#who's just some old guy you'd run into on the streets

[clanoffelidae]

my predictions for the ice ghost

arakie: -hits foot- OW FUCK-

lynx: this is so sad quancee play despacito

~~~

quiller: over two-thirds of the sealion people that you knew are now dead

lynx: NOT poggers :'(

~~~

arakie: time for your final exam. what is tik tok?

lynx: a song by ke$ha

arakie: you've done well. there is nothing left for me to teach you. my time has come. -disappears in a flurry of snow-

lynx: -playing a bad recorder version of 'my heart will go on'-

[signedkoko]

Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

[sungbeam]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

nonidol!kang yeosang x f!reader

yeosang doesn't remember your name, but he remembers what kissing you tastes like and how you like your eggs in the morning. just your regular prince charming trying to find his cinderella, or in this case, his passenger princess..?

9.5k (lord.....), nc-17, s2l, frateez au, college au, mentions of alcohol, swearing, kissing, humor, fluff, minimal angst, another cinderella story au/trope(?), drama (i bring i bring all the drama-ma-ma-ma), a girl who is not a girl's girl :l, the barest of proofreading

a/n: this is for the @atzhouse you can't outrage us event! guys if the flirting is lackluster, it's cuz im running out of rizz

“I don't believe you.”—

The last place you expected to end up was in the front seat of some guy's white Lexus while the party raged on inside the ATZ fraternity house just down the street. According to him, he had to run out just before the crowd rolled in, and when he got back, somebody had snatched his parking spot. 

—“Okay, but why don't you believe me?”—

The car smelled not like fresh leather, but an enchanting mixture of something like pine and smoked wood. Bitter, yet somehow, refreshing. You bet, even as the alcohol was hitting you, that it was what he smelled like. 

His name was Yeosang—the guy sitting next to you in the driver's seat, the owner of this car, and the ATZ fraternity brother you bumped into at his house's own party. That had been just about twenty minutes ago when you'd ended up isolated from your pack of friends, and Yeosang had needed a desperate breather. It seemed he'd been running from someone (question mark), so you asked if he knew where the kitchen was. Eager to get away from whoever it was, he guided you straight to the kitchen and where the secret stash of flavored sojus were. 

An offhand comment about wishing you didn't have to miss this one drama episode dropping tonight led to a longer conversation about the dramas you both enjoyed, which somehow landed you in his passenger seat. 

The rest was history. Or—you supposed the rest was now. 

“Because,” Yeosang said in a tone that sounded a lot like he was saying 'duh’, “you don't look like a biology major.”

He was gorgeous, even if the lighting in the party and out here was jack shit. The way the shadows cut across his face made him look like a faerie torn straight out of one of your old sketchbooks. You were half certain he had pointed ears beneath the cat-eared beanie he wore, but maybe that was just the alcohol doing its thing. 

You sputtered out a laugh as he knocked back another gulp of his melon soju. He was more drunk than you were, maybe not by too much because that wouldn't have been fair, but it did take him seven tries to unlock his car seven minutes ago. “What's a bio major s'posed to look like?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, lips pressed together in a line that dug into his cheeks. “Not you.”

It only made you laugh harder. It wasn't even that funny. “That doesn't even make sense!”

“Does it have to make sense?” He squawked. His face shuddered for a moment as if he just experienced a glitch. “I forgot what I was gonna say, but it's the vibe.”

“The vibe,” you parroted in mild amusement. After you swallowed down your next gulp of soju, you gestured to him with the bottle, “Okay, now what about you? Your major, go.”

“I read shit.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Jared, 19,” he replied, dead serious. 

Equally serious, you asked with wide eyes, “Really?”

He gave you an emphatic nod back. Really. Now, if you were a little less tipsy, you wouldn't have taken what he said at face value, but tonight was already miles away from your regularly scheduled program. 

You pondered on that—the “I read shit,” not the misfortunes of one nineteen year old named Jared. “So if you read a lot of shit, does that make you a literature major? No, wait! I got it; you look like Comparative Lit.”

“Bingo,” he cheered, raising his bottle up into the air. “Wait. What do you mean I look like a comparative lit major? What does a comp lit major even look like?”

“I dunno, but it’s you.” 

He pursed his lips into a deadpan at your callback to what he'd said before, and you merely stuck your tongue out at him like the mature adult you were. “Touché, my friend. Touché…”

Silence passed between you two for the first time since you met each other. In the distance, you could hear the muffled sounds of the party raging on. It wasn't that you didn't go to parties often; it was more so that you usually went to house parties hosted by friends or friends-of-a-friend. Making it all the way to Greek Row was not something you did every weekend, but a mutual friend—Chungha—knew the ATZ president and got you and your friends in. 

Nearly finished with his third bottle (or was it his fourth?...), Yeosang knocked the remainder down his throat with a grimace. With the empty bottle, he set it at his feet on the car floor to join another—the cup holders were already occupied with yours and his second rounds. The first was abandoned on the frat house lawn somewhere. 

“I think—” he slurred, blinking slowly at you like a cat, “—that you look like an artist.”

“An artist?” You parroted dumbly and felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “And why would you say that? Vibes?”

“Well, yes!”

You sputtered out a laugh at the way he said that. “Then yes, I am an artist,” you said, emphasizing the latter half of the word so it sounded like “teest” and not “tist.”

Yeosang gave a hoot. “I'm so good at this. Does that—does that mean you can paint me like one of your French girls?” He pulled his lips into an adorable, little smile, the back of his hand poised beneath his chin as he fluttered his lashes. 

“I don't think I could do you justice,” you admitted. There was a rather annoying buzz at the back of your brain that was distracting you. With a shake of your head, you refocused your gaze on him. “You're too pretty.”

He preened at the compliment, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his beanie. “Like calls to like then.”

“What does that mean?” Your buzzed-out brain couldn't compute—

“It means that prettiness is attracted to prettiness, and I'm attracted to you.”

You whined, burying your face in your hands. Yeosang giggled to himself, incredibly proud at making you flustered, his knees curling upward to kick his feet in the cramped space. “I don't like you.”

“You don't?” 

“No,” you raised your head up with a displeased frown, only to see that his eyes seemed to be twinkling with unrestrained happiness and something else. You weren't in the right state to hyper-analyze the way he looked at you, but it made your heart skip more than just a beat. “It's not fair that you're a literature major.”

“But I'm drunk,” he said innocently. 

“That's even worse!”

He grinned boyishly at you, bashfully stretching his limbs and then cupping the back of his neck with a hand. “What if I told you I'm minoring in math?”

You deadpanned. “I don't think that makes me feel any better. You rule both the realms of words and numbers.”

“It doesn't mean I'm good at math,” he guffawed, leaning back in his seat. “It's only there 'cause my mom's a math teacher, and having a math minor makes my parents feel better.”

That sounded familiar… awfully familiar. The thought made you sober a bit, and it seemed your counterpart wasn't so wasted that he didn't notice the shift either.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled nervously, “what'd I say?”

You waved your hand around dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm kind of the opposite—my bio major is sort of to appease my parents and the fine art minor is for my sanity.”

He pressed his lips into a line, nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So you don't… you're not happy? With what you're doing, I mean.”

Maybe it was the way he asked it, but it made the cogs in your head turn. You bit your lip. “I'm happy-ish. It's kind of a lot, but I'll survive.”

“'m sorry I upset you,” he pouted. “But,” he stammered, swallowing, “but I get it. My parents never wanna talk about my major anymore. Pretty sure they're just bitter and disappointed. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them.” 

You could tell that it affected him more than he wanted to admit. You wordlessly passed him your half-drunk bottle, and he gladly took a generous sip. When it was back in your hands, you guzzled down the remainder. 

The buzz was getting better. 

“Well, if they're not proud of you, I am,” you declared, setting the empty bottle at your feet. Your eyes blinked slowly for a moment as you got your bearings again. Maybe… maybe you should stop drinking! Yes, that would be the smart thing to do. 

Yeosang hummed. “Thanks,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gazed over at you from his side of the car. “I'm proud of you, too. You'll be happy one day; it'll always turn out okay, Yn-ie.”

Something warm and fuzzy settled in your chest, like a cat had just curled up there, purring and content. 

A thought suddenly popped into your head. “Yeosang, how do you like your eggs?”

He snorted and burst into laughter, coaxing a similar expression out of you. A moment later, you were trying your best to pout at him, “Hey! Don't laugh! I hear it's all the rage on the pick-up line scene.”

“You're trying to pick me up?” He giggled. All memories of the previous topic flew out the car window.

“Well, is it working?”

He licked his lips around a smile, leaning over the center console to rest his cheek against his fist. “Ask me again.”

You took another sip of your soju before returning it to its cupholder. “Okay. Yeosang, how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“However you'd like them.”

You deadpanned, and that only made him laugh louder. His head tilted back so you caught a glimpse of his canines, before he brought himself back down to Earth. His cheeks looked as flushed as you felt—even in the dim streetlight you could make out the blooms of peony pink across his cheekbones. “Yeo.”

He reached over to pat your head a couple times, though the sloppiness of his movements made it feel closer to two affectionate smacks. “Okay okay. Sorry. How about we say it at the same time?”

“Okay.” That wasn't a bad compromise. 

“Okay, one, two, three—”

“Sunny-side up,” you both said at once. 

Your eyes and his eyes widened at once, gasps of delight sounding into the quiet car. Could this guy be any more perfect?

“You're not bluffing?” You asked with narrowed eyes. 

Yeosang shook his head vigorously. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't lie to you, Yn-ie. Scout's honor,” he slurred, holding his hand up as if he was a boy scout. 

You giggled at the gesture, and he broke form to melt into an ooey gooey puddle of liquefied butterflies. For a moment, he just stared at you with a strange look on his face, one that you couldn't quite place when you were in this inebriated state. 

You chuckled, shifting your position when one leg started falling asleep. “What’s wr—?”

He leaned forward and—oh. Oh. Those were—his lips were on yours. He had leaned over the console and kissed you. He was kissing you. 

And when you didn't kiss him back, he drew backwards, an embarrassed expression painted over the adorable flush on his cheeks. “That—I shouldn't have done that, should I? I'm sorry; I dunno what I was—”

You crushed your mouth against his this time, effectively stealing the apology right off his tongue. He tasted like melon soju, and his touch was gentle as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, cradle your jaw. He was tracing the outline of your features in the dark like he could sketch them in the lines in his mind. 

He tasted like the color of amber, warm and bright, but not blindingly so. He was mellow and sweet, with the undertones of the burnt wood in his cologne. 

You melded your lips against his mouth like you could engrave him into you, and you were practically half over the middle console already. Yeosang's free hand fumbled backward to find the button on the side of his chair—there. The chair began moving backward with a monotonous brrr sound, and as it moved you couldn't quite keep your lips physically attached to his. 

You disconnected from him for what felt like an eternity in order to climb over—shoes knocking against empty soju bottles, ass nearly bumping the horn—and with some clumsy, awkward maneuvering, you were on him again, this time quite literally. You tumbled into his lap, his hands landing on either side of your waist and your hands bracing against the back of his chair.

He loosened a soft groan with the return of your lips to his, and he hauled you down closer to him, until your chests were pressed flush against one another and you couldn't tell which heartbeat was who's. His beanie fell off at some point, but your fingers buried themselves within the dark, silken mass of his hair, a hat in their own right. 

When you both pulled away for breath, your chests heaved in tandem to catch it. You settled your cheek against his shoulder while you inhaled the smell of his cologne, much stronger now that you sat against his chest with your nose by his throat. His hand warmed the small of your back with the other cupping the back of your head in an affectionate cradle. 

“I don't think I've ever kissed someone like that,” you admitted into the quiet. You suddenly couldn't hear the muffled music blasting from the party in the background anymore. 

“Me neither,” he replied, voice hoarse from the kiss. “I've never met someone like you before.”

“Never in your life?”

“Never in my life.”

“So let me get this straight,” drawled Wooyoung with both hands poised at his temples, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light coming in through the window. There were currently eight people crowded onto President Hongjoong's bed at a time that was far too early to be alive for a group of people who partied until four in the morning. “You're saying that you know this girl's family life, how she likes her eggs in the morning, and how she kisses—but you don't even know her name?”

Yeosang was propped up against the headboard, squeezed between a very unfairly serene-looking Seonghwa and a mildly hungover Hongjoong. Yeosang's bangs were flat against his forehead and he squinted his tired eyes through the strands. “No, that's not what I said. I said that I know her name… it's just not coming to me right now.”

He knew your name. Right? You told him your name, right? He addressed you by your name at least once last night, right? 

(If he was being honest, as soon as Yeosang woke up this morning, he started whimsically recalling the events of last night in his head. But once he realized he neither had your number nor remembered your name, he jostled his friends up to invade the president's room for an emergency round table discussion. Who would have guessed their alarm clock would be a very panicked Maltese screaming, “I DON'T REMEMBER HER NAME!”)

“Which pretty much means you don't know her name,” Jongho piped up where he was laying against Yunho's back on the corner of the bed, his eyes closed while he attempted to squeeze in five more milliseconds of sleep. 

“Well, do you know who she came with?” San asked. “She probably has at least one mutual friend or else she wouldn't have gotten in.”

Mingi furrowed his brows together. “Not necessarily. The pledges might not have been thorough when checking.”

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be there with them at the door, Mingi.”

“Oh, was I?”

Yunho cut in before Hongjoong could tackle Mingi off the bed. He grinned to himself, “Okay, but San has a point. Usually people are only able to sneak in if they're with a group.”

“Awh,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching over to pinch at Yeosang's cheek, “Yeosangie fell in love with a stowaway—ow! Hey! He just bit me!”

“Deserved,” Seonghwa said plainly. He turned his head so as to not have to face Wooyoung's wounded puppy eyes. It was too early for this. “Do you know if she came with anyone, Yeosang-ah?”

Yeosang scrunched his nose up, disgruntled. “No. I'm pretty sure she was looking for her friends when we met… something like that. I remember some things, but not everything.” He pinched the place between his brows in an attempt to piece together his memory of last night. He could remember the way you made him feel—it was the jittery warmth that came with falling, and his heart had never grown wings before like it had around you. 

After the kiss, the two of you had sunk into a comfortable, quiet conversation about anything and everything beneath the sun. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfortable and heard by someone other than his fraternity brothers. You were perfect, for lack of a better word. And he knew a lot of words. 

But how could he fucking forget your name? 

He was never drinking that much melon soju ever again. 

“She's a biology major,” he offered with a defeated sigh, letting his hand fall into his lap. 

“What does she look like?” Hongjoong asked. 

Yeosang's gaze went up to the ceiling as he recalled what you looked like to his friends. It was pretty dark the entire time he was with you, but there were a few moments when the streetlights hit your face and his conscience was constantly trying to keep his drunk ass from kissing you within the first ten minutes of meeting you. He'd managed to hold it together for a little bit longer before throwing all caution to the wind. 

When he was done, San said in light amusement, “I'm just surprised you kissed her first. She must be something then, huh?”

Yeosang couldn't conceal the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, she's…” He cleared his throat. “I just don't want last night to be the first and last time I see her.” It couldn't be—just when he thought he clicked with someone, the universe couldn't possibly be so cruel as to rip you away from him, could it?

“Don't you worry!” Mingi chirped, “We'll help you find your passenger princess.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Passenger princess? What is this, Cinderella?”

“It might as well be,” San chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Operation: Passenger Princess is a go!”

Yeosang wasn't sure if recruiting his friends’ help was a good or awful decision. But because his past, drunk self hadn't done many favors for his future, sober self, he would take all the help he could get. 

You knew the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom and saw your roommate that you were in trouble. It wasn't trouble in the conventional sense; considering her eyes were laughing as she watched your pitiful walk of shame from your room to the shared bathroom, you knew you were not going to hear the end of everything that happened last night ever. 

“Not a word,” you said to her as you winced at the blinding bathroom lights. 

Her toothbrush hung out of her mouth as she slipped in behind you to spit her toothpaste into the sink. When her mouth was rinsed and clear, she made eye contact with you in the mirror, eyebrows wagging up and down. “So you and Yeosang, huh?”

You glared at her from around your own toothbrush. You would have taken the damn thing out to defend yourself, but you were already late. 

Reina took full advantage of your occupied vocal chords. “I never knew pretty frat boys were your type, Yn,” she teased, practically floating out of the bathroom to go check on the state of her espresso in the kitchen. 

“Aye hae yuu,” you grumbled around your toothbrush. 

“What's that?” She cackled, bringing a hand up to the shell of her ear. “I love you? I love you, too, Yn. But you know who else loves you?—”

“Dompt shae it.”

“Yeosaaaang!” 

You loathed the fact that her saying such things made butterflies flap their wings and dance around in your belly. It was simply delusional to think of love when all you and Yeosang did last night was make out in his car and accompany each other in deep, provoking conversation… conversation that definitely didn't make you feel incredibly seen or anything… definitely not. 

Finally, you were able to spit your toothpaste out to make your argument. “Okay, first of all, I don't even have his number. And—how could he love me?” As if possession of a phone number could even correlate to love either.

Reina paused, her expression arranging into loud incredulity. “You what? After all I went through to separate the two of you to go home, you didn't exchange numbers?”

Okay, so maybe you shouldn't have disclosed that information—now you just looked stupid. 

You lathered up facial cleanser in your hands and on your face. “Look. Exchanging numbers was just the last thing on our minds—” Oh, Yn. Have you ever said something smart? 

Reina snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“We didn't just make out,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming beneath your hands. You furiously splashed cool water over your skin before patting your face dry. There likely wasn't much time left before you and Reina had to run to meet your other friends at your weekly volunteering session. “We talked.”

“Uh-huh, and you know that denial is a river in Egypt, right?”

Suffice to say that Reina most definitely did not let your shenanigans from last night go. The two of you managed to reach the food bank sometime before fifteen minutes past your original start time. Everyone else was already stationed and on time, and because you and Reina were the last to arrive, you were sent straight to dishwashing. 

As you and Reina pulled on your twin pairs of pink rubber gloves, your friend Mark Lee (and brother with the NCT fraternity) barrelled into the backroom with a dirty ladle in his hands. His head perked up at the sight of you both, a smile blooming on his face. “Well, good morning, Party Animals. How was the ATZ party last night?”

He deposited the ladle into the sink for you to wash while he went to go find a clean one. 

“It was cool, but I think Yn would love to tell you all about her experience,” Reina teased, bumping her elbow against your side. 

Mark sidled up beside the two of you and leaned in close in proper tea-spilling fashion. “Oh my gosh, did something happen?”

You scowled at Reina, then said to Mark, “Nothing catastrophic—”

“She hooked up with Yeosang!”

You cut her a hard glance. “Reina, I don't think Neptune heard you.”

Mark's eyes went comically wide, jaw slackening. “Yn and Yeosang? That's so wild. Like—like Kang Yeosang?”

“I think? We didn't exactly exchange last names, but why would it be wild? We just kissed and talked.”

“Who kissed who now?” The new voice had you all glancing back over to the kitchen door where another member of the group, Yura, walked in. Yura was Reina's cousin, and the two grew up quite close, so it was natural that they ended up in similar social circles. You and all your other friends got along pleasantly with her. She flashed you all a small smile. “From the sounds of it, I'm guessing you guys had a fun time at the party last night?”

“We did!” Reina chirped. 

“Shame you couldn't come with us this time,” you said offhandedly. It wasn't like Yura to miss a party. 

Reina cocked her head to the side. “I could've sworn I saw you there though—”

“Ah,” Yura waved her hand to dismiss her cousin's thought. She chuckled, “You're probably mistaking someone else as me; I had that paper I needed to work on last night, remember? But Yn, you and Yeosang?”

You groaned. “I thought we were over this.”

“Dude, we can't not get over this,” Mark quipped back. “Yeosang just doesn't do stuff like that—hook up with people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Yura chimed in, “I've seen him at a couple other Greek parties with some of my sorority friends and he looks pretty standoffish most of the time. He's usually always with one of his brothers. He's kind of cold, really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I wouldn't call him cold; he's just a little shy, is all.”

“My friends told me that a lot of sorority girls chase after him,” Yura said with wide eyes. “They get, like, aggressive about him or something.”

You and Reina exchanged a look. Was that who he was running from last night? “That must be kinda stressful,” you said softly with a small frown. 

“Apparently, that's why his social medias don't take DMs unless approved,” she shrugged. 

Well, there went your backup plan of finding him on social media. Then again, if he recognized you or your name, would that help if you requested him? That was if you deigned to change your profile picture to yourself and not one of your silly doodles. 

You couldn't help the weight that your heart seemed to gain as it sank to the pit of your stomach. 

“Well, that's mildly disappointing,” Reina muttered, turning to quickly wash the ladle Mark had just dropped off. 

“I just wouldn't want you to get targeted by any of those crazy sorority girls, y'know?” Yura gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. 

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I—I get it. Thanks, Yura.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Of course,” she said. With a wave, she made her way back toward the kitchen door. “Mark, we better get back to work. See you guys at lunch break!”

When she was gone, Mark clapped a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, listen. I don't really know the guy personally, but me and Wooyoung are pretty tight. I can get in touch with them if you want—”

Baekhyun, the section leader for your session, charged into the kitchen with his arm piled high with dirty dishes. If you didn’t fear for the safety of the porcelain bowl at the top of the stack, you might have chuckled at the scene before you. “Mark! We don't pay you to stand around.”

“Hyung,” Mark huffed exasperatedly as he rushed over to help Baekhyun before the section leader could get knocked over the head by a rogue dish assisted by gravity. “You don't pay us. We're here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Well, I don't get paid enough for this,” Baekhyun said once all the dishes were transferred to the sink, and you and Reina were put to work. “Now come on; lots to do!”

Just as Mark was about to follow after Baekhyun, he caught your eyes. “I'm serious about the offer, Yn.”

You smiled. “Thanks, man, but let me think about it and I'll get back to you.”

“Yeah, just lemme know!” And he was gone. 

Word broke out that someone in the ATZ household was searching for a girl. Word of mouth was a method of dissemination that could spread like wildfire, leaping from one tongue to one ear to another, leaving only ash and debris behind. And around Greek Row, it became a massive game of Telephone. 

But while nearly everyone in the university's fraternities and sororities knew about his strife, Yeosang’s efforts seemed to be for naught. The only thing that emerged from this were more people harping after him, claiming to be 'the one he was looking for.’ None of them were you. 

Your name had manifested itself in his head about halfway into the week. He'd been toiling over the theory readings his professor assigned for Thursday's lecture when he'd underlined a word, and it came crashing down upon him with ice cold clarity. 

His eyes went wide as he shot up out of his chair, nearly sending Jongho careening off his bed on the other side of the room. “What the—”

“Yn,” Yeosang said. Then he declared a little louder, a giddy smile on his face, triumphant and bright, “Her name is Yn.”

Jongho resettled himself on top of his bed. “Well that narrows things down for us,” he drawled, taking his phone out and typing something out. “I don't suppose you have her last name.”

Yeosang fwumped onto the edge of his bed with his lips pressed into a line. “Dude. I literally just thought of her first name. Do you really think I can come up with—”

“Okay, okay,” Jongho laughed, flicking his wrist at him for a moment before resuming his typing. 

“Who're you texting?” Yeosang asked as curiosity drew him across the room to Jongho's side. 

His friend sat up so he could peer over his shoulder at the phone screen. “I'm doing the heavy lifting,” he teased. Based on the social media handle at the top of the direct messages channel, Jongho was texting Chungha, a friend of the frat's but a closer friend of President Hongjoong's, and the recently graduated head of the Phi Omega Phi sorority. “Hongjoong hyung mentioned offhandedly that Chungha wanted to get some friends into the party on Friday, so I'm seeing if she recognizes this Yn person you're looking for.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows flicked upward as he settled into a more comfortable position on Jongho’s bed while they awaited Chungha’s response. In the meantime, he pulled out his own phone in an attempt to search for your name amongst his mutuals. He frowned at the lack of a successful search—did you use a different name or did you not have a social media account? Was that why you hadn’t attempted to contact him in the past few days?

For a moment, a shard of self-consciousness pierced through his chest at the prospect that you didn’t want to contact him. Did sobriety make you embarrassed at what happened that night? Had he made you uncomfortable with the amount of vulnerability that was in the car—no, the vulnerability was mutual… but maybe—

“Gotcha.” 

Yeosang’s head whipped back over to Jongho’s screen. Having your name and major seemed to ring a bell for Chungha, and she forwarded a social media handle, along with a “tell Yeosang good luck ;)”. 

“Thank you, Jongho. And bless up, Chungha,” Yeosang muttered as he swiftly input the social media handle into his search bar. There it was—a private art account with your first name in the biography line. There were only one or two people who you both shared mutuals with, which made sense. 

His thumb hovered over the request button, and he bit his lip. With little else left to do and his heart banging around in his ribs from the anticipation alone, he clicked the button. 

It didn’t take you incredibly long to accept his follow request and to follow him back. (Though, half an hour felt like an eternity when he was so anxious.) He made it painfully obvious that you acted in response, because Yeosang fumbled his phone between his palms like it was a hot potato, before he dropped it and stubbed his toe with it. 

Jongho sent him a strange look as he handed the device back to a red-faced Yeosang, who furrowed his brows together to think of an opening direct message to you. 

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Jongho said as he peered over Yeosang's shoulder this time. He had even paused the game he was playing on his phone to stay tuned into the live entertainment. 

Yeosang made a face. “Yes, it does.” It had to be the perfect mix of witty and funny and subtle and—

He figured it out. 

@/yskang99: how do u like ur eggs?

Jongho released a sound of utter flabbergast, and Yeosang shushed him, both pairs of eyes pinned to the three dots that appeared on the bottom left-hand side of the screen. 

@/studioyn: sunny side up

Yeosang broke into a smile, and Jongho's face contorted into pure incredulity. “What kind of security question is that?”

“Inside joke,” Yeosang replied giddily, rising from Jongho's bed to cross over to his side of the room. He collapsed into his desk chair and propped his feet up along the end of his bed. 

Jongho scoffed, shifting his lounging position. He threw his friend another incredulous glance before giving up and returning to his game. He'd done his job. 

@/yskang99: congrats u passed the test!

@/studioyn: ahh so that was a test? i imagined us doing a virtual handshake tbh

@/yskang99: i like that better actually

@/studioyn: also how did u find me lmao

Yeosang bit his lip through a grin. I have my ways, he typed out cryptically, cheekily. 

@/studioyn: wtvr u say ig… 🤨🤨🤨

For a brief moment, Yeosang wondered if he should bring up the concern lingering in his mind—why you hadn't reached out to him. He didn't want to simply assume that he was “popular” enough that just anybody knew who he was, but he was also aware that most people were able to track him down on social media. But would that kill the vibe? He liked the energy. 

@/studioyn: i can't get a read on whether or not ur any different than how u were drunk 

@/yskang99: would that matter?

@/studioyn: not particularly, no, but i've met people who r

@/yskang99: no i get that, i've met my fair share too :/ 

He began typing out slowly: I missed you… Then he swiftly amended it to: I missed talking to you. 

@/studioyn: awhh wait ik we've only technically spoken the one time, but i missed talking to u too yeo :’)

A smile split his face from ear to ear. Would you wanna hang out again? Only if you're comfortable, of course. 

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. You were thinking and his heart was sinking.

Finally, your response came in. I'd love to, but I don't wanna disappoint you with my god awful schedule this next week. 

@/yskang99: what abt the weekend? something low stakes maybe?

@/yskang99: my brothers and i r going to the nct house on sat

@/studioyn: oh!! im actually close friends w mark lee :] i'll see if i can drag my friends along, and we can link up there?

The thought of seeing you again, even if it was at another dumb Greek party, made electricity zip through his veins. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, and he had to shift his position because of how much it tickled. 

@/yskang99: yeah sounds great :D i'll look forward to seeing u

@/studioyn: same here yeo :’))

@/studioyn: how's ur week been so far? 

Yeosang leaned back in his chair again, propping his elbows on the armrests to sink into a comfortable position. He had a feeling he might be here awhile, but he would sit here all night if it meant talking to you. 

“Yn! We're gonna be late!” 

You nearly jolted at the sound of Reina's voice carrying through the other side of your bedroom door. You dropped your phone onto your bed, racing to finish up the rest of your makeup. “You can never be late to a Greek party!” You countered, swiping your thumb over the pigment you just put on your lips. 

Your bedroom door opened just as you were slipping a chain necklace around your collar. Reina poked her head in, her eyes looking you up and down. “Ooh-la-la,” she gushed with a teasing smile. “Someone's gotten all dolled up. I wonder who for…”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the obvious warmth rising to your face. “I just felt like it,” you defended weakly while spritzing a light mist of perfume over your neck and wrists. You stood up from your desk to collect your wallet, keys, and lip gloss to dump into a purse, then went over to retrieve your phone. 

The screen displayed another message from Yeosang, no doubt continuing the conversation you had to abruptly pause because you would be late for the NCT party. This was going to be the second Greek party in two weeks—a record for your books. But you had a feeling it was going to be a good time like last week, you were sure of it. 

As you skimmed the message Yeosang sent, you slipped out of the room to join Reina in the main living space. She casted you a pointed look with arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed together. 

“What?” You blinked over at her innocently. 

“You're never gonna see your boy at this rate,” she said as the two of you picked out your shoes for the night. 

You sent a text answering Yeosang and letting him know you would be at the party soon. “He's not 'my boy,’” you said. 

“Right. He's your man.”

You hated how hard it was to keep the giggle in your throat down. It was embarrassing how you smiled just then, too, turning your head away from a smug Reina. 

God, he was just a guy; how did you get so head-over-heels after just one night? It had to be the fact that you'd been texting him nonstop over the past few days. Though you were busy and exhausted, you continued to check your phone all throughout the days and stayed up long into the nights just to talk to him. He had you hook, line, and sinker. 

At some point, you'd forgotten what Yura warned you about on Saturday. 

Your friends picked you and Reina up in one of their family minivans. A round of greetings went up as you clambered in behind Reina, and your friend asked where her cousin was tonight if she wasn't carpooling with the rest of you. 

“She said she was at her sorority friend's house,” Sieun said offhandedly from the driver's seat. The minivan door closed on its own with a mechanical whirring sound. “She's probably at the party already.”

Some nights, parties called for a pregame session, while others (not unlike this one) was attacked raw. Sieun parked the minivan about a block outside of Greek row where there were spaces between cars along the curbs and where there was less of a chance of her accidentally running over a drunk partygoer stumbling into the street. The party was already in full swing with neon green strobe lights blazing aggressively through the front windows, and Gasolina blasting at nothing less than one hundred percent speaker volume. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your hand as Reina grabbed your hand to avoid instantly losing you in the crowd. 

@/yskang99: im on the second floor where there's less people 😋😋 they've got a nice balcony we can hide on!!

“Mark said they've got spiked Capri Sun somewhere in here!” Reina shouted into your ear. 

You nodded your head vigorously. “Let's find it then!”

@/studioyn: gonna grab hard caprisun and then head up!! do u want some??

@/yskang99: surprise me w a flavor, pretty pls x

You grinned to yourself and slid your phone into your purse to focus on the task at hand. 

The NCT fraternity house wasn't a completely unknown landscape to you and Reina. Being friends with one of its brothers and friends-by-association with all the rest, you'd popped by more than a few times. You could likely navigate this house with your eyes closed; that was what it was like weaving through the dark rooms and throngs of people squeezed together like sardines in a can, anyway. 

Along yours and Reina's trek to the kitchen, you gained a couple people in your conga line of linked hands, NCT's own Xiaojun and Jungwoo. NCT frat brothers always pregamed, so the two brothers were already tipsy and giggled about your kindergarten field trip line (with Reina being dubbed the poor kindergarten teacher tasked with keeping you together). 

When you arrived at your destination, it didn't take long for you to lose both Xiaojun and Jungwoo to the game of Texas Hold 'Em being played at the breakfast table. The singular lightbulb overheard made it feel like a smoke-filled backdoor gambling den. 

“Aha!” You cheered after playing a game of mystery cooler roulette, and opened the cooler lid that held the spiked Capri Sun juice pouches on ice. 

“Mine!” Reina snatched up the last cherry flavored one, the shiny aluminum slippery and ice-cold as she impaled the opening with the thin, yellow straw. 

You grabbed a Pacific Cooler flavored pouch for yourself, and a second for Yeosang. 

“Ah, is that for the man of your dreams?” Reina said between sips, her pouch already half empty. 

You sent her a look. “He has good taste, which means he'll probably appreciate Pacific Cooler as much as I do.”

“As long as it's not lemonade,” came a voice to your left. There stood a rather tall and lean man, his warm smile enunciated by the dim kitchen lighting as the green strobe lights from the living room painted across his face. “I can't deal with sour shit,” he explained, making a face. 

You laughed. “That's valid. Fruit Punch is a classic though.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, leaning down to pick his poison for the night. He stabbed a straw into his pouch of strawberry kiwi juice, then arched an eyebrow at you. “I feel like I know you. Do I know you?”

“Hey,” Reina chimed in as she leaned over your shoulder, “you're with the ATZ frat, aren't you? I recognize you from Twister last week.”

He smiled sheepishly from around his straw. “Ah… haha, not my best moment, but yes. I'm Yunho.”

“Reina,” your friend replied. 

“Yn,” you added on. 

Yunho's expression jerked as if he'd just been delivered an electric shock. He waved his pointer finger at you. “Oh my god, you're Yeosang's girl!”

Your eyes shuddered in surprise. Yeosang's girl. “Sorry?” You stammered. There was an insane amount of possessive pronouns being used tonight, buy you definitely weren't complaining about it, and could he perhaps say that again—

“Yeah, he won't shut up about you.” Yunho slurped up the rest of his juice pouch, draining and flattening the life out of it in record time. “He loves Pacific Cooler, by the way.”

He took his leave then, saying nothing else to you and Reina except for shooting you a pair of finger guns like saying 'go get em, tiger!’

Reina wheezed, draping herself over you for a moment. “Oh—my god! Good thing Yeosang's just as down in the trenches as you are.”

“Don't do this to me, Reina,” you whined and dragged her along out of the kitchen toward the second floor staircase. “I don't need encouragement; the crush is enough!”

“It's never enough,” she declared with her pointer finger up in the sky. “You are gone, my friend! Gone, I say.”

You patted her head as you both began your ascent up the stairs. “Alrighty; then gone, I am. Do you remember where the balcony is on this floor?”

She hummed. “Ooh! Somewhere by Johnjae's room, abouts. I just remember because Mark told us how—”

“Right—the sophomore year Romeo and Juliet reenactment,” you snorted. You couldn't wrap your head around the batshit crazy things that occurred around these parts. “Who convinced Doyoung to play Paris anyway?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “Must've been bribed—oh, there it is, but I think there's a couple out there already…”

There was most definitely a couple on the balcony. Their outlines were silhouettes against the residual strobe lights shining up from downstairs, so it was a little too dark to make out who they were. They seemed close—the girl was all over the boy, the latter trying to hold her up by her waist. Maybe she'd had too much to drink, and for a moment, you were glad someone was taking care of her. 

But when she leaned in for a kiss, green light glanced across their faces to reveal their features to you. It was only a split second, but it was all you needed. 

“Reina,” you exhaled in shock, turning away from the balcony with enough speed to nearly give you whiplash. 

She didn't question you, as you both careened back down the hall from where you came from, heading for one of the open bedrooms on this floor to collect yourselves. When the two of you were out of earshot of the balcony, she hissed under her breath in utter disbelief, “Yura?”

You'd seen it nearly clear as day, too. That was Yura kissing Yeosang. 

Your head spun as you shouldered your way into Mark's and Haechan's room, their names plastered on the door in foam letter stickers from the craft store. As Reina closed the door and turned on the lights, you sat down in Mark's desk chair attempting to make sense of what you and Reina just witnessed. 

Yeosang and Yura? But wasn't Yura the one who warned you that chasing after Yeosang was a risk because of how many others were, as well? Why would… 

Oh. 

Well, now you just felt stupid. 

Reina dragged over Haechan's desk chair to settle in front of you, her expression less enraged than before, and more concerned over what she was reading off of your face. “Hey, don't do that. Don't think like that.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking,” you murmured, setting the untouched juice pouches on the desk. 

“You're thinking that you're stupid.” 

“Okay, maybe you do know what I'm thinking.” You inhaled, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward onto your knees. “I don't really know what to think or assume.”

Reina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That's okay. I don't think I really understand what I saw either.”

“But that was Yura, right?”

She bobbed her head again. “That was my cousin, yeah.”

“Would it be fair to even think that she told me all that shit last week to discourage me from seeing him?” You didn't enjoy thinking that another person would have such malicious intentions without understanding their point of view, especially someone you considered yourself friends with. 

“Well,” Reina drawled, “I think we both saw what we saw, and Yura was acting strangely about it on Saturday. It would be fair if you were hurt by it; I think your feelings have been clear.”

You gave a small nod. “Do you think he…?”

“I'm not sure, hon.” 

You resolved to talk to him about it. If anything, you had these juice pouches left to console yourself, but you wanted to make sure you knew where his feelings laid. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't harbor even a glimmer of hope that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the kiss was an accident and didn't matter. 

You and Reina left the relative safety of Mark and Haechan's bedroom to go find Yeosang. There weren't any new messages between either of you since the Capri Sun exchange, and you thought about texting him on his whereabouts. 

The balcony by Johnny and Jaehyun's room was empty now, barren of any evidence somebody was there in the first place. 

You and Reina wandered back down to the main floor. The party was nowhere near over; the night was still young. Hope was sinking fast in your stomach as the two of you traveled from room to room in search of him, but with no luck. Even asking around was useless. 

“Text him,” Reina encouraged, as the two of you sipped on the juice pouches that were supposed to be for you and him. 

She held your spiked juice while you texted him. 

As time passed, and a response had yet to come through, you tossed yours and Reina's flattened Capri Sun pouches into the nearest garbage can.

If he wasn't going to answer, then maybe you would just go home for the night. You had a lot to think about. 

Defeated, you let Reina sweep you under her arm and guide you to the front door. “Let's go home, hm?” She said, rubbing your shoulder. 

On your way to the front door, you paused. You thought you heard someone calling your name—

You turned around to find Mark barreling toward you through the crowd with another guy at his side. “Mark?” You shouted over the music. 

“Hey, we've been looking all over for you,” he said. Nodding to his friend, he told you, “This is Wooyoung, by the way, the ATZ brother I'm friends with.”

“Yeosang's been looking for you,” Wooyoung said in earnest, eyes as wide as Mark's. Had they been looking for you as much as you were looking for Yeosang?

Something like hope sparked in your chest again—you were at odds. The fight had nearly dissipated from your blood and you were ready to go home. But if he was trying to find you… it must be worth it then, right?

“Where is he?” You asked. 

It was nearing midnight by the time you settled yourself on the concrete curb outside the ATZ frat house just down the block from the target being thrown at the NCT house. With everyone over there, no wonder it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think. With the coming of deep autumn, a slight breeze wafted by that drifted over your skin and raised goosebumps on your arms. 

You heard gravel crunching from behind you, coming down the ATZ driveway, and before you could turn your head to look, a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. You held your breath, fingers finding the lapel to keep it from slipping as you glanced over at your counterpart. 

Yeosang lowered himself onto the curb next to you, mimicking your position with his knees bent and arms resting upon them. “I—my phone died,” he said lowly. 

“Oh.” That took care of at least two of your questions. 

“Is there—” He stopped himself, amending his statement, “There's something on your mind.”

Understatement of the century. You pulled his jacket around you, the intertwining scents of alcohol and his cologne lingering on the collar. “I was going to meet you at the balcony, and I was there, but… but I saw you and Yura, and…”

It was his turn to say “oh.” He angled his body toward you now until his knees bumped against yours and he was muttering out an apology he didn't need to say. He laid his upper body over his arms that were folded onto his knees and peered up at you through lengthy lashes.

He was waiting for you to finish. 

You swallowed, following his lead and turning your body toward him. “I saw her kiss you,” you said, the sound barely audible to anybody but you and him. “Reina and I went somewhere to kind of just soak in what we saw, and then we went back out to find you so I could talk to you about it, but we couldn't find you.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed together. “It—it didn't mean anything. She did try to kiss me, but I pushed her away before she could.”

You believed him. You loosened a small chuckle from your lips. “Y'know, it sounds silly to me now, but last week she told me that there were a number of girls who were pursing you and were very aggressive about it.”

He snorted. “If there were any, I only know of one.”

“She…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, lips pursing. “I know she's liked me for a while, but I've made it clear I don't see her the same way. At last Friday's party, I was actually trying to lose her in the crowd when I found you.”

Your eyes widened. “So she was there?” Then Reina had actually seen her cousin at the party; Yura had lied about where she was. 

“She told me tonight that she was scared about me liking you more than her,” Yeosang said as he lifted his body back up to rest his cheek against his fist. “She was really drunk—which was why you probably saw me trying to hold her up—and then she… tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, and one of her friends found us, so I handed her over and went to get some air.”

And that was why you couldn't find him. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. “Are you—are you okay? I'm so sorry she did that to you.” 

The corners of his lips tugged upward in a reassuring smile. “I'm alright, thank you. And it's not your fault.”

“I know, but still,” you insisted. “Your boundaries were violated, and it makes me feel so icky that I've called her a friend of mine, and—what?” 

Your words came to a screeching halt when you realized that Yeosang was just smiling at you. Or rather, gazing at you, admiring you. It was whatever he did whenever his eyes possessed a set of twin jewels in his irises that needed no light to glitter like gold; and when his grin softened at the corners by a tenderness that knocked the wind out of you, all words and systems failed you. 

You recognized this look, except this time, you weren't drunk. 

“I'm really happy I met you,” he said in your silence. “And I'm happy I got to see you again.”

You nearly melted. You smiled back at him, replying quietly, “Couldn’t have said it any better. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“And thank you for believing me.” He reached for your hand, his movements slow as if giving you an opening to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't, and you closed the remaining space to link your fingers and press your palms together. 

You and Yeosang shared mutual smiles in the dim lighting outside his fraternity house. Your heart beat had quickened a considerable amount now that he was so close to you again. 

You cleared your throat. "Just to be clear though—when you said she was scared about you liking me more than her—?"

His smile reached his eyes and turned them into upturned crescent moons. "I'm not scared," he said, "that I like you more than I have ever liked her." By a landslide.

Your heart gave a lurch in your chest. "Good," you smiled. "That's good, because I like you a whole lot, too."

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yeosang inclined his chin toward where his car was parked a couple vehicles down. “Properly this time, now that we're not completely wasted?”

You laughed. “I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, he helped you to your feet. You must have stood up far too quickly though, because the blood rushed up to your head in a riptide current. You swore as the vertigo hit you, and your footing stumbled. 

“Woah, careful there, pretty,” he murmured, his low voice by your ear as he steadied you with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other around your waist. 

Oh, there went your heart… it flew up to halo around Yeosang's head, and it wasn't yours anymore—

“You okay?” He mused. 

You cleared your throat, straightening. “Yeah, I'm great,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head toward your chest. 

A warm, fond chuckle left his mouth. “Cute,” he murmured. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, his eyes darting down toward your mouth, and yours mirroring his movements. “I was wondering…”

“You can kiss me,” you blurted out, ignoring the utter leap in your pulse and the heat crawling up the back of your neck. 

You tasted his smile as he leaned over to seal his mouth over your own, a long awaited return to the place that felt just right. You breathed him in, inhaled him, devoured him whole—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer just as his hands pressed you flush against him. 

In the distance against the heavy house music in the background, a cheer went up into the night sky. 

You and Yeosang parted only to crane your heads in the direction of the noise, only to find what looked like a gathering of your friends and his friends hooting and applauding like it was New Years. 

“OPERATION: PASSENGER PRINCESS WINS!” The guy from earlier, Wooyoung, practically howled up at the sky. 

You pressed your face against Yeosang's shoulder as he groaned. “I am so sorry about them,” he chuckled through a grimace, lips grazing over your crown. 

You laughed along with him. “My friends are also among the guilty party, Yeo.” 

He kept his arm around your waist and you kept your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked away from your friends and toward his car. Contentment curled itself up over your chest again, and it nestled in deep, as if it planned to stay awhile. 

“By the way,” you piped up as he unlocked his car. 

“Mhm?”

You opened the passenger side door and leaned over the top of it to ask, “What the hell is Operation: Passenger Princess?” 

Yeosang sputtered out a laugh and his cheekbones burned red. “How about we save that for our third date?”

You blinked, lips parting. 

Yeosang grinned impishly. “Close that mouth, pretty, or I'll close it for you.”

Your jaw snapped closed, and his laugh echoed against the houses along this street. You climbed into the car after him, flustered beyond words. “I don't like you,” was all you could come up with. 

“I'm sure you don't.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed! also, the plan is to try and write another wooyo frat au as well, so pray for me...

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @empire-x @kflixnet @atzhouse @cromernet

[cheriladycl01]

Hey! Your fics are amazing. I couldn't see if you were taking requests but if you are would you be comfortable writing a Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!Reader maybe where the reader is obviously a Leclerc sibling and has known Pierre for years and have also been dating for years and the brothers find out and are not happy about it.

Thank you and keep up the amazing writing!

🐨

You are royally fucked - Pierre Gasly x Leclerc! Reader

Plot: Y/N Leclerc grew up attached to her brothers, being a twin to Arthur and looking up to Charles and Lorenzo meant that you'd always been extremely close to your brothers and you travelled round the world with two of them as much as you could, but your brothers weren't the only reason why you attended races when you got older.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get round to it!

You'd know Pierre since 2010 when you and Arthur followed Charles to karting. Arthur was obsessed as much as his older brother over cars and so all three would kart.

You and Arthur were in the same division but still followed Charles to the higher levels too see him perform which is how you met Pierre.

You were 10 and he was 14, just a kid where you had a crush on your older brothers friend.

It was stupid and went away with time as Pierre was just someone kind to you when you were around your brothers. You saw him every race weekend. You'd bring him cookies you'd baked and he'd bring you a charm for your bracelet which he got you another one off on your 13th birthday as there were too many.

As you got older karting yourself became less and less of an interest and you only would show up to watch your bothers. Arthur continued on like Charles through the feeder series.

But as Charles progressed he became more and more absent. You weren't allowed to travel across the world with Charles unless your parents or Lorenzo were there too look after you, and you started to miss your brother more and more until it took a toll on you.

You started acting up, not going to school and it put a strain on your relationships with all of your family.

Charles wasn't around enough to see it but the rest of your family did.

When Charles finally got to F2, your mum promised you could go more, and it was great until your dad got sick and he couldn't travel anymore.

You were angry, not at anyone in particular but at the world for everything it was throwing at you. And you tried to run away, you ended up outside the casino in Monte Carlo, lost and upset.

It was actually Lewis Hamilton who found you, he couldn't comprehend why this 16 year old girl was alone in the streets of Monaco. You guys talked for ages and he convinced you to go home, you parents were so angry with you they grounded you and you were banned from going to any of Charles races.

Then your dad passed away, and you were devastated and were even more angry. You were 16 and had so much hate for the world, Arthur, Lorenzo and Pascale had no idea what to do with you. So they sent you to boarding school for a year until you were 18 and could make up your own mind.

While you were there you clicked with a group of people who all were influencers of some sort, and having Charles as a brother and him being announced into F1 for 2018 it wasn't hard to accumulate a following.

You stayed in the UK until you were 21, all you friends from boarding school went to university so you decided you'd stay with them and get a degree. Despite missing lots of school you were actually a very smart girl and had excellent grades.

Once you were 18, Arthur started to invite you to more of his races. And Lorenzo and your mum were always asking for you to come home... but your Charlie still hadn't realized everything you'd been through.

It wasn't until his 24rd birthday you saw Charlie properly. He noticed how different you were, you weren't the 16 year old he left all those years ago. He just pulled you into a massive hug and it didn't seem like the time to unload everything on him.

You saw Lewis that night, and he recognized you right away coming over and laughing about how he didn't think you'd end up being his competitions little sister when he helped you out all those years ago.

Then, you saw him ...

Pierre and that was night everything changed.

"Pierre?" you asked looking over the taller male, smiling softly not having seen his face in person for a while.

"Y/N?" he asks in shock, cocking his head to the side.

"The one and only" you grin and he just stares, still shell shocked about your presence.

"I haven't seen you for years!" he says pulling you into a tight hug that you melt into, his big arms encasing around you and making you feel safe.

"Where have you been?" he asks, looking over you face.

"Argh i just obviously got so sick of seeing you and Charlie all the time!" you smirk, taking a sip of the Negroni in your hand.

"Mmmmm, and to think. I thought you used to have a crush on me" he chuckles looking down and laughing.

The few drinks you'd had brought for you by your brother and all the drivers who recognized you had got to that confident place in your mind.

"Oh i did, hard core" you say with a straight face making him squint his eyes at you seeing if you were telling the truth.

"You sound ... different" he offers leaning in and tucking some hair behind your ear. If Pierre was being honest he'd never seen you as anything but a little sister, that was how he treated you when you guys were younger.

He didn't know if it was the club lights, the alcohol, your changed accent and looks, or a mix of all of them but he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world for him.

And you noticed.

"That's what years of schooling in the UK will do for you and having friends who love to take the mick when you butcher the pronunciation of something" you giggle.

"You still sound Monegasque though" he grins, still hearing that twang.

The rest of the conversation was history as you went back to Pierre's hotel room, spending the night with him.

At this point you'd been dating Pierre for 4 years. Everyone noticed since 2021 how much more common your appearance in the garage was. Obviously your twin was there as a development driver for Ferrari, and Charles as a Ferrari driver also meant that people knew you were there for your brothers.

But little did they know you were sneaking off to the Alpine garage in search or your boyfriend.

“Hey baby” you grinned to Pierre, happy to see his face and plant kisses all over it.

“Ahhhh, how are you cherie” he mumbles into your neck. 2024 hadn’t been a great season for Alpine, and 2025 hadn’t started off great either. So you being there in the garage to cheer him up or calm him down was a must.

Charles never really questioned where you left too, he assumed it was to see Logan and Oscar who would often be found teasing Arthur all still being relatively close from their F2 days in Prema.

“Im good, just a little tired” you smile cuddling up to him on the little sofa in his drivers room.

“Mmmmm” he says and he seems like he isn’t fully there with you.

“What’s wrong, somethings on your mind” you ask, looking over him.

“I’ve been thinking” he says looking down at you.

“That’s never good” you joke but his face tells you that this will be a pretty serious conversation. One that you could tell had been playing on his mind.

"What is it what's wrong?" you ask, taking his hand in your own.

"We need to tell your family soon... it's been 4 years of being a secret and I want to show you off. I want to be able to take you out for a nice dinner in public and not fear getting caught. I want you to move in with me, and I just think it's time we tell them!" he admits, all very quickly and he watches as you take the time to process what he has just admitted.

"You want to tell my brothers?" you ask making sure you weren't jumping the gun.

"Yes, I cant help but feel ... guilty is not the right word but do you get what i mean?" he asks and you nod.

"Yeah, why don't I ask maman... she can make us a nice dinner tonight after the race and I'll say I'm bringing my boyfriend?" you smile and he nods.

You walk away to call your mum, leaving Pierre to leave his drivers room and walk to the garage where he would be starting the race soon.

"Maman?" you ask into the phone as it connects.

"Y/N darling where are you. We've all been in the garage waiting for you!" you hear in French and you chuckle.

"I've been, somewhere else. Maman i need to ask you something!" you ask as you exit the Alpine hospitality, trying to go as unnoticed as possible.

"What is it?" she asks, concern washing over her voice.

"I want to introduce you all to my boyfriend tonight..." you say although it comes out as more of a question that anything.

"WHAT?" she yells down the phone and you visibly cringe.

"Y/N Leclerc, get back to the Ferrari garage now!" she chides before hanging up the phone making you bite your lip anxiously.

You walk back to Ferrari as slowly as possible not wanting to feel that wrath of your mother who has probably already told Lorenzo and Arthur.

"Hey..." you say awkwardly as you go to where they are sat in the garage with all their headphones on.

"You have a boyfriend?" Lorenzo asks

"And you didn't tell me... us i mean!" Arthur cries out as Lorenzo elbow his side hearing him talk about himself.

"Maman! You told them!" you exclaim, not in shock as it was highly likely she would spill the beans to your brothers, but more in frustration that she did.

"Y/N! Why would you not tell your family about this... how long has this relationship been for?" your mum asks making you bite your lip and look down.

"4 years" you mumble and you mother huffs asking you to speak up before you say it in French, turning away not wanting to see their reactions.

"You've been with a man for 4 years and not told any of us! Not even Arthur! You tell everything to your twin!" You mum exclaims in shock.

"Obviously not everything ..." Arthur says sounding really upset before walking off, making tears fill in your eyes.

"I'm, we're ... happy for you. Really! But you know we worry about you... especially Charles. I dread to think how he's going to react when we tell him!" he laughs.

It was just you and Lorenzo right now, your mum having gone off to find Arthur.

"Loz, can i tell you something that you cant tell anyone?" you ask looking at him. Your oldest brother was always the best at knowing when you really really wanted his attention and that it was something serious.

"Go on!" he says, looking over you.

"You promise you wont say anything!" you look over at him and he nods, holding up his pinky which you swiftly take with your pinky too.

"I promise!" he sighs.

"It's Pierre" you blurt out, an eyebrow of Lorenzo's raising.

"What's Pierre?" he asks.

"The person who I'm dating... it's Pierre!" you admit and his eyes widen.

"Oh... you are royally fucked!"

And that you were. When Pierre entered the house all hell broke loose. Charles was yelling, Arthur too, Lorenzo was trying to calm everyone down. Maman was being quiet just watching the chaos erupt. Alex and Charlotte didn't know what to do. Pierre was just listening to everything that Charles was yelling at him.

It wasn't until you started sobbing that Charles stopped and looked over at you.

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that!" he exclaims looking over between you and Pierre.

"I guess I'm just shocked... we were all friends and I didn't expect it!" he admits and you look down.

"Please, Charlie. I love him... just like you love Alex and how Loz loves Charlotte. He makes me happy, the happiest I've been probably ever!" you sigh and he nods.

"God, i cant believe your growing up!" he sniffles and you pull Charlie into a hug.

"It happens!" you chuckle.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[chrissv4mp]

★ OLD FARM, NEW FACES

INTRODUCTION reading now...

WARNINGS: none!

NOTES: so.... just got reminded that billie can ride horses & who doesn't love a cowgirl au? finneas is also starring in some chapters :)

SUMMARY: After a long year of struggle, your parents decide to move back to the place you spent most of your childhood years: the old farm that they never had the heart to get rid of. However, after leaving a decade ago, they hired some help who you were never aware of until your arrival.

WORDS: 1,263

NAVIGATION ; SERIES MASTERLIST

COWGIRL!BILLIE EILISH × F!READER

"You guys are doing this just to spite me!" You'd yelled at them, specifically your father who was the one who always pushed you. Your eyes were teary, like you would break if they said anything else. It was already bad enough that you had to move. It'd only be worse if they tried to say something in their defense.

Your mom only sighed, frowning in sympathy, "Honey, you know we don't want to leave either. We'd stay if we could, but... it's just too expensive living here anymore, and your father got a great job back in Redrock."

Your eyes widened in disbelief, huffing in exasperation as your eyes moved to your father for any kind of backup. None, just a firm nod from him, "You're not serious, Mom. We're really going back to that shitty tow—?"

Your father was quick to jump in, his eyes wide and his finger wagging at you in disapproval, "Don't speak to your mother like that, Y/N! You are one of the reasons we're even leaving in the first place." What?

His words hit you like a bullet. Your whole body frozen in shock as you exhale quietly, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall right then and there, "Dad—I—What?" He wasn't serious. He wasn't serious, right? It was just something he said in his fit of—

"Don't act like that, Y/N. Your grades have been dropping rapidly and you're always so caught up with your friends and that fucking phone of yours," He says sternly, his voice more calm than previously, "Pack your things, we're leaving at 6 for the airport."

'WELCOME TO REDROCK RIDGE' A street sign read, one of many that you had to pass by on this more than miserable car ride to the old farm you used to call home. (When you were quite literally 7.)

Music blasted from your earbuds into your ears, drowning out any sounds of rocks hitting the exterior of the car and, more importantly, your parents' voices. They were the last people you wanted to talk to right now, or better, even look towards at all.

A gentle song played into your ears, soothing your nerves temporarily as you tapped your thigh in rhythm with the beat of the song, the guitar playing quietly in the back sounding almost euphoric.

A few long strums of the instrument brought the song to an end, and when the silence enveloped you, your mother spoke, breaking your peace and the only escape for your time here, "We're here, hon," She gives you a half-assed smile in an attempt to get you to talk, but all you do is nod, unbuckling your seatbelt and swinging your door open.

"I'll get your bags, go inside the house." Your father spoke as he rounded the car to stand in front of you. He stared down at you expectantly, but you only gave him a raise of your eyebrows, huffing before you moved past him and stomped towards the house.

Your mom yelled something inaudible to you as you opened the door, scoffing at the knowledge that it wasn't locked after all those years. You expected the house to be in shambles the whole ride here, but now, as you look around, it's quite clean and seems to be running perfectly.

It smells of fresh flowers, a clear contrast to the awful smell of manure just outside the front door. You don't understand how your 7-year-old self liked being around the horses. It probably smelt worse in the barn after all these years.

Nobody was even around to take care of the place, and it hit you hard knowing that the animals hadn't been fed in forever. You thought your parents would've cared enough about the place and animals to hire some help, but, you guess not. What were you expecting?

You find yourself taking your earbuds out, stuffing them in the back pocket of your jeans as you walk up the old staircase. It wasn't dusty, not even a spec in sight as you run your fingertips along the railing. What the fuck?

Brushing the weird feeling off, you walk down the hall, finding yourself standing right in front of your childhood room. You chuckle softly at the piece of paper taped to the door, "NO BOYS!! (except dad)"

It seemed as if your room was the only one left untouched, your door being the only one shut on the upper level of the old house. Your hand shakes in the slightest as you turn the doorknob, pushing forward and watching as your past is revealed once again.

Your lips curve into a smile as you notice the stick toy horse lying against your bed, remembering the times you and your father used to have imaginary horse races. You were closer with him then, what ever went wrong?

Your fingers slip off the door frame as you enter the room, eyes moving all around the small space as you approach your bed. You take a seat on the edge, feeling the mattress dip underneath your hands as you lean back.

Memories flood into your mind as you look around, noticing even the smallest things like the name of a boy just behind your desk. You smile again, giggling quietly.

"Y/N!" Your mothers voice breaks you out of your short trip down memory lane, your head turning in the direction of your bedroom door, "Come down here!"

How were you already in trouble? You just got here. God, they always had to pick at any little thing you did. You sigh, standing up and taking one final glance before you walk out, shutting the door behind you softly.

Grabbing your phone, you unlock it, noticing that you had no bars. Seriously? As you swipe on your phone, trying some apps, you descend down the stairs, "Hey, what's with the—"

You cut yourself off, almost dropping your phone as you look up from the screen. What. The. Fuck.

There stood a (rather short) black-haired girl, a cowboy—cowgirl, in this scenario—hat sat atop of her head, her hair in a messy ponytail. She wore a black wife-beater and baggy light blue jeans, a red flannel thrown over her shoulder. Her arms were muscular, like she'd been working. A lot. Oh my God.

"Hey there, pretty," She spoke, flashing you a gorgeous smile as she tipped her hat. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, a thin layer of sweat coating her beautiful face, "I'm Billie. Ts' nice to meet'cha,"

You only stood there and gawked, eliciting a sift chuckle from Billie. She placed her hat back on her head, snapping you out of your trance as you stepped down the last of the stairs, "Hey—Hi, I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you as well, Billie."

Her name rolled off your tongue perfectly, almost like it was meant to be spoken by your pretty lips. Your mother and father stood on the right side of the girl, exchanging forced smiles.

"Pretty name," The cowgirl commented, winking at you as she offered you a hand. You took it nervously, feeling the callouses on her fingertips as she tugged you closer playfully, "Can't wait to have some company on the farm. You seem interesting."

"You—You do, too," You mutter, your face feeling hotter than usual as you stare into her beautiful blue eyes, smiling softly. She was prettier than anyone you'd ever seen.

"The barn, 6AM, Y/N. I'll see you soon,"

@livialifesblog @her-favorite @mseilishmwah @mxqdii @hrtsdollie @rainbowcakepop111 @tan1shere @xoluvx @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @fallingforfalll2 @slutforsturnioloss @devynscomet @sophloveswomen

COMMENT ON THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE SERIES TAGLIST

COMMENT HERE TO BE ADDED TO ALL BILLIE FICS

[jayahult]

Okay so here's the thing. You're hired to do this job by this woman named Grace. And it's a very particular job, and you know she could do it with a machine but she needs this personal touch. And you follow along with it. It's pretty fun at times, after all. You do get this sense that she's just going through the motions with this, just meeting her needs and not much else, but that's not your problem or your business. And there are some odd things about it - she's a little pushy, and sometimes you find some art around her place that you presume is from someone she used to be in a relationship with, but that's not really your place to question. When things start to heat up is when you get into a fight over her wanting you to break ties with one of your friends. You both do and say some regrettable things, and you end up out of her reach for a bit, going through the motions and all that. Then, one day, you meet this other guy - let's call him Will. He's charming and he seems to have some sort of plan for his life, so you start hanging with him for a while. And then you run into her again. Grace. And she is pissed about this whole arrangement and the bad blood between you two, so you decide a little petty revenge is in order and to make a long story short Will gets the deed to her house. Then Will starts getting ideas, and Will? He's not so good when he gets ideas. He ends up kicking you both out onto the street, and now you're down and out together. And you get to talking - well, you don't talk all that much, you've never been the talking type, but she talks a lot. You finally learn her real name - Carol - and her past. She apparently used to be in this thing with this guy back in the day who she had a really toxic relationship with that just... sucked the fun out of the sort of things you'd do together for her. He was this older guy, really just an arrogant asshole who took advantage of her and ever since she's been stuck like this. At any rate, you eventually manage to get back to Will, and you rough him up a little until you can manage to finagle things back into the proper place. With Carol back at the head of the house, things seem a little better, back in their proper place. The thing is, Carol's learned a little since you started this whole arrangement. She doesn't think that this will ever work out - not like it used to. So, instead of being possessive, she lets you go. She says that she doesn't feel anything for you anymore but that can't really be true. She sings to you as you leave, and sends you that old friend's number as a way of making up for that old fight. And that's why in Portal 3 you're going to march back up to that door, go back down into Aperture Labs, and fuck that robot.

[luviestarz]

choi beomgyu fic recs!

✿ a night to remember — choi beomgyu - @jeontaeil-archived (beomgyu takes you out on a lovely date to his old workplace and after hours of having fun, neither of you are quite satisfied. too impatient to wait till you get back home, or to his car in the least, you don’t think twice before getting down and dirty right then and there. at the end of the day, how many people can proudly admit that they’ve fucked in a trampoline park?)

✿ airport crush | choi beomgyu NSFW - @boba-beom (while waiting 4 hours for your next flight, you see a cute guy at the airport and decide to kill some time.)

✿ a star called you | c.bg - @scintillasofbeomgyu (yn and their friends run the campus radio for which yn is the host of the evening show “dear sputnik”, where they share stories and hope to create a healing space for all students— even though many don’t listen to it. little does yn know, their biggest fan, angel313, is choi beomgyu— the boy they’ve silently had a crush on for the past four years.)

✿ nap of a star - @blue-jisungs (you’re taking a nap on your friend’s lap)

✿ sk8ter boi -> c.b - @gyusrose (you never thought in a million years to be attracted to a boy like beomgyu. His baggy clothes, scrappy shoes, long hair just wasn’t a click with your elegant dresses, tight skirts, ballet dancer- self , but somehow he managed to steal your attention.)

✿  stoner!bestfriend!beomgyu x fem!reader - @universecorp (as much as beomgyu tries to deny falling in love with you, even after he claimed you saved him from believing his whole purpose of life was to be bad luck, his heart cannot tell a lie.)

✿ honeymoon - @beomsight (thoughts about how you and bf!beomgyu are in that honeymoon phase where you’re constantly all over each other)

✿ who’s home? - @iknowyuu (reader's guardians unexpectedly come home in the middle of a cuddle session.)

✿ sweet. - @tyunlatte (beomgyu is whipped for the reader, that's it. that's the plot. just something short and sweet to make your hearts ache.)

✿ who’s that girl! - @h00nerz (after coming home from vacation to discover your boyfriend of over a year cheating on you, you find yourself to be in search of a new place to live. lucky for you, your friend’s cousin is moving across the state, leaving a room open that’s yours for the taking. the only problem? it means you would be staying with three guys.)

✿ a lost bet! - @heart2beom (you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.)

✿ strawberry kisses - @tyunlatte (when you accepted your boyfriend's sweet request to do his makeup, you weren't expecting the fiery turn that your little makeup session was going to take)

✿ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - @sungbeam (gamer/streamer!choi beomgyu x f!reader)

✿ call you later - @heart2beom (beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street?)

✿ forever only you. - @mazeinthemoon (when an old friend draws your attention away from your boyfriend, he can’t help but get jealous)

✿ [🐯] i got you - @qqtxt (the best parts of beomgyu's morning always involve you)

✿ white dress - @fairyyeo (i recommend reading this!!!! pls go read its so good)

✿ photobooth. - @ev3rm0re-q (even though you and beomgyu have been together for three months, you two have yet to share a kiss. on his day off, the two of you venture outside and come across a photo booth. perhaps a few pictures might finally motivate the both of you to take action.)

✿ tokyo - choi beomgyu - @beomie3 (the neon-lit towers which surround you are mighty bright. but in his eyes, you shine brightest. the adventures of two lovers in tokyo. ~coming of age film~ vibes.)

✿ strawberry chapstick | choi beomgyu - @lluringli

[auroralwriting]

the master heist

con artist!bucky barnes x reader

bucky wants you to help him get his money back from an old friend.

warnings: violence, light manipulation, kind of dark bucky, based off of seb's movie sharper!

word count: 2.5k!

"What the hell do you want with me?"

You hadn't even learned the man's name yet. He picked you up off the side of the street after a very public and very loud fight and breakup with your now ex-boyfriend. He pulled up in a Mercedes, walking out, grabbing your duffel bag of personal items. He tossed it in the backset, waving you, telling you to come on in. So, you did. It wasn't like you had anywhere else to go.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked, ignoring your previous question. He was making himself a drink, holding an empty cup to offer you some. You shook your head.

"Uh," You hesitated, "I guess maybe Jurassic Park?"

The man raised a brow, coming to sit next to you. You tensed at his presence. "Yeah, good plot. Stupid people,"

"Very," You mused softly. "Why would you even want to go to a theme park with real dinosaurs?"

"And that man who died at the beginning?" The man nodded.

You turned your body closer to him, "Yeah, it was so stupid."

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen it." The man suddenly said. Well, wasn't he just full of surprises?

The drink in the man's cup swirled as he set it down. "You've never seen it." Your words came out less of a question, and more in disbelief.

"I'm not really a movie guy," He hummed. "And that's what I'm going to teach you."

Your eyebrow dipped up in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

The man gave an annoyed sigh, "I make people believe I'm someone else to get whatever the hell I want."

"So," You paused, shaking your head in disbelief at the current situation you'd gotten yourself in. "You're a con-artist?"

"No," The man replied, "I'm like, an actor, you could say. I'm not hurting people or anything."

Well that was weird. "I never said you did," You argued back. The man rubbed his chin with a chuckle at your reply. "What? Did I say something funny?"

"You've got fire, I like that." He acknowledged. "What's your name?" You told him your name, he nodded, mouthing it like he was getting used to saying it. "I'm Bucky. Look, I need some help. I can't always get the.. customers I need. That's where you come in."

That made you wonder what kind of gig this was. "What's in it for me?"

"Free place to stay, share of money, someone to cook for you," Bucky listed. "Want me to carry on, or do you get it?" Bucky's tone wasn't condescending, nor was it full of malice.

"Why me?" You questioned. "You don't even know me. Also, how do I even know you're a safe individual? You could be, like, some murderer who wants to sell my parts on the black market."

Bucky chuckled at your words. "One, I don't murder or even consider the black market as a viable option for my work. Two, I'll give you every proof of identity I have, hell, I'll even let you run a background check." Bucky paused, giving you a smile. "But, let's be honest, where else do you have to go?"

He was right. You didn't have anywhere else to go. Bucky was your only option as of right now. Plus, you'd be making an income. "Alright," You sighed. "I'll help you."

"My name is Avalon DeClain, I was born in Mississippi, moved to Pennsylvania when I was six for my dads work." You recited. "I majored in chemistry in college, Penn State, graduated top of my class. I have a dog, Sydney, a german shepard. I'm single and my parents died when I was in high school."

Bucky smirked, "What year did you graduate?"

"Class of '16," You replied. "Graduated college early by a year in '19."

"You're doing better than I thought," Bucky smiled honestly. "Really, good job."

You smiled at his words, a small rush of heat going to your cheeks. "Thank you," It had been a month and a half since you started living with Bucky. As promised, he took care of you. He was teaching you all he knew.

"What do you say we celebrate tonight?" Bucky offered.

"Celebrate what?" You asked, your knees pulled up to your chest as Bucky stood up to grab some drinks for the two of you. "Is it your birthday or something?"

Bucky laughed, "No, not my birthday. Just," Bucky sucked in a breath, "A celebration of your wild achievements. I'd say you're graduating top of my class."

"Well, I'd sure hope so." You teased as Bucky walked back over. He handed you a glass of champagne, his own filled with a dark wine. "I am your only student, after all."

"And still my best work," Bucky clinked his glass with your own as you both took sips.

For a while, the both of you talked and drank. Somewhere in the last month, you had gotten Bucky to actually open up. He told you about how he grew up doing this life with some friends. However, he refused to speak about one in particular; Steve. Tonight, things seemed different though.

"Look, we've been doing small stuff," Bucky started, his tone becoming more serious. "You're perfect at the small stuff. But, I haven't been honest with you, doll."

"What happened with him?" You cautiously asked, ignoring the burning of your cheeks at the nickname

Bucky's eyes widened for a moment, his face then relaxing as he released a breath. "I knew you were intuitive." Bucky sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Steve was my best bud. We did, well, everything together. Until, well, one big job we found." You nodded, urging Bucky to go on. "It was some old guy, Richard. We both decided to become his assistants until he passed; he was old as rocks, if not older. After he passed, Steve and I said we'd split the money. It was around ten grand each. I guess the old man also had grandkids."

The look on Bucky's face almost broke your heart. "He took it all,"

"Not just that," Bucky continued. "He tried to get me fucking arrested. Damn good thing I was friends with one of the cops."

"So," You began. "How are we getting him back?"

Bucky's face was a mixture of relief, joy, and passion. "I love that fire in you," He sighed contently. "Tomorrow night, Steve's going out on his annual celebration. Something to do with his work successes?" Bucky wasn't sure. "His actual job, conning is a side for him."

"All right," You reassured. "I'm ready for this. What's our plan?"

"You're gonna flirt with him," Bucky explained. "He doesn't have a type, just pretty girls with short dresses. You're gonna explain how you need money for grad school, and of course he's gonna give it to you. He prides himself on being some social saint or whatever."

This plan felt way too easy. "That's all?" You remarked. "That feels.. too easy."

"Steve's girlfriend, Natasha," Bucky sighed, "She's gonna be up his ass all night. You gotta find a way to get her out of there."

You internally cringed. Great, that was significantly harder than before. "What's she like?"

"I really don't have a single clue," Bucky huffed out. "That's the one flaw of this, which is why I need to be sure you can do this."

Bucky looked nearly defeated. It was obvious he needed your help, he couldn't do it without you. "I promise you," You grabbed Bucky's hands. "I can get you that money."

No, you thought. I can get you even more.

Bucky had no way of checking in on you to see how things were going. He left his full trust in you to not fuck this up. You could see it in him all day; he was stressed. His hand kept running through his hair, he couldn't stop tapping his feet against the wood floor.

You walked into the bar, a smooth, tight, black dress on, red heels to match. You looked around for a moment, seeing if you could spot Steve.

It really wasn't hard to find him, bright blonde hair, a boisterous laugh that was actually really cute. That was definitely the man you were looking for.

Bucky gave you a script to follow. Steve once knew a guy, Howard, back from high school. The two had zero connection now, but good old Howard was your way in.

"Excuse me," You asked, walking up behind Steve. He and Natasha both turned around. "Are you Steve Rogers?

Steve gave a smile, "Yeah, that's me. You are?"

"Oh, I'm Avalon." You reached out your hand to Steve which he shook. You followed the same action with Natasha. "I'm good friends with Howard."

Steve slapped the counter with joy, "Howard! I remember that son of a bitch. How is he?"

"Great," You smiled. Natasha scooted over a seat, letting you sit between the two. "He's got a wife, good job."

"That's great. I always liked that guy, such a good man. He deserves a great life." Steve gushed as you awkwardly smiled in return. You ordered a drink as Steve rambled.

You shyly began to comb your fingers through your hair as Steve subtly checked you out. "He was actually the one to tell me about you. He thought, well, maybe you could give me a hand."

The bartender slid you the drink, one you failed to catch as it spilled all over the front of you. Both Steve and Natasha gasped. "Oh my god! Oh, that'll never come out." Natasha gasped.

Steve quickly grabbed napkins to help you try and sop some of it up. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, just a ruined dress. I just bought it, too." You whined. In reality, this was all a part of your perfectly made plan to get Natasha out of there.

"Sweets, I'm gonna run home and grab her a new dress. We only live fifteen away and there is no way I'm letting her spend the rest of the night in a ruined dress." Natasha fell for the bait. This was perfect.

You quickly feigned guilt, "Oh, no. Please, it's really okay."

"No, I insist." Natasha said as she stood up, grabbing her belongings. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Stevie." Natasha left a small kiss on his cheek and rushed out of the building.

"I'm so sorry about your dress," Steve said, eyeing places it did not spill.

"It's fine, really." You said.

Steve was not subtle with checking you out anymore. "So, what was that favor Howard said I could help with?"

"Well," You bit your lip in a fake shame. Steve was quick to use his thumb to remove it from your teeth. "I have a pretty lousy job. I have this shitty apartment and a dog to take care of. I'm still paying off student loans, and I need to get my masters to get a decent paying job," You falsely admitted to Steve, batting your eyes at him as you sighed deeply. "I just.. can't afford to live. I'm eating a meal a day to afford dog food and groceries. Howard said that maybe you could help me out?"

You'd never seen a man nod quicker than Steve in that moment. "I'll do you one better. I'll help you pay off those student loans and get yo you paid off for grad school."

A gasp left your lips. To Steve, it was shock of his kindness. In reality, it was shock your plan worked. "Oh, God no. I couldn't ask for all of that. I was just gonna see if you wanted my dog-"

"Anything for a friend of Howard." Steve shook his head. "How do you want the money? Actually, no. Let me give it to you cash. You don't need to pay more taxes from that." You didn't even notice Steve had a briefcase with him. He opened it, leaving you in shock. You'd never seen so many hundred dollar bills stacked together before.

Steve counted out some stacks, making a pile. "I'm just gonna spit this half with you. Should be, ah, about maybe twenty grand?"

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. "Steve, I really couldn't-"

"Please," Steve scoffed. "I could make this money back in a day. I insist, you deserve a beautiful life for a beautiful woman." Steve's hand rested on your cheek as he thumbed it over softly. For some reason, his touch made you uncomfortable. All you really wanted was Bucky.

"I appreciate this more than you know." You sighed, leaning into his touch. "Thank you, Steve."

"It's no problem, sweetheart. Here, use this to carry all that in. We don't need you getting robbed." Steve handed over a large pouch from the case, shoving the money in it. "Get home safe, and give me a call sometime."

You nodded with a smile, but deep down you felt disgusted. You couldn't wait to show Bucky what you got.

"Bucky?" You called as you walked in. You walked in the living room to see Bucky jumping up from his seat.

"You look scared shitless, doll. What happened?" Bucky immediately rushed to your side. You hadn't even noticed how anxious you were, but it was a good anxious. "Did he touch you? I swear I will fuck him up if-"

Cutting off Bucky, you opened the bag to reveal the money. "He did some light touching, but I made it work to get you a little something extra."

"Ho-ly shit," Bucky breathed out, his eyes gleaming with disbelief. "Doll, how much is this?:

"Steve said twenty grand," You answered. "I thought I would play it up to get some more out of this."

Bucky looked to you, alarmed. "Did you let him-"

"No!" You cut him off again. "God, no. I just let him eye-fuck me and touch my cheek. That was enough for him. You're right, he is some social saint."

Bucky quickly scooped you up, hugging you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, doll! You're a fucking genius. You're actually fucking insane!" Bucky yelled as you laughed. "Why'd you do that? Put yourself through that for this?"

"It was for you, Bucky." You shyly admitted. "You gave me a second chance, so I wanted to give you what you deserved."

Bucky's hands came to rest at your hips as he drew you in closer. "Did you like the way he looked at you?"

"I only like the way you look at me," You breathed out, his face getting much closer to yours. "I just wanted you to be the one to touch me."

"Doll," Bucky muttered, his lips so close to your own you could almost feel them. "You're a fucking dream." Bucky pushed his lips against your own as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You sighed contently into the kiss. "Your dress is also fucking sopping the floors."

You gave a smirk to Bucky, "So take it off, then." He smirked wildly at you as he grabbed your hand, leading you to his room.

"Maybe I will,"

[junedenim]

explode behind my eyes

the consequence of public bathrooms

warnings: smut, age gap, facefucking & stuff

word count: 2.5k

It was just a run-in. Two acquaintances at a bar at the same time. At least, that's what you tell yourself. The run-in is planned without actually being planned. The sort of thing where he—Alex, you had learned—tells you as he left your apartment building. If you happen to be there at this time, I might be there.

You had been to the bar before. Might have taken home someone from the bar. It seemed like the natural place to do it. The bar was the fancy kind. The kind where you and your friends batted your eyelashes at a Wall Street guy until they bought you a drink. The atmosphere is gaudy, but you like how the air tastes of leather. It was a taste you couldn't explain but it made sense.

He is there when you arrive, dressed in similar attire as the night before, but this time with his suit jacket on and a black button-down with white stripes. He would blend in with most of the crowd if it wasn't for that buzzed head and dark sunglasses. There was some image to be maintained. A shield of sorts.

You had thought about bringing a friend but now you're glad you didn't. It feels right to assume that you'd fuck tonight. A guy doesn't invite a girl to a bar to dance. Not looking like that anyway. And a girl doesn't come dressed as you do (a mini-skirt that your mother would scream if she saw you in and a perfectly respectable button-down of your own; you look like you're going for a job interview at 1-800-SLEAZY) and not expect a lay.

He already has a drink. Scotch or whiskey or something, you couldn't tell the difference. He leans his arms on the bar and he looks like a pimp. His hand around the glass catches your attention. You aren't someone to be swept away by hands. You aren't a believer in the hand to penis size correlation but the way it wrapped around the low glass gave you a feeling. A good feeling. 

His fingers sweep up the side of it like it swept up the side of you. You are landing yourself in trouble staring too long but he had the eyes of nearly every girl in the bar and you were—you hoped—the only one who had the right of way to approach him.

You step forward and shim through the crowd. There is a space next to him open. A space for you, no doubt. You slide in next to it and place your arm on the bar, leaning your side into it. His head turns and you wish to peer into those brown eyes like the night before. His shades prevented you. He grins so you smirk and bite your lip. "I've arrived," you announce in a hushed tone.

"I see that." His lips lower and he is teasing you with how he is hiding from you.

You look him up and down like you are taking him in for the first time. "Is that so?" You reach up and pluck the sunglasses from his face. His eyes blaze back at you. They are suggestive and he isn't hiding anything from the way he is looking. You slide them onto your face.

"Stealing property from me?" His head is low, at your level. You feel his breath on you as he speaks and it only seems natural to think you might kiss at any moment. It was thrilling. You had forgotten the teasing that can come with this kind of thing. Most men were predictable. Alex was a riddle that played games. Maybe it was an age thing. 

You pout your lips. They're plump and glossy, inciting for a kiss, the kind you would want to dive in for. "You gonna do something about it?"

Right when one would think we would make a move—kiss you, fuck you, take his glasses back—he turns toward the bartender and orders a refill, "Another Old Fashioned please." You roll your eyes and giggle. He is playing a game and he's good. "What would you like? A lemonade? Fruit punch?"

"Ha ha," you say dryly. You turn to the bartender, "Gin & tonic." You wanted a strawberry daiquiri but he'd probably make fun of you for it and you're trying to prove a point. You turn to Alex and say, "On his tab, of course."

"Oh, of course," he sarcastically says. He's cute like a boy playing schoolyard games. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help but smile wider. "Are you implying you would fuck an underaged girl?"

"I never said anything about fucking you." He said this as he was inches from your face. His lips begged for a kiss.

"Just supplying me with alcohol?" Your intentions were clear, his intentions were clear. It was only a matter of time.

"You ordered the alcohol. I was happy to order you a pink lemonade." His hand skims your arm and you thought he might just—

The bartender placed your two drinks down and you both lifted and sipped them quickly. 

Alex placed his empty glass back on the bar, a noise ringing out from the slam. "Bathroom?"

"Yeah."

He was fast, running off before you even had a chance to place your glass down. You rushed after him like a mouse scurrying through a house. He reaches back with a hand and a grin. He pulls you through the crowd to the back, slipping into the bathroom. 

He pushes you through first then locks the door. The bathroom is sleek and looks freshly clean. You wonder if they send a custodian in here between uses. There's enough counterspace to fuck on. You see the only imperfection in the room: stray sands from a line of white dust.

Your eyes are still on the counter when he finally reaches out and smothers you with his lips. He pushes you up against the counter. You wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his touch as you push hard against one another.

Alex pulls at the bottom of your shirt, tugging for you to take the shirt off. You part, crossing your arms over to the ends, and stripping the shirt off. "You want to see my tits?"

His eyes could stare holes through your bra with how intensely he's looking down on them. "Fuck yeah. Thought about seeing them since last night. You know, since you wouldn't let me into your apartment." He reached behind you and fiddled with the hook. You could tell his eyes were looking in the mirror behind you to help him out.

"That's because of my roommate—"

He interrupts, meeting your eyes again, "Like your roommate overhearing would have been less public than having me finger you in the stairwell?"

"Well..." You bite your fingernail, unable to counter.

"Uh-huh." He smirked and took his sunglasses off your face finally making eye contact again. 

His mouth crashes down onto yours once more. You wrap your legs around him as he lifts you up by your hips onto the counter, his hands hot against your skin. He kisses down, mouthing at your neck, then your breasts. 

A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. His hands shove your skirt up your thighs and his mouth is on yours again. He reaches down and pinches your left nipple and you moan into his mouth—a noise that he eagerly mirrors. From zero to sixty in sixty seconds or less.

He puts the other hand between your legs and rubs you through the lace that separates you, stroking up and down slowly. You throw your head back against the mirror, tilting your face to the ceiling, drowning in the sensation.

You snap back into action and lift your head. "I'm not fucking you in this bathroom."

He was playful and he smirked. "Then, what are we doing in this bathroom?" His fingers played deeper with the lace, moving it aside, exposing your core.

You shove your hands down between you two and cover yourself. He removes his hand and steps away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." It seems like a mood killer. You think he thinks his teasing had gone too far and based on the remorseful look on his face, he fears he misinterpreted your words for teasing remarks.

The space he left between you made it easy for you to slide off the counter and onto your knees. "No, no. I just want to return the favor."

His worry dissolved and morphed into a smirk. "Oh, yeah."

You looked up at him; wide-eyed, wide smile, awaiting to pull open his pants. You reached up and hung your hands off his belt. "Uh-huh," you mocked. You taunt him with the slow nature for which you undo his belt. The metal clangs and he reaches down to slide his tongue between your lips. You suck on it like a lollipop and something about the whole ordeal—whether your lips around the knuckle or the bedroom-gaze eyes you send up at him—pulls a moan out of him. 

You kiss the edge of it and yank his zipper down. You tug on his waistband an inch to free his cock. It stares you in the eye. Long. Girthy. Erected. You kiss the tip as you had done with his thumb. You aim to be seductive as you kiss slowly on his length down to his sack. His breathing is heavy but nothing dismisses from his mouth. It is unpleasant. You want him to beg after he made you beg. You sit back on your feet. "Now?"

"Now?" He questions back. His eyes are wide and his bewildered by the wishy-washy sense of your behavior.

You shrug. "What shall I do now?" 

He chuckles at the innocence you attempt to showcase as if less than 24 hours ago he wasn't fingering you outside your apartment door. As if you aren't on your knees right now. He accepts the bait and reaches out to thread his fingers through the back of your hair. "Now you blow me or I could fuck your tits. Whichever you prefer."

You shake your head insistently. "You will not be fucking my tits. I don't need that all over me."

He slaps your left boob. Not violently, just playfully. He pulls on your nipple, seeming to get filled with pleasure playing with your breasts and watching you squirm. "But they're such beautiful tits."

You stay stern and shake your head. "But that wouldn't be fair to my mouth."

"Oh," he exclaims like it is a big shock. "You want me to fuck your mouth?"

You shrug. "Or I could leave?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No. Not that." He pushes on the back of your head, closer, closer until your mouth wraps around him. He lightens his touch but guides you further down his length. He's delicate and while you're charmed by that—the way this man looks rough and tuggered but he is soft and serene—you'd like for him to take you away. There's no fear in it, maybe because you're trusting of him, but you want him. Deeply.

You pop off him and grab his length, holding the wetness in your hand. "If you want to fuck my mouth then fuck it."

He almost seems shocked by the comment but nothing you say is much of a shock anymore. He compiles, of course. Your lips wrap around him again and he pushes on you, forcing you down on him. Then, he starts thrusting into you. It's hard but not pounding. He touches the back of your throat and the way you almost gag turns you on more than it should. He's moaning roughly. The kind you'll think about when you're alone at night and in need of relief. You crave it, chasing it completely. It's why you allow for your spit to dribble down your cheek.

His hand pulls on her hair, yanking you off of him. He looks ardently down at you—drooled and with fervor. "Do you know how fucking hot you are?" You giggle at his enthusiastic delivery. "Seriously?"

You rub your hand up and down him, which makes him groan lowly. "Your erection gave me that idea." He smirks and pushes you down onto him. It's fast and unforgiving and you love it. He's moaning, which is making you moan. It's copious and charged with desperation on both sides.

"You're so fucking good," he mutters. He has a hold on you and won't let go.

He's close, his hips are erratic and his hands are tightening. Then, there's a knock on the door.

"Aw, fuck," he groans.

You pull away from him and yell, "Someone's in here!" You return your mouth to around him, sucking, wanting him to finish in your mouth.

It is unexpected for someone to yell back, "Yeah, you've been in there for 10 minutes!"

You take yourself off him again to respond. Evidently, you pull back at the wrong time as Alex grunts under his breath and cums on your tits. You try not to have a reaction, but your jaw slacks open in disgust. Alex murmurs a "Shit" and whoever is at the door knocks loudly again.

"Fuck off!" You yell back. You're not sure if it's for the man at the door or the spunk on your chest.

Alex tries to calm himself. His breathing is still heavy and he is leaning on the sink behind you. "I'm sorry."

You sigh. "It's fine. If you could just—" But he's already one step ahead of you, grabbing a paper towel and cleaning his jizz off of you. You smile softly at him. You whisper to him, "Thank you." You notice how delicate he is with you as he carefully rubs your chest.

He helps you stand up and you can't help but be wooed by it in some way. The contrasting ways he operates; shoving his cock down your throat one minute then helping you up with the tug of his hand the next. 

Alex tucks himself back into his pants as you fix your skirt. Your eyes wander around the room until he says, "Looking for this." Your bra dangling from his hand.

You smile as a thank you and he tosses the bra your way. You hook it on and then pull your shirt back on. You both wash your hands, stealing stares and smirking at one another in silence. It's an appealing method for getting both of you fired up again.

When you walk out of the room, he holds his hand on the small of your back, and you can't help but wish he would be tempted to go lower and squeeze your ass. The man outside the bathroom can't comment on two people leaving the one-person bathroom since he enters with a group behind him, all likely heading to do a line. 

From behind you, Alex whispers right next to your ear, "Why are we always getting interrupted?"

You sigh out of disgruntleness. Your core is still hot and heavy. "Maybe because we're always in public or it's your way of telling me you wouldn't last long in bed."

He chuckles lowly into your ear. "We've never done it. How would you know?"

"Well, why don't you take me back to your place?"

He chuckles again. "Yeah, soon. Promise."

*

a/n: i'm just going to have bald alex fuck in public spaces for the next like 50 fics because i have too many ideas. he is never fucking in a bed if i can help it.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

He's A Pretty One: Part 2

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: You’re visiting your cousin in Hawkins for the summer and you meet his very pretty and very rebellious friend and bandmate.

A/N: this became another impromptu mini series. There will be one more part after this!

Part 1

Gareth led you inside the seedy dive bar that he, Eddie, and the rest of the band play. The Hideout is remote from everywhere else, wedged in between an abandoned steel factory and a cornfield.

You try to keep a neutral face as you observe the few patrons, the dirty carpet, the tables and counters that look like they haven't been wiped down in decades.

Towards the front of the stage is a small wooden stage that looks like it could collapse any minute. At said stage, Jeff, Doug, and Eddie are bringing in their instruments and equipment.

"So this is the Hideout?" you ask even though you know the answer.

Gareth nods, "Yup! Isn't it great?!"

You snort and pat his shoulder, "Sure it is, Gare."

"GARETH! STOP CHIT CHATTING AND HELP!" Eddie yells from the stage.

Your cousin groans, "He's in a bad mood," he mumbles to you before heading towards the stage.

You stand there looking around the place and figure you could grab a drink. You walk up to the bar counter where a five-foot tall woman with maroon hair looks up in confusion.

"You're not a regular," she states plainly.

You cock a brow, "No...I'm not. Don't know if that's a good thing or bad thing."

The woman rolls her eyes, "Did you want something, kid?"

"Well you don't seem like you'd serve martinis here so I guess I'll take a beer."

The woman rolls her eyes again and grabs you a bottle of Coors and twists the cap off.

You turn and take a sip, leaning against the counter while the guys set up. Your eyes move from Gareth, Jeff, Doug, and finally land on Eddie. His brows are furrowed as he tunes his guitar. You're not sure what is it but he seems even hotter right now. Maybe it's the low lighting of the bar or maybe some weird chemicals from the old factory are getting in your system.

Feeling eyes on him, Eddie looks up and sees you staring his way. He smirks and gives you a wink before continuing to tune his guitar.

"Be careful around that one," the woman at the counter says.

You turn around and face the woman, "Whaddaya mean?"

She scoffs, "Just be careful around him. Junior's just like his dad. No good."

"No offense, lady, but I'm not sure you're a great judge of character considering," you gesture to the run down bar.

The woman looks at you unamused, "Just watch yourself around him."

"Around who?" Eddie asks, taking a spot beside you at the counter.

You smirk as you face him, "Word on the street is that you're bad news, pretty boy."

Eddie grins, "Bad news? Me?" he stands back, arms open wide, "Look at me. I'm an angel."

"So was Lucifer before he fell from Heaven."

"Touché," he states and you watch as he checks you out again with no subtlety, "So, we're all set up. You ready?"

"Like the goddess Pat Benatar once said, hit me with your best shot, Munson."

Eddie takes your hand and brings you to the front of the stage. He hops onto the wooden platform and yells into the mic, "Welcome to the Hideout, everyone! I'm Eddie Munson and we're Corroded Coffin!"

Gareth slams his drumsticks together and then begins to play with the rest of the guys.

You nod your head to the beat, eyes never wavering from Eddie as he sings and plays his guitar. He truly is mesmerizing when he's in his element.

As he sang, he kept his eyes on you. To be fair, there wasn't anyone else he could really look at besides the few drunkards littered around the bar. You're definitely the most attractive person here, aside from Eddie.

___________________________

After a few more songs, Eddie thanks the "crowd" and they end their set. He immediately hops down from the stage after gently setting down his guitar. He waltzes over to you with a proud grin, "So?"

You nod, "Not bad, Van Halen. You got a lot of potential."

"Thanks. There's someone who actually wants us to sign with a record label she works for, but we need to record a demo, which costs money. Hence me working in this shit hole," he gestures around and the woman yells from the counter, "I CAN FIRE YOU RIGHT NOW IF YOU WANT!"

"Sorry, Bev!" he looks at you with a shrug, then nods to the bar, "Can I get you another drink? Or I can make one for you?"

You scrunch your nose up, "I'm good. Not sure if your boss there cleans the cups well."

Eddie chuckles, "Oh they're clean. I'm the one who does the dishes, not Bev."

"I'm good with this for now," you lift your beer bottle, still not finished because you were so focused on watching Eddie perform.

Eddie stuffs his hands in his jean pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet, "Sooo...whatcha doing after this?"

"Going home? Eddie, it's almost midnight."

"So? There's the diner downtown that's open late. Just drop the brat off at home and we can go."

"Where are we going?" Gareth asks with a smile.

"You're going home. Eddie and I are gonna hang."

"Hang or ba-"

"Do you actually want know if I'm gonna bang your friend, Gareth?"

Your cousin grimaces, "God, no! Gross! Disgusting!"

"Get a grip, kid," Eddie shoves Gareth by the shoulder and your cousin stumbles back.

"Jeez. Okay. Well, we're packing up. Can I see your keys?" Eddie tosses him his keys and he goes to help Jeff and Doug lug the gear to Eddie's van.

You lean against the bar counter and look at Eddie with a cocked brow, "So, pretty boy, is what Bev says true? You trouble?"

"Only the best kind of trouble," he replies with a look that just makes you melt inside.

"Alright. I'll bite. Meet me back at Gareth's then?"

"See you then," he gives you a wink and goes back to the stage to help the rest of the guys put away the equipment.

_____________________

Back at Gareth's, you're rushing around the guest room trying to fix up your hair and touch up your makeup. You made sure that you wore the least embarrassing bra and underwear, just in case.

Your cousin stood in your doorway pouting, "I hate this."

You stop and sigh, "Gareth, we're literally just going to the diner downtown. We're not getting married."

"Okay just...make sure whatever this is doesn't effect my friendship with Eddie."

"Pretty sure it'll end up being just a one night stand, which I'm fine with. And you know me, I don't make things into a big deal. Does he?"

"Not really."

"Then you should be fine."

You hear a soft knock at the front door and rush out of the room. When you pull open the door, Eddie staring at you with a grin, "Ready?"

"Yup!"

You turn and ruffle Gareth's hair, "Don't stay up too late, Gare."

"Yeah, yeah, and use protection. Don't wanna be an uncle yet!"

You give him a thumbs up and head to Eddie's van. He opens the passenger door for you and closes it when you hop it.

He promptly slips into the driver's seat. As soon as the van roars to life, Metallica is blasting through the speakers. He drives away from your aunt and uncle's, looking at you with a mischievous grin on his face. Something is telling you that this is a night you'll never forget.

Part 3

[likedovesinthewindd]

hi love! first off, i love your vibe, as it seems very similar to mine :) may i request hobie swinging around patrolling the streets and often noticing reader who always has headphones on. so he gets curious to know what they're listening to and reader shows them a bunch of rnb music he ends up loving :)

you're so nice thank you sm! also yes absolutely i love this.

hobie brown x reader

๑ he's noticed you almost every time he's done patrol. you're always walking the same route—from work to your home—and you're always wearing a pair of headphones.

๑ he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious to know what you listen to every day. he also didn't particularly like the idea of you walking with loud headphones in the afternoon; you didn't live in the best neighborhood and everyone can sneak up on you.

๑ his curiosity had gotten the beter of him and he finally decided to approach you.

๑ he scared you shitless the first time he approached you. what was he expecting though? this huge masked guy with the metal liberty spikes was a bit jarring at first sight but you calmed down when you realized who it was. you've heard plenty of the guy, you just weren't expecting to meet him any time soon.

๑ you were even more suprised (and confused) when he had asked you what kind of music you listened to. but where do you even start?

๑ so you asked him if he wanted to see your collection and he agreed. he walked the small distance with you to your apartment, keeping small talk that flowed easily despite just having met each other.

๑ when you reached your apartment, you lead him to your bedroom where the small shelf of CD'S and the old CD player of yours stood.

๑ he crouched down and started rummaging through. there were a lot of the classics, along with a few more modern additions too.

๑ he recognized some of the names, a few he remembered frequenting the area the area he grew up in and a few he himself has heard.

๑ you could see the cogs turning, albeit the mask hiding his actual expression, and asked him if he wanted if wanted to listen to some of them. and it's not like he's never heard heard of these people, he just never truly indulged in much of it.

๑ you play an album or two while you continue small talk. soon he has to go again, finish patrol. but he tells you he's gonna back soon.

๑ and he did come back. every other week he'd be knocking at your bedroom window, you'd let him in and listen to two albums of his choice. you still found it a bit crazy considering you've never even seen his face, but he seemed like a cool guy.

๑ eventually your collection runs out. so you burn a few of his favorites on a blank CD and gift it to him to listen to at his home.

๑ after that he still swings by to check in on you, sometimes brings along his own CD for the two of you to listen to.

๑ i also like to imagine after he's comfortable enough around you he reveals his identity to you and the two of you become actual friends. then he's no longer knocking at your window but he shows up at your door and the two of you enjoy each other's music together, hanging out more often.

๑ you'd make each other playlists too, introducing one another to new artists and genres.

a/n: yes! rnb and soul was such a staple in a lot of households where i grew up and live. i can definitely see him listening to it as well.

[fluentmoviequoter]

I just found out you write for Deacon 😍

I have a request for you: being in a relationship with Deacon but you guys have an age gap and because David is older he sometimes he has doubts if he his the right person for her. The reader shows him in many different ways that he is more than enough for her

Such a good idea!! I took some creative liberties and it became more of a discussion about Deacon's doubts and how reader proves her love, so I hope that's okay. If you'd like me to redo it with more focus on Deacon's emotions or anything, I can! Either way, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: discussions of doubt and insecurity, age gap (I pictured early seasons Deacon, so he'd be mid-40s, and reader in her 20s but it's up to you!), tons of fluff.

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

A/N: I proofread and fixed some errors on 12/27/23, but let me know if I missed anything! (And, yes, the title is an Enchanted reference.)

How Does He Know that You Love Him?

The age gap between you and Deacon has never bothered you; if anything, it’s part of why you love him so much. Deacon has doubts occasionally, but you never fail to prove that he’s the one for you and that you love him. More than you should sometimes, he thinks.

✯One Year Ago✯

You and Deacon keep running into each other. Living in the same neighborhood as each other meant that it was bound to happen, but it is occurring too often to be a coincidence. So, you decide to introduce yourself to him at the park. When you sit beside him on the park bench to continue your conversation, he points out that you could probably find someone younger than him to hang out with.

“I don’t want to sit with someone younger. I want to sit with you,” you say, smiling. “If that’s okay, of course.”

“It’s perfectly fine with me,” Deacon responds.

A few weeks later, he asks you out on the first date, and he makes it very clear that if he is reading it wrong and you want to be friends, that is okay. He mentions the age gap, and you have to interrupt him.

“Deacon, wait. I don’t care how old you are. You know that, right?” you ask, laying a hand on his forearm.

Deacon nods, but you look at him, unconvinced, and he sighs before continuing. “I’m sure it seems okay now, but what if in a few months or a year you realize you want someone younger? Then we just wasted time.”

You raise your hand off his arm to cup his jaw. Smiling up at him, you promise, “I want you, Deacon. No matter how old you are or how amazing your salt and pepper looks.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to not only tell Deacon that he’s the one for you and the age gap doesn’t bother you, but to show him. You love spending time with his friends, glad to be around a group of men rather than boys. You’ll happily decline an invitation to go to a midnight horror movie or clubbing in exchange for game nights at Hondo’s house. Deacon soon realizes that you mean what you say and what you do, and the age gap doesn’t affect him as much. He still gets insecure at times; when he sees you with a group of people your age or a young man stares at you in public, but when he remembers who you’re with and everything you’ve said you love about him, the thought returns to the back of his mind.

✯Present Day✯

“Who’s that?” you ask as you walk into the station, hugging Deacon as he walks up to you.

“Oh, that’s Jim Street. Buck’s choice of replacement,” Deacon answers, watching you look at Jim.

You nod once and look back to Deacon, smiling as you lean up to kiss him quickly. “He any good?”

“He’s got potential, just needs a little help.”

“Which is exactly what you guys do, right?”

“Right.”

You pull your hand from him to visit Luca and Chris, but Deacon can only focus on you and Jim. You’re closer in age, and Street looks over at you every few minutes. Even if it’s not Jim, you will meet other men: better options than Deacon. He knows that if this happens, you’ll both get hurt in the fallout, so he buries his doubts. Or tries to.

“Deacon,” you call, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head to the side, asking to talk to him privately.

He follows you to an empty hallway, standing before you as you lean against a wall. Your arms are crossed across your chest as you look up at him.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing.”

“Just…” Deacon sighs as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“Is it happening again?”

Deacon’s eyes drop to your shoes, focusing on you but not your face.

“Deacon, you can talk to me about it. You know I get insecure, too, right? It’s normal, but it’s not something you have to endure alone.”

“I don’t want our relationship to be you trying to make me feel better,” Deacon admits.

“You know what I like? I like talking to you, no matter what it’s about. I like spending time with you, no matter what we’re doing. You’re it for me, Deacon, and I will tell you and show you until I can’t anymore. Okay? But I need you to start talking to me about this stuff.”

Deacon nods, grabbing your elbows and pulling you up against him. “You show me a lot.”

“Really? Have any examples?” you ask playfully, blinking up at him.

“Later. I have a whole list,” Deacon answers.

He directs you back to the common area where his team is.

“We’re gonna head out, guys,” Deacon announces. “See you Friday?” he asks Hondo.

“Come prepared to lose!” Tan taunts as he waves.

You hold Deacon’s arm against your chest as you walk out, eager to stay close to him and remind him that you’re always close. Sometimes too close, maybe.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Now, the list?” you ask as Deacon passes you a steaming mug.

You pull your legs up as Deacon sits down, then drop them into his lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not just a list of things you do. There’s also specific memories and how you make me feel,” Deacon says quietly.

“Okay. How do I make you feel?”

“That’s at the end,” Deacon teases as he places his hand on your legs.

He begins telling you about the ten things that stand out as evidence of how you prove your love for him and your lack of care for the age gap.

“First, you watch for me when you’re out,” Deacon begins.

“Meaning?”

“When you go out with your friends and I come pick you up, they always have their noses in their phones. They don’t talk to each other or look around, but the second I walk in, your eyes light up and you run to meet me. Like you’ve been watching for me.”

“You’re worth watching for,” you point out, sipping your drink.

“No flirting right now, I’m trying to tell a story. Second, when you asked me to teach you how to tie a tie and started doing it for me every time I needed to wear a tie.”

You smile as you remember the memory. Deacon happily took your hands in his and walked you through the process several times before letting you try without his help. It took some practice, but soon, you could tie it perfectly and offer to do so whenever he has to wear a tie somewhere. He always accepts, of course.

“Third?” you inquire.

“You dance with me. I can turn on music and grab you, anywhere, anytime, and you’ll dance with me. Not everyone is willing to slow down and just be with someone else like that.”

“You’re my dance partner, forever, Deac.” He looks at you, and you smile into your cup as you say, “Sorry, I’ll stop flirting.”

“Four. You turn guys down with a grace I’ve never seen. When we’re out and a guy comes up to you…” Deacon trails off when he sees the look in your eyes. “It happens a lot. When they do, and they flirt with you, you make it clear that you’re not interested but you do it with a grace beyond anyone’s years.”

“Does it bother you? That guys come up to me like that, I mean. Because I can get a face tattoo or something, or a big necklace that says, ‘stay back.”

Deacon laughs, pulling you closer after you set your mug down. “Five is pretty easy. You bring me treats, and you involve my coworkers somehow when you visit me at the station. You get along with my friends and you know what everyone likes and needs. Which goes with number six, which is that you don’t rely on me for everything, but you make me a part of everything.”

“Deacon has someone said something about me using you for your money or your age?” you ask, leaning toward him as you hope the answer is negative.

“No, but I’m sure some people would expect it. And I would help you with anything in a heartbeat, but even then, on the rare occasion you do ask for help, you make me part of it, not just a means to the end.”

“I think your list of things you love about me is making me fall more in love with you,” you say.

Deacon smiles and tugs your legs once more, pulling your thighs into his lap so you’re close enough to kiss when he’s ready. You raise a hand and run your fingers through his hair, disturbing the gel he used this morning and gently scratching his scalp. He wraps his arms around you as his eyes close involuntarily.

“This is seven. When you touch my hair everything else slips away.”

“Well, you know how I feel about your hair,” you tease.

“You warned me at the beginning,” Deacon recalls. “But it’s gotten better with time.”

“What’s eight?” you whisper, stilling your hand against his cheek.

“That you stay close to me when we’re together. Even if you’re across the room, you stay in sight. When you’re right beside me is my favorite, though. It’s a reminder that you not only want to be there, but you want to be there with me.”

“Forever.”

“This one’s big. You approach my doubts so maturely, ready to explain and show me why they’re unfounded and wrong. When I get insecure or doubtful about your place with me, you find a way to show me that you want to be with me.”

“It doesn’t happen as much anymore,” you point out.

 “I guess I finally caught on,” Deacon jokes. “Old dogs, new tricks, perhaps.”

“If nine was that big, I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared for the last one.”

“It’s that you make me feel like I’m in love. You make me feel alive and young. I feel like you’re the breath that my lungs have been waiting for my whole life and you let me live and experience life in a whole new way. I love you with everything I am, no matter our ages.”

“I love you, now and forever, Deacon,” you say before kissing him.

“What do you think you’ll look like with gray hair?” Deacon mumbles against your lips.

“Not as good as you.”

[ginnysgraffiti]

blood, violence, cannibalism, stalking.

&. LEE x yn.

"LEE, WE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT THIS!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, pissed off as blood dripped from his mouth and his hand shook from anger on the steering wheel.

"I KNOW, BUT I WAS HUNGRY! NO ONE WILL NOTICE, WHY ARE YOU WORRYING SO MUCH ALL OF A SUDDEN?!"

"HE HAD A FAMILY! HIS HOUSE IS OVER THERE, HIS FAMILY WILL SEE THE CAR SOON!"

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU I CLEANED IT!"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT-"

you couldn't stand him anymore.

you weren't an eater but his needs and urges were now everyday things for you, and you were sick of fearing that you'd end up behind bars every single time.

lee's bloody hand was still maneuvering the steering wheel when you opened the door and jumped out. you were in the middle of the countryside, but the streetlights still allowed you a view.

"hey- what are you-" he complained.

"leave, go away and leave me here, i'm tired of you!"

lee's eyes pierced your skin like cold needles, and for a moment you thought he was going to jump on you or run you over.

finally he left you there, and you heard the engine go wild as he drove away in the stolen pickup.

now there was only you and nature, if things were bad you would have asked for a ride to your house.

you walked under the dim light and the buzz of the street lamps, there were two or three houses lit up even though it was late in the evening. you didn't bother knocking, you wanted to stretch your legs for a bit.

you could still smell the acrid smell of lee's vehicle in your nostrils when you noticed that a still figure had been contemplating you for quite some time while your mind was elsewhere.

you approached carefully, but you stopped when you noticed some wrinkles illuminated by the street lamp.

you got a little closer, albeit at a safe distance, and recognized the strange man who had been chasing you around supermarkets or inhabited neighborhoods for weeks.

it was creepy, really, but you didn't tell lee.

you didn't want him to worry about something so small.

but maybe, just maybe, it was better if you did.

now you were the one staring at him, and you stared at his strange gray braid falling over his shoulders and his strange scout or fisherman uniform.

"long time no see, mademoiselle."

a smile moved his wrinkles, and you held back a retch.

"who are you...? why have you been following me?"

"haha, you're smart. it's that old sully just wanted to make friends. he feels so alone..."

why does he talk about himself as another person?

that guy needed to be taken to the mental hospital.

"i can give you a lift, you know. i saw that you and your lovebird argued, what a shame..."

"how long have you been stalking me?"

"no, don't treat old sully badly. i'm just protecting you, that's all."

now there were two options: run away...or run away.

you took a step back and felt the gravel slide against your sole, the old man raised a thick eyebrow and in an instant he was on you.

the view was foggy and the world spun around you like a top when your feet left the ground. the next moment he slammed the back of your head against the wall and the dull thud echoed in your head.

he had already restrained your wrists, and if you kicked or screamed it would be worse. he took his time to smell and imprint your scent into his nostrils, you closed your eyes until it hurt.

you understood.

you could already feel his sharp canines imprinting on the cool flesh of your neck and it made you sweat terribly.

a strong smell of mold and musk trapped you whole.

you tightened your fingers around the fabric of his uniform until you could see your hands shaking, but suddenly his teeth moved away and fell with him.

"DIE, BASTARD!!!"

lee was behind him with an iron pipe, the old man was reduced to a puddle of blood in front of your feet. you avoided touching it as if it was lava.

your boyfriend was still as dirty as before, shirtless and looking like a butcher, but now he was scratching his head with a strong itch and you held back a laugh.

"am i too late? did he hurt you?"

his eyes traveled over you frantically, as if to see if you were still in one piece.

"don't worry...i'm o-"

"i'm so fucking sorry about our argument...i should have listened and been more careful, sorry, i-..." his voice caught in his throat.

"shhh...i'm glad you're here."

your lips rested on his, you could feel the blood from his previous hunt running down your throat with a strong iron taste.

he didn't notice and pushed you against the wall, seeking your lips as his lifeline.

his fingers were quickly stroking your hair, now your shoulders and following your hips.

"i love you, i love you, i love you..."

the words slipped out of his mouth like his most precious mantra. you were so glad he had saved you...

luckily, his cannibal sixth sense never failed.

[bess3714]

If I were in charge of DC here's what I would do to the Batfam comics in no particular order:

Batman and Robin:

I would send Bruce and Damian on a sabbatical/road trip across America. They of course keep running into crimes wherever they go and solve them, leading a couple of FBI agents to start investigating them for committing the crimes. One FBI agent will remind people of a chihuahua, and the other of a St. Bernard. Also Damian has his permit so he can drive, and since Bruce currently doesn't have a hand in comics I'd add in a plotline where they help an alien who grows back his hand as a reward but he does it wrong and now Bruce has an extra finger.

Batman:

With Bruce and Damian gone, I'd make Tim Batman and Stephanie Robin. They fight crime and bicker like old ex's, leading to some interesting rumors about Batman. I'd make a directive that Tim isn't allowed to be drawn as a twink anymore, but has to be drawn with the rippling muscles he had in the 90's and 00's. Stephanie also gets rippling muscles. Part of the b plot for a while is Stephanie's rivalry with her next-door-neighbor who turns out to be a drug lord, but the drugs he sells are like, insulin and ADHD meds that he and his gang steals because he's a doctor who lost his job for reporting some ethics concerns and now he's mad about the medical system. Stephanie gets mad because in hindsight all the clues were there that he was literally in a gang, and she didn't notice because she thought he was just an asshole. Also they definitely make out at one point.

Detective Comics:

I love what Ram V is doing right now but I think when he's done I'd put Duke Thomas in the main story investigating systemic corruption in Gotham, shining a light (because he's the Signal) on the worst parts of the government. At some point he's accused of murder and the police are all trying to arrest him so he blows up some cop cars and Batman calls to yell at him but he hangs up on Batman. Montoya has a dartboard in her office with a picture of his face on it.

I'd add in an ongoing run of a comic that resembles the original batman comics in style and content. Then I'd have a a bunch of stories with some lesser-known characters, like the Psyba-Rats. I'd really use Tec as a playground to experiment with unusual team-ups, fresh stories, and inventive artstyles.

Birds of Prey:

I like the current lineup but there needs to be 30% more queerbaiting between Barbara and Dinah. There's an issue where Barbara and Dinah pretend to be lesbians to get this himbo to leave Dinah alone because she's trying to let him down easy because he's so damn nice she doesn't want to hurt him. (Has anyone watched Rizzoli and Isles, coincidentally?) I'd also add Helena Bertinelli to the team but she has an eyepatch for inexplicable reasons (the reason is it looks cool). The eyepatch will be dropped without any recognition a few issues later. Barbara drops both Batgirl and Oracle and gets a new identity as the Cloud. Only the Birds of Prey know it's her; everyone else thinks the Cloud may or may not be an evil AI working for Lex Luthor.

Outsiders:

I'm not reading Outsiders so I can't really comment on what I'd do for that one, but if you guys have any ideas let me know and I'll do the opposite, inciting fan fury and starting a Twitter war.

Nightwing:

I would send Dick to live in New York and also I would make him broke and homeless. I thought about making him lose his memory too, but that's already been done so instead I'd give him violent visions of murder and assault so he thinks he's losing his mind but then it turns out to be a secret policy from the new mayor of New York City to quietly round up all the homeless people by releasing gas into the streets at night to knock them out, but Dick has had too much exposure to drugs and poisons for it to work right on him, so instead he gets hallucinations!

Batgirl:

That's right, you'd get a Batgirl ongoing from me! Cassandra Cain would be the main character, and in the first arc I'd have her join a dating app, but then every date she goes on turns out to be with a criminal who she then sends to jail, and just when she's about to give up on dating, on the very last date she goes on the guy tries to force a charter pilot to help him escape by plane but Cass takes him down and the pilot is like "so that was cool. Can I get your number?" and they start dating. After that Cass accidentally joins a gang but she keeps getting gang members sent to jail and no one suspects it's her, only at some point she actually becomes the gang leader. There's then a crossover with Batman where her gang beefs with Stephanie's next-door-neighbor's gang and Cass ends up giving her gang to him peacefully.

Batwoman:

While I'm at it, I'd launch a Batwoman comic. I'd get Chuck Dixon to write it and it would be both wildly homophobic and also the gayest thing you'd ever seen, but eventually ol' Chuck and I would have some creative differences and he would depart, and instead we would have a rotating cast of guest authors. I don't really know much about Batwoman but luckily knowing about a character in order to write them isn't a requirement at DC. I think we need some ghosts so there would be an arc about Batwoman getting haunted by a bunch of angry, vengeful spirits who she thinks are trying to kill her but who are actually trying to lead to their killer. One of the ghosts is a really hot woman and they share a passionate kiss before the ghost girl disappears after Kate gets them justice. The arc would be lauded in some articles as a 'major reversal of the bury your gays trope' because at one point Kate has to dig up their bodies to look for clues, while in other news outlets it would be decried as a 'vile depiction of the desecration of queer final resting places.'

Red Hood and the Outlaws:

Jason starts a club/gym for a group of teenagers where he teaches them cool stuff like 'how to throw a punch' but also 'how to buy and cook groceries'. The gym is threatened by various forces like gangs, developers, the city government, plus the kids all have personal problems they have to deal with, like mental and physical disabilities, generational trauma, homelessness, and poverty. The teenagers call the gym "The Saloon" and themselves "The Outlaws" because Jason always has a TV playing reruns of old western shows. There's a running joke where various people think Jason looks like a dead relative.

Poison Ivy:

I'm a few issues behind but this one I would leave alone. I don't think I could improve on it. Unless I made Janet from HR and Croc an item. That could be fun.

Harley Quinn:

Another one I'm not reading so I don't know what's going on there but it could be fun to have a crossover storyline with Poison Ivy where they grow and sell shrooms to rich college students and then influence them to do stupid stuff and get them arrested. You know, fun date night activities!

Conclusion:

My time in charge of Batman comics would be one of mass outrage and general fervor. My directives would be so unpopular amongst fans that petitions would be started to have me removed and violent death threats towards me would be de rigueur online. I would depart after a few short months and my replacement would almost immediately retcon all my creative decisions away into a dark universe that would then be blown up by Lex Luthor. Ten years later, a dedicated fanbase for the comics produced under me would emerge, and they would be so loud and annoying and insistent that fans would then clamor to get me back in charge of DC once again, but unfortunately by then I will have retired to start drama on Twitter and write a memoir after a failed attempt at starting my own comics company called Big M Comics and getting sued by McDonald's

[fairyhaos]

. ˚ game on !

requested by 🫧 anon: what about strangers to lovers with wonwoo, the guy that you met at the arcade 😌

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: college au, meet cute, arcade au, fluff

word count: 1256

warnings: 1 curse word, maybe mildly ooc

notes: this took way too long for me to write,,, i hope y'all enjoy anyways <3

Every competent, sensible, slightly-more-sane-than-the-rest college student has a safe place. A haven, a refuge, somewhere they go to be alone and clear their thoughts to relax after a stressful day. 

For some, that place is one of the libraries. Maybe a secluded place in a park. Maybe meeting up with their friends in a coffee shop a little ways off campus. Maybe even just hopping on a train and going all the way home. 

For Wonwoo, however, his place is a little different. 

Wonwoo goes to the arcade. 

There is a small arcade a little ways away from where he lives, on the corner of a busy street and yet, oddly, seems to remain empty for the majority of the day. On the off-chance that there are people there, they're mostly small kids with adults, or pre-teens giddy at having been able to go out without parental supervision. All of them however, know to avoid Wonwoo’s arcade game. The one he’s staked claim over all the way back during his first year.

It's nothing special, simply just one of those shooting games with the plastic guns and bad graphics and weird, tinny sound effects, but Wonwoo likes it. It reminds him of the terrible arcade games back at home. 

It also helps that he's really, really good at it. 

And so, it's another one of those days for him, where he wants to run away from the stress of college life, wants to ignore Mingyu's texts for once and Seungcheol's endless offers to go out for a drink and stand there and shoot at pixelated images without a care in the world. 

When he arrives at the arcade, however, he finds his plans are somewhat disrupted. 

There's someone using his game. 

Wonwoo blinks, surprised. He doesn't move from his spot, a few metres away from the machine, watching the person play and listen to the crackly sounds that come from the speakers every time a successful shot is made. 

They're actually really good.

Eventually, the game finishes with dramatic closing music and the words 'GAME OVER' flashing in front of you, and you set down the arcade gun, sighing. 

You've never played in this arcade before. Coming from another area of the town, the arcade near where you’re staying has been closed down for apparently engaging in "suspicious business" and, without your usual escape, you've had to scour the town for another place to seek refuge in. 

This arcade certainly looks cleaner and more looked-after than the one you'd been frequenting before. Maybe yours really had been engaging in "suspicious business". Old Mr. Song’s oily moustache had been rather suspicious-looking, now that you think about it.

The games are more or less the same, however, and whilst you haven't played in a while, you're pleased to see that you aren't doing too badly, seeing your score flash up as first place in the leaderboard on the game's screen. 

Well, as expected, really. You've been playing this game literally every week for years, whenever you have time or want to chill. Even in a new arcade, you're still a pro. 

You raise your eyebrows at the second place score, however, surprised by how high it is, noting the barest difference in number compared to yours. Not bad, stranger who apparently is as addicted to arcade games as me, you think. 

"Hey," a voice calls out behind you, and you whip around to see a boy standing there, hands in his pockets, walking towards you. 

Oh, shit. The first thing you register is that this guy is quite possibly the most attractive person you've ever seen. 

His black rimmed glasses glint in the neon signs of the arcade as he tilts his head, a bag slung over his shoulder, and there's the faintest smile on his lips. He stops beside you, nodding at the flashing screen. "You're pretty good."

You raise an eyebrow. "Pretty good?" you echo. "I beat the high score that was previously held on his machine. On my first time here, might I add. I think I'm more than 'pretty good'."

That makes him laugh, surprised by your quick-witted response. "Ah, of course. My apologies. You're incredible."

You grin, pleased by both the compliment and the way you managed to pull such a delighted sound out of this boy. Who was really, really attractive, damn. "Thank you. I know."

He smiles again. "So it's your first time in this arcade, hm?"

“Yep,” you say. “I’m not from around here, actually. The arcade in my area closed down, though, because apparently the owner was using it as a cover for a money-laundering scheme, or something.”

The boy’s eyes are glittering behind his glasses lenses, amused. “Or something?”

You shrug. “Something like that. I can’t remember. It was something illegal, anyway, so they shut down and I haven’t been able to let off steam since.” You pat the machine like it’s a long-lost friend, and he follows your movements with that mildly amused expression on his face. “This is the game that I normally play. Well, not this exact one, but we had one of these in my old arcade.” You pause. “Before the illegal—”

“—before the illegal business, perhaps,” the boy says, and you grin.

“Exactly. I don’t know, but something about these games are just so… stress-relieving. I love them so much.” You glance at your score on the screen, still somehow flashing up even though you’ve finished the game a while ago, and smile proudly. “Back at my old arcade, this was ‘my territory’. No one could touch this game because they knew it was mine.”

That has the boy smiling, an amused twitching of the lips, glasses flashing as he holds out his hand to you. “I’m Wonwoo.”

“Um.” You blink, a little confused by the sudden introduction, but you shake his hand. Wonwoo’s grip is firm, warm, and his eyes seem to light up when your palm makes contact with his. “I’m Y/N?”

“You’re Y/N?” he says, voice a little teasing, mimicking the questioning lilt you’d unintentionally added to the end of your sentence. “Are you sure?”

You roll your eyes, unable to help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

He laughs, a soft chuckle that makes your heart clunk oddly in your chest. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, releasing your hand to gesture to the game machine, “and in this arcade, this game is my territory.”

You blink, and then your eyes widen. “Oh my god,” you say, laughing a little. “That’s such an incredible coincidence. Wait, does that mean that all of these scores are yours, too?” You point to the screen, and Wonwoo grins.

“Maybe. No one else has touched this game in years. Not since I’ve claimed it.”

You nod appraisingly. “You’re pretty good,” you say, as if giving him your grudging respect, and he smiles again. “Not as good as me, unfortunately.”

That makes him pause, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Y/N?”

“Maybe,” you chirp, drawing yourself up to full height, looking him right in the eye. “Will you be willing to take the challenge, Mr. Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, observing you quietly for a moment, before the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, confident and gentle and shy and eager all at once. He drops his bag from his shoulder and steps closer to you, eyes bright with an emotion you can’t quite name.

“Game on.”

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[mags-writes]

Sunlight Masterlist

Summary: frank castle finds his match in a woman from another dimension

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Main Masterlist

PROLOGUE (you are here)

PART I || frank comes to stay

PART II || frank helps out in the kitchen

PART III || frank offers his shoulder for you to cry on

PART IV || frank gives you a call

PART V || frank contemplates homicide

PART VI || frank gets his worldview changed

PART VII || frank gets some insight

PART VIII || frank comes over for dinner

One moment you were walking down the street arm in arm with Matt Murdock and the next you were shrouded in darkness, alone in the rain. A flash of light, like something from a camera, was the only indication you got that something was about to change.

You'd heard of things like this happening. Flashes of light and then a missing persons report. It was happening all over the world and no one, not even the Avengers, had an explanation to give. The only thought running through your mind, despite the rain seeping into your shoes, was poor Matt would have no idea what just happened.

Everything looked similar although, you suppose, Hells Kitchen could look like any city in the dark. You took deep and calming breaths, willing the panic to subside long enough to get yourself together. You squared your shoulders and started walking until you came across a street name that looked familiar. The second you did, everything clicked, you knew exactly where you were in Hell's Kitchen, all you needed to do was hang a right, and three blocks down would be Josies.

You walked through the door and there were your friends like nothing had happened at all. Matt, Foggy, and Karen sharing drinks and laughing at something Matt probably said. You sighed in relief. Maybe you got lucky? Maybe you just randomly blacked out?

"Matt! Guys!" You grabbed onto Matt's arm, nearly hanging off of him. "You are never going to believe this. One minute I'm walking down the street with Matt and next thing I know I'm getting soaked-"

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Matt put a reassuring hand over yours on his bicep, frowning kindly in your direction. Ma'am was the first clue that had you stiffening. Matt not looking at you was the next. Yes, the man was blind but you were his girl in the chair, the one in his ear, and his makeshift nurse before you called Clair for help. Matt always looked at you. "Do I know you?"

The world stopped spinning.

"Matthew. Michael. Murdock." You said with wide and unflinching eyes and your tone made him drop his hand. "I have known you since your eyes could spy on the women's boxing matches that your dad dragged us away from. I did not just walk, at the very least, four blocks in the pouring rain for you to call me ma'am. Take it back."

"Uh, I'm sorry," Foggy leaned forward holding his hand out like he was about to try and move you away.

"Franklin Percy Nelson! Don't fuck with me!" You hissed, stiffening up further and giving him a sidelong glare that had him recoiling.

"Hang on Foggy," Matt said, before putting his hand back over yours. "Explain what's happened."

So you did. From the moment you woke up to the moment you walked in through Josie's doors. Every painstaking detail, telling him about the missing people around the world and the very, very disgusting and specific coffee order he gets.

"She's telling the truth." Matt said, completely shocked. "I don't know how, but she is."

"Listen to this," Karen piped up, looking down at her phone. "There are several reports of doppelgangers showing up in homes with similar or near identical memories of Earth citizens. And even more reports of formerly dead citizens showing up at their old homes they used to live in."

"How have we not heard more about this?" Foggy asked, throwing his hands up. "This is right up our alley."

"Probably because anyone who ends up in New York is weird enough to just blend in." You answered sarcastically.

"She's got a point." Karen shrugged.