#ej fic

[hrtfelt4u]

dorm love. | euijoo byun.

synopsis: your cute resident advisor is very oblivious to your advances on him— good thing he's sweet enough to forgive every time.

content warnings: fem!reader, mention of drinking, lighthearted jealousy, jo catches a stray

author's note: daydreamed about euijoo being a cute ra a little too hard </3 enjoy!

© hrtfelt4u 2025

[moonlitnicho]

ꕤ｡˚⋆ we were never just a memory ⋆˚｡ꕤ

✧ three weeks after the breakup, nicholas is barely holding himself together in the dorm. but when he finds the scrapbook you made for your anniversary, he’s forced to relive every moment you built together—and realize none of it ever really stopped mattering.

✧ part 1 | part 2

✧ nicholas x reader | exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, flashback-heavy, emotional breakup fic, idol/band au | wc: ~3.4k

✧ author’s note: wait i think i like writing angst… should i do a part 2??

the dorm felt too quiet without you.

not physically quiet—someone was always doing something. the tv in the living room played at low volume, one of the members was laughing somewhere down the hall, and footsteps passed every few minutes—but none of it reached him properly. everything sounded far away now, muffled behind the constant static in his head.

nicholas sat on the edge of his bed, staring at absolutely nothing.

three weeks.

three weeks since the breakup, and somehow everything still looked exactly the same while feeling completely ruined.

his phone buzzed beside him again.

he didn’t check it.

a knock sounded against the doorframe before it pushed open slightly.

“hey.”

ej leaned against the doorway, arms crossed loosely. his expression shifted almost immediately when he saw nicholas sitting there in the dark.

“you didn’t eat again?”

nicholas shrugged without looking up. “not hungry.”

“that’s what you said yesterday.”

“and the day before,” k added as he appeared behind ej, carrying a convenience store bag. “at this point it’s getting annoying.”

nicholas huffed a weak laugh through his nose, but it died quickly.

k stepped into the room anyway and tossed a drink onto the bed beside him. “you look terrible.”

“thanks.”

“you’re welcome.”

for a second, none of them said anything.

ej glanced around the room carefully, like he was trying to check how bad things had gotten without making it obvious. clothes half-folded. empty water bottles. a hoodie tossed over the lamp. the kind of mess that happens when someone stops caring little by little instead of all at once.

“have you talked to her?” ej asked carefully.

nicholas shook his head.

“did she text?”

another shake.

k sighed quietly and sat on the floor near the bed. “you’re seriously just gonna rot in here forever?”

“maybe.”

“that’s dramatic.”

“i’m literally heartbroken.”

“you’re also irritating.”

that got another tiny laugh out of him.

tiny. brief. gone again.

k and ej exchanged a look.

“come eat with us later,” ej said softly. “even if you don’t feel like talking.”

nicholas nodded vaguely, though all three of them knew it probably meant no.

the door clicked shut behind them after a few more minutes, leaving the room silent again.

too silent.

nicholas rubbed both hands over his face before finally forcing himself to move. he bent down beside the bed, reaching for his charger that had fallen between a stack of boxes.

that’s when he saw it.

a dark blue scrapbook tucked halfway underneath one of them.

his stomach dropped instantly.

no.

slowly, carefully, he pulled it out.

the edges were worn from being opened too many times. little stickers still clung crookedly to the cover, and in faded silver marker were the words:

“3 years with you ♡”

his chest physically hurt.

he swallowed hard and opened it anyway.

the first page was messy and overdecorated in the way you always liked—tiny notes in the corners, ticket stubs taped beside pictures, little arrows pointing to inside jokes only the two of you understood.

his thumb brushed over one photo.

a park bench at night.

both of you were mid-laugh, posed horribly off-center because you’d been running against a timer.

and suddenly—

—

“wait, wait, it’s counting!”

“i know it’s counting!”

“you pushed the button too early!”

“run faster then!”

nicholas nearly tripped over the curb trying to sprint back toward the bench while you were already doubled over laughing beside him.

the phone balanced dangerously against your drink cup on the pavement, timer flashing down.

3… 2…

he threw himself onto the bench dramatically at the last second, grabbing your shoulders to yank you into frame.

the picture snapped right as you both burst into laughter.

“oh my god,” you wheezed immediately, grabbing the phone. “you look insane.”

“you blinked!”

“because you elbowed me in the face!”

“that sounds like a you problem.”

you gasped in fake offense before shoving him hard enough to make him slide sideways on the bench.

the night air had been cold enough to turn your noses pink, but neither of you cared. you both stayed there for almost an hour taking increasingly worse timer photos.

one where he fell mid-run.

one where you laughed so hard you disappeared entirely from frame.

one blurry picture where he was kissing your cheek while you looked at the camera with wide, betrayed eyes.

“i’m putting this one in the scrapbook,” you announced proudly.

“delete that immediately.”

“never.”

“people will think i’m in love with you.”

you smiled then.

soft. easy. certain.

“you are.”

and god, he was.

—

nicholas blinked hard and looked away from the photo.

his chest tightened painfully.

he turned the page.

another picture.

this one quieter.

the two of you sitting on the floor of your apartment surrounded by half-finished takeout containers and fairy lights. you’d fallen asleep against his shoulder while he looked down at you with that unconscious softness people only have when they don’t realize they’re being watched.

his throat closed.

—

he flipped to another page.

this one was different.

a rooftop.

—

city lights stretching endlessly below you both, the night wind tugging at your hair and making the world feel like it belonged to only the two of you for a little while. you were wrapped in his jacket, sleeves swallowed past your hands, while he stood behind you pretending not to notice how you kept leaning back into him for warmth.

his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, firm in the way of something familiar. his chin rested lightly near your shoulder, and his hands stayed locked around you like they belonged there.

“you’re gonna get sick out here,” he muttered.

“you always say that when we’re here, and guess what? i never do,” you said, smiling a little as you nudged him playfully.

he scoffed, but still adjusted the jacket tighter around your waist without thinking.

you went quiet after a moment, resting your elbows on the edge of the roof and looking out over the city.

“it feels like everything’s so big from up here,” you said softly.

nicholas followed your gaze. “yeah.”

a pause.

then, quieter:

“but it doesn’t feel as scary.”

that made him look at you instead of the city.

you were smiling a little, not the loud kind this time. something steadier.

“you know,” you added, “i think if i ever feel lost, i’d still find my way back to you.”

his breath caught slightly at that.

“that’s a lot of pressure,” he said, trying to keep it light.

you turned toward him fully, the wind pushing your hair across your face.

“no,” you said simply. “it’s just where i want to end up.”

he didn’t answer right away.

he just looked at you like he was trying to memorize something he already knew he’d never forget.

then, quieter than everything else:

“i could do forever with you.”

you blinked at him, surprised by the honesty.

then you smiled—slow, certain, devastating in its softness.

“good,” you said. “because i already planned on it.”

—

nicholas shut the scrapbook suddenly.

too fast.

his breathing had gone uneven.

he stared at the cover for a long moment before pressing the heel of his hand hard against his eyes.

because the worst part wasn’t missing you.

it was knowing you had loved him that deeply once.

and somehow he still let things fall apart.

a knock sounded again before the door cracked open.

k peeked in first this time. “you alive?”

nicholas didn’t answer immediately.

ej appeared beside him—and both of them stopped when they noticed the scrapbook sitting in his lap.

the room went quiet.

“oh,” ej said softly.

nicholas looked down at it again.

at the stupid stickers.

the bent corners.

the memories you had carefully glued together because you thought you’d have forever to keep adding more.

something in him snapped into place all at once.

not painfully.

clearly.

he stood up so abruptly both ej and k startled.

“nicholas—?”

he shoved the scrapbook carefully back into its box before grabbing his jacket from the chair.

k blinked. “wait, where are you going?”

nicholas was already pulling on a hat, grabbing his keys off the desk.

ej stared at him for a second before realization slowly spread across his face.

and for the first time in weeks, nicholas actually looked awake.

terrified, maybe.

but awake.

he opened the bedroom door and finally said,

“i’m getting my person back.”

then he was gone before either of them could stop him.

[slytherinshua]

🏀　HOW TO APPROACH YOU　( 변의주 )

genre fluff , mutual pining , highschool au , euijoo x fem!reader   cw i mean... property theft (reader steals ej's jersey) , ej is rly rly shy and oblivious tbh   wc 1043   request @fae-renjun for euijoo + stolen jersey for the 3k event   note tbh i didnt' know how to feel about this after i finished writing it. i was gonna rewrite it completely to be est rs instead but after rereading it this morning i was like eh its not that bad?? but i still don't know lol it is what it is ig   net @lune-net @kstrucknet

Euijoo liked you. You were aware of this fact. You also liked Euijoo. Euijoo was not aware of this fact.

He was on the basketball team, and you showed up to every game just to watch him. Mesmerized by the way he moved on the court, guiding the ball to the net with ease, scoring dozens of points for his team without breaking a sweat. He was the MVP. You were his biggest fan.

Euijoo never tried to talk to you, despite your attempts to approach him. You would take your chances sometimes after games, sometimes before class, and on rare occasions, during lunch when Euijoo wasn’t in the gym shooting hoops. He was too nervous to talk to you, and even more blushy when you talked to him. His friends teased him about it, but you just found it cute. 

The only thing that bothered you was how oblivious he was to your feelings. Weren’t you being obvious enough that you liked him? You wanted to wait until he asked you out, but the more you waited, the more you felt like he had absolutely no guts to do it. At least, not without a push. 

Given your propensity for impatience, you weren’t willing to give the boy of your dreams all the time in the world to become yours, so you came up with a plan. There weren’t many things that could force Euijoo to talk to you. However there was one item that you realized would perfectly force the boy to approach you. His lucky team jersey. 

You needed to somehow acquire it, though, which is where Nicholas came to your rescue. Another player on the basketball team and Euijoo’s best friend. He knew how much Euijoo liked you, and upon hearing of your plan, he was more than happy to assist. 

Nicholas delivered the freshly washed jersey to you the following day. It was an orangey red with white bold letters spelling BYUN across the back. You put it on immediately, getting distracted by the lingering scent of Euijoo for a second (he smelled like oranges). This particular jersey was important to Euijoo. He wore it every time he won a game, and one could tell based on the slightly faded colour of it. Whenever he switched it out with a different jersey, he would lose. It was his good luck charm. 

Now that you had it, the next phase of your plan— get Euijoo to notice you wearing your jersey— was a go.

Your hope was, after noticing that his jersey was missing and seeing you wearing the jersey, he would ask for it back. He needed it to play for practice and season finals. You were practically forcing him to talk to you, and hopefully, you could bait him into asking you out too.

But you had underestimated Euijoo’s shyness, as well as his non confrontational attitude. He saw you wearing the jersey to class, in the hallways, and at lunch. He didn’t just see, he stared. Eyes glued to your figure wherever you went.

You thought your plan was surely going successfully. He would approach you at any time and demand it back, and then you would hit him with a smooth not until you ask me out.

But… Euijoo was Euijoo. And he would not approach you.

He went to practice without the jersey, adorning another one with a much brighter orangey red colour. He played horribly, and got a few strict words about it from his coach. You watched it all happen, the missing jersey hidden under your hoodie. Euijoo spared you a few extra glances that day at practice. You only smiled at him.

The end of the season was quickly drawing near, and the most important game with it. A full month after you had pocketed Euijoo’s jersey. Still not a word about it from the boy. You knew he would have to ask you soon, though. He needed it for the game. 

Thursday morning, one day before the game, he finally stopped you at your locker.

“Have you seen my jersey, Y/n?” he asked. He almost sounded too genuine and oblivious. You were confused. He knew you had his jersey. Why would he ask like that? You rolled with it, though.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” You pulled up your sweater, revealing the jersey you wore underneath, immediately recognizable by the number 8 on it. Heat crept up Euijoo’s neck.

“I… I kinda need it for tomorrow’s game.”

“Why? You have others just like it,” you said, hoping the work you put in would lead somewhere. 

“It’s just that particular jersey is special—“

“—cause you always win games in it?” you completed for him, causing him to let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah. You get it. So, can I have it back?”

“Will it be okay? It smells like my perfume now,” you told him, smiling slightly as you watched him get flustered again at the thought. You really should have stopped teasing him ages ago, but he was just too cute not to. You fully intended to give it to him in the end, though. A few more minutes of seeing his cute flushed face wouldn’t hurt.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised. You nodded with a smile. Euijoo could feel his heart beating in his chest. He was so sure this was the fastest it had ever raced. No amount of adrenaline from basketball could get him this worked up. “Can I have it back now?” 

“Only if you take me on a date,” you said smoothly. Euijoo’s eyes practically bulged out, trying to process if he had heard you right.

“A date? With me?” 

“Yes. With you. You really haven’t caught on by now?” 

“Huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his obliviousness and how adorable his confused face was. Euijoo felt like he was floating on the clouds, no longer on this earth. Perhaps he was dreaming, and he would soon wake up to realize that this was all a figment of his imagination. There was just no way the girl he had been crushing on for so long was asking him for a date. 

“I like you, stupid.”

&team taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @hursheys,, @loserlvrss,, @voikiraz

[ejsmissingteeth]

Lucky Charm | E. Johnson

Erik Johnson X Fem!Reader

A/N: Inspired by Emily Kaplan’s interview with EJ after the Avs won the Cup. He’s so fine it’s not even funny.

CW: NSFW (blowjob, praise, exhibitionism if you squint REALLY hard), swearing, very limited knowledge of how horse racing/betting actually works, but I gave it a stab. Very VERY lightly proofread, pls excuse any mistakes, just doin this for funsies.

Word count: 2.4K

:)

<><><><>

The summers in Denver were always perfect. It was finally time to relax and enjoy the warm weather after months and months of cold ice rinks and rigorous schedules, for you and your boyfriend both. EJ could finally take a step back from his intense training and long road trips, just for a few weeks, before it was back to the grind again.

You worked as a senior consultant in a successful Denver design firm, which was also the reason you met the tall blond. He commissioned you to design his newly renovated kitchen and living space, and invited you to enjoy a glass of wine with him when all was said and done. He had given you a soul-sucking kiss on the way out the door that night, leading to the best years of your life so far.

You were high up enough in the company now, around four years down the line, that you could somewhat make your own schedule. You followed Erik’s schedule most of the time. You would work hard in the months he was on the ice, and take a few weeks in the summer to enjoy the sunshine and your boyfriend.

That’s how you found yourself here, sitting on the shaded patio, watching the water in the backyard pool ebb and flow in the breeze and reading a new book leisurely. There was nothing like enjoying the soft sound of the water and a good book to pass the time.

You shared a routine during these days. He would join you outside with a tray of food and special cocktails he liked to make, spending the day reading or playing cards with some music on. On race days, especially the ones his horses were entered in, he insisted on sitting outside with a cigar (because there was no way he was getting cigar ash on his indoor furniture) with the back door open, plus sitting on the part of the sectional that faced indoors so he could watch and still enjoy time with you.

Today was a race day, and like clockwork, you could hear Erik open the back door, the sound of the TV in the other room coming through, and his footfalls coming up behind you. He leaned against the back of the deck sectional you were seated in, squeezing the back of your neck and laying a gentle kiss on your head.

“How’s the read?” He asked, coming to sit down with a tray of sandwiches, fruit, and the drinks.

“S’good so far, I’m about halfway through.” You answered, popping a raspberry in your mouth and flipping the page, “any news on MacKinnon yet?”

Horse racing was something that seemed to escape you interest-wise. You thought the horses were absolutely stunning, but the pedigrees going back to the dawn of time and the betting Erik liked to partake in were a bit much for you. He loved it though, so you kept up with his horses at least. You had met them all on trips to California and listened to his explanations about why they were so elite, all while petting their velvety noses and giving them carrots, completely losing the conversation after their grandparents had been brought up.

“Nothing yet, the race starts in 20ish minutes. The announcers have high hopes for him though.” He said, picking up the cigar and his little silver guillotine strait cutter, “his money pool is up to 30k right now, could be a big day for us baby.”

He put the cigar into the guillotine and clipped the end off, pulling out his nice zippo and holding it up. You loved how he looked lighting up his cigars, holding the cigar between the teeth he still had and gently grasping it with his hand. You loved the way the little fire would reflect on his sunglasses and cast soft shadows on his face. Every time he blew a puff of smoke out, it made you want to melt into a puddle, but you would never tell him that.

“That one smells pretty good.” You remarked as he leaned back, pulling you up against his side, the scent of tobacco and spice wafting around you.

“I think so too. Naz gave me a few after the parade.” He said, looking up towards the tv for the stats of today’s race.

You admired his profile as he looked at the standings, watching his eyes dart across the screen behind his sunglasses and the tendril of blond hair sticking out of his backwards ball cap. You admired his nose and his cupid’s bow, watching as he blew out more smoke and let it billow around him. You quickly learned to love the way his lip fell flat where his teeth were missing too, despite your friends feigning concern for your future make-outs. You loved everything about Erik really, but moments like these really did something to you. You thought you might get caught looking for too long, so you turned back to your book and dove in once again.

Your books were to you like Erik’s horses were to him. You loved romance novels most of all, you could laugh at the worst of them and squeeze your thighs together when they got good. You learned new things about yourself because of them too, Erik more than willing to try new things when you brought them up, on the rare occasions that you did. You weren’t the most adventurous in the bedroom by any means, but you had a few things you particularly liked when Erik did or helped you do.

This particular book was on the thigh-squeezing end so far, the slow-burn where the main character falls in love with the handsome rugged cowboy (who also happened to have an affinity for cigars) after finding herself stuck in a podunk little town. It had gotten very hot very fast. Images of a tall dark and handsome man pushing the main character up against a barn door and finally kissing her after 15 chapters went flashing through your mind. You continued down the page, imagining the clothes coming off and the sloppy kisses leading up to a risky, almost-public blowjob. He topped it all off with blowing cigar smoke into her mouth while she trembled under him.

Suddenly, your skin was on fire, and you were hyper aware of Erik’s fingers gently stroking up and down your arm, and the way he looked smoking that damn cigar. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, and you breathing became more ragged and shallow.

You craned your head up and placed a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Your hand found his chest as you tried to sit up a little more, but Erik lifted you up just enough for a proper kiss, letting his hand fall on your shoulders, the other holding onto the cigar so he wouldn’t burn you or get ash on you.

“What’s this for baby?” He said, reaching out for another kiss, “your heart’s beating a million miles a minute…” he continued.

“Cant I kiss my boyfriend? I just felt like it…” you said, albeit with a ragged intake of breath.

He smiled a knowing smile, “did your book get good baby?”

“I just wanna kiss you…” you repeated, and he obliged with a few more kisses, noting the way a blush crept up your neck and turned your ears red like it did when you asked him to try something.

After the kiss slowed down, you laid down on the sectional, your head resting on Erik’s thick thigh. His eyes shot back to the tv again, observing the standings again. You tried to focus on your book again, but your mind traveled back to the blowjob up against the cowboy’s barn, and him blowing smoke into the main character’s mouth, your thighs squeezed together again. Erik began running a hand through your hair, brushing your scalp with his fingertips.

You placed gentle kisses on his thigh and began to slowly slide off the sectional, not wanting to take too much of Erik’s attention off the tv. You brought a pillow down with you, putting it under your knees so they wouldn’t scrape against the concrete of the patio. You reached for the knot holding his shorts up, and he inhaled sharply, his hand flying down to caress your face.

“Baby…” he said, and you continued trying to take the knot out of the tie, “baby you wanna do this now? Here?” He said, gently holding your chin so you would look up into his gaze.

You never wanted to do anything outside before now, you had a lot of anxiety about the media seeing you and Erik doing NSFW things and ruining both of your careers. He had asked before on a couple of occasions, but you found a way to steer things inside with the blinds shut. You were almost completely secluded here, it was the off-season, and it would take a real scumbag of a media person to show up at the house for a juicy scoop.

“Yeah, I want you so bad…” you said quietly, “you look so fucking hot with that cigar…” you admitted without thinking.

“You like the cigar huh?” He said, pushing his hips up so you could pull his shorts and boxers down just enough for his dick, already half hard from a few kisses and touches.

“You have no idea what you do to me with that damn thing…” you said, pressing kisses to the cut of his hip and his happy trail.

He groaned in playful frustration, spreading a little more so you fit better between his thighs. You finally grabbed his dick, running your closed hand up and down. He moaned and reached for your hair, running his fingers through it again. You stroked him until he was fully hard, watching the muscles tense under your touch.

You ran your tongue along the underside in a fat stripe, letting your spit coat his dick. You took the head in your mouth and sunk down slowly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t take. He fisted your hair, pulling back strands so he could see your face.

He loved looking at you when you blew him, there was nothing better. He loved watching his dick disappear into your throat and how expertly you took him. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, and saw he was slack-jawed with his eyes rolled back, absorbing all of the sensations.

“Mmm baby, you look so pretty taking me like that…” he said breathily, “holy fuck your mouth feels so good.”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his dick and bringing him that much closer. He had to control himself from fucking your throat. Everything about this was hot, the sight of you on the ground for him, the wet sound of your spit, the way your mascara was starting to run in the corners of your eyes.

He watched and waited for you to look up through your eyelashes again, then took a deep inhale of the cigar and blew it out, still holding onto your hair. The smell of the cigar just heightened everything further.

Suddenly the sound of a bugle announcing the beginning of the race, and a shot accompanied by the gates holding in the horses swinging open drew your eyes to the tv. You looked up to Erik again, watching his eyebrows slightly raise as MacKinnon pulled forward by a few feet. You took him out of your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin and all over his dick, and you took a moment to breathe while you stroked.

Focusing back on Erik, you knew he was close, you could feel his hard muscles tensing. His moans were getting higher and a little louder, but not too loud, he knew that would make you nervous about people noticing. His hands ran through your hair and gently held the back of your head when you took him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, eliciting a sharp whine from him. He took another puff of the cigar, sending you into a somewhat feral effort to get him there.

“I-I’m so close baby! God you feel amazing!” He said, watching you take his dick, “you’re so good for me, treating me so well…” he praised.

You sucked gently and bobbed your head a few more times before he finally shot his load down your throat, letting you swallow it. He moaned and writhed above you, tightening his grip on your hair before letting his fist loosen so your hair fell down around your face.

You leaned your head on his thigh and took a few breaths, trying to regain some composure. Seeing you like that always made his heart skip a beat, hair tousled from his hands and lips swollen and glossy. You even had a little speck of black soot from the cigar swiped across your cheek.

He hiked his shorts back up and offered his free hand. He pulled you up to straddle his lap, taking a deep inhale of the cigar again, watching your eyes and your swollen lips. He kissed you, letting the smoke fall out of your open mouths. You were both breathing heavy as you relaxed chest to chest, head falling into the crook of his neck. He rubbed soothing circles into your back as you tried to regain your breathing.

“Holy shit! Mackinnon’s about to break into first!” Erik said somewhat tiredly, and you turned around to see his beloved horse pulling forward in the final stretch of the race.

You both cheered as MacKinnon crossed the finish line, effectively winning Erik 30 thousand dollars and more bragging rights to his racing friends. You leaned down and kissed him again, not trusting yourself to get up and stand on your jelly knees quite yet.

“We should break open a vintage bottle tonight baby, we’re celebrating!” He said, standing up with you wrapped around his waist, “you’re my lucky charm baby, maybe we should do that for every race!” He joked.

“Trust me E, I can get on board with that… just keep that cigar around…” You teased, and he laid a deep kiss on your lips.

He walked you both inside and laid you down on the couch, tray of food and drinks (and the cigar) long forgotten. His hands already traveling down your body and in your hair.

“Let me show you now much I love you, my lucky charm.”

[redmeanslove]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜❤️🧡💛💚💙💜❤️🧡💛💚

Seb/EJ friendship fic in which EJ has a (rainbow-coloured) lightbulb moment and Seb just happens to be the one there to listen.

side cameos from Ashlyn and Carlos

------------------------------------------------------

I kid you not when I say that I cried while writing this. It's my first non-seblos fic (althought I couldn't resist to make them part of the plot lol) and I kind of fell in love with EJ - he deserves the world and I just wanna hug him!!!

all of our queer representation talks recently made me want to create something like this - I hope I succeeded as it is quite a personal fic.

This fic is a gift to the amazing, showstopping, gif-creating @starklysteve who deserves it because she listens to my rants and breakdowns about Seb and EJ and Seblos in general even when it's 3 am already! ly 💙

[dontfollowitstrash]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Angeleyes

[dontfollowitstrash]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Drug dealer, cult leader