sure the nightmares that would eventually plague you, wouldn’t do so on his watch. You seemed peaceful. He only got to watch you sleep a handful of times, usually only when he was taking the first watch. But even then, it was never a deep sleep. It was always light enough to be roused at a moment's notice. But now? Nothing could wake you. He was relieved in a sense but it didn’t help the lump in his throat when he’d hear you stir. The quietest whimpers, the lightest twitch of your fingers, the heavy breaths that’d leave your nose, it kicked him into overdrive. He crossed the distance in two steps and gently shook you, his heart breaking as you woke up with a flinch, hand flying to the one gently shaking your shoulder, eyes wide with fear and survival.

“‘S just me, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, sad, and unfamiliar in tone. Not like you didn’t look like a stranger to him either.

“I’m s-”

“You apologize one more time, and I’ll knock you out.” There was a light, tentative, humor in his voice, one that you desperately cling to,

“Right. Habit.” You chuckled weakly, the smile nowhere near touching your eyes, but you tried. And you’d keep trying for him.

“I know.”

The silence hung in the room as your heartbeat settled back to normal, your hand still on his as it rested on your shoulder. His touch was an anchor and a catalyst all the same, suddenly the tears sprung to your eyes, the knot in your throat tightening and bringing a bitter taste to your mouth. Your shoulders started to shake as you bit hard on your quivering lower lip,

“Ghost…” You choked on his name as the single syllable passed through your lips,

“I know.”

Now we're here and it turns to chaos

Hurricanes coming all around us

Another crack throws you back from the window

You stay low

All began with the man of country

Another plan sends another century

Around again another nation, fallen

He was furious when you volunteered yourself for a mission so soon after being cleared. Everything he swallowed down for your sake, every acidic thought that eroded his mind, came to life. And it made him sick. For fuck’s sake there’s no way you were this reckless.

“Ghost, I’m fine!” You argued throwing your things to the ground. You’d finally reached the safe house and you were both sore, exhausted, and run down. And it seemed like now he was finally ready to rip into you, you were trying to keep your voice level. Forcing every ounce of understanding to come forward, remembering every look he’s given you up to this point. He was blaming himself and he didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t know how to deal with the festering acid that had been bubbling for weeks since he brought you back. Since you first took that bullet for him.

“Why couldn’t you have listened?” He threw his own things down to the floor, eyes furious and searching yours,

“I was doing my fucking job, Ghost.” You were never afraid to push back, it’s what he admired most about you. Even if it brought you to trouble,

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” One of your hands ran over your hair, the anxious energy bubbling,

“You shut-”

“Don’t fucking ask me to stand by and watch you get shot.” Your eyes narrowed to slits as your chest touched his,

“Watch your tone, sergeant.” His voice was low, a warning growl, his chest was rising and falling as the anger pulsed in his veins, forcing his fists to clench and unclench at his sides. You caught the movement in the corner of your eye and straightened your shoulders,

“Whether you like it or not, whether you allow me to or not, I’ll always have your back. For that, I will never apologize.”

The rage went from a smoldering fire to a stream of ice going down his spine.

Don’t say that. Please, god, don’t fucking say that.

He raised his hand and gently placed it on your arm, his thumb gently stroking the area of the wound through the fabric of your shirt. The action seemed to smooth your edges as much as it did for him.

“I know.”

Any guy can be on both sides of a coin

Never understood why

Some of us never get a shoulder, shoulder

Some of this we kept with us

All of us will go out there

'Cause it never stops until we give in, give in

To give in, give in

After the mission was completed, he never left your side. He didn’t before but he especially didn’t now. He became your shadow as much as you were his. You’d find his eyes in the corner of the room, focused on you, he’d nod his head at you when you’d land a punch on a rookie during training, he’d back you up during briefings when you struggled to find your voice. He was your quiet support. Giving you the extra push to fully bring you back into the fold.

But that wouldn’t change the nightmares. It wouldn’t change the fact that you laid awake in bed until morning call, it wouldn’t change the fact that you’d prefer the comfort of the treadmill to that of your bed when you’d get bored of just laying there. He’d find you there. Eyes focused forward, chest heaving, as you sprinted with everything you had. He wanted to say something but he couldn’t. He’d be a hypocrite if he did. Still, he couldn’t stand to see you like this either. Dark circles under your eyes, skin pale, deep crescent moons in your hands where your nails met the skin of your palms.

You became aware of his presence and gracefully, albeit shakily, stepped off the treadmill once it slowed to a stop. He didn’t have to say anything, just jerk his head and he knew you’d follow after him. You did. Without question, you always would.

Say when

And my own two hands will comfort you

Tonight, tonight

Say when

And my own two arms will carry you

Tonight, tonight

Say when

And my own two hands will comfort you

Tonight, tonight.

You were in his room, sat on his bed with him sitting beside you, facing you. He waited, waited for you to find the words he knew you needed to say, waited for you to turn and face him. And you did. Like a compass, you’d always find a way to face him. Once again, his hands found your arms, and slowly they made their way up until they slotted perfectly at the crook of your neck. His massive hands cradling your head, gently bringing you closer until your foreheads touched. You could feel the heat of his breath through his mask,

“Ghost-” Your voice shook, your hands trembling as they came up to rest on the same spots on his neck. Tears welling in your eyes as looked into his, seeing only the softest part of him,

“Simon.”

Your eyes widened and the new knowledge seemed to encourage the tears to stream down your cheeks. You tested his name, once, twice, until it was a broken sob and you threw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck, clutching the fabric of his sweater in a white knuckle grip. His arms curled around you, bringing you in closer, his eyes closing as he committed to memory every dip and curve of you under his hands.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod one shot

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