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jae-bummer · 1 year

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Seek Me Out

Request: I was wondering if you could have mingyu from seventeen comfort and hug a crying carat after her rude boyfriend shows up at a fan event and yells at her in front of everyone? This is inspired by a dream I had the other night.

Pairing: Seventeen Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst

"He just doesn't get it," you grumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "I don't know if any guy ever will."

Sighing, you leaned against your best friend sitting on the ground beside you. The two of you had gotten picked to attend a fan sign event for your favorite group and you didn't want to waste your excitement by whining all over the place.

"Some guys just don't understand that you aren't thirsting after other men," your friend sighed, resting her cheek on the top of your head. "He's insecure in himself, so he gets angry when you show attention to them. He insults their looks, but most of the time, you don't even care about that. It's their talent and their personalities that really shine."

"Right," you said quietly before leaning away and shaking your head. "But today isn't about him! "

"Today is about us!" your friend grinned. "It's about celebrating the boys!"

"The boys!" you cheered as you both dissolved into a fit of giggles. If there is one thing you knew could turn your day around, it would be finally meeting Seventeen.

As if they had sensed your redirection of the conversation, the crowd around you kicked up into a frantic round of applause. You immediately rose to your feet with the rest of the fans and began clapping as well. On a small stage to the front of the room, the Seventeen members had begun filing in one by one. They each took a seat behind a long white table, ready to start the fan sign. With so many members smiling and looking genuinely happy to be there, you couldn't help it as the smile started to spread to your face too. It really was going to be a good day after all.

"Y/N!" you heard faintly above the clapping as it began to disseminate.

Furrowing your brows, you tried to focus on where the sound was coming from but froze as everyone began to take their seats again. It cleared your line of sight enough to where you could see your boyfriend charging through the rows of fans.

"Y/N!" he shouted again, the anger plain on his face.

Like a startled animal, you couldn't move. You couldn't even think of a single word that would stop him from launching this embarrassing rampage. Being a subconscious glutton for punishment, you found yourself glancing over to the stage to gauge everyone's reactions. The members of Seventeen that didn't look confused, looked horrified instead.

This gave you the spark of confidence you needed to move forward, meeting your boyfriend in the middle. Grabbing his elbows, you pushed him to the side of the room where you could hopefully have whatever discussion he was aiming for in private.

"What are you doing?" you hissed between your teeth. You attempted to keep a placid smile on your face as you felt the heat of everyone's gaze.

"What am I doing?" he gasped. "What are you doing?!"

"I told you I was going to an event today..."

"Oh yeah, some event!" he shouted. "Spending more time and effort on people who don't even know you exist."

In the fuzzy corners of your hearing, you thought someone had called for security.

"Hey," you said quietly, trying your hardest to de-escalate the situation. "Can we talk about this when I get home later?"

"Oh, after you're done cheating on me?" he laughed a little too loudly. "Seriously, Y/N, slobbering after thirteen men? I thought you were better than that."

"Look loser, it's time to go," your best friend piped up as she joined the conversation, moving protectively to your side.

"I'll go when Y/N comes with me!" he yelled. "Aren't I more important than them?"

You looked over your shoulder to the Seventeen members you had grown to know on at least a parasocial level. They knew they had fans and loved them immensely. You weren't necessarily individually special, but you were a part of something that was. Without being a Carat, you wouldn't have the friends that were always there for you. You wouldn't have the support system you had fostered for years. They gave you a community and a reason to focus on something positive. They had gifted you with so much without really even knowing who you were.

You winced as you acknowledged quite a few of the boys were still watching you. A couple had even decided to get up and walk across the stage, anger now painted on their handsome features as well.

"Excuse me sir, do you have a ticket for this event?" a burly security guard asked, finally appearing on the scene.

"No, but my partner does," your boyfriend grumbled, motioning vaguely in your direction. "We were just leaving."

Grabbing you roughly by the upper arm, the whole crowd gasped in response. At this point, you could see two or three members of Seventeen now getting held back by their own security as they attempted (in vain) to deal with your boyfriend themselves.

"He was just leaving," your friend clarified with a nod, wrenching your boyfriend's hand from your arm. "Come on, Y/N."

Steering you back to your position in line, you didn't look back as your boyfriend yelled. "If you don't come with me, this is the end for us! Don't come crying to me in a few days when you miss everything we had!"

With the loud slam of a heavy door on the opposite side of the room, you knew your nightmare was at least semi-over. You grimaced as you waited for the eventual outcome of you being kicked out as well.

Luckily after a few moments, music began to filter through the room and the fan event had actually began. It seemed as if no one was concerned with you staying there, so you quietly thanked whatever Gods were watching out for you.

"Don't let him ruin it," your best friend nodded, rubbing the sides of your upper arms in an attempt to get you excited again. She reached up to wipe carefully at your cheeks, trying to dry the tears that you hadn't even realized had fallen. "We're still meeting Seventeen!"

"Yeah, and they likely think I'm an idiot now," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "Sure, they'll remember me, but as the person who started a scene at their event."

"You know what?" your friend sighed. "They probably will."

You shook your head and widened your eyes. "You agree?!"

"Of course not!" she laughed, smacking you lightly. "So stop saying it if you don't want me to."

Taking a deep sigh, you breathed it out slowly in an attempt to calm yourself. "Okay, fiiine."

The following minutes went by in a whirlwind. While you were busy mapping out every possible worse case scenario in your mind, the line moved forward closer and closer to your inevitable doom.

Eventually it was your time to begin the cycle through the members. You resolved to make the most out of each interaction.

You sat in front of S.Coups first. The conversation had been awkward, but overall pleasant. The same could be said for your interactions with both Vernon and Wonwoo following. No one seemed to have noticed you as the source of the earlier incident, or at least they were too polite to mention it.

That was until you slid into the chair placed before one of your favorite members, Kim Mingyu.

Smiling shyly as you locked eyes, he stared intensely at you before looking down at the album he was signing. Looking up again, he opened his mouth, but then closed it.

"Uh, hi!" you managed with a small wave. "I'm Y/N. I hope you've been having a good day."

It took another few seconds for Mingyu to really focus on a response. "I'm not one to tell you how to live your life," he said quietly, looking at you through his lashes. "But surely you're done with him, right?"

The forced smile slid from your face, and you began to feel the tears well up. Mingyu watched you closely, quickly realizing that what he said hadn't hit the way he was expecting.

"No, no, no," he cooed, grabbing both of your hands in his. "Please don't cry."

"I'm so sorry," you squeaked. "I didn't mean to ruin the event."

Mingyu's face dropped. In an instant, he was moving to the other side of the table. Despite the staff attempting to stop him, he swept you into his strong arms and immediately cradled your head. "Nooo, you didn't ruin anything."

"I d-did," you hiccuped. Without a thought of who was actually holding you, you buried your face into his sweater and let out a sob. Gripping into the fabric, you took a deep breath in and were surrounded by his comforting scent and warmth.

"Breathe," Mingyu whispered into your hair. "Everything is okay, I promise."

Nodding slightly, you focused on your breathing as Mingyu guided you with his own. Attempting to match his, you eventually felt your wits return to you and horror start to seep in. You were snotting all over THE Kim Mingyu.

Attempting to pull back, you were surprised when Mingyu refused. Continuing to keep his arms around you, he said quietly. "That's better. Now let me be the one to apologize."

Leaning back you looked up into his eyes. Confused, you couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

"I should have known better than to bring it up so soon after it happened," he hummed. "You probably didn't even really have time to process it before you had to come up and talk to us."

"No, I, what?" you gasped, still lost as to why this was turning into his fault.

"You said your name was Y/N, right?" he asked, finally stepping away from you. Tugging on the sleeves of his sweater, he created sweater paws, and dabbed lightly at your face. You knew he'd likely have makeup all over the pale colored fabric in a manner of seconds.

You nodded, unsure of how to salvage this conversation. You had hoped for something so much more normal and unassuming, but the memory of being in one of your favorite person's arms would stick with you for awhile.

"Well Y/N," he nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips. "I know you think you did something wrong and we'll remember you for all the wrong reasons, but I want you to know that we'll remember you for the truth. As the person who was strong enough to stand up to their bully, even when that bully was someone you cared about."

Well, so much for not crying again.

Mingyu's smile grew even larger as he dabbed at the new tears. "I hope you stay our fan, Y/N. I want you to know that I won't ever forget you. And when you have the opportunity to meet us again, you seek me out, okay? I'll always be waiting with a hug."

#kim mingyu #svt mingyu #svt #seventeen #mingyu fanfic #mingyu angst #mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #mingyu oneshot #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen scenario #seventeen mingyu #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic

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seths-rogens · 5 months

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If I Was Any Closer, I Could Be Lost | E | 8.2k

"I want you to be my best man." Steve is watching him with a bright smile, and all of a sudden Eddie feels like the worst person in the world.

He should say no. He's going to say no.

"Of course I'll be your best man, Stevie. I'd be honoured."

Shit. Fuck. No. He didn't mean to do that.

Eddie is utterly, completely, absolutely, fucking screwed.

Or, Steve is getting married to someone else, and Eddie, desperately in love, watches it happen.

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @flowercrowngods @cheatghost @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace @i-less-than-three-you @potato-of-the-lord

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fic under the cut, or read on ao3!

"I want you to be my best man." Steve is watching him with a bright smile, and all of a sudden Eddie feels like the worst person in the world.

He has to say no. Needs to. There's no way he's surviving a front row seat to Steve Harrington's goddamn wedding.

"What?"

They're at their favourite bar, where Steve and Robin used to work back when they first moved to Indy, sitting in their usual booth in the back corner, right by the bust up jukebox. There's some sports game playing on the TV behind the bar, not basketball or baseball because Steve hasn't glanced over once. Or maybe he's already seen it.

There's a hole in the wall next to the dartboard after a drunken Nancy misjudged her own strength in throwing her dart. There's a drink on the menu named after Argyle (because he sold the owner some of his fancy Californian weed). S & E is carved into the underside of the table they're sitting at - the product of one of Steve's solo closing shifts, a visit from Eddie, and a whole bottle of tequila.

There's a lot of memories in this place. Fitting they would have this conversation here.

"Be my best man, dude." Steve's still smiling. God, he's so pretty.

"What about Robin?"

"Stacey already offered her a place as a bridesmaid. You know how well they get along." Steve's smile turns fond at the thought of his fiancee and best friend's blossoming friendship.

Eddie wonders how the hell he ended up in this situation. How he became close enough with 'King Steve' that he's invited to his wedding, let alone being offered one of the most important roles in it.

They'd grown close after Spring '86. Of course they had, facing down a grotesque, dickless fuckwad who had nothing better to do than further traumatise and kill several teenagers by way of crumpling them up like an empty coke can worked as a real bonding moment.

Plus there was the shared stint in the hospital. Playing chew toy to several hundred alternate dimension demon bats will take a lot out of you, so it seemed. Not to mention the road rash on Steve's back and how all his wounds very nearly ended up infected.

Eddie still thinks it's a miracle he managed to keep going and reassure everyone he was fine. But that's only because he knows he himself acted like a little bitch about it.

So they became friends. First, it was sharing a hospital room, then it was Steve summoning the mighty power of his absent parents to get him off scot-free for an unjust murder accusation.

Then it was late night phone calls when neither of them could sleep, whispering their fears and nightmares down the phoneline to one of the few people who could really, truly understand. Then it became late night drives to the quarry, then a shared joint on Eddie's front porch, until eventually, they were sharing a bed.

Eddie couldn't help falling in love along the way. He really tried not to. But Steve was... well, he was Steve. Selfless and bitchy and just plain good.

Eddie was doomed from the start.

But Eddie never said anything. Couldn't ruin one of his closest friendships with feelings. It's been seven years since Vecna. Steve turned 26 barely two months ago and now he's getting married to a girl he's been dating a little under a year.

And the worst part, Eddie thinks, is that they're perfect for one another.

If any girl would be the one to finally make Steve Harrington an honest man, it would be Stacey Baker. She was tall and slim, with curves in - Eddie assumes - all the right places. Her hair was so long it almost brushed her waist and a shade of blonde most people would only achieve with an $80 salon appointment. She had cheekbones so sharp they could cut, but her face was softened by the beginnings of smile lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes.

Eddie was used to seeing her in comfy sweaters and t-shirts stolen from Steve's dresser, but on the few occasions he'd seen her dressed up, she'd been stunning.

He can't imagine how she'll look in a wedding dress.

Together Steve and Stacey looked like the poster couple for 'American family values' and Eddie hated it. But he couldn't hate her.

He had wanted to, really wanted to, when Steve first mentioned her, but it only took one meeting to understand why he liked her so much.

Stacey was a breath of fresh air after a storm. Always smiling, always ready to help.

She kept track of Steve's medication and reminded him to put in his hearing aids. She loved him in spite of the scars she would never know the stories behind. She didn't mind the almost codependent friendships Steve had with Robin and Eddie. Didn't mind when he'd get out of bed at 3 am to go make sure Dustin was asleep at home.

And Steve... Well, everyone knows Steve falls fast.

"She's even letting her wear a suit."

Eddie blinks back to himself. "Sorry?"

"Stacey. She's letting Robin wear a suit." Steve shrugs. "Says as long as it fits the colour scheme then it's fine."

"That's great." Eddie picks up his beer, takes a long pull.

"So, will you do it?"

He should say no. He's going to say no.

"Of course I'll be your best man, Stevie. I'd be honoured."

Shit. Fuck. No. He didn't mean to do that.

Eddie is utterly, completely, absolutely, fucking screwed.

Four and a half months later sees Eddie in a hotel room he never would've shelled out for, clenching his fists instead of reaching for the overpriced mini bar and watching Steve attempt to tie his tie in the mirror.

It's lilac, and the suit is a heather grey. Just like Eddie's.

It makes him look even prettier.

Steve fumbles with the tie. "Do you need a hand with that?" Eddie asks, holding back a smirk.

Steve groans. "Yeah. I thought I had it."

Eddie pushes himself up as Steve turns to face him. He takes the ends of the tie in gentle hands and begins to wrap it around itself.

"You nervous?" Eddie focuses on what his hands are doing, instead of doing something stupid like gazing deeply into Steve's stupid gorgeous eyes.

"A little, sure." Steve shrugs, holding his head high so Eddie has the space to work.

“I mean, fuck, man.” Eddie huffs a laugh. “You’re 26 and you’re getting married. That’s insane.”

“Is it? My mom was married to my dad at 18.”

Eddie nods, taking his time because he’s certain this is the last time he’ll ever be close to Steve, to be allowed to linger. “Sure, but with everything we’ve been through. A wedding seems weirdly abnormal. Especially considering our track record.”

Steve frowns. “Abnormal?”

“Yeah. You know, unusual, unorthodox, out of the ordinary.” He tucks the tie through itself.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I know what it means, man, just… are you not, like, happy for me?”

Eddie straightens the tie out, rests his palms just beneath Steve’s shoulders on his chest. “I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t seem like it.” Steve ducks his head. “You’ve been in a bad mood all day and I can’t help but think it’s my fault somehow. Have I done something?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide with the fear that he’s been figured out. “No!” He says, perhaps too quickly. “No, it’s not you. I’ve just got shit going on, y’know? It’s been on my mind.”

Steve’s face doesn’t brighten any.

“Look, how about I promise that for the rest of the day, I’ll be the most cheerful, upbeat version of myself you’ve ever seen.”

A small smile graces Steve’s lips. “And no ranting about metal music and scaring Stacey’s relatives?”

Eddie groans. “Why not?”

Steve gives him a look.

“Ugh, fine. I promise.”

Steve smiles and Eddie’s heart soars. “Good.”

Tie lying flat against his chest, Steve turns back to the mirror, straightening out his suit jacket and fiddling with the buttons. “Do I look okay?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the two of them standing together in the mirror. His heart clenches in his chest. “Just as pretty as usual, Harrington. You might even show up the bride.”

Steve chuckles softly, ducking his head with a pretty blush. Eddie wants to feel it under his palm. "Oh, I doubt that."

"Don't sell yourself short. You clean up nice." He bit back what he really wanted to say. You look more beautiful every time I see you. God, you look good in a suit but I want nothing more than to tear it off you. Run away with me.

Steve gave Eddie a once over, from the too polished shine of his shoes to the way he'd pinned his hair up. "You too, Munson."

Steve winks and stalks out of the room. Eddie barely represses a shiver.

It seems like no time at all before they're standing at the altar. Steve holds himself with excited tension. Eddie stands at his side, hands clenched into fists behind his back, Dustin and Lucas beside him.

The bridal march plays over the church's old organ and the bridesmaids start their walk down the aisle. Max and El - bridesmaids at Steve's request - walk together arm in arm. Their lilac dresses are similar but different all the same, fitting to their personalities. Max's cane is wrapped in purple ribbon.

Robin follows, her suit the same shade as the dresses, but tailored to perfection. Her shirt is grey silk and her bow tie matches Steve's own tie.

She squeals as she reaches the altar, pulling Steve into a crushing hug. He buries his head in her neck with a laugh. She meets Eddie's eye over Steve's shoulder and gives him a capital L Look. Eddie ducks away from her gaze.

A few of Stacey's own friends follow after, taking their places at the altar, and then it's time.

Stacey looks stunning in a simple white gown. It drapes almost casually over her shoulders and tapers in at her waist. Her blonde hair sits atop her head in a complicated updo. Steve smiles fondly as she begins to walk towards him.

Everyone watches her. Eddie watches Steve.

The service passes in a haze, the way Steve fumbles reading his vows from a piece of paper gaining 'awws' from the congregation. More than once Eddie feels Robin's eyes on him. He ignores her.

The priest asks if anyone objects to their union. Eddie bites his tongue so hard it bleeds.

Too soon, they're saying "I do" and Eddie holds back tears.

Having to pose in wedding photos is a new kind of torture. To stand so close to Steve and know that he'll never be Eddie's. That he'll probably move far away, start a family, and start vacationing at all the country's questionable tourist traps - after all Steve always wanted six kids and a Winnebago. And Eddie won't be a part of any of it, just a distant memory that Steve will desperately try to forget. A stranger in his goddamn wedding photos.

He'll look at them 50 years down the line and not be able to remember Eddie's name.

It hits him hard at the reception. They're in a nice hotel, an old, rustic building on the outskirts of Muncie, the room they're in is decorated with twinkling fairy lights and flowery centrepieces.

Eddie sits pride of place next to Steve at the head table, Stacey's dad having just finished his speech. Steve is blushing, holding Stacey's hand in a tight grip as she dabs her tears away with a handkerchief.

It's Eddie's turn next. He'd rather go for round two with the demobats.

Steve pats his shoulder as he stands up, accepting the microphone from the hostess.

"What can I say about Steve Harrington?" Eddie plasters on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "This man saved my life, quite literally, on more than one occasion. He held me together, carried me on his back and gave me the blood from his body all out of a kindness I wasn't sure I deserved."

Eddie pauses, taking a breath. "Most best man speeches I've heard fall more on the funny side, and I'm sure that's what Stevie here was expecting." He smiles, resting his hand on Steve's shoulder.

He risks a glance, Steve is gazing up at him with fond eyes and a wide smile. Eddie looks away quickly, staring out at the wedding guests.

"But, though it may be out of character, I felt that a little sincerity would go a long way." He takes a breath. "The man sitting right next to me is the only reason I'm standing here today. We've been through hell together, and even have the matching scars to prove it." He hears Steve huff a laugh. "I want nothing but the best for him, and that comes in the form of Stacey, his absolutely stunning bride." He smiles over at Stacey, she flushes, a shy smile gracing her face.

"I've never seen someone understand Steve so well that they almost have Robin beat," Robin whoops from her seat a little ways away, Steve laughs. "I mean, I thought I came close, but it's nothing compared to Stacey. She loves him fully and unconditionally, and I hope they have that for the rest of their lives. Hell, I hope I have a relationship even half as loving as theirs one day."

Eddie raises his glass. "To the bride and groom."

The rest of the wedding guests chorus his words back at him, sipping from their flutes of champagne in toast. Eddie retakes his seat and not a moment later, Steve's hand finds his knee. He squeezes and leans in close to Eddie's ear. "Thanks, man. That was beautiful."

"It was nothing." He says. It was everything, he thinks.

Steve has already been roped into a conversation with Stacey's dad, and Robin is tugging Stacey over to the buffet. Dustin, Mike and Will are comparing outfits while El and Erica gossip across the table. Lucas and Max are leaned in close, heads pressed together and hands tangled on the table between them.

Here, surrounded by friends, by family, Eddie feels utterly and completely alone.

The festivities ramp up after that. The happy couple has their first dance to ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ - cheesy pick, Eddie thinks, but he can’t deny that it springs a year to his eye.

It fades into ‘Dancing in the Dark’ and Steve gains a little bounce in his step. He tugs Dustin and Robin up and spins them both round as Stacey’s little niece runs up to her with open arms. She bounces her against her hip to the music.

Everyone is smiling, warm bright grins that take up their whole faces and light up sparks in their eyes. Eddie thinks he should probably be smiling too, but he can’t help the coiling out of anxiety that spits in his stomach.

He lets Erica drag him up for a dance or too, and they swing each other round to The Human League and The B-52’s, but he bows out as Steve grabs Stacey’s hands to spin her around to Wham!’s Everything She Wants, mouthing the lyrics with a grin on his face.

Eddie grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and seats himself at a nearby table. He downs the first and holds the second in his hand, swirling the sparkling liquid in slow circles and staring into the little whirlpool it creates. This isn’t his first drink, it’s maybe his fourth or fifth, and he can feel it starting to hit him now, a fuzzy warmth settling over his eyes and in his head. He gives into it like he usually wouldn’t. Figures why not if he’s watching the love of his life dance with the love of his own.

He sits there, watching these people, this family, dance and have fun without him and thinks, they would be okay without me. They don’t need me.

A few songs pass but Eddie doesn’t realise, just keeps staring into the glass. There’s only a drop or two left now, when did that happen?

He’s startled back to the present when a hand enters his field of vision.

A couple scars on the knuckles, one finger slightly too crooked, a wedding band. Eddie looks up and finds Steve smiling softly.

Eddie smiles back, holds back wine drunk tears and grabs his hand. Steve tugs him up and onto the dance floor. Eddie represses a shudder when Steve guides his hands to his waist, and wraps his own around Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he stares up at Steve in shock. What’s Stacey going to say about this? He risks a glance but Stacey is preoccupied slow dancing with Robin. They’re giggling about something. Eddie flexes his fingers, clenches his hands in the fabric of Steve’s rented suit jacket.

He realises then what song is playing. Tiffany croons about a love that could’ve been over the shitty hotel sound system.

Steve sways him gently, hands fiddling with the back of Eddie’s shirt collar. They’re pressed almost chest to chest, only a sliver of space between them. It might as well be nothing.

“Every time I get my hopes up

They always seem to fall

Still, could've been is better than

What could never be at all”

Eddie has never been one to relate to the lyrics of pop songs, but all of a sudden it hits much too close to home. He feels his heart in his throat, his stomach in his feet. His breath comes short and his eyes prick with moisture.

He pushes Steve back, just on this side of too firm. Steve stumbles a little but Eddie makes sure he doesn’t fall. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie leaves a groom that isn’t his standing alone in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

He bursts out into the hallway, hair falling out of its neat updo as he whips his head from side to side, trying to figure out where to go. He picks a direction and sticks with it, striding down a random hallway until he finds an unlocked door.

He pushes it open and finds a room much like the one Steve’s reception is being held in. The lights are low here and the tables lay bare of their white silken covers. Eddie walks over to one of the tall windows and cracks it open. He pulls a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of the pocket of his slacks, and tips one into his hands.

He slips his zippo out of the front pocket of his suit jacket, and runs his thumb over the engraving. The outline of a warlock with ‘86 inscribed in the middle - a gift from Wayne after he finally graduated, third times the charm after all.

He flips it open and tries to light up. It doesn’t spark for a moment, despite how hard he tries. He thinks back to that horror flick he and Steve caught a month or two ago - hadn’t this happened to the protagonist.

Eddie snorts, his life is more a tragedy now, even if it was briefly a horror film.

The flame finally catches and he lights his cigarette, taking a deep draw and holding it until the back of his throat aches. He leans out of the window and watches the smoke curl into the dark of the night.

Behind him the door to the room clicks shut, and smart shoes click across the polished floor. They come to a stop a few feet away, and Eddie feels the hair on the back of his next stand up.

“What was that about?” Steve asks. Eddie lets out a shuddering breath, takes another drag of his cigarette.

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

“Don’t… don’t bullshit me, man.” Steve seems to grit his teeth, to clench out the words as if they’re hard to chew on.

Eddie sighs and stubs out his cigarette on the stone windowsill. He turns around, leaning back and starting down at the floor. “What do you want me to say, Steve?” He glances up, meets Steve’s eye. “I’m not exactly having the best time in there.”

“But we were all having fun together. As a family. You’re part of that, you know you’re part of that so I… I don’t see what the problem is? Have I done something? Is it me?” Steve rambles out, voice quivering almost imperceptibly. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the way it was perfectly styled.

Eddie ducks his head. Stays silent.

Steve swallows and nods his head with a clenched jaw. “Right. Okay.” He takes a step closer. “Can I fix it?” He whispers, eyes wide and wet.

Eddie sighs, looks anywhere except into Steve's eyes because he knows then he’ll break. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Steve asks, incredulity lacing his tone. “Come on, man. If you tell me what it is, maybe we can work out a solution together.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t…” Steve trails off. He sounds sad, and Eddie hates that it’s his doing, but he can’t handle it anymore. Can’t watch the man he loves dance with a beautiful woman who he so desperately wishes he could hate. Can't sit around and watch them build a life together when he knows he’ll never have that, not when Steve is spoken for. “When have you ever not been able to tell me something?”

Eddie bites his tongue.

“Fuck, Eddie. I don’t… I don’t know what to do!” Steve is tugging on the roots of his hair again. Eddie wonders if, were it his hands doing the pulling, Steve would moan under his touch. But then again, it’s probably the wrong time to entertain such fantasies. “You’re one of my best friends, man, and I can’t… I can’t handle you being upset with me! I mean, you’ve been weird all day! I thought maybe the party would help raise your spirits a little and yeah, okay, I was wrong, but I can’t fix this if you don’t let me. Like shit, all I did was ask you to dance and you…”

Steve pauses as Eddie looks up, watching his expression morph from one of panic and frenetic energy to a curious look of realisation.

“I asked you to dance.” Eddie nods.

Steve swallows, he’s looking away now, putting the pieces together. His hands are resting on his hips, that signature ‘Mom’ pose the kids love to make fun of so much. “You didn’t bring a date.”

“I didn’t.” Eddie finally speaks up. He knows where this is going. Isn’t ready. Is.

“Why not?” Steve sounds a little choked, like maybe he’s nervous to find out the answer.

Eddie squeezes his hands into fists and releases them. Takes a breath and lets the air leave him shaking. “Because the person I want is already here.”

Steve crumples a little then, a marionette with its strings cut. He smiles, though it seems forced, almost painful. “I’m..?”

Eddie nods, resigned. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Steve mutters under his breath before stalking towards Eddie, fast and determined, wrapping a hand around his tie and tugging him into a firm, crushing kiss.

Eddie feels himself freeze, holding his hands up as if he’s going to protect himself.

Steve’s lips are warm and soft beneath his own, they taste like cherries - the balm Eddie knows he’s so fond of, that makes his mouth look so enticing. One of his hands rests on Eddie’s cheek, large fingers spread wide from his jaw all the way to his ear. The other has flattened itself away from Eddie’s tie, now resting above the frantic thud thud thud of his heart.

Steve pulls away with his eyes closed and lips still puckered. He frowns when he comes back to himself.

“I…” He swallows. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—“

Eddie steels himself. Grabs the lapels of Steve’s suit jacket and yanks him back in, swallowing Steve’s surprised squeak with his lips. It melts into a moan and Eddie feels just a little proud of himself.

They pull back again, eyes locked and dark, afraid to break this bubble they’ve created around themselves. Separating them from the party, from the world.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Steve asks, voice wrecked and quiet. Eddie doesn’t know if the question is for him, or if Steve’s just asking to ask. But he doesn’t have the time to wonder before they’re kissing again.

Eddie doesn’t know who moved first, but their tongues are pressed together and their hands are grappling at jackets. Steve is… vocal. All breathy whimpers and rough groans. It’s music to Eddie’s ears.

He runs his hands through that stupid fucking hair, softer than it probably was in high school, free of the hairspray and gel that kept it big. Steve’s grown since then. He still primps and preens with the best of them, but he isn’t so reliant on Farrah Fawcett now. Steve’s hands play with the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck, tangling and carding through the strands. He gives a gentle tug and Eddie can’t help but gasp.

He feels Steve smirk into the kiss as his hands drift further down, to his shoulders and then his chest. Steve loosens Eddie’s tie and presses a kiss to the base of Eddie’s throat as he undoes the first button of his shirt.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers, voice soft and pained.

Steve pulls back, looks at him through his eyelashes, reverent and dark. “Let me do this for you.” His voice comes out soft. He undoes a few more buttons, staring deep into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie can’t look away. His shirt is down to his navel now. He nods his head. “Okay.”

Steve smiles, a small, secret thing, and drops carefully to his knees, keeping his gaze locked with Eddie’s. He pulls Eddie’s shirt from his dress slacks, pressing a sweet kiss to the skin beneath his belly button. He rests a hand on Eddie’s belt - he had retired the handcuffs for the night, and some part of him deeply regrets it. “Can I?”

Eddie’s glad Steve had the forethought to wear his contacts. He thinks he’d die if Steve was looking up at him through gold wire frames.

He nods, and Steve makes quick work of his belt buckle. He slowly pulls the pants zipper down, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cock where it sits, more than half hard, in his briefs.

Eddie inhales sharply, the sensation dull but still ever present. He glances down, sees Steve on his knees before him, has to look away.

Steve sucks at the wet spot forming on Eddie's boxers and Eddie bites back a moan. Steve pulls away, staring up at him, but keeps one hand on him, rubbing slowly through the fabric. "I wanna hear you."

Eddie's hands clench and unclench in the air by his sides, unsure where to put them, what Steve's comfortable with. But that question is answered for him when a gentle hand takes his, presses a kiss to each individual knuckle, and guides his to the top of Steve's head, threading his fingers through his hair. "You don't have to be so gentle with me. I like it a little rough." Steve says, voice light and teasing.

And all of a sudden, Eddie's mind is flooded with the imagery of that statement. Steve face down on a bed, tears streaking his cheeks. Steve's strong hands clenching in white bed sheets. Purple bruises littering his collarbones, his chest, his thighs.

God, those thighs. He imagines them wrapped around his waist, over his shoulders, either side of his head.

He imagines Steve, sweat slicked and quivering beneath him. Writhing and moaning and begging. Imagines a fierce red blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck to his chest as Eddie whispers sweet nothings and dirty talk in his ear. Imagines him wrapped in soft, tight rope, a dark crimson or black to contrast the tan of his skin. Imagines his hands tied to the headboard.

His mind is full to the brim of pictures and possibilities, a million ways he could bring the man before him to ruin.

Eddie clenches his hand in Steve's hair, tugging sharply at the strands. He watches Steve's eyes flutter closed as he gasps. Steve smirks. "That's more like it."

"Shouldn't you be putting that mouth to better use?" Steve's smug look drops away, that pretty red blush Eddie had fantasised about replacing it. Eddie uses his grip on Steve's hair to pull him closer to his crotch.

Steve wets his lips, reaches up and tugs Eddie's briefs down to free his cock. It bounces up, slapping against his stomach and smearing pre against his skin.

Steve wraps a warm hand around it, pumps it up and down. He leans in, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the base and gazing up at Eddie through his eyelashes. He licks a stripe up the underside from base to tip with the flat of his tongue, before suckling on the head.

Eddie loosens his grip, cards his fingers through the soft strands. He smirks. "That's more like it." He says with a mean, teasing lilt. Steve's eyes flutter, rolling back for a moment until Eddie can only see the whites. He tugs again, gentle this time. "C'mon, baby. You know what I want."

He dons that dominant persona like a second skin. He can’t let himself think about how fucking wrong this is, how Steve’s goddamn wife is only a a few rooms away. He knows he’s fucked everything up irreparably, but what the hell? He’s already started, he might as well follow through.

Steve nods, movements stilted under Eddie's grasp. He wraps his lips around the head of his cock, flicking the slit with the tip of his tongue. He bobs his head a little, sucks and laves his tongue over Eddie's skin until the room is filled with nothing save his wet noises and Eddie's own heavy breathing. He moans, his eyes closed, sending vibrations down the length of his shaft.

Eddie bites back a groan, watching Steve’s lips stretched wide and shiny around his cock. When Steve blinks his eyes open, gazing up at Eddie, they’re glossy and wide - a goddamn dream come true.

Steve hollows his cheeks, swirls his tongue around the head of Eddie’s cock before swallowing him down to the hilt and engulfing him in a wet heat.

“Fuck, baby.” Eddie moans, clenching his hand in Steve’s hair to hold him there. He wonders where Steve learned to do this, who’s cock he sucked to get this good. Part of him is jealous it wasn’t him. He wants to ask him the story, knows he never will. “Made for this, weren’t you, Stevie?” Steve whimpers, it’s muffled with his mouth full. “You look so pretty on your knees.”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he tries desperately to keep his gag reflex in check. Eddie pulls him off by his hair, letting his panting breaths echo in the quiet of the room as he tries to catch his breath.

He takes in the mess of the man on his knees before him. Steve’s eyes are watering so much they’re glassy, his lips are swollen and red. Eddie thinks he could cum just from the sight of him.

“Harder?” Steve’s voice is hoarse already, his lips slick and slightly swollen.

Eddie raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it.” Steve leans in close, pulling against Eddie’s grip. He slowly jerks Eddie’s cock in one hand as he presses languid kisses along the length. He presses his free hand against the sizable tent in his slacks. “Take what you want. I’m not made of glass.”

Eddie kicks at the hand he’s grinding against to move it out of the way, takes a step forward and rests his shoe between Steve’s legs, pushed right up against the bulge in his trousers. Steve inhales sharply, staring up at Eddie, dark eyes wide with shock. He shifts, bears his weight down and gives an experimental roll of his hips. A shudder wracks his frame.

“Good?” Eddie smirks. Steve just nods, hips juddering. “Tap my leg if you want me to stop, yeah?” He nods again. “Words, Stevie.”

“Yeah.”

“Better. Now open up.” Steve’s mouth falls open, his tongue lolling out, pink and wet. Eddie bites back a groan at the sight and grips his cock at the base. He rests it on Steve’s tongue for no more than a moment, before sliding it in all the way. He runs his hand through Steve’s hair, then grips it tight, holding him down. “So beautiful.” He murmurs.

Steve moans, the sensation around his cock causing Eddie’s hips to jerk and hit the back of Steve’s throat. Steve chokes, and Eddie starts to pull out.

He doesn’t make it far before Steve is grabbing his ass to pull him in deeper. “Fuck, Stevie. Guess you weren’t lying, huh?”

He thrusts in again as Steve’s nails dig in hard through Eddie’s slacks. He builds up a rhythm, guiding Steve’s head with a hand in his hair, his cock gliding slick and perfect against Steve’s smooth tongue as Steve sucks and whimpers and swirls his tongue. Steve’s hips jerk frantically where they’re pressed against Eddie’s shoe.

It can’t be comfortable, Eddie thinks, but nonetheless he keeps going.

Moonlight spills through the window and casts Steve in a pale glow. He’s more beautiful than ever, down on his knees like he’s at prayer, while sinning so prettily.

Eddie can feel that sizzling heat start to simmer in the bottom of his stomach, frissions of arousal sending sparks all over his body.

It’s perfect. It’s not enough.

If this is the last time Eddie will ever see Steve, ever have him beneath him, be inside him, then he needs more. Needs to be pressed against the strength of his back, needs to feel the warmth of him seeping through his clothes. He needs the intimacy if anything. Needs Steve to know how wanted he is, how this is more than just a quick meaningless fuck.

They’ve already ruined whatever friendship they had, what more could they lose?

“Fuck.” Eddie mutters. He pulls Steve up by his hair, spins him round until his back presses against Eddie’s chest.

“What… what’re you doing?” Steve asks, voice gravel rough. Eddie reaches around, grapples with Steve’s belt buckle until it comes undone. He pushes his slacks and his briefs down, until they hang around Steve’s knees.

“Taking what I want.” Eddie pulls at Steve’s suit jacket, pressing kisses down his jaw, his neck, behind his ear, as he works it down his arms. He tosses it unceremoniously to the side before pressing a flat palm between Steve’s shoulder blades and pushing until his chest lies against a nearby table. That perfect fucking ass is round and bare and presented to Eddie like a goddamn feast.

He wishes he could get his mouth on it, knows he never will.

He brings his hand down against Steve’s right ass cheek, the crack echoing sharp and loud in the quiet of the room. He slots his hand over the reddening welt, takes a handful and squeezes.

“Oh fuck.” Steve lets out a breathy moan, his breath fogging up the wood as one hand reaches out to grasp the opposite edge of the table.

Eddie rucks Steve’s shirt up, rubbing his hands over the harsh scars that cover his back, healed silver with time but still rough to the touch. He trails his hands down Steve’s back, stopping until his thumbs fit perfectly into his dimples of venus. He leans in, kisses down the knobs of his spine, each vertebrae blessed with a press of his lips, before coming to a stop at his tailbone.

“Eddie…” Steve exhales a whine, cheek pressed to the table under him. “Stop fucking teasing and touch me.”

Eddie chuckles softly, nipping at the expanse of skin beneath him with his teeth, sucking a mark. “Oh, baby, I am touching you.”

Steve growls, a rumbling guttural thing, and pushes his hips back, his bare ass pressing against Eddie’s cock. Eddie barely holds back a moan, his hand clenching around Steve’s hip to hold him still.

“I didn’t say you could move, honey.”

Steve inhales sharply at the pet name. “I need more, Eds. Please.”

Please, he says, as if that doesn’t shake Eddie’s entire world to its core. He’s going to be playing that over and over in his head until he fucking dies.

“Since you asked so pretty.” Eddie takes a half step forward, grinds slowly against Steve’s crack, his cock catching against Steve’s hole. “God, the things I’d do to you if I had some lube and a condom.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh, shuddering as Eddie’s hips keep moving, continuing that slow, steady grind. “I’d let you.”

Eddie grins, runs his hands up and down Steve’s back before stopping at his hips and squeezing gently. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you right here?”

“Uh huh.” Steve shifts, presses his forehead to the table and rocks back. Eddie digs his fingers into that soft, supple flesh beneath his palms and imagines carving a hole in Steve’s chest, making a home there, living within him. They’d never be apart, nothing could ever separate them.

It’s a sort of possessiveness Eddie can never indulge. But God, how he wishes he could.

Eddie pauses for a moment. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s all happening so fast he can barely keep up. He knows he should put a stop to this, walk away before he makes it any worse.

But, well, fuck it, he thinks.

Everything’s already well and truly ruined. Why should he stop now?

“Eddie?” Steve mumbles out against the table, bringing Eddie back to the moment. “Y’okay?”

Eddie’s heart clenches in his chest.

Here is a man laid before him, messy and perfect and everything he has ever dreamed of, and Eddie realises he’s been going about this all wrong.

Some dark, cruel part of him is yelling for him to make this count. To make sure Steve remembers this the next time he lays down with his wife. The next time she undresses him, kisses him, touches him in those intimate places. That part of him says, make it sweet, loving. Make it tender. Make sure he knows it isn’t just sex.

That part is screaming. Ruin him.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m okay.” Eddie leans down. Presses a gentle kiss to the side of Steve’s neck as he rocks against the crevice of Steve’s ass. Trails more kisses over his clothed shoulder, down the scarred knobs of his back.

He runs his hands up Steve’s sides, touches him almost reverently. Like something holy. “You’re so beautiful, Steve.”

Steve gasps out a moan, rocks back like he’s not in control. Eddie bites back a groan, rocks forward.

He feels something swinging against his hip, reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a half empty tube of vaseline. He smirks, squeezes some out onto his fingers and warms it up. Eddie reaches down, drags a slick finger over Steve’s hole and presses gently against it. Steve shudders, choking out a whine.

Eddie spreads a little more vaseline between his cheeks. He rubs up against him again, gliding smoother where skin meets skin. “That feel good, baby?”

Steve nods, free hand clenching into a fist against the table.

“Words, honey.”

“Feels good, Eds. So good.” Steve replies breathily. Eddie chuckles. He builds a rhythm grinding forward as Steve pushes back. It’s quiet for a moment or two, save for the sounds of their breathing and Steve’s punched out little groans.

Eddie presses his clean hand against the centre of Steve’s back, keeping him in place, and reaches round with his slick one, wrapping it around Steve’s cock. He strokes slowly once, twice, three times, running his thumb over the head to collect Steve’s pre and spread it back down.

“Fuck, Eddie.” Steve gasps out, hips jerking in his grip. His movements are juddering, like he can’t decide whether to fuck into Eddie’s fist or back against his cock. His cheek is pressed flat against the table, eyes clenched shut.

Eddie keeps his fist just bordering on too loose, keeps moving his hips. He leans close to Steve’s ear. “I want you to feel good, Stevie. Take what you want.”

Steve takes that as his cue, grinding rapidly back and forth, fingertips grasping for purchase against the smooth wood. He gasps and moans, writhing in place.

Eddie curses, rocking his hips against Steve’s heat. “That’s good, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Steve moans, deep and guttural as his movements become frantic. He reaches down, covers Eddie’s hand with his own, tangles their fingers and tightens Eddie’s grip.

“Yeah, fuck, just like that. M’so close.” Steve whines beneath him, trembling as he picks up the pace. His hips move faster, stuttering and jerking as he nears his end.

It’s almost a surprise to watch Steve come. It’s everything and nothing like Eddie expected. He could’ve fantasised for hours, days, years, but nothing his brain would’ve come up with is comparable to seeing the real thing.

Steve loses himself in it, lets the pleasure wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyes clench shut and his mouth falls open in a long moan as he comes undone. His hips keep pushing into the tight wet of Eddie’s fist until he becomes oversensitive.

Finally, he pulls his hand away, rests it on the table.

Eddie pulls away too, takes his own cock in hand as Steve lies there coming down, breaths coming out fast, and takes the sight of him in. The look of him debauched, ravished. The strain of muscles beneath scarred skin. The pink blush on his cheeks. The bitten red of his lips. It doesn’t take much.

“C’mon, Eds. Wanna feel you come.” But that’s what really does it. A few jerks of his hand and Eddie’s coming, streaking white across silver scars.

He falls forward, drapes himself over Steve in a desperate need for closeness. Doesn’t care about the mess he’s surely making of his shirt.

The room is near quiet. Still. And Eddie feels warm save for the sinking in his stomach.

He kinda wants to stay there forever. Knows he has to leave as quickly as he can.

Minutes pass, neither of them make the effort to move.

Eddie pants, pressing his forehead between Steve's shoulder blades. The room is silent save for their synced panting breaths. He pushes himself up slowly, muscles protesting the movement.

Steve remains in place on the table top, cheek pressed against the wood as he catches his breath. His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes fanning over flushed skin, and his forehead is damp with sweat. One of his hands lies curled but loose against the table, the other grips the farthest edge, white knuckled. His shirt is rucked up to his armpits, showing the scarred expanse of his back. His slacks are round his knees, the perfect curve of his ass bare.

He's marked with Eddie's cum. All the way from his hole to the centre of his back. It stands out, pale against the tan of his skin. Eddie's almost tempted to reach out, drag a finger through it.

He doesn't.

Instead, he pulls the lilac pocket square from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and unfolds it. With gentle hands, he wipes his spend from Steve's back. He balls the soiled cloth up and shoves it deep into his pants pocket. He'll bin it later - even if the thought of keeping it does briefly cross his mind.

Steve hums, grateful, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the table. He flexes the hand that was gripping the edge, trying to get the feeling back.

Eddie turns away, feels like he's seen more than he's rightfully allowed. He tugs his pants up, hands shaking as he clasps his belt. He makes an attempt to tuck in his shirt, but it's creased to shit now, so it doesn't quite lay flat anymore.

He walks back over to the window. Outside, the moon is high and the sky is clear. The ground is dewey, almost sparkling. He thinks it must've rained at some point.

He taps out another cigarette from the packet in his pocket and lights up. Blowing out a plume of smoke, Eddie presses his forehead to the cool glass.

Behind him, he can hear Steve shuffling, tidying himself up. Probably preparing to let Eddie down and run off back to his perfect little wife.

Well fuck that, Eddie's gonna beat him to it.

"We can't do this again." He says, fogging up the glass in front of him as he speaks.

Steve's voice is rough when he replies. "I know."

Eddie knows that tone of voice. He knows it all too well. The one where he says one thing but means another.

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, turns and leans against the wall next to the window. Steve's leaning back against the table they just fucked on, staring down at a scuff on his left shoe.

From this vantage Eddie gets to see the wondrous Steve Harrington in all his post-sex glory. His shirt is all rumpled, much like Eddie's own, his jacket is still in a pile on the floor. His hair is a goddamn mess and, though he's tucked himself away, his slacks still hang open at his hips.

Fucking temptation incarnate.

"Steve." Steve looks up, his eyes are still shiny. "We can't. You're married."

Steve frowns, looking away again. He doesn't seem too happy about that. Taking in the frown lines on Steve's face, Eddie would guess the man is at war with himself. Running through all his options. He bets Steve wishes he could run off and find Robin, talk to her before finishing this conversation.

Unlucky for him, Robin is nowhere to be seen.

Eddie swallows down a lump in his throat. Has to force himself to say something he knows will wreck the both of them. "I think it's best that we don't see each other for a while."

Steve's head whips up so fast, Eddie's surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. "What?"

Eddie shrugs, self-deprecating and overly conscious of the mess this all is. "I don't... I never intended to be a homewrecker."

Steve scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "The home has barely been built, man."

A sharp exhale and Eddie's running his free hand through his hair. "That's so much worse! You've got to see that it's worse, Steve!" He takes a pull from his cigarette and blows the smoke out fast. "I was just gonna keep this shit to myself. I never expected this."

"You did it, though. You let me.”

"I did." Eddie chokes out, voice shaky. "And I shouldn't have. I'm fucking sorry that I did."

Steve nods. He's quiet for a moment, his head ducked and shoulders hunched. When he talks again, it's quiet. "How long then?"

Eddie tilts his head. "What?"

Steve looks up then, fierce eyes burning hard into his own. "How long until I see you again?"

"Oh." Eddie breathes softly. "I'm not sure." He swallows. "I need time to get over you, Stevie."

Steve's gaze has gone cold, frozen over. Eddie knows it isn't personal, he's just trying to protect himself, but it hurts all the same. "Well you should probably go then."

It stings like a shot to the heart. "Right."

He moves to stub out his cigarette, but Steve stops him before he can. "Leave the cigarette." Eddie nods, leaving it resting on the window ledge. He slips a hand into his pocket, thumb rubbing over the engraving on his lighter. He pulls it out, watches how the silver glints in the moonlight, and gently rests it down on the ledge as well.

He can't meet Steve's eye again as he walks out of his life for what he knows will be forever, but he does stop at his side. He leans in, presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. Whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." And rushes out of there.

He stops at the door before he leaves completely. Finds Steve stood at the window, Eddie's cigarette between his lips and dusty suit jacket draped around his shoulders. He flicks open the lighter in his hand, watching the flame flicker.

The last time Eddie Munson sees Steve Harrington, he is gazing out of the window into the moonlight, rumpled from Eddie's hands on his body, and Eddie knows his heart is never going to recover.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #zee writes

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sapphirescripts · 2 years

Text

All I Wanted Was You (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Pairing: Austin!Elvis (50s) x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re touring the southern states as a singer for Jamboree Attractions. What you never expected was to fall in love, especially not with a man like Elvis Presley. He was sweet, sexy, and everything you could never have. Loving a man like that promised one thing: heartbreak. Even so, that doesn’t stop you from wanting him.

Genre: angst, bittersweet ending, songfic, sadness, fluff

Warning(s): crying, sadness, cheating (the part when a!elvis cheats on Dixie in movie), unrequited (ish) love, angst (again lol I guess I’m on a roll), kissing, use of pet name “lil’ mama” (yes, that IS a warning), not beta read, grammatical errors, (let me know if there’s anything I missed!)

Rating: PG-13 || WC: 3K

Requested (?): Yes, by @navia3000 I hope you enjoy and that this is what you wanted! I loved writing this fic. It hit all the feels for me. Thank you for being my first ever request! <3

Based on the song: All I Wanted by Paramore (pls listen for full effect)

A/N: I’m back with more angst, ya’ll. I promise it’s not all sad as there is some fluff and a bittersweet ending. It’s longer than I anticipated but it flowed right out of me while I was writing and just felt... right. I hope you all enjoy!

Think of me, think of me when you’re out there

Cherry red lipstick, high-frequency screams, chaotic crowds, and the awe-stricken eyes of young women are all you see. You take it all in from the side. The chaos is not something you get used to seeing, both him and the thrush of people in the audience. Elvis was magnetic under the spotlight, per usual. Part of you longed to be one of the girls in the front row. The possibility of those calloused, warm fingers grasping your jaw turned your knees to jello. The other, more sensible part of you knows that nothing good can come from falling for that boy. If you did, heartbreak is inevitable.

You just finished your performance and could never dream of inciting such a response from the crowd, but it never bothered you. Maybe you are just as in awe of Elvis Presley as everyone else. The dark, billowy curtains of the side stage hide your silhouette from view as you watch Elvis from the shadows. As hard as you tried not to, you always seemed to end up here, relishing in the close view of the small-town boy.

He was addicting, both on and off stage. The colonel added him onto the Jamboree Attractions tour of the south not too long ago. To your surprise, a slow friendship began to bloom between you two. You admired his style and the sheer boldness of his performance. What you loved most about him, though, is that none of it was some cheap trick coined to gain popularity. The style, the performance, the dancing, the singing, it was all just… Elvis. It’s who he is and who he always will be.

Still, he was going steady with a girl back home. As much as you desired to be with him, you two were just friends. So, you ignore that your neck heats up whenever he looks at you or that your chest feels light as a feather when he makes you laugh. None of that matters because, realistically, you could never be with Elvis Presley. Not when he had his pick of a thousand pretty girls that he viewed as women, as girlfriends. You’re just a friend, only a friend. That fact both breaks your heart and saves it from breaking

Yet, a tiny inconsequential part of you—the part that wishes to free itself from the constraints of reality—hopes that Elvis thinks of you when he is on that stage.

I’ll beg you nice, from my knees.

The little flame of your crush on Elvis had grown to a fire… and you were getting burnt alive. The seating arrangement had somehow shifted to you, Elvis, Scotty, and Bill in the car ride to the next state. You tried not to fidget too much with the wine-colored cloth of your skirt, but he made you nervous, really, really nervous. The palms of your hands have not stopped sweating since the beginning of the trip.

The passenger seat was no less merciful than a blistering sunburn because there's no hiding behind, well, anything. Elvis is right there to your left with a wrist on the top of the wheel. His fingers drum mindlessly to the beat of the current song on the radio. You’re practically molded to the side of the door because if you moved closer, your leg might brush against his thigh, which happens to be in oddly attractive pastel blue slacks.

“What’s wrong, lil’ mama? You’ve hardly said anythin’ all day.” The nickname does not help your predicament. You bite the inside of your cheek at the memory.

Elvis had noticed you roaming backstage and on the road to observe the crew. You liked to check in with everybody, make sure they were doing okay, and possibly offer an ear to listen to their troubles. It made you happy to care for them all in whatever way you could. He pointed it out to you during a muggy late night stop into a diner on the road—said you were acting like a mother. You were undeniably embarrassed, but he confessed he thought it was cute, thought you were cute. That, of course, furthered your embarrassment. Ever since that night, the name just stuck. It would be a lie to say you don't like how it sounds on that lovely southern drawl of his.

“You’re not carsick are ya?”

“Huh? Oh–” you shift on the seat, trying to appear relaxed, “–No, I’m not sick, just lost in thought, I guess.” It's not the whole truth, but you are not about to admit the crush you have on him right to his face.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Elvis asks. His voice light, as if it floats on the wind like a dandelion. The compliment is alarming and causes you to spare a glance at the back seat. Both his bandmates are sleeping, heads lolling gently to the bumps now and then. You turn forward again, the straight road pulling you into a trance.

“Guess I’ve just been thinkin’ bout how my life will be when this all ends,” you admit. The truth is, what you have been thinking about is how your life will be without Elvis Presley. Come the end of the tour, you two will part ways. Though, you have a lurking suspicion on your mind that the colonel has big plans and intends to scoop up the man next to you.

“The road has a way of changin’ everythin’.” He sounds somber, heavier with an unknown weight upon his shoulders. You can see it in the way his sky blue eyes dim like a fading lightbulb.

“I think that… even if I try to explain to my friends back home–” you pause, taking a big breath and sighing, “they just won’t understand. I don’t think anyone will.” There is movement in your peripheral, so you look to your left. The sight steals the breath from your lungs.

Elvis is staring at you, but different this time. Like he’s seeing you for the first time, really seeing you. You wonder what you said to make him look so astonished. Something tells you it’s because maybe somewhere inside, he feels the same way.

“I do,” he declares. Then he's looking back to the road, probably to make sure he won’t swerve off it. “I–I understand exactly how ya feel.” Your stomach explodes in a treacherous mixture of anxiety and butterflies. You find yourself increasingly unable to distinguish the two whenever near him.

“Well, I'm glad someone does…” The sun is setting, casting an amber glow into the car. You bask in its warmth. “It’s so lonesome havin’ so many things change and not bein’ able to share it with nobody.”

“Share it with me,” he offers. Your eyes meet his like the law of gravity. For a moment, everything else fades into the background. The staticky hum of the radio fades. Your clammy hands are forgotten, and even the wind seems to still from coming in through the windows. All you see is him, and he’s staring at you as if you just touched some dormant, sleepy part of his heart.

“I will.” It's all you can say. Perhaps falling in love with him was inevitable, you realize while admiring his beauty. Perhaps you're a fool to try and stop the tidal wave that is him from crashing over you.

And when the world treats you way too fairly, well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.

Elvis was slipping through your fingers like sand. Just when you began to think you two were becoming more than friends, something happened to remind you of reality. Part of you thought he was like the sweet, warm smell of a freshly baked dessert that you could never enjoy. The other part of you knew that even if you could enjoy him the way you wanted, you would end up shattered.

You finally mustered up the courage to go and knock on his hotel room. The color of it reminded you of a pumpkin in the fall as you walked past the long line of identical room doors. 17, 18, 19, the numbers flew past your vision as you looked for room 23. During your search, you spot a silhouette in front of what looked like the room, his room.

It doesn’t take you long to deduce what is happening.

She has ivory skin, apple-red lips, stunning features, and raven curls that frame a beautiful face. Her knuckles rise in a confident motion to rap on the door in three resounding knocks. You step to the side, leaning against a wall between two rust-colored doors even though you’re far away enough not to be suspicious. She moves in your peripheral, and you hear what you know is the familiar, velvety voice of Elvis.

“Quit knocking at my door, Scotty–” and then you hear nothing. She slinks into his room like a shadow. The door hangs open but the sight is all you need to turn around and walk back to your room. His door closes. It barely registers over the ringing in your ears. Your feet are suddenly heavy as lead as you daze into your room, but your heart feels heavier.

The door thumps behind you. Little else happens that night, save for your legs folding beneath you like soggy paper and the ghost of a dream–the dream of what could have been between you and Elvis.

All I wanted was you.

The rest of the tour went by quicker than you thought it would. Maybe time felt faster now that the fantasy concocted in your mind had been squashed and replaced by the truth. He has a girl back home in Memphis. You can't find the pride to pity her, knowing she was probably as in love with Elvis as everyone else, yourself included. Despite it all, you’d see him with a new girl in every city, sometimes more than one. What you hated most is that even if it was for one date, a couple of hours even, you still found yourself wanting to be one of those girls.

Despite your inner turmoil, tensions were rising among individuals in the crew. Specifically, one older man named Hank Snow. He always seemed a little stiff to you, too clean-cut. It had gotten to the point that being around him felt like smelling sour milk. He made your stomach curdle.

Hank’s discomfort churned like a volcano in every city you arrived in. Elvis had an unintentional knack for affecting people in two ways: they either loved him or hated him. This time, you knew the lava would burst, and just who it would affect, you had no idea.

The red-haired man seemed to be chewing out colonel Parker backstage. You had performed not too long ago and found solace next to one of the trailers, watching the two men converse. The coke bottle in your hand was sweating from the heat. The wetness had a calming effect in contrast to the heat. You don't have it in you anymore to watch Elvis on stage, don't trust yourself to witness his beauty in the spotlight. You knew if you did, you’d fall for him all over again.

Elvis rushes off the stage, a violent thrush of young women crowding his personal space as he practically darts for his trailer. The sugary drink slips down your throat as you take another sip, suspecting one thing to happen. Colonel Parker to single Elvis out at the carnival tonight and steal him away for good. Only a fool would keep Hank Snow over the pure, untapped potential of Elvis Presley.

All I wanted was you.

“You’ll never believe what happened las’ night, lil’ mama,” Elvis beams in front of you. The rising sun casts a pinkish hue onto the bronzed skin of his face, causing him to glow. The blue in his eyes penetrates all your inhibition.

“What?” You ask, even though you already know. The colonel wasn’t too subtle with his house of mirrors Ferris-wheel trick. You observed the whole interaction while roaming the booths, ironically to get your mind off Elvis.

“I ain’ allowed to tell nobody yet,” he looks to the ground, thumb hooking into the thin belt of his pants, “but I gotta tell you,”' Ah, so that explains why he pulled you to the outside of the diner. Everyone else had gone inside, eager to eat breakfast but sad to part ways. This morning was the last team breakfast of the tour before everyone parted ways and went back to their regular lives. The place where you two stood was hidden from everything but the rising sun.

“What is it?” The warmth of the morning hangs around you like a blanket.

“Colonel Parker gon’ get RCA to buy my contract from Sun Records... He gon’ help me get signed to em’,” he smiles shyly at you, looking up through those thick long black eyelashes. Elvis looks like a little boy that just got offered his dream on a silver platter. The purity in his expression moves your soul like an earthquake.

“Oh my–wow! Elvis, that’s amazin’!” You throw your arms around him before the rational thoughts swarm you like a beehive. Those long, strong arms pull you in tight and you savor the moment more than he’ll ever know. It feels safe here, in his arms with no one but the morning to witness this intimacy. His chest shakes with a genuine laugh, one of utter joy, and you laugh with him.

“I can hardly believe it myself,” his arms loosen, but not enough for you to completely pull away, “You’re the firs’ person I had to tell.” The tone of his voice is thick like syrup. Elvis is looking at you like he did in that car ride a few weeks back and it's daunting.

“I’m happy for you, E.P. If anyone deserves RCA, it’s you.” The words are honest and from the deepest part of your heart, the part that aches and swells only for him. He looks down at you, a few strands of that satin hair falling over his eyes. The sight is breathtaking–he is breathtaking.

“I’m finally gon’ fly away, lil’ mama, fly away to–” you say the last words with him, “The rock of eternity.” He stills, his large hands on your waist squeezing a bit tighter. You’ve surprised him. It’s evident all over his face and body language.

“You know Captain Marvel, Jr.?” he asks, brows lifting in astonishment. His voice is a low whisper now, and suddenly you’re all too aware that your chest is pressing against his, hearts beating in tandem.

“You’re not the only one that likes comic books, ya know.” You look down at the black lace of his shirt, tracing the patterns and trying to ignore the sudden bashfulness rising.

“You always s’prise me,” he admits with a glint in those eyes.

The smoldering look sobers you like a splash of cold water. Are you so weak that you forget all the heartbreak and boundaries now that you're in his arms? For a moment, you feel like the stupidest girl within a hundred yards. But you quiet that line of thinking.

You will never be with Elvis Presley, not the way you want. But remorse will be your only friend if your last day with him is spent wishing. You can’t bear to live with the regrets of what you never did haunting you for the rest of your life.

“Do me a favor, E.P.?” His gaze softens and darts over your face in question. You let out a soft breath, fingers fiddling with the hair on the back of his neck. “I ain’t a fool… I know we won’t see each other again ‘less I buy a ticket to one of your shows.” He looks as if he wants to say something, to refute what you both know is the truth, so you place your hand over his lips with a shake of your head. Their softness startles you for a moment. You gulp.

“So just this once… please,” you look into his eyes, the kind of look where all walls are down and only vulnerability lives, “Kiss me,” you ask. Kiss me like you love me... as if I'm the only girl you’ll ever love. You take your fingers off his lips but he stops your wrist from retreating with a hand.

Tenderly, he kisses your palm, the inside of your wrist, and the back of your hand. All while never looking away from you. The look is tender and stripping as if he knows every little thing you're feeling. You almost lose your balance from the lightheadedness. You expected a refusal, maybe even a light peck on your lips if you were fortunate, but not this. You look at your hands and find it hard to tell which fingers are his and which are yours. He lets your wrist go. Your hand settles somewhere on the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re too good for this world, mama, too good for me.” His large palms hug the sides of your face. They’re surprisingly soft, save for a few calluses that rub against your cheeks. “I ain’ ever gon’ forget you."

That is all he says before he leans down and changes your life forever.

To this day, you never had a kiss that made you feel like the one Elvis Presley gave you outside the country road diner. It was heartbreakingly beautiful and took all your breath away until you were suffocating on nothing but the feeling of his lips on yours. The kiss was passionate, tender, and slow like the rising sun. You remember he tasted like everything you ever wanted and could never have. If you think of it, you can still feel your stomach rise into the air like a balloon from nervous excitement. But it was okay because you would never take it back or trade it in for a different memory.

You cried on the way home, you cried when his warmth enveloped you in a final hug of goodbye, and you smiled when he gave you one last glance through the car window. He smiled too.

It was on that misty southern morning that you were content that Elvis Presley would forever be the love of your life, even if he will never be in it.

Thank you for reading to the end! Let me know what y'all think :) Feedback, comments, and reblogs are appreciated more than you’ll ever know!

Love and blessings,

Sapphire <3

#austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #Austin!elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis angst #elvis fluff #Austin butler Elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #Austin!elvis

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akanesheep · 1 year

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Now that Nightbringer is out, and we’re a few chapters in… I keep wanting to put some thoughts in writing, and then a new chapter will drop and I end up getting one question answered, while gaining several others… I’ll try to keep speculating to a low and just discuss how I personally felt while playing.

Spoiler warning now, as I’m going to be discussing events that take place through the latest release.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thrilled with the change of the battles to a rhythm game, as I’ve always been bad at them. But I’ve adapted pretty well, although I’m a perfectionist, and will waste time and precious AP trying to get the best score possible XD

Now onto the story…

It seems odd to feel genuine heartache, frustration, etc. but that has definitely been the case.

Tossed backward in time to brothers who didn’t know us, and in fairness, don’t know themselves at this point in time. It’s been so strange to see them like this. Barely out of Heaven, minds between angel & demon. Both familiar and unfamiliar. To become strangers to those I’ve grown to know so much about. How unfair. Solomon arrives with one or two pieces of information, but what made me so curious is why couldn’t we go to Barbatos? Why is Barbatos so hostile to Solomon? He says he doesn’t remember, which I don’t wholly believe. He’s hiding stuff, which I really dislike, no matter how much I adore him.

As for the brothers, my heart breaks. Satan in his uncontrolled anger phases, Mammon wanting so hard to be a responsible ‘big brother’. Levi struggling with his self worth even more than before. He’s using different words most of the time, but we know his meanings better than just bashing himself for being a ‘stinky otaku’… the lack of Normie, but still our lovable otaku. Lucifer shaken, rebuilding himself in private while putting on the front of a cold hard ass to his brothers. Providing them the structure and stability they require to move forward. It’s the hardest role in the family, and he stepped into it naturally. As it was his role before their fall. I love that despite everything, he never hesitated. He never regretted his decision. He knew it was the right choice even if it caused pain. He does show moments of brief regret about the brothers fall, especially when Levi & Asmo on separate occasions had their moments of lamenting their situation, or missing the Celestial Realm. Even though each of them personally bears no regret for having followed Lucifer, all of the brothers, Lucifer included, are going through grief and loss. And we have a front row seat.

I was surprised at how long it took for us to even hear the name Lillith. The very end of chapter 10, Belphie is the first to bring up her name. We already know the story, of course, as well as Lucifer’s secret. In the original timeline, we knew about Lillith before Belphie, and in the fallout of chapter 16 we learned about Lucifer’s deal with Diavolo. At the end of Nightbringer chapter 10, it’s revealed that we are human, and the beginning of Chapter 11, where we get the near repeat of Belphie’s anger and grief inflicted upon our poor lil body. Solomon saved us and took us to 13’s cave.

If the lead up to this point was lamenting the loss of of ‘our’ brothers. This chapter was about the pain of us ‘betraying’ them. I cried, a few times… they were so hurt and the whole time I was wanting to tell them everything.

At the Fountain of Wisdom, Solomon pushed for us to choose humanity over everything else. Honestly, it pissed me off. It felt manipulative, like he was actually saying ‘choose me over the brothers’. I might be the only one who took it that way though. XD

The grimoire was the simplest choice for me. It wasn’t even a thought. It was going into Lucifer’s hands. All other things aside, I don’t think it’s right to control people, especially those we care about. (But that’s a personal history I won’t get into ;3) Declaring a promise to ‘protect’ them is pretty spot on for me too, which led to the events of chapter 12.

Unconscious me getting sweet visits from all 7 brothers was touching. Especially seeing that Belphie, having calmed down from his initial outburst, realized that it didn’t matter that we were human, that blaming all of humanity for the fact that Lillith ‘died’ wasn’t right. The benefit of being able to engage with him before he had thousands of years to let that stew inside him, his anger, frustration, grief, and guilt, hadn’t solidified into the cold murderous intent of the original story. His outburst this time was loud, angry, and hot. He hadn’t planned it. Therefore, it wasn’t as hard to dissuade him. A solid threat from Solomon resolved the better part of it, as well as the quick exit. It allowed thought, reflection, and time to calm down and see things properly.

On one hand, it’s good to see him face his grief differently, but on the other it’s hard to see the brothers collectively face it. Aside from Satan, who doesn’t have the personal connection to Lillith, it seemed that the brothers were coping with their grief by distraction. Her name seemed taboo to bring up. It could be said it was that way in the original story, but to a lesser extent. Some of it’s reveal was incidental to your getting to know the brothers, getting to know your environment… but this time, it was an intentional omission. They simply weren’t ready to talk about it. (Although, in Lucifer’s case in both stories, he simply feels it isn’t any of your business)

Nightbringer is a strange character. He calls himself a demon. Yet he could use the Ring of Light. That he even had possession of it is odd. Although it isn’t like we know how Lucifer came into possession of it right? (If I’m wrong on that, please let me know) He’s obviously playing some kind of game involving a much bigger picture than we can see, and are currently oblivious of. I’m starting to wonder if the voice that spoke to us when we were unconscious following our obtaining the Ring of Light from Solomon was actually Nightbringer. I’d originally thought that perhaps it was Michael, but given where things currently are, Nightbringer seems to be the safer bet. When he spoke to us in the latest chapter he tells us it’s our happiness he seeks. He also mentions something about scales being out of balance, as well as bringing night. But to where? Devildom is perpetually dark. The human realm? Likely no. The celestial realm then? What scale of balance is he referring to? Our personal balance? The balance of power within the three realms? If he’s seeking our happiness, it wouldn’t seem he would then seek to upset our personal balance of things. I had a thought on this, which perhaps if it related to the three realms, it could be he wishes to cause a more direct balance within the human realm, as while it already is a balance between light and dark, it is decidedly leaning toward the celestial realm. Is he seeking another war between the angels and demons? One that would lead the celestial realm out of it’s perpetual light? Or is this a more subtle thing. Does he simply wish to somehow magnify the mixing of the three realms? Like a super magnification of Diavolo’s plan of peace? Could it even be an attempt at rebalancing the harmony of the brother’s lives? To return the happiness and joy that was lost to them when Lillith died? The line talking about what MC in regards to the brothers gave me that thought. Are we there perhaps to prevent some past event from happening? (Like a ‘Back to the Future’ type of thing?) Whatever it is, MC and the brothers, are absolutely key.

This would beckon the question of ‘why?’ Who does this plan of happiness benefit? I mean, aside from ourselves. But what does it cost? That is what is to be revealed I suppose. Solomon obviously knows things and isn’t talking. For the first time, I truly find him suspicious, as opposed to mischievous. It’s fun, I suppose, to get to enjoy the domestic aspect of living with him currently… and seriously, I love this awkward aloof man. I’ll do a write up on that soon enough… but it’s safe to say from my personal perspective, that I’m very suspicious of his actions.

How intrigued are you guys about Barbatos? Why can we not go to him with the story of what is happening? If nothing else to explain where we are from and seek assistance in returning to our proper timeline? The red flags for why could be in the persistent insinuations that Barbatos may well indeed be Nightbringer. From the opening, which is clearly narrated by and talking about Barbatos, and the card which shows his scary wide smile over a set of scales while he plays with the puppet of a king… it’s hard to ask, but is Barbatos responsible for Diavolo’s father falling into his sleep? Is he now, or was he then, controlling the royal family, including Diavolo? Or could he also be connected to Nightbringer in a similar way to Solomon? I personally can’t see him controlling Diavolo in either instance… perhaps this story given in the intro is something which Barbatos did in the human realm at the behest of Nightbringer? …again, we’ll have to wait and see.

I wonder if the brothers can feel us in their past… like are they sitting there and suddenly remember they had an attendant named ‘MC’? Do they realize that it’s you? Do these new memories you’ve made pop up in their minds 3,500 years in the future? Is it distressing or comforting? I want to hug them all. Both past and present… -sigh- chances are that feeling isn’t going anywhere.

My sole ‘complaint’ if that’s what it can be called, is the appearance of Simeon and Luke. They aren’t exchange students yet, as RAD still doesn’t exist… but ‘poof’ here they are… way too early, and under no well defined explanation. (Or at least to me…) it seems a bit contrived. Like the devs had to keep them involved because they’re dateables, even if the story doesn’t support their appearance… I say that as if my angel husbando and my child are unwelcome… that isn’t the case, I just wish the events surrounding their sudden appearance made more sense. Maybe I just missed something in the story?

What does everyone think of the story and game this far? I, for one, keep flying through each chapter as soon as it is released, and wait anxiously for the next chapter. It’s quite compelling thus far… and I’m excited to see where it goes.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me mc #obey me x reader #obey me spoilers #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me dia #obey me barbatos #solomon obey me #simeon obey me #obey me luke #om! nightbringer

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spoon-gremlin · 2 years

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My little brother is competing in what is essentially pre-nationals for crew. His race is in 30 minutes. I’m home for the summer but I wasn’t able to make up there to be with him. All of this has got me thinking, and I am so proud of him. He’s only 15 and he’s already done so much more than I could ever dream of at his age. He’s so amazing and understanding and, as much as I hate to use the word, mature. There were some struggles when he was younger (as there always is) but he’s grown to be an amazing person and I can’t wait to see where he goes.

The two of us still get in fights sometimes (mostly because we’re both stubborn assholes and don’t like to back down) but he’s genuinely one of my best friends. He may be 4 years younger than me but that doesn’t change a thing. I like to tease him by either bragging obnoxiously about him in front of him or telling him when I’ve done so. But I brag about him so much because I’m so proud of him.

I want to give some background for the crew stuff (this is also another chance for me to brag about him and since I can only think of one person who follows me that knows who he is this feels safe). My older sister was one of the first members of the crew team my brother and I have both been part of. I started in 7th but I stopped sophomore year because I couldn’t commit enough and my team deserved better.

My brother though? He started in 6th grade but he really wanted to start when he was 8 (he was far too young tho). 8th grade was hard for him, it was the first school year to start during COVID so it was hard for everyone honestly. I was nervous because I had just graduated high school and I was leaving for college. Then his freshman year of high school starts. I start hearing about how his grades are up, he’s doing all his homework, he’s attending crew practices, and he’s making new friends.

Now I have rambled a lot in this post about him and it’s mainly bc I don’t really have anyone who I haven’t told all this to and I feel the need to gush about him again lol. So I’m finally gonna get to the point. My little brother is often stroke seat in boats that are U17 (basically not novice but not varsity), though he does row in the second varsity boat often. He is keeping up with people who are seniors in high school. Who have been rowing for at least a year longer than he has. He’s serious, respectful, and the coaches and coxswains love him because he doesn’t fuck around when it’s not the time to.

I’m so excited for him and I really hope he does well because he deserves it.

#personal #my brother #sappy #I love him #is there a tag for crew??#is it rowing??#idk man I just wanted to brag about him again #sorry if this makes no sense #I’m tired #there might be spelling or grammar issues

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hopefulgcf · 3 months

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Anon ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ asked: How was seeing Jake irl ? 🥺

oh my gosh it was so so good... jake gives off one of if not the Most like. Real and Human Energy from any idol i've seen live and up close. idk if it's because he's about my age or because he speaks english (and yeah, there are unfortunately and undeniably some things that do just click without any translation involved) or just Who He Is and his energy in general but seeing him irl is just so enlightening! i am so incredibly proud of how far he's come since iland and debut and it's so so so inspiring to me.

jake never really comes up in conversations about dance (that i've seen anyway) and i think this is such a shame. maybe it's because enhypen are so strong in dance overall but i'm always so impressed by how powerful jake is. i used to be very intrigued by the choice to place him at the center of certain moments like at the end of dance breaks (as opposed to members that had more immediate star/dance power at debut; obv this has changed a lot over time as the members have all grown) but it makes perfect sense that hype saw so much potential in him. his aura is crazy and his vocal tone and technique has come such a long way too. he's an even more enjoyable performer to watch than last year and he stuck out to me soooo much when i was at barricade and seated.

also when they were doing the dance cam and jake was holding the camera at one point he was standing directly in front of me, on the ledge down from the stage a bit, and all i could do was stare in shock... like all seven of them were there and so close and gorgeous and had such powerful energy, but all i could think of in that moment was oh my god, he is so real, he is so beautiful... he's kind of a shortie lol, he's very little and just seeing him standing there doing this super endearing and very human thing took me out omfg, idk how to describe it without it sounding weird but out of all the times I've been super close to idols that was the time that was most, like, this is a guy functioning as a human. idk he is just some guy!!! a very lovely sweet handsome guy... and soooo silly, he's very often the ringleader of impromptu funny moments!

not just the funny moments but the sweet ones too... at newark day one he talked about how it was so good to see so many different engenes of all nationalities present and it was such a good moment, and you could feel how much the crowd appreciated it. i could see the monitors from my spot and it wasn't scripted at all. heeseung also did his ment unscripted in english that day and you could tell that he was nervous. as soon as he started speaking jake was giving him his undivided attention and gave him a reassuring nod that totally broke me. and when heeseung finished talking he asked engenes to cheer more for him. jake has such a kind soul and is such a rock for his members, especially in the states, and it's such a dream to see this irl.

send off was insanely chaotic; if you didn't leave the concert early you were Not within the first two rows of people. i was in the 3rd/4th row but was still able to get a few signatures; the members and the staff reach to the back rows to take whatever you hold out and the staff happened to grab my picket for jake. as he was handing it back i was absolutely Vibrating haha, just gushed thank you so much im proud of you i love you and jake looked up and grinned in such a cute way it absolutely melted me; im soooo sad i didn't get it on video but it was just so human and lovely, wow

my sanity would probably also be more intact if he kept his tongue inside his mouth more

[Smile or comment on the answer here](https://retrospring.net/@hopefulgcf/a/111268618313792171)

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casspurrjoybell-26 · 7 months

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The Contract - Chapter 23

*Warning: Adult Content*

It was my last day in my hometown just outside NY and I saved the best thing for last until I left to drive back home.

I walk down the halls of my old high school and so many good memories come flooding back when everything was perfect and my dad was alive and a teacher here.

I find my old locker and touch it, remembering the first day of school and my dad trying to talk to me in front of other students... I got so embarrassed that my dad was a teacher and that he was asking if I made friends yet.

Thinking back, he'd always been there and he'd always ask if I had a good day when nobody was around after that, realising it now, I was probably not the best son to him, even though he was always the best dad to me.

I walk down the hall until I reach his old classroom and then try my luck to open the door and then turn it only to see that it's unlocked.

I walk inside and admire how nothing has changed, everything was the same.

History.

I used to love listening to my dad talk about the great adventures of the world while keeping things fun so nobody fell asleep, it was one of the best lessons that every student looked forward to, just because of him and his enthusiasm to teach.

Sitting in my old seat, three rows from the front, next to the window, I sit down and take it all in as I look around, as so much nostalgia hits me about being here.

Those were good times, if only I appreciated them more, then maybe I'd have been nicer to him, told him I loved him more, that I was lucky he was my dad.

"Evan?" a soft voice says, startling me. "Oh heavens, I thought it was you."

My English teacher, Mrs. Rue comes over to me with her arms open wide as I get out of my seat and go over to her and wrap my arms around her tiny body.

"My, you are so tall now and still handsome I see," she says, patting my back and looking up at me. "How long has it been?" she asks a tear in her eye.

I laugh and look her over, seeing that she hasn't changed a single day, other than she's gotten older.

"Six years to be exact," I say, smiling widely, not thinking I'd bump into her. "What are you doing here on a Sunday?"

"I just came to get some things from my classroom." she waves me off, before smiling widely. "I retired on Friday, my thirty-th year of teaching I decided it was time to relax and spend some time with my daughter and grandkids."

Wait. Claire had children?

"I had no idea, congratulations on being a granny," I say cheekily. "When did Claire give birth?" I ask, following her as we head out of the classroom and into the halls.

"Two years ago," she smiles, remembering the day. "She has two boys now, married a lovely fellow, a doctor who works in the local hospital," she said, beaming with pride.

There was a moment of silence as I enter the hallway, looking around one last time before I drive back to the city.

"Richard would have been proud of you Evan. You've grown into a good man," she says, catching me by surprise as she smiles warmly at me. "We're all very proud of you."

"Not just a week ago I finished your show with my daughter but I'll have to admit now, I had to look away on a few occasions," she says, fanning her face, making me laugh out loud, knowing exactly what she's talking about, and what scenes.

"I should get going, it's a long drive back," I sigh, glad that I came as I hug her once more. "It's been good seeing you."

"Take care okay?" she rubs my back. "And don't be a stranger, you're always welcome at my home."

I pull away and smile.

"Thanks Rue."

After saying my goodbyes, I make my way back to my car and then shut the door, deciding to turn my phone on and check my messages, after not turning my phone on since Friday.

Coming alive, my phone blows up with missed calls, emails, texts and voicemails but despite the overwhelming hundreds of people trying to get into contact with me, one catches me off guard.

I knew this number. It was Donovan Steele's number.

I deleted his phone number a week after leaving Desire, even going as far as to send back everything he gave to me, that includes the laptop, phone and gym clothes I got from his private member gym.

Since then I'd not heard anything from him other than what premier he went to in the news or who he was currently dating but of course, those were just rumors, he'd never let the press get that information, he's too private.

Do I read it or do I delete it and just call Robbie and let him know I'm heading back, considering he left me a sizable amount of missed calls.

"Fucking hell," I mutter out, getting annoyed at myself.

I decide to phone Robbie before anyone else since he had left the most messages.

Robbie picks up almost instantly.

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouts out, panic in his voice. "I've been worried sick. I even phoned the police thinking you'd done something or worse, that something happened to you."

"I'll come to get you, where are you?" he asks again, hearing the sound of keys rattling in his hands. "I'll leave right now, I just need to find my shoes..."

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Rob, slow down, I'm fine. I just spent a few days back home to recharge my batteries. I'm fine, seriously," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "I was just about to drive back to the city."

Robbie sighs out loudly, making me wince, moving the phone from my ear.

"You should've told someone Evan, I've had people come to my apartment looking for you," he snaps angrily. "You can't just vanish like that, what if some crazy fan followed you there and kidnapped you? I'd have to find out about it from the news."

I snort at how that'd never happen.

"Now you're being ridiculous. I'm a grown man.

"What people came looking for me?" I ask curious, starting my car and putting my phone on the phone holder as I pull out of the school's parking lot whilst putting my seatbelt on.

The line goes quiet for a moment, making me wonder if he hung up on me.

"You still there, Rob?" I ask, turning onto the road back to the city.

"The police Evan. Someone broke into your apartment and trashed the place."

My eyes almost pop out of my head as I stare at my phone in confusion.

"What?"

"Yeah," he cringes. "Looks like they stole some things but I couldn't say for sure. The police wouldn't tell me much... but Evan, you should phone them, it's made the news and the fact you've been missing all weekend... just call them okay?"

My head starts pounding as I feel a headache coming on and I haven't even gotten back to the city yet.

Who the hell would break into my apartment?

"I'm on my way back. I'll call them as soon as I reach the city."

"Did they leave a number?"

"I'll text it to you," he says sighing in relief. "You're gonna be the death of me Evan," he adds, before ending the call.

Stopping at a red light, I put my head down on the wheel and groan out, so annoyed that it's barely been two days and something like this happened.

I glance at my phone and decide to open the text message from Donovan because let us face it, life couldn't get any more dramatic or worse.

When I open his text, my chest tightens as I read out his text, not understanding why he's contacting me now, after so long.

ᴅᴏɴᴏᴠᴀɴ: Please get in contact with me, I need to know you're safe.

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gemmarosewater · 1 year

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TASK 010 // THE INTERVIEW

Sawyer had been meek in her first interview, and she was determined to be the opposite now. She had to show the audience, the sponsors, how much she had changed. People who knew her were already aware of it, that she was no longer the scared child she had been — and yet perhaps there was part of her that needed to prove this to herself, as she had spent the last few days vacillating between confidence and fear. And while she did have some tricks up her sleeve with Lex, she knew that it was hardly foolproof.

Still, she walked out onto the stage confident, feeling beautiful, mature in the outfit that her stylist had chosen for her. Not the little Sawyer that audiences had first seen. No, she was different. Capable. She had gotten a Seven. She could win this.

Calix clapped along with the audience as she walked out on stage, as expected, but she surprised him by walking right up to him and giving him the typical Capitol greeting, a kiss on both cheeks. She had met him a few times at some exclusive events, afterparties and the like, but had never felt like she'd formed any particular bond with him. Still, she needed to remind him: I'm one of you.

Calix smiled and held his arms out, her shoulders in his hands, beaming at her. "Sawyer Bell, all grown up," he said. "My oh my, and don't you look stunning tonight? Here, sit, sit." He gestured to her seat, and she did as he said, crossing one leg over the other, resting her hands on her knees with confidence.

"I'll admit the stylist did most of this," Sawyer said. "I do know how to braid my hair, but not quite like this." She touched it, encased in gel and sparkles as it was.

"Well, and they did a fabulous job," Calix said. "But let's get into it. How are you feeling, being back on this stage?" In his question was veiled almost a fear, something knowing or aware, as if to suggest that it wasn't right, it didn't feel right, to him either. That she didn't belong here, having bought her way out of this place.

"Oh, strange," she said. "It feels smaller than it did before. I thought you were much taller back then!"

Calix laughed. "I'm still tall, don't forget that," he said, tucking his feet, encased in platform shoes, beneath his chair.

"I won't." She raised her hands. "But no, everything feels different now that I'm grown up. And of course, I've been around this place a time or two. It's not new to me anymore."

"Do you think that'll be to your advantage?" Calix asked.

"For sure," she said with a nod, not betraying any of the uncertainty she'd felt regarding this very topic. "I've mentored tributes. I brought home a Victor myself. I know how the Game is played, and I'm already playing it." A brilliant smile for the audience, being sure to look into the cameras, to allow her eyes to sweep the front row where the most important people sat. A little something for everyone.

"Of course you have," Calix said. "And we're delighted to see our lovely Cat back home from the Games! What a Victor she is." A warm smile. "What advice would you give yourself, then, if you were a tribute?"

"Oh, I'd say play to my advantages," Sawyer said. "Tributes often fall into the trap of pretending to be who they aren't, pretending to be good at things they don't know anything about. It's not what wins the game."

"What does?" Calix seemed curious, his head tilted slightly.

Sawyer thought for a moment, going through a few responses in her head before landing on, "Being cunning." She offered him a slightly more reserved smile, didn't look out at the audience this time. All of it was about being cunning. Lex would know it; Victor would know it; hell, everyone she'd spoken to would know it in some way or the other.

"And cunning you are," Calix said, clasping his hands together. "I wish I could speak to you all night, my love, I truly do, but I must bid you adieu shortly. Before you go, though, perhaps you could share with us a bit of what to expect from you in the Arena. A little taste to get us hungry for more, say."

Sawyer looked towards the front row, the VIPs, the Gamemakers, the high rollers and money spenders. "You can expect me to be entertaining," she said. "That's what it's all about, right? I'm fun to watch. I'll keep you and everyone else on their toes. That's the best you can ask for. Basically, I won't let you down."

Calix grinned at that, and the audience began to applaud, though whether it was a cue or a genuine response she didn't know. "Well, thank you my dear," he said. "And I hope to run into you at even more VIP events in the future."

"Count on it." With that, Sawyer stood, blew a kiss to the audience, and walked off.

#132 #mtotask #interview #sawyer

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neonlights92 · 3 years

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GRACE: Chapter I

Kim Namjoon lost himself when he lost his hand. Things have not been the same for him since. When Taehyung tells him it’s time for him to marry - he isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of someone else having a front row seat to his struggle with himself.

That’s where you come in. You’re a nurse, as well as a member of Bangtan, and Taehyung is never more sure about a match than he is with you and Namjoon. Feeling like you’ve been chosen to help Namjoon on his journey back to finding who he is, you feel completely out of depth.

It’s only when you start to see the man underneath that you start to fall in love with Kim Namjoon. And maybe after all, you might be his saving grace.

WARNINGS: Language, eventual sex and some violence

A/N:Namjoonie’s story! ENJOOOOY :D

“Kim Taehyung wants to see you, Y/N.”

Your mother’s words dropped between the two of you, like lead. Her eyes avoided your own - and you knew exactly what she actually meant.

Kim Taehyung has found you a husband.

Your chest tightened and you gripped the handle of your coffee mug for dear life.

Your eyes traveled over to your father, his face kind but stern. This wasn’t up for debate.

“Okay.” The word was quiet, “Do I - do you…”

You took a deep breath and collected yourself.

“Who is he?”

The question hung in the air uncomfortably.

Your parents exchanged a look - the same look they’d exchanged your entire life when decisions were made for you and they were afraid you wouldn’t like it.

“I think we should let Taehyung tell you that.” Your father’s voice was steady, “As Capo, it is his right.”

As capo.

You didn’t know Kim Taehyung very well at all. Though the two of you were of a similar age - had grown up together in Bangtan - he had always been groomed for Capo. You on the other hand, had been groomed like most other women in the mob: to believe that your most important duty in life was to carry on your family line.

You knew it was outdated. And you hated it, though you’d never complain.

Life had taught you that complaints got you nowhere - and so you’d learnt to keep your head down and get on with it.

But that didn’t mean you’d never wanted more. That you’d craved freedom and independence like no other.

And when your parents had allowed you to study nursing at university you really had thought maybe things were changing. Until you’d realised that it had been a direct order from Taehyung’s father himself - the Capo at the time.

Bangtan needed their own nurse. Someone who could take care of things quietly and efficiently.

Someone who could help those who were badly injured find some degree of normality.

And that’s what you did.

Still. You loved your job - mob mandated or not.

“Okay.” You whispered, feeling something like dread wash over you.

“His wife has invited you to dinner at theirs,” Your mother finally moved her gaze to connect with your own, “This evening. Eight pm.”

You nodded, on autopilot.

This was what you’d done all your life, wasn’t it?

You listened to orders. You never asked questions. You never challenged Bangtan.

And if the Capo himself wanted to see you, then you knew it could only mean one thing.

He’d found you a husband. And tonight, you would meet him too.

You stood outside Kim Taehyung’s mansion -- because that’s what it was, a mansion -- nervously fingering the hem of your blouse.

This was it.

You’d waited twenty-five years for this moment - the moment someone else decided who you would marry.

You’d always known it would be like this. Your father was too powerful - he held too many cards too close to his chest - and Bangtan could never let someone like him choose his own daughter’s marriage.

He’d told you since you were a young girl to expect this. An arranged betrothal.

And when you were little you thought it was sort of romantic. Like some fairytale - a princess locked away in a tower and a knight who was destined to save her.

Except now you were older and it wasn’t all that romantic anymore.

It was stifling.

You knew your father had come to this agreement with Taehyung himself. You hated that you lived in such a misogynistic world, but it was the way things had always been.

After a long moment and a deep, calming breath, you lifted your hand and knocked, once.

There was a beat and then the portal swung open.

And Kim Taehyung’s wife was smiling widely at you. You forced your own lips up into a smile.

“Hi! Y/N, was it?”

You curtsied a little feeling foolish straight after, “Yeah. Hello Mrs Kim.”

“Ugh Mrs Kim is Taehyung’s mom,” She laughed, “You can call me ___.”

Her eyes were kind as she opened the door further and gestured you inside.

“Come in, please. Dinner is almost ready and the boys are too.”

The boys.

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment you wondered if perhaps your father had somehow secured a marriage to the last available member of the Special Seven, Kim Namjoon.

But you shook your head.

Your father was important, of course… But surely not that important.

Besides, from what you’d heard through the grapevine - since the accident that had caused Namjoon to lose most of his hand - he had pretty much become a hermit. The rumour mill was rife, of course, with people’s theories of what would become of Bangtan’s most eligible bachelor.

Could it be that Kim Taehyung wanted you to take up that mantle?

“I hope you like pasta,” ___ interrupted your thoughts and you looked up as stopped in front of a large dining room, “We hardly ever use this room anymore, but Taehyung thought it was appropriate for tonight.”

Your eyes widened at the opulence of the room you were stood in. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the ceiling dripped with what you could only guess were the most expensive diamonds money could buy. The long, mahogany table was ornate and rich - a dark colour that spoke of wealth and taste.

“It’s a little much,” ___ spoke up again and you turned to see her rolling her eyes, “But it was like this when we moved in. Taehyung’s dad had a lot of money and apparently not a lot of subtlety.”

She laughed at the comment and you giggled too - relaxing a little as the tension eased from your shoulders slightly. It seemed you’d found something of an ally in Taehyung’s wife and you were thankful for that, at least.

“I know we don’t really know each other,” She started carefully, a perfectly plucked brow pulling up slightly, “But I like to think of myself as a confidant of sorts… Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You raised your own brow, “Matters of the heart?”

She bit her bottom lip and you noticed the pity in her eyes.

As she opened her mouth to answer you, somebody cleared their throat to your left and your head snapped round, finding yourself looking up into the formidable gaze of Kim Taehyung.

He was alone, you noticed immediately, and you tried to keep your expression neutral.

This was the game of Bangtan. A game you’d grown up in.

A game you knew well.

“Taehyung,” You greeted, nodding gently, “Thank you for inviting me. It is an honour.”

His handsome face was cold - barely responsive as he nodded back to you, “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”

Our home.

The words warmed you.

It had been clear for a while now that Kim Taehyung’s only weakness was his wife. He would burn the entire world down for her - and you’d been told of this time and time again.

They had started off as an arranged marriage - almost six years ago now - when Taehyung’s father and his wife’s father had worked so closely with one another they had promised their children’s hand in marriage in an act of loyalty.

But things had changed in the years since.

It was well established that Kim Taehyung loved only one thing more than he loved Bangtan - and that was his wife.

You tried to focus on that - on the fact that loveless marriages could turn into something else - as ___ nudged her husband playfully.

“Don’t be so formal,” She teased and you couldn’t believe you were witnessing this exchange, “Y/N is a friend.”

Taehyung actually rolled his eyes playfully and smiled down at his wife, “I’m still Capo, darling.”

She laughed as well and your chest tightened. You wanted that.

The obvious love they had for one another - the way they seemed to be so comfortable with each other it was like they had found their home.

“Well dinner’s almost ready Taehyung so go and get cleaned up.” ____ said, slipping an arm through yours and leading you towards the ridiculous mahogany table, “Come sit over here, Y/N.”

You noticed for the first time that the table was set for four people.

Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Who is it?”

The question slipped out of you before you even had a chance to think it through. ____ froze. She was slipping into the seat beside you when her eyes turned to your own.

“What?”

“The fourth person,” You whispered, darting your eyes behind you to make sure Taehyung wasn’t within earshot distance, “My future husband. Who is it?”

____ looked genuinely distraught for a moment.

You clicked your tongue.

“I’m a member of the South Korea mafia, ____, I know how this shit works.” You noticed your words were a little sharp and you tried to soften them with a weak smile, ��Just tell me who it is. Please.”

____ seemed torn. Her eyes roved your face carefully and she sighed.

“He’s a good guy.” She told you carefully, “Really. I’m not just saying that.”

Your heart dropped. The look in her eyes - the trepidation….

“It’s Kim Namjoon, isn’t it?”

A throat cleared itself loudly from behind you. You snapped your head to the side and watched as the man himself sauntered towards the two of you.

“You rang?” The sarcasm dripped from his tone as he stuck out his prosthetic hand for you to shake. You supposed he was expecting you to be disgusted - maybe to rebuke him - but you were made of stronger stuff than that.

You forced yourself to smile, “Hello Namjoon. I’m Y/N.”

He narrowed his eyes as you shook his prosthetic.

“I know who you are,” He raised a dark brow, “The future Mrs Kim Namjoon.”

The words were like heavy bricks - weighing down on your shoulders.

You knew next to nothing about this man. Despite what ____ had said about him being a good man all you saw was bitterness and anger in his eyes.

“You’re the nurse, aren’t you?”

You nodded carefully and tried to calm your pulse.

“Well now we know why Taehyung chose you for me. The cripple.”

____ cleared her throat and stood up abruptly. Her eyes were dark and angry and she shook her head at Namjoon.

“No. You don’t get to do that to her. Not when she had nothing to do with any of this.” Her bottom lip trembled slightly, “Apologise.” Namjoon’s face was a perfect mask of nonchalance. His eyes flicked between you and ____ and he shrugged.

“What for?”

____ squared her shoulders, “You know exactly what for, Kim Namjoon.”

“I think that’s enough now,” Taehyung entered the room sharply, standing between his wife and friend. His gaze fell on you after a moment, “I see the two of you have met.”

You nodded wordlessly, wondering just what in the hell was going on.

Namjoon was seething apparently, as he sulked to the left of his friend, arms crossed and eyes dangerously black.

“Was he not as welcoming as he’d promised he’d be?”

“This is ridiculous V, we both know that. You’ve chosen her because she’s a nurse and because of this,” He stuck his fake hand in the air and you refused to look away.

Nobody else in the room reacted for a moment.

Taehyung took a deep, calming breath.

“That was part of it, yes.” He said evenly, “Y/N is a trained nurse and therefore she can help you move forward with this. But she’s also a good match. Right age, right height… Her parents are wealthy and important like yours. It is a good union. I have told you this plenty of times Namjoon.”

“I will not marry her because of pity,” Namjoon spat the word out, “I’m not some fucking charity case-”

“I don’t pity you.” The words flew out of you and when three sets of eyes turned to fall on you, you wondered if it was the right choice. You chose to focus on Namjoon.

“What?”

“I don’t pity you,” You told him honestly, gesturing to his prosthetic, “What happened is awful, obviously. And I may never know the full extent of it. But I don’t pity you. You are a man with an obstacle in life. There are many men with obstacles in life. That doesn’t make you worthy of pity.”

Namjoon’s eyes searched your face for something - what you weren’t sure - and she sighed heavily. He seemed so tired. You noticed the bags under his eyes, the lines in his forehead. He was young - just a little older than you - and yet it seemed he’d aged so much recently.

“So you want to marry me? You want to marry a man who’s had to learn how to live - how to do normal every day things like eat with a knife and fork - all over again?”

You shrugged, “I want to do what’s best for Bangtan. If Taehyung says that’s a marriage between the two of us, then so be it.”

A long moment passed between the two of you.

Namjoon seemed to be sizing you up, and you took the opportunity to do the same.

He wasn’t ugly. Far from it. Kim Namjoon was tall and handsome - and from what you’d heard through the grapevine - he was also smart and kind.

People spoke about him of course - he was a member of the Special Seven - and what they said was normally very positive.

He wasn’t like other Bangtan men.

He was grounded. He was softer. A man who used brains instead of braun.

You had to admit, those traits were attractive to you.

Eventually, he spoke.

“Alright then.” He nodded and gave you a strange look - somewhere between admiration and confusion, “I suppose that says it all.”

Namjoon turned to Taehyung and nodded.

“We’ll get married at the earliest convenience.” _____ gasped from behind you but you barely registered the sound.

It had all been well and good in theory… But now what?

Kim Namjoon stuck his hand out to yours - his real hand made of flesh and bones - and smiled sardonically.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs Kim Namjoon.” You smiled back. Mrs Kim Namjoon.

You could do this.

Planning a wedding was easy when you weren’t trusted to do a single thing.

Kim Namjoon’s family had promised to take care of everything - and as a family higher up in the Bangtan hierarchy than your own - there had been no argument to be made.

This was the way things worked in your world, and you’d learned long ago just to accept it.

You barely saw your husband in the ensuing months. He dropped by once to meet your parents and officially ask for your hand in marriage, and once more since then to update you on the wedding arrangements.

But apart from that he was like a ghost - you even forgot sometimes that you were supposed to be marrying him.

You rarely thought about the fact that by the end of this year you would be Mrs Kim Namjoon and despite the relatively long engagement - six months was a long time in the world of Bangtan - you were happy you had the time to get used to the idea of marriage.

It wasn’t until one evening when Kim Namjoon came calling for you that the reality of the situation truly sunk in.

You were leaving work - it had been a particularly difficult day so far, and absolutely nothing seemed to be going smoothly. In fact everything today had felt like it was seconds away from falling apart and you felt like you too, were going to break down.

And as you made your way across the parking lot you found Kim Namjoon, leaning against your car. How he knew which one was yours was beyond you - but you smiled at him questioningly when you were within earshot.

“Hi.” He smiled almost sheepishly, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms and squinted one eye shut as he stewed in your question for just a moment. Then he sighed heavily.

“I’ve been an asshole.”

“Huh?” You raised a brow.

Namjoon groaned and clicked his tongue, “Are you gonna make this difficult for me?”

“What? No!” You shook your head and shrugged, “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The night I agreed to marry you I was a jerk. And we’ve barely seen each other twice since we got engaged two months ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that. So I’m sorry.”

You cocked your head to the side, shocked at the show of vulnerability. Namjoon was a Bangtan man - he should be cold and unforgiving - he should push away intimacy and hate the thought of opening himself up to anyone.

And yet here he was, apologising to you for something you’d assumed was just the way things were done when a marriage was arranged.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, “I forgive you.”

He smiled softly and you found yourself thinking he really did look handsome like that.

“I’d like us to be friends at least,” He shrugged, “If nothing else.”

You smiled back, “Friends sounds good to me.”

“Good. Great. Thank you,” He gestured to your car, “So can you give me a ride home?” You gave him a questioning look, “How did you get here?”

“My driver dropped me off,” He lifted his prosthetic hand, “I can’t really drive anymore.”

There was a moment of almost awkward silence, but you refused to let something Namjoon couldn’t control, ruin the atmosphere. He’d apologised to you - he was making something of an effort - and you owed it to him to do your part.

“I can help you with that,” You told him, pointing at his hand, “Getting used to it. How long have you had it on for?”

“Half a year,” He looked away from you, “It’s still so uncomfortable.”

You took another step towards him and his eyes connected with yours.

“I don’t care.” You told him firmly, “I don’t care about the prosthetic. I swear. And I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable. I’m sorry it happened to you. But I’ll help you. I will. I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at your words and you were taken back by the way he was suddenly looking at you.

God. He really was so handsome.

“Okay.” He whispered, eyes darting across your face, “Yeah. Thank you. That would mean a lot.” The moment was suspended for another moment more, and you wondered if you might do something crazy like try and kiss him - before Namjoon cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

Jesus.

What was going on with you?

Your pulse was racing as you fumbled around your handbag for your keys and you told yourself the nerves were only because of the day you’d had. It had nothing to do with the handsome man standing in front of you.

“You’re going to have to give me directions to your house,” You told Namjoon as the car unlocked and you both climbed in, “I’ve never had the privilege of visiting.” He snorted a laugh, “It’s a two minute drive from Taehyung’s. If you drive that way I can guide you.”

“Sounds good.”

You buckled yourself in and tried to ignore the way your cheeks were flushing at the idea of you and Namjoon being in such a small space together, focusing instead on the feel of the steering wheel under your fingers, and trying as much as you could not to stare at him through the reflection of the mirrors.

That would be weird.

Weirder than you were suddenly being.

“How was work?” He asked you once you pulled the car out onto the main road.

You groaned, “Awful. Today was a bad one. We have them sometimes but it really lowers your self esteem. Some of my patients seemed like they couldn’t stand my face.”

Namjoon whistled lowly.

“I can imagine that wouldn’t be a very comforting atmosphere to be in.”

“No, not very,” You shrugged and shot him a look, “But that’s the nature of my job. Nurses are treated worse than doctors even though sometimes it feels like we do triple the work.”

Namjoon chuckled and you raised a brow, “What?”

“It’s just…” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head, “It’s like that with us sometimes. In Bangtan I mean. Taehyung is treated with so much respect and reverence - and he deserves it. Of course he does. But the rest of us… We work our asses off. And we barely get any recognition for it.” He pulled a face, “So I guess I’m trying to say I know how you’re feeling. Kind of.”

You let this information settle with you.

It made sense of course.

Bangtan was the biggest food chain of them all. The Capo demanded respect.

And in the little interaction you’d had with him, you saw how intimidating Kim Taehyung could be. Still. You imagined that had to be annoying.

“Doesn’t it piss you off?” He scoffed, “Of course it does. But that’s just Bangtan. That’s the job. We don’t do it for recognition anyway. We do it because we love Bangtan.”

You smiled at that.

It was exactly how you felt about your job.

“Yeah. I understand what you mean. As much as it sucks that I don’t always get the praise I feel I deserve… I don’t do it for that. I do it to help people.”

There was a heavy moment between you both. Namjoon seemed to be taking in what you’ve said and you found yourself thinking that if it’s this easy to talk to him you might catch yourself falling for your own husband.

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” You felt rather than saw his smile, “My house is just on this curb.”

You slowed the car down and turned to your fiance, surprised when you saw him already smiling at you.

“Thank you. For this.” His eyes were gentle and shimmering almost and you once again had to force yourself not to flush, “It’s been…. Nice.” You grinned back, “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

He laughed at that and shook his head.

“I won’t.” He gave you a warm look, “Goodbye Y/N. I’ll call you soon.”

You nodded, “Okay. Bye Namjoon.”

He smiled at you once more before climbing out of the car and waving goodbye at you.

And as you drove away all you could think of was this:

Kim Namjoon might very well be the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

#namjoon x reader #mafia au #arranged marraige au #smut #angst #romance #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

552 notes · View notes

aquaticrunner · 3 years

Text

Modern Academic Rivals to Lovers | Edmund x Reader

Request by @generalblizzarddreamer : Hey love! I don't know if you're inspired to write Narnia right now but could I have academic rivals to lovers with Edmund Pevensie? Maybe Edmund could be a law student and the reader is a journalism major? Thanks so much if you do it! | Word count: 2.9K

A/N: I did not mean for this to come out so long but I loved the idea and just kinda ran with it. I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing it. I’m so sorry it took so long but I’m finally out of school so I’m catching up on all my requests.

I stood up from the small desk I was sitting at in the university library and stretched my arms up above my head. I’d been sitting at this desk for at least two hours and still felt like I hadn’t made much progress on my project. I decided to go searching for some more sources and scanned the section closest to me. A book title on the top shelf caught my eye and I reached my hand up to grab it. Just as my fingers brushed the spine of the book, another hand reached over and swiped it. “Hey!” I shouted, immediately cringing at the loudness of my voice in the quiet library. I looked over at the thief who had taken my book. The guy seemed familiar like maybe we’d had a few classes together. He had dark, curly hair that had grown past his ears and an easy smile that probably made most people melt.

“Hey yourself.” He said, chuckling as he started to walk away. I bit the side of my cheek in frustration and made the impulsive decision to follow him. “Excuse me, but I need that book.”

He stopped walking and smirked at me. Despite how attractive this boy was, it infuriated me. “Well, so do I.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I saw it first and there’s only one copy.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “You saw it first? What is this, primary school?”

“Seriously? Just give me the book.”

I could see the smile in his eyes as he just looked at me and said, “No.” Then he turned around and walked away again.

I decided not to follow him this time and walked back to my desk, fuming the whole way there. He was the most arrogant and obnoxious guy I’d ever met and I didn’t even know his name. I tried to focus on my project again but gave up after about 30 minutes. I packed up my stuff and walked back to my dorm. When I made it back, I checked the time on my phone. It was only 8:15. Too early to go to sleep. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone until I saw my best friend’s name. I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear. She answered after the first ring and asked what was up. “Do you wanna go out?”

I woke up the next morning with a slight headache and my mouth dry. I picked up the water bottle that I keep beside my bed but it was empty. I sighed and stood up. I ventured into my small kitchen area and filled up the bottle in the sink. As I drank the water, my mind drifted back to last night. My friend, Valerie, and I had gone to a small club and stayed out till about midnight. I had pretty much gotten over my encounter with that guy at the library. I looked at the clock at the wall and cursed when I realized that it was almost 7:30. I only had 15 minutes to get ready for my morning class. I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and brushed my teeth. I rushed out the door, barely checking to see if I had the right notebook. I walked as fast as I could to the humanities building and breathed a sigh of relief when I made it with 3 minutes to spare. I took a seat in the front row where I always did and smiled at the boy that always sits next to me. I opened my backpack and grabbed my notebook, thankful that it was the right one. I opened the notebook to a blank page and sat a pencil next to it. I was waiting for the professor to walk in when someone else caught my eye. It was the boy from the library! So we do have a class together, I thought. I waited for him to see me but his eyes stayed focused on his path and he sat down in the middle row. I turned my head quickly in case he saw me looking at him.

The professor walked in a minute later and I tried to refocus my mind on what he was teaching. This class was already boring to me. I knew that research and writing were important, but this class felt almost too basic. As the professor talked my mind drifted to the boy sitting behind me. I wondered if he had noticed me yet, if he was as bored as I was, or if he was paying attention and didn’t notice me at all.

“Does anyone know the answer?” I was snapped out of my thoughts when the professor addressed the class and averted my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t call on me. “Anyone at all?”

“A research question is focused, complex, and arguable.” My eyes widened when I realized it was the boy from last night.

“Yes that is correct, Mr… ?”

“Pevensie, sir. Edmund Pevensie.”

The professor nodded and went back to lecturing. My eyes stayed glued to the boy, Edmund. His eyes snapped to mine and heat immediately rushed to my cheeks and I turned back to my notebook. Now he’s going to think I’m obsessed with him.

When the professor dismissed class after what felt like forever, I threw my stuff in my bag and rushed out of my seat. I made it out the door and thought I was clear and my path was blocked. “Excuse me.” I said, trying to get past.

“Avoiding someone?” His voice burned into my soul and I jumped back.

“No. I just have somewhere to be.” My eyes drifted up his chest as I leaned up to meet his eyes.

The corner of his mouth ticked up and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Right. I’m Edmund by the way. Figured I should introduce myself after you called me a thief.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are a thief. And I heard your name. Everyone in class did.”

This time, he smiled completely. “So…?”

I looked at him, unsure of what he was wanting. “So what?”

He stared at me blankly as if he was trying to figure out if I really didn’t know or if I was messing with him. “Your name?”

“Oh. It’s Y/N.” I don’t know why it surprised me that he wanted my name. Was he trying to be friends or something?

“Well, it was nice to meet you Y/N.” And with that he turned and walked away. Why is he always doing that?

I rolled my eyes as he left and walked back to my dorm, throwing my bag down in the living room. My roommate, Elle, walked out and raised her eyebrows at me. “Someone’s in a foul mood.”

“I am not!” I shouted defensively. She just looked at me and my shoulders sagged in defeat. “Fine. I met this guy and he’s a total jerk.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “You met a guy?”

“Seriously? That was not the important part of that sentence.”

She laughed. “Well I can’t remember the last time you said the words “met a guy.”” She said, using air quotes around my words.

I sighed and walked into my room, looking over my schedule for the day. I had one more class and a club meeting later that day.

“Hey would you wanna grab lunch before my next class?” I asked her, walking back into the living room.

She shrugged, “Sure. I have nothing better to do.”

We ate in the campus cafeteria and I went to my corporate communication class. Now I was on my way to one of the meeting rooms on campus for a debate club meeting. It was my first time joining a club and I was definitely nervous.

I walked up the stairs of the building and into the room that was on the announcement. A tall girl greeted me at the door with a large smile. “Hi! Are you here to join the debate team?” Her enthusiasm was almost scary but I smiled back and nodded as she handed me an instruction packet. “Great! Feel free to sit anywhere.” I thanked her and took a seat near the middle. Normally I liked to sit in the front but I was a little too nervous tonight.

I looked around for anyone I might know and noticed a familiar boy with dark, curly hair. You have to be kidding me. Ever since our interaction at the library Edmund seemed to be everywhere I was.

He was busy talking to a group of kids at the back of the room. He caught my eye and waved at me with a smirk on his face. I clenched my jaw and turned back around, facing the front of the room.

The girl who greeted me when I walked in had now moved to stand behind a small podium. She cleared her throat to catch everyone’s attention and I sat up a little straighter in my chair. She spent the next hour describing what the debate club was like, our meeting schedule, and how often we attend competitions. “Now there is a sign-up sheet being passed around. Please write your name and phone number on the sheet.” She handed the clipboard with the sheet on it to the boy on my left and he handed it to me when he was done. I wrote what she instructed and passed it to my right, not paying attention to who was beside me. Once everyone was done she announced that the meeting was over and we would receive a message for our next meeting time. I sighed and stood following the small crowd out the door.

“Hey Y/N!” I looked to see who was calling my name and of course it was Edmund.

I kept walking, pretending I hadn’t heard him, but he caught up to me almost immediately. “Hey, I didn’t know you were interested in debate.”

I shrugged, “Well you don’t really know that much about me at all.”

He put his hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Ouch. You wound me.”

I smiled condescendingly. “I try.”

“You don’t like me, do you?” He asked.

“I don’t have any feelings toward you.” I said in response.

“Riiight. Is this about the book?”

I sighed. “No. I don’t care about some stupid book. Look, it's late and I have to go. Bye.”

I walked away from him and headed back to my dorm for the night, trying to concentrate on my project.

The rest of the week went by quickly with limited interactions between Edmund and me. Finally, it was Friday and I was ready to take a break. However, before I did that I needed to buckle down and finish the project that I had been procrastinating. I packed my stuff up and drove to the library. I spent hours there and by the time I finished, it was dark outside. I packed my stuff up and stopped by the vending machine on my way out. I reached the doors and pushed, but was surprised when they didn’t open. I pushed again and started to get nervous when they still didn’t open. Maybe there’s another exit. I walked away from the doors and searched the perimeter of the library looking for another set of doors. When I didn’t find any, I walked to the center of the library where the help desk was located. “Hello?” I said, hoping someone would answer me.

I heard a voice from behind me, “Please don’t tell me we’re locked in here.” I cringed, knowing who it was going to be before I even turned around.

I slowly turned to face him. “It’s starting to look that way.”

“Do you have your phone?” He asked me.

“No. I leave it in my car when I’m studying. Don’t you have one?” I asked, crossing my arms defensively.

He waved it in front of me, looking annoyed. “It’s dead.”

I wanted to bang my head against a wall. “Great,” I said sarcastically.

“Maybe we can use the library phone?” He suggested and I nodded, walking around to the other side of the desk.

I picked it up and attempted to dial a number. Instead of hearing the phone ringing, all I heard was constant beeping. I groaned when I read the inscription at the bottom of the phone.

Edmund leaned over. “What is it?”

“This phone only connects to other phones in the building. No one else is going to be here at this hour.”

“Well, guess we better make ourselves comfortable.” He took a seat on one of the couches and propped his feet up on a nearby table.

I took a deep breath and sat down in a chair across from the couch.

He stared at me from across the table and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “Why are you looking at me?” I finally asked.

He shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out why you don’t like me.”

“By staring at me?”

Edmund laughed and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a bit.

“So are you going to tell me or not?” He asked me.

I bit my lip nervously. This is going to be a long night. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

“So you’re acting like this because you do like me.”

“No!”

“So you’re rude to everyone?”

“I am not rude! I don’t dislike you. I just have no interest in talking to you.” I finally said.

“Why not? I’m hilarious.”

I snorted in response. “I doubt that.”

“You’re judging me based on one interaction. That hardly seems fair.” He said. I looked away, not wanting to admit that he might be right.

“Well it was one rude interaction. First impressions matter.” I said in my defense.

“Okay, well I’m sorry I took the book you wanted. I needed it for a project.”

“So did I.”

He laughed, but it sounded dry. “Whatever.”

I bit my lip, guilt starting to settle in my stomach. Maybe I had judged him too harshly.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have judged you so fast. Maybe we could be friends?” I asked.

He half-smiled and I felt slightly relieved. “We can be friends.”

I smiled at him for what felt like the first time and he smiled back.

“Let’s play twenty questions.” He said, sitting up suddenly.

“What?”

“Twenty questions. I ask you a question and then you ask me one.”

I curled my hair around my finger nervously. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can ask me first.”

I sighed, knowing there was nothing else to do anyway. “Fine. What’s your major?”

Edmund laughed. “Okay, starting off easy. I’m pre-law. What’s yours?”

“Journalism.” He nodded, and I sat for a moment, thinking of my next question. “What’s your family like?”

Edmund smiled and his fondness for them was written clearly all over his face. “I have two sisters and a brother. Lucy and I are the youngest and then Susan and Peter. We’re all really close. I don’t get to see them as often as I like but we text all the time.”

I smiled, surprised at such a genuine response. He cleared his throat and then asked his next question. “What’s your favorite food?”

I laughed and tried to think of a genuine answer. “Pizza. Yours?”

Edmund thought for a moment. “I love anything sweet. Why are you majoring in journalism?”

“Well… I’d like to have an impact on the world. I like discovering the truth and telling real stories. Why do you want to be a lawyer?”

“To defend those who can’t defend themselves, obviously.” He said, jokingly.

I laughed again and thought of my next question. Edmund and I spent the rest of the night talking and laughing. I had seriously misjudged him. He was actually very pleasant to be around. Eventually, we fell asleep and when the librarian woke us up the next morning I was embarrassed to find that Edmund and I had moved together in our sleep. The librarian apologized profusely for not checking before she locked up and then Edmund and I were on our way out of the library.

He walked me to my car and I grabbed his arm before he turned to leave. “Thank you.”

He looked at me curiously. “For what?”

“For making last night a little better. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been locked in by myself.” In a moment of bravery, I leaned forward and hugged him.

Edmund hugged back and I could feel the warmth radiating off of him and his heart beating in his chest.

I leaned back slowly and Edmund kept his arms around me.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

I nodded and Edmund leaned forward, immediately capturing my lips with his. The kiss was passionate and I could’ve sworn I saw literal sparks. I wasn’t sure how long it lasted but I was sure it wasn’t long enough. He leaned his forehead against mine and I smiled at the closeness.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” He asked me.

“I would love to.”

He kissed me on the cheek then began to walk back to his car.

“Hey Edmund!” I called. He turned back to face me. “Thanks for stealing my book.” A smile broke out on his gorgeous face and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie edit #edmund pevensie fanfic #narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia edit #narnian #narnia edmund #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #x reader #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #modern edmund pevensie #modern narnia #narnia au

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

one more time (m)

pairing; (former) popular!jk x (former) normie!reader summary; it’s been two years since you’ve seen your former tryst jeon jungkook. you didn’t expect him to be applying for the internship you’re currently running, along with the rate your heart is running at the sight of him in a black suit. genre/warnings; self-deprecating language, your typical (future) co-workers!au, jungkook is a piner and so is oc, a lil bit of sneaking around, adulting, a mutual understanding of feelings (finally!!) smut in the form of—soft n’ dirty baybee, unprotected, cockwarming, overstimulation, minor praise and possession kink, cumplay, &you know that they gon have heart eyes the entire time w.c; 7.3k a/n; darn why am i so... emotional over this??? it started out as a meaningless drabble series but with all my lovely readers and moots it’s grown into such a fun, introspective series. thank u for loving this and joining me on this journey. for those of u who are new to this series feel free to read popular-ish first or as a standalone! [popular-ish masterlist]

if you’ve enjoyed this (whether as a standalone or as a series) please consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨✨✨

“A mess, I’m a mess,” you sing-song to yourself, organizing the manuals on the clear glass by subject and size. The applications of all your new interns are alphabetized, not a form out of place. Everything’s perfect. “Alright Jessica, all twenty of the interns are accounted for.”

“Actually, there’s twenty-three,” Jessica quips, and you let your shoulders slump. Being part of the recruiting team of your company has been simultaneously exciting and stressful. Stressful because of the constant travel, but otherwise exciting because you loved your internship at your current company. You remember how nervous you were two years ago, and how much support and help you got from your recruiters. Applying to this team was a natural turn of events.

“A-are you sure, Jess?” you look through all the applications, count the amount of nametags, triple check the chairs. You’re sweating through your blazer, wondering where you went wrong.

The head of your recruiting team glues one hand to her hip, while the other hand is holding her iPad, scrolling with her thumb. You swallow, intimidated by Jessica’s golden wavy locks and her black-trimmed white Chanel pantsuit.

“Yep, but don’t be too hard on yourself. I just added three more recruits last night. I’ll get the chairs and the apps are being printed. No worries,” Jessica assures, gesturing for you to hurry up and get outside, “Call the babies in!” your team leader waves her finger around like a magic wand, commanding you to the front lines.

Krystal puts a hand on her shoulder, as always looking impeccable. She has virtually nothing to worry about. She’s a woman who has connections, courtesy of her team leader. “Let’s go, newbie,” she teases, pulling you through the door.

The recruits in the lobby are wide-eyed and vibrant, and you feel a little nostalgic as you watch them line up in front of you and Krystal as you sign them in. You would dwell on the feeling more if it wasn’t for your exhaustion, so you decide you’ll get a chance to take a road down memory lane when you get to the hotel.

“Name?”

“Xu Minghao.”

“Congrats Minghao, here’s your nametag and I’ll see you inside,” with a firm handshake, one recruiter is free to go.

“Name?”

“Chou Tzuyu.”

“Congrats Tzuyu, here’s your name tag and I’ll see you inside,” she doesn’t go in straight away, and moves to the side of the door. “Actually,” you pause mid-handshake with another recruit, staring at the woman in curiosity, “my boyfriend just got a call last night that he was accepted in this year’s batch. Do you have his name?”

“Yes, three more recruits were added,” you chirp, as if you totally did not hear that bit of information five minutes ago, “What’s his name—Jungkook?”

The both of you blink at each other. One hand on Tzuyu’s shoulder, eyes wide and mirroring yours. Your heart falls straight to your stomach, wanting to be eaten by acids and bacteria so you can stop any possibility of feeling any lingering affection for the boy you fooled around with in undergrad. Everything about him screams professional. He’s clean cut, a pinstripe black suit you never thought he’d own, and his hair is neatly trimmed and pulled behind his ears. His shoulders look tall and broad under the slight padding, his biceps comfortably stretching against the dark fabric. The golden complexion remains the same however, from the honest brown eyes to the coral pink lips that would always smile at you.

“Oh, so you do have his name!” Tzuyu clasps her hands together, delighted. He has a girlfriend, too. It’s then you realize you’ll be stuck with not just him, but her for the week. “You guys are so efficient. C’mon Kookie, let’s find some seats!”

“I still gotta get my nametag,” he replies goodnaturedly, gesturing to you, “save us some seats in the front?”

Tzuyu thinks nothing of it, squeezing his bicep before skipping off to the front row. Your eyes linger on her form, and it’s only then you realize how tall and intimidatingly pretty she looks in that plaid teddy bear brown skirt suit. You did not look that good when you were a budding undergrad.

By this time, Krystal has taken all your other recruits from your line, regarding you with a raised brow. She’s fast with her attendance, so you know you don’t have much time.

“I applied last minute,” Jungkook says, scratching his head, “was running out of options before graduation. I didn’t know you’d be one of my recruiters, though. Lucky me.”

Jungkook and you never ended up keeping in contact, at least as of recent. A check-in message a few months in, a happy birthday or holiday greeting late at night. But two years later and those messages are automatic, with no feeling or personality. You never thought you’d see him again, no less in the city.

“You just graduated with your masters, congrats,” you smile at Jungkook, although you’re sure the feigned emotion fails to reach your eyes, “IT Management, right?”

“You remembered,” Jungkook brightens, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder, “you look good.”

“Oh please—” you laugh to yourself, shaking your head, “I just got off a flight and I ran over in a two-day old suit, I don’t even have makeup on,” you didn’t feel this way in the morning, you just rushed to do the bare minimum to be enough and ran over to the convention hall. But now in the presence of Jungkook who looks so handsome and clean-cut, you can’t help but feel a little slighted at the sudden reunion.

“You’re always beautiful,” Jungkook exhales, and you clutch your clipboard closer to your chest.

You cough, an excuse for him to stop touching your shoulder, “You should go inside, it’s gonna start soon. We can catch up later.”

“Wait—” you make a scrunched up face that Jungkook can’t catch, but right in Krystal’s view. You can tell she’s laughing at you internally with her devious grin. “I just wanted to say, Tzuyu isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just…”

“Fooling around?” you didn’t mean for it to sound so sharp, but you wanted this conversation over. You have a job to do and Jungkook is your emotional barrier.

You and Jungkook used to fool around.

Jungkook winces, looking younger in his monkey suit. “I mean if you give me a chance to explain later—”

“Nametag, let’s go newbie.” Krystal slaps on the sticker herself, a little too hard if she asked. She doesn’t even bother to write his full name, just a bright green Jeon JK, IT Management tacked on his breast pocket, clashing with the gold pocket square.

“Sorry,” Jungkook tucks his tail in for now, bowing at you and Krystal as he scurries inside.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Krystal doesn’t bother to comfort you or ask what’s up—not that you want her to, even though you do want a breather before you have to go up on that stage and explain the itinerary for a week. The only thing you can do is smooth out your skirt, brush away the flyaways on your hairstyle and plaster a company-paid smile on your face.

The autopilot switch is on throughout the rest of the morning. Not just because Jungkook’s around, but the new position has got you on livewire. You’re glad that you’re not wearing base makeup because you are absolutely melting with all the high beam lights all up in your face as you talk through the week’s activities.

You could swear Jungkook clapped a little harder than most once you stopped talking, but maybe it’s because you’re not used to seeing Jungkook in the very front of a lecture. In fact, he was a very hard middle person, preferring not to show off his intelligence and let other people lead the discussion. Then again, it’s been two years, you don’t know how much he’s changed.

Jessica caps off the seminar with a great kick-off, the happy hour. The recruitment team picks a four star restaurant under their hotel so the recruits can enjoy themselves before going off to the training facility for a week.

And by training facility, you also mean yet another four-star hotel. You knew you made the right decision by joining this company because the benefits are impeccable, and value personal enjoyment just as much as they value work ethic. In the morning you and the recruits will be driving uptown to a private resort where there would be classes in the morning, and recoup in the evening. You’re very much looking forward to the infinity pool on the roof.

The recruits are ushered out as soon as you’re done, and that’s when you step out of the shadows to clean up the chairs and the brochures left behind. Thankfully Jungkook is probably following the norm and going back to the hotel to freshen up before dinner. Once the room is completely empty, you rip off your blazer and let yourself relax.

It’s going to be a long week.

Jeon: where u @?

You: hotel room

Jeon: why? Thought we were all gonna have dinner together

You: nahhh, this night is for the recruits! You’ll be tired of our faces by the end of the week, enjoy it while you can 😉 have a good night

You sigh in contentment, relaxing further into the silk sheets. You just finished your skincare routine, letting some mindless drama play as the essences and serums sink into your skin. All you want is one Jungkook-free night. Tomorrow you’ll be stuck training him and Tzuyu for the week and you want to take tonight to emotionally prepare yourself.

Your phone rings once more.

Big Baddie Jessica Jung: krystal and i ordered takeout in the restaurant downstairs. Can u bring it to our room? Plsssssss

Little Baddie Krystal Jung: it’ll be faster if you do it, we even got u a lil somethin🍰🍰🍰

Taking in your outfit, you grimace. You’re dressed for bed, a large nightie with your hair pulled back and a little pink bunny tie headband on top. Can’t they get room service to send it up? You admire your boss but you don’t understand why she needs to display her power over and over, she already knows you’ll follow her to the ends of the earth.

Quickly slipping into a pair of sneakers you run down the expanse of the hotel. It’s easy to spot where the recruits are, livin’ it up in the large restaurant that takes up half the space of the ground floor. Most of them are pretty drunk, hoping to sleep off the hangover on the four-hour bus ride. You have absolutely no judgement, two years ago you were in the same position.

Thankfully you don’t have to go far into the restaurant, as the hostess immediately knows Jessica’s order. While you wait for her to go into the kitchen and get it you drum your fingers against the counter, hoping no one notices you. It’s akin to when you’re a teacher in a mall, hoping none of your students gawk at you in the middle of Victoria’s Secret.

“Ah, well Jungkook and I aren’t official yet—but very soon.”

Your ears perk up at the sweet voice. Tzuyu is leaning across the open bar next to the counter, sipping on a mango mojito. She’s dumped the blazer for the night, showing off her soft skin and slender arms with a sleeveless cream blouse.

“Then where is he?” another recruiter asks, gesturing to the expanse of the lobby.

“He’s not much of a party person,” Tzuyu shrugs, tipping back her drink.

You scoff, plastering on a smile to the hostess as you grab your bags and walk as fast as you can out of the lobby. You’ve never felt more like an old hag until now. Sure, most of the recruits are younger than you, but seeing Tzuyu talk so freely about her relationship with Jungkook has you in a bit of a spiral. The day of graduation, you told Jungkook not to wait for you. Heck, you’re only interested in the idea of what you could’ve had with Jungkook.

These thoughts only cloud you further as you jab the elevator buttons all the way up to the suites where you and the Jungs reside. You relax a little when you see a strawberry cheesecake sitting prettily on the top of their order, your name written on the label with a little heart. Hanging their bag on the door handle of their room, you make your way back to your suite.

You freeze when you see a floppy-haired Jungkook roaming the hallway, looking like a clueless child hobbling around in slippers and wide eyes at any sparkly item that decorates the area. It doesn’t even look like he tried attending the happy hour tonight, dressed in an impossibly big heather grey sweatsuit that swallows his form.

“Are you lost?” you ask tentatively, as if you’re talking to a toddler lost at the mall.

Jungkook relaxes considerably at the sound of your voice, and he replies, “Was tryna find your room since you didn’t reply to my texts.”

“So… you decided to check all the rooms?”

“Yep,” he pops the p with a smack of his lips, “I figured the recruiters would be far away from the party so I started at the top. Thankfully I got to Jessica’s room first. Didn’t have to knock on too many doors. Only one old man got annoyed at me.”

“You’re crazy,” you chuckle, slipping in your keycard to let Jungkook in.

“Fuck, this room all to yourself?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to kick his slides to a corner of the wall, flopping atop your bed and clutching your baby blue koala plush in his arms. The king sized bed is enough for his legs to stretch comfortably without falling off the edge, and he eagerly pads his feet against the soft fabric.

It warms you to think that Jungkook is comfy enough to lay on your bed and hug your stuffed animals, a semblance of friends that you’ve missed for such a long time. Last year the team you worked for was great, you loved the people and even now you consider some of them friends. This year the team is a little smaller, and since your two other co-workers are sisters, it’s a little harder to nudge yourself in the direction of friendship.

As soon as you sit down against the headboard, Jungkook’s eyes soften. Everything feels so different and the same. The threadbare pajamas that either of you haven’t had the heart to throw away since they’re so damn comfy, yet your bodies are a little more worn and your eyes a little more droopier than usual.

“So,” Jungkook bites his lip, not in the sexy way, but the nervous way, “about Tzuyu—”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to explain yourself,” you slump on your corner of the bed, regarding Jungkook with guilty eyes. “I really shouldn’t be feeling the way I’m feeling. It isn’t fair and I don’t want to jeopardize your internship.”

“And… what are you feeling?”

“Dumb things.”

“Your feelings aren’t dumb.”

“This time they are.”

“I’ve always shared my feelings, it’s unfair that you never want to share yours,” Jungkook sits up, criss-cross applesauce, pensive. “Maybe it’s my fault for not making you feel comfortable enough to share, but I feel like the reason why we never worked out was because we never tried hard enough to have a proper conversation.”

How could you have missed all the indicators, all the good words, all the kindness Jungkook has given you that last semester? “You’re absolutely right,” you let your insecurities, your apprehensiveness, get in the way. You think in two years you’d do better to eradicate this kind of behavior, but lately you haven’t had many friends to express your feelings to. “Tell you what, I’ll work harder to express how I feel. No exchanges, no nothings. I owe you this.”

“You owe me nothing,” Jungkook smiles, “I just think it would be nice to y’know, talk. As friends.”

“Right, friends.”

“So, will you hear me out about Tzuyu?”

“Let me open my cake,” you pull out your bag with the cheesecake, which thankfully has two spoons, “it seems like we’ll be having that kind of conversation.”

Everyone is more amicable because of food. According to Jungkook, Tzuyu has a hardcore, ten-year plan for her twenties. After a couple of dates with Jungkook, Tzuyu whips him into the plan. Mentions that she’s well-bred and has a family reputation to uphold. Says IT Management is something completely desirable in a partner, that he’s sensible and wonderful and would like to be committed full-time.

“And she talked to her parents about me and said that I’m a good prospect for marriage. Like I’m another pillar in her plan!” Jungkook cries, taking a monstrously sized bite of your cheesecake, wallowing away.

This is akin to sleepovers you’ve always wanted to have in high school, down to the food gorging. You can’t help but be fascinated, “So are you wrapped up in an engagement? Is this a scary rendition of Crazy Rich Asians?”

“You just can’t turn a one-eighty like that on a fifth date,” Jungkook shakes his head, reeling at the emotional whiplash, “she’s really nice. Really organized, really perfect. It really intimidates me.”

“Is she what you reaaaally want?” you can’t help but ask, rolling your eyes at the excessive use of the word, and tamp down the pain in your stomach by eating a forkful of creamy cheesecake.

“I don’t know!” Jungkook replies exasperatedly, “Obviously I’m worried since she wants to put a ring on it. I told her she needs to back off. Right after the seminar I said she had no right telling other people we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. She didn’t say much, just frowned and walked away.”

You roll your eyes, scraping the leftover graham cracker crust from the edge of the plastic plate. “According to her, I heard you two are planning to make it official very soon.”

His eyes widen, “I really bring girl trouble wherever I go, don’t I?”

“Since I’ve known you,” you half-joke, putting away the plastic cutlery on the nightstand.

You two sit in silence for a few moments, letting the television fill the room with mindless static about some sappy Hallmark movie. Tentatively, you land a hand on Jungkook’s knee. He looks down at your tiny fingers, giving his skin an experimental squeeze of comfort.

“I don’t want her,” he finally says.

“Okay,” you reply, “you won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to. I can arrange the groups this week so you don’t have to be around—”

“Give me one week,” his eyes flash to yours, dark and sharp.

“Jungkook. You have your determined face on,” it makes you sweat.

“Because I’m determined to win you over, once and for all,” you eyes widen, and Jungkook visibly freezes, “was that too much? I’m kind of on an emotional high today. I didn’t expect to see you today and it kind of threw me into a loop. I thought I might be running into you once I started my internship but I didn’t think you’d be my recruiter. And then you went on that stage all bad-ass talking about work and you looked so gorgeous in your suit and I was so proud knowing you made it and IrealizedhowmuchImissedyou—”

“Jungkook, slower,” you’re feeling a little woozy as well, equally overwhelmed. “You’re just saying this because you didn’t expect to see me—”

“You’re deflecting, again.”

“I’m scared, okay?” you blurt, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re right, this is all so sudden. So can’t we just start being friends and see if it takes us somewhere? You don’t have to win me over, just support me like I’ll support you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook moves up the bed, so he’s leaning against the headboard as well. His long legs stretch farther than yours, and it feels oddly domestic as you talk it out and stare at the television screen. “I’m just, worried I’m running out of time.”

“I'm not going anywhere this time.”

“I know,” Jungkook shakes his head, ridding himself of his torrid thoughts. Conceding, he gestures to the television, pulling out the remote under your pillow, “wanna watch television, or catch up?”

You last about an hour until you knock out. However, Jungkook keeps you entertained up until that moment, as you exchange your lives and stresses. Everything meshes together, you’re not sure if it’s the charm that comes with late night talks, but you feel like you can talk to Jungkook about anything if given the time. You melt when he strokes your hair till the last minute, wishing you a goodnight and a promise of more.

“Okay, I’ve gone over most of the work ethics in the manual,” you smile nervously when you see your glazed over recruits, nearly falling off their chairs. Even Krystal is bored out of her mind, discreetly playing with her phone in the back under her manual. Of course you’d get stuck with teaching the boring classes. “Any last minute questions before we head off for dinner?”

Tzuyu shoots her hand up, “Are romantic relationships allowed in the workplace?”

Jungkook promptly chokes on his water bottle. He looks up at you, panicked. Ignoring his terror, you paint on a thin smile towards the young woman, “Like I mentioned earlier, romantic relationships between employees are not frowned upon, so long as you’re not working under or over someone in the same department.”

“Right, just wanted to make sure,” Tzuyu is all chipper smiles as she thanks you.

If you were still twenty-one, you’d gag at the pointed look she sends Jungkook. They’re sitting diagonal from each other, and Jungkook makes a point to pretend to be interested in your lecture until the very end.

You’re halfway done with recruitment week, and while you’re not shocked at how fast the week has gone by, you’re fairly disappointed that Jungkook and you haven’t had time to meet up in private. So far it’s been easy enough to keep your friendship (and past sexual relationship) a secret, but something dark and eager tells you how much you want more. The recruiters are eager to leave, all twenty-three of them grouping off and talking about what they want to eat for dinner. Everyone except a certain dark-haired fellow, who’s hair is currently bouncing off it’s styled coiff, wanting to return to it’s normal non-gelled self.

“Kookie,” you raise a brow at the interaction, Tzuyu leaning over her chair to Jungkook’s, “wanna get dinner tonight?”

Jungkook’s taking an excruciatingly long time to pack his things, raising a brow at her, “I’ve told you already, I don’t want to be involved in whatever plans you have.”

“Oh-kay,” Tzuyu rocks back and forth on her oxford heels, pursing her magenta pink lips, “then why don’t we at least walk back to the hotel together? I really want to talk about some things that might change your mind.”

“Nothing will change my mind,” Jungkook’s determined face has been staying strong for the week, from the way he makes sure he’s first in your class to the simple “good morning” and “good night” texts you exchange. “Besides, I have a date tonight. And I really want to talk to the recruiters about a personal work matter, so can you please leave?”

You try not to snort at how blatant Jungkook was being. You pretend to organize your folders, throwing whatever random notes you have in your bag for later.

“A date,” she twitches, “with who?”

“Someone that doesn’t treat me like a stepping stone in her career path,” Jungkook deadpans, and that’s all it takes for Tzuyu to huff and walk away from the hall.

You think Tzuyu is like a bug, relatively harmless, but someone who gets on your nerves.

“A date, huh?” Krystal quotes, finally looking up from her phone. Her sharp, cat-eyes linger at the door, wondering if Tzuyu is going to pop out and try to drag Jungkook by the reins. Finally, she plants her stare between you and Jungkook. “So, you two fucking?”

“Former fucking,” Jungkook supplies helpfully, and you jump off your podium to elbow him in the ribs, “ow—what?”

“You just don’t tell Krystal we’re fucking!”

“Former fucking,” he chastises, but the eyes he sends you are a little sultry, and you wonder if he’s thinking of fucking in the future. You reel yourself back, focusing on the third party.

But you anticipate that Krystal couldn’t care less, and you’re grateful for that. While a smaller work team means a smaller possibility of close work relationships, you do like the drama-free environment. “Like you said,” Krystal shrugs, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder, “romantic relationships in the workplace are not frowned upon.”

You wring your hands between your bag when Krystal finally makes her getaway, and you look up at Jungkook. “So,” you smile wryly, “you have a date tonight, huh?”

“With a pretty working woman,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his chest, “that is, if she’ll have me.”

“Consider yourself taken.”

Jungkook and you sneak away to your suite once again. To your surprise, the suite is decorated in rose petals and a bottle of champagne sits in an ice bath on your bedside. A large pizza pie sits beautifully on your coffee table, and the television is playing lo-fi hip-hop.

You feed Jungkook champagne-dipped strawberries as you gorge on the joy that is baked bread and cheese.

And when he kisses you, it’s slow and sweet, like you have all the time in the world.

It’s the last day of recruitment week, and all classes ended at noon so the interns can use all the resort’s amenities to the fullest. Many of the interns, including yourself, Jessica and Krystal, are on the rooftop celebrating a successful workweek. Staff and interns alike are buzzing around, eager to top off their weekend with some relaxation and sun.

Jungkook is with his new team, conversing with other IT employees. You try not to stare too hard at your reignited flame, tipping back a cutely decorated glass of fruit. His arms ripple as he tips back the liquid. He’s wearing a tank top and you could swear his biceps have gotten meatier. Unfortunately you hold yourself back, after all the internship isn’t quite over and you still are a professional.

At the end of the weekend you really have nothing to worry about, you know that.

But Tzuyu? She irritating.

“I just don’t understand,” Tzuyu suspects nothing of your budding relationship with Jungkook. You’re thankful for that because towards the end of the week, it was getting harder and harder to be subtle when you two send each other heart eyes from three meters away.

Tzuyu sounds like she’s talking to herself, the way she stares into the infinity pool, despite the fact that her friends are surrounding her with rapt attention. You’re a cabana away from her, sipping languidly at your drink while Jessica and Krystal nap next to you. Even though you can’t see Tzuyu, you can practically feel her pout emanating through the fabric that separates you two. Despite the fact that she’s been offered a great intern position given her degree and experience, she’s still upset. For her, is that not the most important part of this whole week?

“Jungkook’s really not that great if he’s going to turn me down like that,” Tzuyu seethes. You should write up her nonsense in a book and publish it, really. “Why waste time when he has the whole package right in front of him?”

It’s then you realize why you’ve been so torn, so strung up and wound tight all these years. Just like college, all shy and hesitant to take a step forward while Jungkook was ten steps ahead, you were worried. You let other people’s thoughts stop you from making the leap, girls like Tzuyu that never meant to intimidate you, but you let their presence get up in your head and control the nonexistent hierarchy.

But two years later, and that doesn’t matter. It never mattered. Jungkook is no longer the all-star lacrosse player, but what remains is his heart, full and willing.

Everything Tzuyu just said was… wrong. Irrevocably, inexplicably messed up. But the idea of “wasting time” does strike a chord within you. Are you wasting time? At this point, your feelings of each other are pretty clear. What are you two waiting for, again?

You thought Krystal was sleeping, considering her sunhat sitting atop her face, but once she hears you packing away your bag she whistles, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Sending a quick text to Jungkook, you make a beeline for your destination. You don’t even bother looking for him in the crowd.

You: meet me by the elevator at the very end of the lobby.

Not a minute passes by when Jungkook joins you at said elevator. He has two glasses of champagne in his hands, and offers one to you, “tired of the party?” he asks.

You clink drinks, easily tipping yours back. “It’s not our thing,” you declare with a small smile. Jungkook's eyes soften, glancing back and forth between your face and the soft pleats of your marigold sundress. His hair is pushed back, sticky from sweat and chlorine, dark bangs hanging over the shaved sides of his head. You turn your head slightly as you wait for the elevator, biting your lip as you're sorely reminded of how sexy Jungkook looked at the dive pool half an hour ago.

The elevator dings, and it’s wide enough for you to slip in at the same time. You put your champagne glass in the corner of the elevator for now, hoping you don’t accidentally step on it. In closed quarters, you can smell the slight tang of chlorine coming from Jungkook, combined with his own brand of musk.

Jungkook looks younger tonight, happier. Having just finished graduate school and working towards a full-time gig, another chapter in his life has started. His hair is no longer in that tight-whipped coiff he struggled all week to maintain, loosened in its natural wave due to the pool water and heat. His cheeks are a little ruddied and plump, a sign he’s been enjoying the food this week.

The door barely closes when you get it out, pulling at his hand to face you.

“Jungkook, I like you,” you blurt, and his eyes bug out considerably. Out of reflex, his hand sharply squeezes yours. “You don’t have to say anything, because you’ve been saying everything for the majority of our relationship. I really like you, I really liked you back then too. You’re still so sweet, and loving, and smart and I’ve just been too dumb and insecure to—”

Jungkook seals your confession away with a desperate kiss, and you turn into a pile of mush at the contact. Relief seeps into your bones, sings into your system. When he pulls away, he looks serious. He doesn’t let you get far, and clutches your face between his two hands so you can’t turn your head. Your soft cheeks fill between his fingers, warm and cradled.

“Never call yourself that,” Jungkook exhales, regarding you with firm eyes, “you’re beautiful, and intelligent, and the person I want.”

“I don’t wanna take it slow anymore,” you mumble against his lips, leaning in so that you can barely nip at the pink skin. “Want you now, need you now.”

“You have me now,” Jungkook agrees, and as soon as the elevator dings open to your floor, he scoops you up into his arms.

By all means it’s not graceful, he’s clutching you like a baby with his hands over your butt as he jiggles you all the way to your front door. Clinging onto him like a koala, you press kisses to his cheeks as he leads you to your room. You laugh and giggle like teenagers, as he fumbles between your breast to grab the card key that’s nestled between your bra. It’s warm in his hand as he swipes it through the reader, pushing you inside.

“Is it bad that I’m kinda turned on by the fact you got my key out of my boob?” you joke, although the contact of his rough fingers against your breast is a feeling well missed.

“Is it bad that I’m always turned on when you lecture in seminars?” Jungkook retorts, kicking the door closed with his slipper-clad foot as he walks you to the bed. “Fuck, I can hear you talk about insurance benefits all day.”

“Didn’t know my sex appeal extended that way—oh fuck—”

Your vibrant marigold sundresses provides easy access to Jungkook as he throws you onto the mattress, your skirt billowing over your waist as he makes quick work to expose more of your skin.

“No more talking, more loving,” he’s crazed, doesn’t hesitate to move your bikini bottoms to the side as he rubs lovingly at your long-lost bud, “need to fuck you, now. It’s been so fucking long.”

“Kook,” his breath is warm against your already sopping cunt, and you lift your hand to run through the strands of his messy hair. It only takes one firm tug and you’re able to pull him up by the root of his hair, cranberry juice tinted lips with a faint sheen because he couldn’t help himself to have a little taste of you. “Baby, let me touch you. Let me show you how much I want you," you coo with a pout, hands trailing over the drawstrings of his trunks.

You can see how much Jungkook wants to say yes. His eyes glow with the possibility, bright and wanting in the afternoon sunlight. The image of him shoving his cock deep into your throat, so far that you can taste it in every crevice of your mouth. Your nails gripping into his ass as you go deeper, tears pricking your eyes as cum seeps out of your pretty lips.

But he firmly shakes his head, fingers doing the devil’s work as he eases a digit in you. A little noise of protest bubbles in your throat, but it soon dies out as soon as he finds the right spot to reduce you to mush.

“Next time,” he exhales against the juncture between your thigh and pelvis, picking up the pace and adding another finger, “if you touch me, I’ll cum right then n’there. This is enough for me, you’re enough.”

So you let him have what he wants. You’ll make it up to him in the morning, and the day after, and the day after. You shed your clothes, the sundress extra forgiving as it slides off your body, revealing a swimsuit that hasn’t even touched the pool. You feel a little self-conscious as he drinks you in after so long, but he quickly shucks off his clothes to match your state of nakedness.

You remember how you tiptoed around your first night with Jungkook, taking great care to make sure it was fleeting, how dark the room was as you let your pleasure take over your senses. Two years later and the sun is setting, gold bleeding through your sheets and illuminating the room. There's no need to hide.

“I must say, we’ve both kept it tight,” Jungkook teases with a wink, squeezing your hips so he can change positions.

You silently agree, your fingers slipping across the washboard of his waist.

“Mm, and still so fuckin’ cute,” Jungkook marvels as he pulls you up on his lap. Your whole body is flushed with want, one hand squeezing your breasts while the other plays with the curls of hair that lead to your sopping wetness. You glide your core over Jungkook’s stomach, sighing as you take note of the abs that clench under your heat and his hot member that rubs between your ass.

It’s a tight fit when you finally sink down on him, but the burn only fuels your desire as he stretches you wide. His grip is helpful as he guides you through the motions. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this physical with someone, and it’s almost comical when you both sigh in contentment at the contact.

“I’ve missed this,” you mumble, biting into his shoulder as he thrusts up.

“Mm, it feels different, right?” Jungkook hums, keeping a slow pace. The drag is wonderful, and you know that he’s trying to prolong the moment. He reaches for your head, presses his forehead to yours as he speaks, “you’re mine now, right? For real.”

“I’m all yours, Jungkook,” you press kisses everywhere. No need to hide anymore. You bleed love into every kiss, to his jawline, the little freckles across his chin, his lips. “This is romantic and all, but I really want you to dick me down. Which is why you need to go a little faster, you sap.”

Jungkook scoffs, “A pillow princess is what you are.”

He stops moving, and you two sink further into the mattress without its springs bringing you back up. The both of you are acutely aware of how wet you both are, your combined arousals seeping between your seams and dripping onto Jungkook’s thighs. But the young man simply relaxes against the headboard, baiting you.

“Kook,” you whine, clenching against his member. Your hot walls have a mind of their own, unable to stifle their desire. Sweat lines Jungkook’s brow as he tries his hardest not to move, just simply be.

“Tell me how much you want me, princess,” the pet name has you clenching harder, and you pout.

“Baby,” you whine, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. There’s no one in the room, and you’re sure no one is on this floor because everyone’s on the rooftop, but the words you’re about to say are for Jungkook and Jungkook only, “please, I want you to pound me into this mattress until I can’t walk anymore. I want to cry out your name so everyone can hear I’m yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you nip at his lobe, and let your thumb nick at the simple silver rings that adorn his ear. You hear a click of his teeth, indicating the clench of his jaw as his muscles flex around your body, "I want you to fill me with your cum until I’m eating it, and—and—oh Kook!”

Your words aren’t enough to distract you from his large dick sitting prettily between your folds, and you’re suddenly cumming, all by the mere thought of what’s to happen. You’re shuddering in his arms, and Jungkook soothes you by running his fingers over the spine of your back, distracting you from the utter mess you’re making on the sheets.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook coddles you, stroking your hair, “can my good girl take it?”

“Y-yes, Kook,” you nod eagerly, fighting the overstimulation as he nudges you off his lap. You’re pliable, as Jungkook sets up the pillows for you to rest comfortably as you get on your elbows and knees, “your good girl.”

You shudder as your bare pussy starts to feel cold, immediately missing the warmth Jungkook can provide. You can practically feel his hot gaze burning in your back, his large palm squeezing your ass as he marvels at how ready and eager you are for him.

“It’s so easy to slip inside,” Jungkook rubs your nectar across the head of his cock, swirling around your engorged skin as he slips right inside. You both moan at the stretch, “Finally, my adorable baby, you like this? You like getting pounded like the dirty girl you really are?”

“Mm, yes!” you squeal, clutching onto the feather down pillows for dear life as Jungkook displays his strength, one hand gripping your hips as the other weaves itself into your hair. It’s a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and the lewd sounds of each other’s juices and his balls against your ass echoing in the room.

“Y-yeah,” despite his power, his thrusts are sloppy, and you know he’s almost at the edge, “and I like you, so so much. I want to make you cum everyday, make you happy and—mph—” he gives up on talking, focusing entirely on his destination.

“Cum, baby,” you urge, melting when his one hand comes to thread with your own, “fill me up with you.”

He flips you on your back, and you finally see how desperate Jungkook is to cum. His eyes are glassy, filled with emotion as he strokes himself to completion. Your hand reaches up to cup his damp face, and that’s when you feel him loosen. Hot, pearly strings cling to your pussy, decorating your skin in his essence. Your fingers immediately reach down to swirl the cum between your folds, and Jungkook groans at the picture, immediately throwing your hands to the side to kiss you senseless.

There’s so much pouring between the two of you, affection, the feeling of being cherished, so much that you can feel the whole world reducing to the two of you.

“All mine,” he whispers to himself, as if he still can’t believe it. And then, he puts up a poker face as he leans into you, resting his head gently on your breasts, “I knew I only needed a week.”

You narrow your eyes, flicking lightly at his forehead. You’re sticky, sweaty, and covered in cum and while you’re exhausted, the built in jacuzzi in your washroom looks very enticing right now. “Jungkook, this happened naturally. I said we would try as friends first and we did. We just so happened to escalate pretty fast.”

“I don’t think it was that fast,” Jungkook nuzzles his face into your skin, “it’s been two years since college. Being popular did do a number on our relationship, but we caught up."

“You were popular-ish,” you roll your eyes, teasing him. His face falls, and you can’t help yourself. Your hands reach over to cup his cheeks, and you happily squish the supple, pouty flesh. He’s adorable. “Kim Taehyung though? Park Jimin? Absolute heartthrobs I couldn’t stand to be near them—ah!”

Jungkook seems to read your mind, lifting you bridal style to drag you over to the bathroom where the marble jacuzzi sits tauntingly. The stone is ice cold as he brings you both inside, immediately turning on the nozzles to fill it with steaming hot water. You find the tiny bottle of lavender suds, spilling the soap in an arc. His legs slip over yours, cradling you so that your back is pressed against Jungkook’s chest.

“Being popular never mattered,” Jungkook shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “I realized the only person who I really needed to notice me was you.”

bonus.

You wake Jungkook up the next morning with your lips wrapped around his cock, fresh cherry balm rubbing down the thick veins until he's cumming down your throat.

"Wow," Jungkook whistles, licking his lips at the sight of you sucking the arousal from your thumb. He huffs against the pillow, eyes darting to the open organza window, letting in the early morning light. The rooftop of a multi-star hotel, white Egyptian cotton seats, a full time job on the way and waking up in the most blissful way possible.

"I have a proposal," you crawl on top of him like a koala, hooking your thighs between his blanket clad body.

"I do," he replies instantly, looking straight at you with droopy puppy eyes.

"Not that kind," you slap his chest, "where are you living once orientation is over?"

"Mm, there's a boarding house near a local translation. It's probably an hour commute? Not too bad."

"So, I just leased a townhouse last month," you bite your lip, tucking your head between his neck to hide your embarrassment, "I was gonna rent out the spare room and put an advert in the paper but…"

"I do."

"I said it isn't a marriage proposal."

"Asking you to live with me is basically a marriage proposal."

"There will be no benefits," you sit up, wagging a finger in his face, "you'll be paying rent and half the utilities. And you will be doing all the laundry."

"Sure," Jungkook replies loftily, squeezing your ass, "you're benefit enough."

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fic #jungkook scenario #bts fic

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parker-razor · 3 years

Text

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!!

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”

578 notes · View notes

raindownforme · 3 years

Text

Salt Water

Charlie Slimecicle x reader [she/her used]

CW: negative body image, self doubt, negative self image

(Yes this is self-indulgent comfort)

“This is easy.” y/n spoke out loud to no one but herself. She stared in the mirror, turning side to side. Today was the start of summer, and her and her friends had decided to go to the beach. She’d bought the perfect bathing suit for it, too. It was a pretty blue with a dinosaur pattern. It was also a bikini.

She felt comfortable in it. She wouldn’t have bought it otherwise. She felt comfortable when she bought. She felt comfortable when she planned the whole outfit. She felt comfortable when she made the plans. She didn’t feel comfortable now.

She thought she’d grown put of this. She was an adult goddamnit. y/n wasn’t the middle-schooler who got made fun of by her trash friends, or the high schooler who thought so negatively al the time. She was an adult who bought herself the cute dinosaur bathing suit. And by god she was going to wear it.

y/n sighed, stepping back from her mirror to sit on the edge of her bed. She could do this. She knew she could. It would just be so much easier if she could stop thinking for five seconds. It was the same incomprehensible thought over and over, an onslaught of negative thoughts towards herself and her figure. Reminders of every YouTube comment on her videos, in her friends’ twitch chats, in public posts.

Maybe she shouldn’t go?

“Hey, you ready?” Someone knocked on y/n’s door and startled her. She jumped up from the bed, throwing on a pair of shorts and a large plain shirt. She shouldered her tote of necessities, slipped on her flip-flops, and opened the door. Cooper stood slouched waiting for her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” y/n walked in front of him to the car waiting. Ted sat in the drivers seat, shuffling through his playlist. Jawsh sat in the passenger seat next to him, not at all paying attention. y/n watched cooper climb into the furthest row of the car, leaving her, Charlie, and Traves to fit into the middle row. y/n held her breath as she climbed in, being forced to squeeze into the middle seat. She rested all her belongings in her lap, staring forwards through the windshield.

“Everyone packed in?” They all gave a chorus of ‘yes’ as Ted pulled out of his parking spot and to the open road. It was only 20 minutes from the beach, shorter if traffic got lucky.

The music bumped throughout the car and everyone split into different conversations. Jawsh and Ted talked about something or other, Traves and Cooper shared content on their phones, and Charlie turned to look at y/n. “I brought the boogie boards! Do you want to— what’s wrong?”

She turned to look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah. No I’d love to boogie board.”

“Are you okay?” Charlie dropped how loud his voice was compared to everyone else. “Something seems off.”

“I’m good.” She lazily smiled at him then turned back to stare out the windshield. She liked watching the cars and buildings pass by in a blur. Charlie looked away from her and followed her line of vision. He didn’t quite understand, but he was determined to.

The group soon arrived at the beach. They quickly unpacked their full trunk and set up their seating on the beach. Ted made sure the umbrella stood upright, Traves and Cooper carried the coolers, Jawsh and y/n set out chairs and blankets, and Charlie carried the toys.

“Everyone sun screened?” Ted gestured as he tried to pass around a bottle. “y/n? I don’t want you to get cancer.”

“I’m good!” She’d already applied skin protectant before leaving the house. y/n set down her stuff and sat in the low lawn chair. She took in the sight of Cooper, Traves and Jawsh racing towards the shore, stumbling over each other in the sand. Charlie sat a few feet away from the laid out area, taking a child’s plastic shovel and beginning to dig a hole.

Ted snapped a lid to a cooler shut and cracked open his soda. He set it in the cup holder of a chair and set his glasses down on the same seat. “I’m headed to the water.”

y/n waved him off as he left. She closed her eyes, feeling herself sink into the chair. She still had on her large shirt and shorts, but they were starting to grow warm. It was hot outside, and she knew she’d be so much more comfortable in just the bathing suit she had under neath.

A shadow appeared over y/n and she opened her eyes again. Charlie stood smiling, a hand extended towards her pick her up. “Come on! Get in the water.”

“No you go ahead.” She sat up slightly, looking between her friends in the water and the boy in front of her. Charlie stayed, persistent.

“y/n get in the water. It’ll be fun!”

“Charlie you go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned, dropping his hand. “But you were so excited. You told me you bought that dinosaur suit and everything.”

y/n blushed. She didn’t remember telling him, but he was right. She likes the dinosaurs. She had wanted to go in the water this whole time. She took a breath, and stood from her seat. She slowly took off the shorts and t-shirt, placing them back in her seat. She turned to Charlie with a small smile. “Teach me to boogie board.”

“R-Right.” Charlie turned away from her a red tinge to his face. She felt discouraged almost, that Charlie of all people couldn’t look at her in a fucking bathing suit. The negative thoughts started coming back, the reminders, but she tried to kick them away. She wanted to enjoy the beach.

She followed Charlie to the shore line. He dragged behind himself two three-foot-tall boards made of foam and plastic with a tether made of coiled cord and a Velcro band. He slid the two boards into the water. The salt and sand kicked at the foam as he tied one tether around y/n’s wrist. “What are-?”

“You won’t loose it.” Charlie smiled as he talked. He glanced back up to her eyes with a smile, but quickly looked back to make sure the tether was secured to her wrist. Charlie took y/n’s hand in his, pulling her out deeper in the water until the water was just above her middle.

“Aren’t we in the breakers?”

“Yeah! This is exactly where we need to be. Okay you’re gonna hold it like this-“ Charlie got on his board, gripping the top with his hands and resting his chest towards the bottom of his board. y/n copied him, pulling the board closer than he had his. “Okay. So when the right wave comes, jump and let it take you. If it’s the right one it’ll carry you back to shore.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Try again.” y/n felt the water be sucked from beside her as the tide rolled over. She glanced to see Charlie lean further onto his board, and she did the same. “This is a good one. Ready?”

“I guess.”

y/n and Charlie jumped at the same time. She laughed as the wave swept her past her friends towards the Sandy shore. She almost made it, but at the last moment she flipped and tumbled in the water.

“Fuck!” Charlie ran over to y/n’s side. She laid on the sand, coughing lightly as she sat up. There was a track of sand down her side, and the boogie board kept bumping into her rudely. “Are you Alright? I’m really sorry.”

“How do I take this thing off?” y/n sat up, pulling at the velcro around her arm. Charlie removed it for her, tossing the board aside. He extended his hand, helping pull her up from the ground. y/n dusted the sand from her legs, and looked up watch Charlie whip his head away with a furious blush covering his cheeks.

“I— Just unwrap the- the thing. The- that.” y/n did as instructed, and handed the boogie board over to Charlie. She watched him take the two boards back over to their beach setup. She followed him, going to sit in her beach chair and wrap a towel around herself. Charlie took a glance at her, the same red returning to his face, then walked very quickly to where some of the other boys were still in the water.

“You two good?” Cooper took a slow sip from a canned soda, glancing between Charlie and y/n.

“Yep.” She felt herself sink lower into the seat. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well- I just-“ she closed her eyes and took a breath. “I bought this stupid bathing suit cause I wanted to feel good about it and about myself and he can’t even look at me in it. I just feel stupid and ugly.”

“Woah woah. y/n there’s no way you’re ugly, period. And there’s no way Charlie thinks you’re ugly.”

“You’re just saying that cause I’m here.”

“I’m saying cause I’m your friend and Charlie thinks you’re fuckin smokin.”

y/n sat up and looked at copper again. “What?”

“Sorry. Let me re-phrase. Charlie thinks-“ Cooper paused, holding his soda in one hand. “I-uh. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes you did!” y/n stared at Cooper in confusion. He tried to get up and run, but stumbled in the sand and slammed into one of the coolers. He rolled over in the sand, groaning. y/n got out of her chair And knelt down next to him. “Tell me know?”

“He- ugh. He think you’re hot idiot.” Cooper rolled over, flopping his arms outwards and closing his eyes. “That fuckin hurt.”

y/n opened the cooler Cooper had fallen on. She took a handful of ice out and laid it on the spot on Cooper’s abdomen that had hit the cooler. She pressed it closer with the towel she’d been wearing moments before. “Tell me more!”

“No! I’m not doing this for the two of you.”

“The two of us?” y/n withdrew her hand slightly, feeling her face grow warm. “You’re not-“

“Shut up. You’re both so into each tower it’s gross.” Cooper looked back towards the shore line and gave an evil grin. “Speak of the devil.”

y/n paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see someone walking up the the chairs and towels that she had no doubt was Charlie. Cooper started standing, leaving her sitting in the sand.

“Hey you good? We saw you fall?”

“Yeah.” Cooper patted Charlie on the shoulder. “By the way, you tow should talk.”

y/n whipped her head away from Charlie, anger and embarrassment bubbling from within her. Charlie was none the wiser. “Uh, about what Cooper?”

Cooper pushed off of Charlie, walking back towards the water. “Tell her what you think man. I’m tired.”

Charlie watched Cooper walk into the water, then turned back to y/n with a furious blush. “I- uh. I like the suit. The dinosaurs. You look great- the dinosaurs. You look great in the suit with the dinosaurs. I mean you look great anyways I just- dinosaurs!”

“Thanks.” y/n sat up a bit straighter.

“So,” Charlie sat cross-legged on a blanket in the sand. “What were you two talking about?”

“I told Cooper I felt ugly and then he said that you said I was smokin.”

“You’re not-! I didn’t say that.”

“Come on Charlie, am I ugly or smokin?”

Charlie paused, frowning. “Joking doesn’t make it go away.”

“I know. It’s just easier. It’s okay it’s just weird to talk about.” She laid back onto the blanket, letting her arms rest above her head. “I like the bathing suit I just don’t like me in it.”

“I understand.” Charlie built small piles of sand at his feet. “I know I can’t change much but for what it’s worth I think you’re pretty.”

She turned her head, looking at him confusedly. “You do?”

“Well- I-“ He pursed his lips, thinking. “I would use the word gorgeous instead.”

“Oh.” y/n looked away from Charlie, trying to hide their flustered expression.

“Oh wait did I say the wrong thing?” Charlie started fiddling with his hands, not sure what to do. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable it’s just- fuck you’re so pretty and I really like you and god you look fucking great but you’re also really funny and smart and sweet and I like you so much but I’m really sorry-“

“Charlie.” y/n placed a hand on his arm, now sitting in the sand next to him. “You never made me uncomfortable.”

“Oh thank god. I never wanted to-“

“I like you to.”

Charlie froze, taking in what y/n said as a blush crept up his neck to his cheeks. He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “No way! Wait no way. Really?” y/n nodded and he laughed again, leaning over to place his hands on the side of her face and rest his forehead against hers. “Holy shit! Like actually holy shit!”

y/n laughed, quickly kissing Charlie’s nose. “Come on nerd let’s get back in the water.”

“Yeah! Yes.” Charlie scrambled upright, pulling a giggling y/n up with him. “Here watch this.” Charlie, in one fluid motion, swept y/n off her feet and began carrying her bridal style. He walked with her in his arms all the way to the water, where he fell into the water with her. They both came up for air, y/n laughing the whole time. “Better?”

“Much better.” y/n kissed him again, putting her arms over his shoulders to hold him close.

“Hey! You two.” Cooper splashed water at y/n and Charlie. “You done?”

The two paused, looking back to each other, then swam towards their group of friends, starting a splash free-for-all.

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