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ressjeon · 2 days

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relief | myg (m.)

pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader (hints of ot7)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idol!au, long time ??

summary ⇢ the nerves have been shaking Yoongi’s usual confidence while preparing for his first solo tour — what a relief that you’re here then.

wc & rating ⇢ 3k | 18+

warnings/content ⇢ dom/sub dynamics, grinding, protected sex, riding, emotional sex?, praise kink, groping, semi-clothed sex, size kink, breast play, temperature play, orgasm control, yoongi’s hands are everywhere help, aftercare, pillowtalk <3

a/n: it's been a year since yoong's tour kicked off so i wanna celebrate with this, along with my return here! never thought i'll do this cuz i don’t usually write nor read this au but he won again on the poll last year so here we are XD! this is mainly inspired by what i was feeling while watching the live stream of both his shows in the first city of his d-day tour! pretty divider by the amazing @cafekitsune <3

after the final song, you were just as surprised as the crowd around you. a faint chuckle leaves you at the way Yoongi ended his concert.

of course, you should've expected that he'll pull something like this.

“i’m so proud of you yoongs”

you greet him enthusiastically as soon as you spot him at the entrance of the hallways near his dressing room. he’s smiling so wide, reaching you at once with his airport-like walk like how he exited the stage quickly earlier.

you beam once he catches you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders despite how sweaty he is.

“it went well” he giggles lightly, caging you in his arms before grabbing your hand to bring you to the backstage area where you both can see the audience without being seen.

the gummy smile plastered on his face never wavered as he watches the fans dispersing outside and you have an inkling that it's reminding him of the world tours with the boys before.

“i told you it would” you whisper once he turns to you, leaning in to give him a peck but Yoongi’s hand reaches up to grab your neck, pulling you in to catch your lips once more and deepen the kiss.

a small whimper elicits from you, both from being needy and worry that any staff might see you both like this but Yoongi seems to not care. it must be the adrenaline and the whiskey combo he had during the concert cause his calloused hands start roaming your body.

a total opposite during soundcheck where he’s simply cuddling you while waiting during the delay that he almost fell asleep.

though Yoongi's performed in front of millions of people for a decade now, he still feels anxious since he’s doing this on his own and it’s been a long time since he met his fans in person. he was naturally nervous about this but you’ve been doing your best to support him so he's really grateful that you’re here.

teasing him earlier when he put those yellow sunglasses on while you rake your hand through his luscious locks thankfully helped ease his nerves.

"yeah yeah i saw the cat edit"

“you’re so cute”

a firm grab of your ass reminds you of where the two of you are, nudging Yoongi slightly to release you. both breathless from the kiss, he’s looking at you in bewilderment until you gestured him to the waiting staff who’s here to take his post-concert pictures.

“pics first”

he only answered with a pout after releasing you but he followed. you on the other hand couldn't look at the photographer as embarrassment floods you, immediately retreating to the dressing room to wait for Yoongi there.

grabbing another glass of Henny, you scroll through your phone for updates on what’s going on outside. you did sneak out earlier and lined up with fans to get some merch and talked to some of them because well, you are one of them.

loving the boys and their music is one thing you share in common.

after a while, the door opens, revealing a smiling Yoongi like he hadn’t been teasing you this whole time.

maybe that was part of his plan but you’ve been patiently waiting. it even came to the point where you can't wait to be all over him now that everything’s done for the night.

placing your empty glass of brandy on the small side table, you drop your phone on the couch before approaching Yoongi. he chuckles when you hastily drag him toward the couch before climbing on his lap.

he doesn’t mind really, knowing how needy you get after he performs like you were in the past. he might’ve unintentionally teased you like he does to everyone else but it's one of the things he loved about you.

how easily you get turned on in every little thing he and the others do but especially for this. knowing his voice can make you crumble instantly gives him that satisfaction that he didn’t know he had when he first met you.

“you’re worked up this much __?” he teases, hands situating themselves on both sides of your waist. “is it the black or white one?” he adds nonchalantly, pertaining to his outfits prior to the one he’s wearing right now.

“shut up, you know what your voice does to me” you whine impatiently, clutching the silver bone necklace around his neck before leaning in to kiss him again.

ah, the chain, another one that you love seeing on him. he'll always be fascinated with your favourites no matter how long you've been with them.

you deepened the kiss this time and Yoongi welcomed them with fervour. it’s his turn to get lost in the moment now that you’re needier than him. his ending fit riled you up this much that now you’re grinding yourself desperately on him but hey, he’s not complaining.

his hands smooth around your covered thighs after, lingering between the crease of your legs before he releases your lips.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing leggings, you hate it”

“it’s cold”

“explains the sweatshirt too” he muses, one hand tugging the baggy sleeve of your white tour sweatshirt with both his aliases on your chest.

his heart warms seeing it on you, the way you’re proudly wearing him even though this whole thing between you and them still remains a secret. his hands creep underneath your top, caressing your sides that hasten your roll against his crotch.

you lean in to kiss Yoongi once more but he grabs your sides, stopping you.

“want it off though” he whispers, the mischief in his eyes shifts to a demanding one.

his darkening orbs are looking straight into yours, making you squirm against him. you didn’t waste any time at once, taking off both your sweatshirt and your bra in a frenzy, much to Yoongi’s satisfaction.

you’d know with that cocky look resurfacing on his pretty face.

now that you’re bare in front of him, Yoongi can see your crotch rubbing along the top of his denim zippers. he could watch you like this, let you get off on your own until you cum like he’s done many times but he relents.

lately, he’s been so busy with the tour preparation that he missed seeing you this needy. he reaches down to cup your pussy, not surprised to find you drenched knowing how easy it is for you to get wet.

you squirm at his touch, trying to get more friction by rubbing your swollen clit on the buckle of his belt. he knows it's you silently wanting his fingers to help you get off but his hand abruptly leaves you.

frustration looms on your face, your lips turning into a frown but Yoongi grabs your body closer and instantly latches his mouth on your tits, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“yoongi!”

you didn’t mean to be loud but with how Yoong’s been licking your pebbled nipples and occasionally nibbling them, you’re starting to forget that there are still people outside the door who can hear you both.

one hand of yours takes a handful of his messy jet-black hair, pushing his face more into your chest. he groans and continues to nip around one tit while his other hand plays around your neglected breast.

kneading and pinching nonstop, you’re unable to hold in the whiny moans coming out of you as your other hand grips his shoulder. you’re relishing it, the rough feeling of callous fingers against your now-swollen nipples.

taking a glance down at Yoongi, you notice how wet he is. he's drenched in sweat but my fuck does he look even hotter when he does. his mouth releases your peppered breasts, opting to fondle your clothed pussy this time.

“don’t tell me you’ve been wet since the first song” he teases and you look away from his heated gaze. he got his answer when he felt your cunt twitch through your clothed core. rough pads of his fingers rub you faster, more of your slickness seeping through your leggings to his hands.

he was clad in all black earlier, one of your favourites so he wasn’t that surprised.

“yoongi..” you’re panting, almost begging him with the way you're gripping his hair and shoulders. you need him to do something, anything more than teasing at this point.

it surprises you when Yoongi grabs the empty glass of Henny that you put aside on the table earlier, taking the ice to his mouth and he’s back to assaulting your breasts. he rolls the ice cube with his tongue around your nipples, making you shiver at the cold and wet sensation.

you’re whimpering, legs shaking as the band on your lower abdomen threatens to snap with how Yoongi’s cold and wet fingertips fondling your core. the multiple stimulations are pushing you nearer to your orgasm. you’re not sure if he’s aware or not, if this was his plan all along.

“..oh fuck”

“hmm?”

“yoongi..i don’t.. wanna cum in this”

you cry, eyes mustering your neediest look towards him, hoping he’ll listen to your pleas. and Yoongi did, his hand leaving your drenched pussy and mouth releasing your breast. relief courses through you, smiling at him despite the uncomfy feeling of your leggings sticking to your core.

“of course, you don’t, always wanting to cream my cock”

he doesn’t say it in a mocking manner, the hint of adoration coming forward within his hooded eyes. you get off of him once his hands release you, quickly shimmying down your leggings while he unbuckles his baggy pants and boxers.

you didn’t miss him whipping out a condom from his front pocket, making you suspicious with your arms now crossed over your chest.

“and why-”

“you’re here and i did remember you love being fucked anywhere”

he answers right away and your face morphs in shame, arms sliding down to your elbows, revealing your breasts again to Yoongi.

you hate being paranoid like this though you know he’s always been prepared. and he’s right, you do love it when they fuck you anywhere they like whether it be on the venue, in their vans or in their hotel rooms.

it’s one of your favourites when you join them on tours before.

“yoon–..” you try but he beckons you closer and helps you back onto his lap, kissing you right away and ignoring your protests because he knew right away what you were gonna say.

“none of that hmm? lemme get you ready”

he took himself out and put on the condom already before his hands skitter around your inner thighs.

“no”

he quirks a brow at you, wanting to make sure if that's what you want. even though you’re stark naked figure’s been enticing him to just fuck it and ruin you like you’ve been begging for, he's been a pro at controlling himself to prepare you.

huffing before wrapping your hands around his neck, you squeeze his nape as an answer.

you just want him inside you and you don’t wanna wait anymore.

a smirk graces Yoongi's face at your impatience before helping your body up to grind on him again.

now rubbing your bare pussy against his dick, you enjoy watching him seethe with each friction. your hips circle until his swollen tip catches your entrance, pausing just to tease him. one of his hands scrambles to grip your hip and you chuckle before lifting yourself, grabbing his dick and lowering slowly.

“fuck,fuck,fuck”

you watch Yoongi close his eyes, a plethora of curses coming out from his mouth. you’re whimpering in return, pussy walls fluttering around him to try to accommodate his thick girth.

“big..fuck, yoongi” you cry, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

you love the feeling though and he knows it but Yoongi still tries to comfort you, roaming his veiny hands around your body till he reaches your breasts.

you start moving your hips slowly, planting your hands against his clothed chest as you try to take more of him. his hands fly on both sides of your waist, feline eyes also watching you while you’re slowly adjusting to him.

“more..” he grunts, prompting you to go faster as he tightens his grip on your waist. you try to roll your hips faster then deeper until you bottomed down.

pausing for a bit, you couldn’t help but lean in and whine against his clothed shoulder with how his cock’s filling you deliciously.

he has other plans though, releasing a deep groan after you unconsciously clenched around him. he starts fucking up to you, pouring all that adrenaline rush coursing through his bloodstream.

a loud moan escapes you when he finds that soft spot, causing you to pull back and again note the cocky smirk emerging on his handsome face.

“yoongi..fuck”

“shhhh”

he silences you with a finger on his puckered lips, hips bucking up to you faster while he repeatedly hits that spongy spot again.

you struggle but you wanna be good for him so you close your eyes and force yourself to keep your moans in. it results in you gasping instead, small whimpers still escaping you with how magnified everything feels.

“you listen really well baby” amusement laces Yoongi’s tone, eliciting deep moans after when you clamp around him with the praise. his groans spur you to ride him faster but you’re starting to feel the burn on your legs.

he must’ve felt you slowing down cause you found him grinning once you reopened your eyes. gritting your teeth, you dig your nails into Yoongi’s clothed shoulders and call his name in a whimper, biting your lip to hold back your release but his praise makes you crumble.

"yeah? come on __" he gauges you, kissing you at once to swallow the moans that you couldn’t keep in once you reach your peak.

he slows down his pace, letting you ride your own high as his mouth peppers your jaw then later your neck with kisses. his hands continue to caress your naked body until they reach down on your ass.

you let out a surprised yelp when he squeezes them hard, causing you to grip his damp hair once he starts fucking up to you again.

calling your name with a deep groan, you whimper by his ear in response as he chases his release. he’s relentless with his fucking, groping your ass nonstop until you feel him explode in the condom.

you do miss it when he fills you up but you both can’t risk anything while he’s still on tour.

“shit..” he chuckles after releasing you, pushing his hair back with a satisfied look on his face but it shortly disappears when he notices the small tears in your eyes.

“was i too rough?” he worries but you shake your head.

“you know i love it” you reply with a quick peck to his now perplexed face. he doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“i just got emotional..you know”

a small smile of relief breaks into Yoongi’s face, stroking your naked back while you’re both coming down from your highs.

“i’m glad you’re here” he whispers, kissing your forehead. you don’t fucking know why you're suddenly emotional but it could be because of oxytocin flowing through you right now.

“the seesaw acoustic made me cry” you sniff, nuzzling Yoongi's clothed chest that’s a bit damp now, mixed with sweat and your tears but neither of you mind it.

“why? the lyrics still?”

he did remember you crying after hearing it for the first time years ago, the lyrics being the sole reason of it.

“it’s just.. i don’t know, it reminds me of when you guys were touring before” you admit, melancholy in your voice while you reminisce watching his solo performance during their last world tour as a group.

“thank you” he pauses, looking away from you. “for staying with us after all these years”. he takes your hand and plays with it as he says those words.

you adore this side of Yoongi and now you feel bad for doubting him earlier. meeting them years ago and staying this entire time meant a lot of hardships that you went through together with the rest of his members.

“i miss all of you together” you give Yoongi a quick peck on his heated cheeks before giggling, all the sadness gone at the sight of him blushing. he sits up right away and grabs your face to do the same on your lips before lifting your body off of him.

“you see each of them all the time more than i do, i’m jealous”

he gets up, pulling off the used rubber before picking up your clothes that he threw around earlier. he emerges in front of you after, wet wipes in his hand as he parts your sore legs.

“who knows, maybe me and Jimin will drop by”

he stops, letting out a snort and you raise a brow at him, mind suddenly alert to the possibility.

“he’s coming right?”

“idk babe” he’s got that teasing smile and you wanna cry.

“yoonggiiiii..”

“is this why you came here?”

“no”

you’re back to sulking because the boys won’t tell you anything either. it’s something they’ve all kept a secret cause even Jimin won’t budge earlier when you tried to get the answer from him during pillow talk.

however, Yoongi surprises you amidst your sulking when his head’s suddenly between your legs, licking up a stripe of your swollen folds, causing you to whine at the sensitivity.

he knows you’re tired so he stops your hand from grabbing his damp hair.

“later” he mutters, licking his glistened lips as he wipes your pussy.

you didn’t reply, still lying down on the couch while trying to put your bra, panties and leggings back on. getting up would be impossible so you wanna stay on the couch for a bit to cool down.

“i wanna surprise everyone okay? and you’re always on stan twitter”

he gives up, grinning at you with that adorable gummy smile before grabbing another glass of whiskey on the table.

then instead of wearing it back, you throw your merch shirt at him.

“YOU GET DEETS BECAUSE OF ME” you yell, earning a deep chuckle from Yoongi.

then he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you, sending it to your group chat with a thumbs up caption. the others surprisingly replied immediately, with Jimin responding with a wink emoji.

oh they will pay for this.

e/n: it's been a long time lmao how are y'all? btw i wrote this during those two days and haven't opened it in almost a year now so 😂

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vivwritesfics · 19 hours

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Six - Where Is The Party Princess?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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a/n: thank you so much to @nirrahbrii for help with some translations! i don't think this chapter would have been the same without that little world lol

Where Is The Party Princess?

The Monaco Post prides themselves on their ability to keep the public updated on the whereabouts of our favourite royal. We've documented every one of her scandals, from the time where she was fifteen years old and found herself detained by the police, to last year, when she was caught in bed with American actor, Glen Powell.

For the past few years, we have thanked the Princess of Monaco for providing us with such stories. She was a royal like no other, one we found our readers could relate to.

So, that leaves us to wonder, where is the party princess now? It has been a week since we've last seen Princess Y/N. Our sources have reached out to members of the royal family and staff for comment, but only managed to get one reply.

It seems, dear readers, that our beloved party Princess has run away.

"Are you sure you want the party princess to drag you down to her level? Because that's what's going to happen next time we're pictured together."

Charles turned his full body towards her. "What're you saying?" He wore a frown on his face, one that didn't suit him. She realised it immediately. He looked so downtrodden when he frowned. "Do you want to break this arrangement off?"

Once again she shrugged. "Just giving you the option to get out before you end up like Frédéric Archambeau," she said.

"Who is Frédéric Archambeau?"

"Exactly."

Charles sucked in a breath. He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair and stood up. "That's it," he said, striding towards her. "We can break off this arrangement, if you want, but I'm not going to leave you to here to rot."

She scoffed. "Stop pretending to care."

Immediately, Charles took a hold of her mug and placed it down onto the coffee table. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "We're going away."

She couldn't stop the laugh that was pulled from her lips. "Fuck off, Charles," she said and pulled her hand out of his.

But Charles grabbed her again. He pulled her towards her bedroom. "Pack a bag, we're going somewhere warm," he said and pulled open her wardrobe.

"Where?" It wasn't a genuine question, more of a challenge. She sat on the bed and folded her legs under her body, watching him. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" Her voice was bitter, filled with venom as she watched Charles.

He found a suitcase under her bed and began throwing clothes in. It was impossible to sort out what was clean and what wasn't, so Charles just threw it all in. "Australia," he said. "Or Spain. We can go wherever."

"I don't want to go with you," she said immediately.

Charles released an exasperated sigh. "I am begging you to go along with this," he said as he crouched in front of her. "Don't even do this for me. Do it for yourself!"

"Why?" She cried. "Why the fuck do you care about me?!"

Charles dropped his head into his hands. "Please," he said quietly. "Just, let me help you."

It wasn't for her, she realised quickly. For some reason, Charles needed this. He needed this trip, she just didn't know why he needed her. "Fine," she said and began filling her suitcase with everything she'd need for a trip away.

A relieved breath left his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

That was how she found herself in Greece with Charles Leclerc. For the first few days, the tabloids had left them alone. The Monaco press wasn't around to write new crap about her (so they'd been recycling the same old crap).

It took a few days for her to really warm up to him. She knew Charles, sure, but she knew the Charles the world saw. She knew the rich kid from Monaco, the one that the tabloids wrote about, the one that had the tiktok edits made about him.

She didn't know the real Charles. The Charles that loved his friends. The Charles that had so much he wanted to do with his life. The Charles that was genuinely so funny. She knew the F1 driver that doubled as a super model, she knew CL16, not Cha.

Cha. When had she taken to calling him that? It had happened all at once, but she hadn't stopped. It was maybe their second day in Greece, their second day of peace, their second day of getting away from it all.

Every call she'd gotten from Henri, she'd ignored. She didn't need her brother's constant scrutiny. He didn't approve of the trip, that much was clear, but she didn't care. Henri had tried calling Charles, but, at her request, he didn't pick up the phone.

Both the Princess and Charles were used to being waited on through their vacations. They were rich enough that it had become expected. But, for this vacation, Charles wanted it to just be the two of them. No interruptions, nobody to report back to the press.

Just the both of them making the most of it.

She stepped out of her bedroom in the villa and yawned. Her body was adorned in nothing but shorts and a vest top as she walked across the cold stone flooring, heading towards the kitchen.

Charles was already sitting there. He sat in just his swimming trunks, a coffee in front of him as he went through his emails. (As embarrassing as it was to admit, it had taken the two of them two days to work out how to use the coffee machine. She and Charles each had a coffee machine, but this one was different, not as simple as having a 'go' button.)

"Wanna go out for drinks tonight?" She asked as she sat opposite him. Her body was turned towards the kitchen doors, looking towards the pool.

She hadn't had a drink since they'd gotten to Greece. Charles was incredibly proud of her, although he hadn't said anything. "We can go for a few," he answered. Nothing too crazy, Charles wasn't sure what to do with her if she got too crazy.

He was barely able to take care of her after they'd gone to The Hole In The Wall.

Maybe that was what led Charles to suggest something else. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience take her out for a night on the town. They'd managed to stay out of the spotlight for this long, and Charles could see how much good it was doing her. Doing both of them.

He wasn't ready to drag her back into it.

"What if we stay here?" He asked, standing up and walking towards the glass doors. He carried his coffee mug with him as he looked at the pool sparkling in the morning sun. "We could have drinks around the pool."

She let out a snort, one she assumed he would have found unattractive. "You still that embarrassed to be seen with me?" She asked through her snort. But then she saw the way his face fell. "I'm joking, Cha. Yes, I'd love to have drinks with you around the pool."

They went about their day, swimming in the pool, lounging in the sun, going out for lunch together (always in big hats and sunglasses. It wasn't the most covert operation, but it was working).

In the evening, Charles attempted to make dinner. He wasn't the best cook out there, but it was something he enjoyed. They'd gotten drinks on their way back from lunch, shopping in the little supermarket on their way back to the villa.

It wasn't supposed to be anything fancy, but she still dressed up. Charles had the nicest shirt and shorts combo that he'd brought with him and she wore a pretty little dress.

He wasn't going to admit that the sight of her walking down the stairs, sitting in the little out by the pool in that pretty little dress, it would have had a weaker man on his knees. Charles didn't know how he was still standing. Maybe because he wanted to help her, maybe because he respected her brother too much to try anything on.

She sang his praises while she ate, a far cry from the girl he'd practically forced to pack a bag just a few days ago. This was a side of her that the world had forced to hide away. This was the side of her he wanted to see, the real her that he wanted the world to fall in love with. Not the her that the world had decided to hate.

When they finished eating, they just sat there, drinking and talking as they looked at the pool. "So, are you actually friends with my brother, or is it just because he's the princess?" She asked as she drank from her wine glass.

Charles let out a laugh. That was exactly the kind of question he'd expected from her. "Henri and I are actually friends," he answered, not paying attention to the way her toe hit his knee (he didn't mind it, not one bit). "I'll admit, I felt bad when people called me the Prince of Monaco, and that may have contributed to me wanting to be friends with him. But our friendship is real."

She nodded as she sipped. "Must be nice having the Prince of Monaco at your every beck and call," she mumbled.

"You're saying that like you don't."

That dry laugh he'd heard so many times before, that dry laugh that Charles hated to hear, left her lips. "Trust me, Cha, I don't." She finished her drink and stood up. "At least, not the real Prince of Monaco."

He couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol that controlled her. But she hiked up her skirt and sat himself in her lap. It was so sudden, so unexpected, he had no idea what to do. Her hands were around his neck. "I'd rather have the unofficial Prince of Monaco at my beck and call. What do you think of that?"

Charles couldn't react. He didn't get a chance to, not when she pressed her lips to his own.

It wasn't slow, it wasn't full of passion. No, it was quick and clumsy. One taste of her lips against his own. And, when she pulled away, she laid her head against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have done that," she whispered as she played with his hair. "Oh, crotte."

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puck-luck · 1 day

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okay since you wanted requests to switch it up a bit.. could you write trevor zegras x fem!reader smut where his gf is less experienced than him and wants to give him head but she’s never done it before so he guides her through it 🫣

other requests: “could you write a smut with some fluff in it too, with trevor zegras walking his gf through giving him head because it’s her first time and she’s nervous/doesn’t know what to do”, “obsessed with the idea of trevor zegras talking his gf through how to give him head when it’s her first time and she’s nervous about not knowing what to do.. like literally giving her instructions throughout, with lots of praise and reassurance, but also dirty talk bc let’s be real, it’s trevor.” warnings: oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, inexperienced reader x experienced partner, praise, coming on face, masturbation joke warnings: tw: los angeles angels (i prefer the dodgers), in a world where tz never broke his ankle during the 2023-2024 season… pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!fem!reader summary: see requests above. wc: 3089

Trevor Zegras was the most giving, patient man you had ever known. Maybe his patience came from having younger siblings, but it was more likely that it came from years and years of working with teammates in a cutthroat sport. You had grown up watching hockey, gaining intimate knowledge of the sport when you had started dating Trevor. Trevor, in exchange, found himself more than knowledgeable about baseball, the sport of your choice, than he ever needed to be.

You two had met when you came to Anaheim, having graduated a year early from college with a degree in Sports Marketing. You had landed a job with the Los Angeles Angels, which had relocated you to the area, and you couldn’t imagine your life going any other way. There were times when you missed your family and missed home, but once you had gotten settled into your job and you had met Trevor, Anaheim started to feel like the home you’d been destined to find.

Anaheim was also an escape from your hometown– a place where, despite your best efforts, you did not feel welcome. You had told Trevor early in your relationship about your lack of experience sexually and tried to explain it away with a long-winded story about being a “weird kid,” but Trevor had brushed it off and told you he didn’t mind your inexperience. He was happy, he said, to teach you everything he could. All you had to do was say the word.

So, you’d worked up to it. You’d slept in the same bed, touched him, and he had touched you. Hockey season had helped the pace of your relationship, with Trevor traveling almost every other week. He was gone for two weeks straight in January, traveling from coast to coast, and it was then that you had shyly admitted to him through the tinny speaker of your phone how badly you wanted to suck him off.

He had fumbled with the phone, groaning at the idea alone of your mouth around his length, and it had resulted in a long FaceTime call in which you watched him fuck into his hand, telling you how much better it would feel if it was your mouth.

It was the Monday night after they had come back. Trevor had had a game on Sunday at Honda Center against the Rangers and spent the night at his place because it was closer to the rink. As much as he was itching to see you, and your heart was beating out of your chest at the idea of seeing him and going through with blowing him, you were scared. Trevor knew that you were nervous, the anticipation was getting to you, just from the way you were texting. The messages were shorter. You weren’t initiating conversation as much. The times between your responses were longer.

It didn’t matter, though. He was coming over tonight.He was going to cook you dinner. He was going to set the mood. He was going to make you comfortable if it was the last thing that he did, and if it meant that you wouldn’t get your mouth on him at all, he was okay with that.

Trevor arrived at your apartment about an hour after you got off work. Spring training was starting in just a month, so things were starting to pick up for you. You were stressed, plenty of tasks on your plate and most of them half-finished. A relaxing dinner with your boyfriend was going to provide a needed distraction.

Trevor had let himself into the apartment and was already pan-searing some cubed potatoes when you got out of the shower. He was in complete boyfriend mode, having stolen your apron and thrown it over his bare chest. You could see his tattoos from where you were standing, the ones littering his arms and the delicate one on his ribs, and you smiled.

He seemed like a tough guy, your boyfriend. He had the tattoos, the athletic ability, the sculpted form and ridged muscles of an athlete. Anyone who saw him in the supermarket might think he’s an asshole, but the second they get a good look at him, they’ll realize that he’s just a softie. He tied a delicate bow around the curve of his waist in your baby blue and frilly apron.

“I can feel you looking at me,” Trevor said. You watched his bicep ripple as he moved the potatoes around the pan with a spatula. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re actually there. Could you imagine me saying that to the air?”

“I can, actually,” You replied with a laugh. You walked over and hugged Trevor from behind, arms wrapped solidly around his figure as you squished your cheek against his back. “I bet you did.”

Trevor sputtered out a denial, shaking his head. He relented just seconds later, unable to keep up the bit. “You’re right. I thought you were there like two minutes before you actually were.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Trevor placed the spatula down on the counter, then turned the burner off and moved the pan to a different spot on the cooktop. He turned in your arms, inching over just a bit so that you were trapping him against the counter, not the oven. He gasped, reaching up and cradling your face in the palms of his hands.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten even prettier in the two weeks that I haven’t seen you,” He marveled, tilting your head from side to side as you rolled your eyes.

You pushed away from him, walking out of the kitchen.

Trevor trailed behind you like a puppy.

“You’re a loser,” You said.

“I love my pretty girlfriend,” Trevor replied.

As you passed the couch in your living room, Trevor tackled you over the arm of the object and you fell onto the cushions. You shrieked at the contact, at the fall, and squirmed in Trevor’s grip as he kissed over your neck and face. His fingers were digging into your sides, causing you to giggle and snort between breaths. Trevor was relentless, until he decided to plant a kiss on your lips.

He captured your lips with intent, slowly slotting your bottom lip between his. Trevor always kissed you with purpose, slow, like he was trying to memorize you. He slid his mouth into your tongue like he was trying to lap up your sweetness, keep it on his tongue until he could place your taste and replicate it in a dish or a drink, something he’d be willing to consume every day for the rest of his life. You liked most when he nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling away, something that was so trademark Trevor that it made you breathless. He would always pull back just to look at you, to push your hair out of your face, before diving back in.

He kissed you so gently, so sweetly, that when you felt his bulge press against you, you were almost caught off guard.

“Been thinking about you,” Trevor purred against your lips. “About what you said the other day.”

You froze and Trevor pulled away, hovering over you. He searched your face carefully.

“We don’t have to,” He reassured you. “You know we don’t have to. I’d never make you.”

“I want to,” You replied, voice small. “I’m just… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Trevor asked.

“What if I gag and I throw up all over you?” You cringed at the mere thought. “I’ll die if that happens.”

Trevor stifled a laugh. “I’ll shower and I’ll wait two weeks before letting you near my dick with your mouth again,” He answered, an easy smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

You pouted at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am!” He protested. “Baby, you’re not going to throw up on my dick.”

“What if I do?”

“I just told you what we’d do if you threw up on my dick!”

“Okay, well, you’re not being very supportive of my fears.”

Trevor sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. He stared deeply into your eyes. “I understand you are afraid of vomiting on my penis. I assure you, that will not happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” You whined.

“It’s never happened before,” Trevor said. He leaned down to kiss the spot under your ear. “Plus, baby, I’m going to go so slow that you’ll be begging for more by the end of it.”

A shiver ran down your spine at that, the way he whispered the words in your ear so his hot breath danced over your skin igniting a flame between your legs.

“Why don’t,” Trevor began, his hand making his way to your clothed mound, “I show you just how good getting head would make me feel?”

His deft fingers rubbed in circles over your clit, the pressure just intense enough to make you moan.

“Would you like that? I’ll get my tongue on you, make you come once, maybe twice…” Trevor kissed you, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth then out of it. “And then we can revisit the idea of getting your mouth on me?”

“Yeah,” You agreed lamely, the heat between your legs growing more slick with each circle of his fingers and each wet kiss.

Trevor stood from where he was lain on top of you. He untied your apron, which you had almost forgotten he was wearing, and tossed it to the side. He grabbed under your knees and dragged you down towards the arm of the couch, throwing one leg over the arm and setting your other foot on the floor. He kept a hand on that knee, rubbing smooth lines up and down your skin with his thumb. With his other hand, he traced the line of your folds through the fabric of your sweat-shorts.

They were a loose pair, gray and almost threadbare after years of washes and use. The fabric of the shorts was the thinnest barrier Trevor could have faced. You could have put on panties when you got out of the shower, but had opted just for these shorts instead. They were more comfortable. Now, they were just something stopping him from getting his mouth on you.

Except, it didn’t stop him.

Trevor mouthed over your clit, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered at the shock that it sent up your body, causing your fingertips to twitch at your side. He ran his tongue over the length of your pussy and chuckled to himself when your hips jumped beneath him.

“Relax, honey,” Trevor said, his words muffled because he was still pressed against you. “Relax and enjoy.”

His fingers came up and moved your shorts out of the way, revealing you to him. Chastely, he kissed your folds, then pointedly blew cold air over your entrance.

“Trev,” You let out, reaching a hand towards his, still rubbing on your knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Trevor licked his way up to your clit again, capturing it between his lips and sucking. He rolled the bud on his tongue, causing your hips to lift again. “Be good,” He told you, voice low. His eyes were closed as he continued to lick over you, practically french kissing your lower lips the same way he would the ones on your face.

It was a gradual build, the coil in your stomach tightening. You squeezed Trevor’s hand and ground down on his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting you hump it, before he tensed it at your entrance and prodded his way into you. He flicked the muscle fast, and the sensation was all too much for you.

You came undone with a loud cry, your thighs closing around Trevor’s head involuntarily.

He continued to lap at your release, cleaning you up and only stopping when you relaxed beneath him and pushed him away.

“How was that?” Trevor asked, his face level with yours.

You reached out and looped your arms around his neck, dragging him forward until your lips crashed against his. This kiss, at your direction, was much more passionate. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. You turned, pushing at Trevor until he was the one seated on the couch. You found yourself on his lap, grinding down on his bulge.

“So you liked it?” Trevor asked.

You let out a laugh and sucked a hickey under his jaw. “Teach me how to make you feel good like that.”

Trevor shuddered when you scraped your teeth over his pulse point. “On your knees,” He told you. He guided you, with a hand on your shoulder, between his legs.

The sight of you there, feet tucked prettily under you, hands clasped in front of you, has Trevor’s dick twitching in his pants.

“Take my dick out, baby,” Trevor said, his voice soft but firm.

He lifted his hips as you pulled at his shorts. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs.

“Give me your hand.”

You reached up and he took your wrist, guiding your hand toward his bulge. He let your hand rest just to the side of him.

“Touch me. Over my pants.”

You traced the line of his dick over his pants, biting your lip when it jumped under your finger. You palmed him, fitting your hand over the curve of him and beginning to rub him up and down.

Trevor’s head tilted back and he let out a groan. “Faster.”

You sped up, just as he had asked you to, bringing your other hand up to cradle his balls.

“Fuck,” Trevor moaned, inadvertently tipping his hips up into your hand. “Take it out.”

You rushed to do so, scraping your nails against his sides when you pulled at his waistband. Trevor hissed at that, but didn’t say anything. When his dick was revealed to you, standing proud and dripping from the tip, you took it in your hand and leaned down to hesitantly lick his slit.

Trevor’s hands flew to your hair, the strands falling between his fingers. “Again,” He breathed out, eyes wide.

You licked his tip again, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Oh my God,” Trevor drawled out, borderline whimpering. “Baby, fuck, please.”

You smiled, proud of yourself for reducing him from someone who was so sure of himself and so loud to someone who is whining just from your touch. You circled your lips around his lip, sucking lightly.

His dick twitched. “So good,” Trevor praised. “Can you take more?”

You nodded out of instinct, but the sensation made him garble out an unintelligible string of words. You sunk down lower on his dick, feeling your lips stretch as you take him down your throat. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, feeling how he slid in and out of you. The taste of him on your tongue was addicting– salty and just so man. You moaned, the vibrations enveloping Trevor’s dick in a way that made him buck up into your throat. You gagged, a tear forming on your waterline.

Trevor grabbed your hair and pulled you up, just barely off the head of his dick.

“You okay?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you gag.”

You cleared your throat and nodded. “You taste so good, Trevor.” Trevor’s jaw dropped at the tone of your voice, light and innocent and sexy because it was worn with use.

“Fuck, suck me again, just take it,” Trevor encouraged, gathering your hair into a ponytail.

You lowered your mouth onto Trevor again, tracing your tongue over the vein on the underside of his dick. You used one hand to pump the part of his dick that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, covering your teeth as best you could, but Trevor relished in the ghost of a scrape over his member when you got caught up in the moment.

He was groaning, babbling above you, his abs flexing as he drowned in pleasure. His face was flushed and you whined when you saw the mark that you left on his sharp jawline.

“Baby, you’re so good,” Trevor groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You reached a hand down into your shorts and fingered furiously over your clit, swooning with the sensation there and of the weight on your tongue.

Trevor leaned forward and spotted your movements, saw your hand moving from inside your shorts. “Oh my God, fuck, yeah, make yourself come, too, baby…”

You gave it your all, twisting your hand around the length of Trevor that wasn’t inside your mouth. Drool slid out of your mouth, offering plenty of lubrication for your hand, making it easier to jerk him.

“God, fucking– baby, let me come on your face. Please, wanna see it on you,” Trevor begged.

He said it right as your fingers teased your entrance in just the right way, and you came for the second time that night, kneeling on the carpet for your boyfriend’s pleasure.

You pulled off of Trevor, but kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. He took his dick in his hand and jacked himself off quickly, hand flying over his length.

“Close your eyes,” Trevor warned, panting like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Don’t– fuck– don’t want to get my come in your eye.”

You obeyed him, reluctantly losing sight of his figure. There would be plenty of other times where you could watch his face contort with the bliss of his orgasm, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his hot, sticky come fall on your cheeks before Trevor aims his release at your tongue.

“God, Y/N,” Trevor groaned out. “I kind of want to take a picture of you like this.”

“Can I open my eyes?” You asked, “Wanna look up at you.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agreed, eyes fluttering as he took in the sight of you with his come on your face. When your eyes opened and met his, he felt himself starting to harden again. “Now I really want to take a picture.”

You wiped some of the come off of your cheek with your thumb before licking it off the digit. “Next time. I believe you promised me a home cooked dinner.”

notes: dear trevor zegras, i <3 you and think we could really get up to no good if you'd just give me a look. also, i wrote this at work. also, also, my coworker was sitting next to me and one of the elderly ladies asked me what i was typing. no comment.

#puck-luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄#tz11 #hockey smut

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vbecker10 · 12 hours

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I Don't Hate You

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You've worked at SHIELD for years and you were severely injured by Loki when he escaped from his cell on the helicarrier. It's been a year since the attack on NY and one day you finally cross paths with Loki after a month of him actively avoiding you.

Warning: Loki being upset, Loki feeling guilty, Loki feeling like he deserves to be hated, brief mentions of Loki's torture, previous injury caused by Loki... this will have a fluffy end, promise 💚

You shift positions to get more comfortable on the couch then turn the page of your book. I might be able read this whole book tonight, you think excitedly. The Tower was quiet which was a rare occurrence, the whole team decided to go out for drinks so you have the library to yourself. After a moment, you turn the next page but suddenly you feel as if you aren't alone.

Looking up, you see Loki standing in the doorway as if he is frozen with anxiety. He briefly makes eye contact with you and turns to leave.

"Wait," you sit up, closing your book in your lap. "You can stay," you offer and he turns back to face you. "There's plenty of space," you gesture towards the other empty couch.

"I wouldn't want to disturb you," he says, shaking his head as he remains halfway between the hall and the room.

You sigh quietly, that's the first thing he's said to you in the month since you've been back from medical leave. Loki had become almost an expert in avoiding you, the closest you had come to being in the same room with him was during a briefing last week. As soon as you took your seat at the table, he excused himself and left.

He nods in response to your offer to join you but doesn't say anything. He quietly makes his way over to the large bookcases that line the wall and begins to search for a book. You try to focus on where you left off in yours but you can't seem to take your eyes off him. He seems so nervous around you and although you aren't sure what you expected from him, this wasn't it.

He selects a book and walks to the far end of the other couch, glancing towards you as he sits. You both quickly look away from each other and try to settle into your books. After a few minutes of silence he sighs and closes the book. You pretend to continue reading as you watch him return his book and begin the process of selecting one again.

"Can't decide what to read?" you ask after a moment.

He turns, his expression clearing showing that he doesn't expect you to speak to him. He shrugs, "I've read all of these..." He looks at the book he is currently holding, "Some more then a few times."

"Oh," you look at the tall, full shelves. There must be four hundred books in this room. "Wow," you react honestly.

"I read quickly," he offers a simple explanation.

"Why don't you get new ones?" you ask as if the solution is obvious.

He puts the book he is holding away and looks down at the ground, "I'm not permitted to leave the Tower unless its for a mission." He pulls a seemingly random book from the shelf and walks over to the closest seat on the other couch this time.

"Right, I forgot I guess," you suddenly feel awkward for suggesting it.

Loki was given strick orders not to leave the Tower after an incident a few months before you returned from medical leave. He had gone to a small Cafe with his brother in the morning and ended up on the news a few hours later. According to the reports you watched from rehab, he had been on line waiting for his order when a woman who lost her husband during his attack on NYC came in. She walked over to him and started screaming that he was a monster and should be rotting in a cell on whatever planet he came from. Thor tried to defuse the situation while Loki remained completely silent. Her rant finally ended when she threw some bystanders coffee at him and he left.

The two of you sit in silence for a minute then you suddenly get an idea. "Oh," you say and he looks up from the book he has no interest in.

"I think I have something that can help," you tell him. You limp slowly towards him as you unlock your phone. Sitting next to him, you feel self conscious when he shifts away from you, his eyes fixed on the metal brace supporting your leg.

His jaw tightens and his body tenses as he rubs his hands slowly together. You clear your throat, hoping to distract him from your injury and it works. He looks at you, "Here," you hand him your phone.

"What is this?" he asks.

"Its the New York Public Library," you tell him, "Well, their website at least."

He looks at you a bit confused. "What am I supposed to do with this? I'm not allowed to go to the library," he says.

"You don't need to go," you tell him with a smile. "They can bring the books here."

"I wonder why no one told you about this. They've had this for years," you say.

His eyes fill with excitement at the thought of being able to get new books. You explain the book delivery program then show him how to search for books by author, title or genre. His smile spreads as you sign him up for a library card then sit back to watch him scroll through a long list of poets.

The smile leaves his face and he admits, "I never told anyone that I had run out of books."

"Why not?" you ask.

"No one would care," he answers instantly.

When you don't say anything, he looks up from your phone and briefly makes eye contact with you. "I don't understand why you of all people would care enough to help me, to be honest. I have done nothing to deserve even the smallest kindness from you," he says as his eyes fall to your injured leg again. The joy you had seen on his face moments ago has faded completely and in a low voice he says, "I nearly killed you."

With a sigh, he nods, "I remember everyone I've hurt... or killed."

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in topics but say, "I thought you remembered me."

"Can we just talk for a minute?" you ask, standing with him.

You gently reach out and touch his knee, causing him to jump at the sudden contact. "I'm sorry," he says as soon as you touch him. "I should go," he tells you and he gets up.

He shakes his head. "I'm not supposed to be alone with you," he admits. "Fury wants me as far from my..." he clears his throat, "victims as possible while I am here."

He looks torn about what to do but finally nods and sits down heavily. You sit next to him again but he doesn't look at you, his eyes are fixed on his hands. His knee shakes nervously and you realize he's waiting for you to lash out at him as so many people have in the wake of the attack.

"I- I didn't realize he did that," you say in shock. "I thought you were just avoiding me because of... well because of what happened."

He shrugs but doesn't respond, giving you the feeling that he might still have distanced himself from you even if he wasn't ordered to do so.

You bite your lip and say, "I'm sure Fury means well but... I just want to talk to you. If that's okay with you?"

You had imagined this moment so many times over the last year. What you would say to him and how he would react. You look at him even as he avoids looking at you and say, "I just want to to know, I don't hate you for what happened."

He shakes his head as if he doesn't believe you and says, "You should hate me, everyone does."

"I don't," you tell him simply.

He finally looks at you, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in his eyes, "How could you not after what I did to you and so many others?"

You sigh and admit, "I used to hate you."

"But... but not anymore?" he asks.

You take a deep breath, this is the part you practiced telling him most often. "When I was in the hospital, I did hate you. I hated you more then I ever thought I could possibly hate another person. I wanted you to feel the pain and fear you inflicted on me when you were escaping. I wanted you to suffer after every surgery, after every fall I had in rehab, after every doctor told me I would never walk without some sort of brace," you tell him honestly and he nods as if he agrees with you.

You pause for a moment and wait for him to look at you again, "It was truly exhausting."

He doesn't say anything but he keeps eye contact with you. "It took so much energy to hate to," you tell him. "It was draining me."

"A few months after my first surgery, I had some of the agents I'm friends with being over your case files and I watched all your news interviews," you continue to explain.

"Why?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

"I wanted to know if you were as evil as everyone said, if you were really a monster from another world who deserved to be hated," you tell him.

"I am a monster," he says, his eyes lowering to the ground in front of him.

His body tenses as soon as you mention Thanos's name. His eyes widen in fear and he says, "What do you know about- how could you know that? My SHIELD files doesn't contain any information about him."

"No," you tell him, touching his arm lightly and he looks up at you slowly. "You're not a monster, you're a victim of Thanos."

You fidget nervously at his reaction and say, "I... I found the restricted files SHIELD has about you, the ones with your interview-"

He gets up suddenly, his voice laced emotion but you are unsure if he is angry, hurt or embarrassed, "You read that?"

You nod, "I'm sorry-"

"No one was supposed to be able to access that. Fury said it would be sealed, that was why I agreed to tell my brother what happened," he says as he paces. He turns to face you and you can see he is holding back tears, "You shouldn't have read that. I don't want anyone to know what he did to me."

You had read all twenty six pages of the typed transcripts and listened to hours of Loki detailing his torture to Thor. He spoke about being physically hurt but also about being mentally broken by the mad titan. He lost track of time, unsure if weeks, months or years had passed while he was under Thanos's control. By the time you finished listening to his account of what happened, you had lost every ounce of hate you once harbored for him. He was more a victim than anyone.

You take a step towards him and he takes a step back, shaking his head. You reach for his hand and he lets you hold it without pulling away. "Loki," he looks at you, the first tear running down his cheek. "I'm sorry Thanos tortured you," you tell him honestly.

He shakes his head as if he can't accept your words.

You take another step towards him, still holding his hand in yours. "I'm sorry he hurt you," you say again and this time he doesn't move away from you.

"No one..." he tries to take a deep breath, "No one has ever said that to me before."

Now it's your turn to be shocked, "Not even your brother?"

He shakes his head and without thinking, you wrap your arms around him tightly. His whole body stiffens in response at first but slowly, he lifts his arms to hug you back and his body relaxes against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder and you rub his back gently.

You hold him until he slowly pulls away. Taking his hand again, you lead him back to the couch.

"You didn't deserve anything that he did to you," you tell him. When he looks at you, you can't help but raise your hand, wiping a tear from his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into your soft touch.

He opens his eyes after a moment and quietly says, "Thank you Y/N. I'm so tired of everyone hating me. I never thought anyone would ever try to understand what happened to me."

You smile at him and quickly kiss his cheek, which is a surprise to both of you. "What was that for?" he asks, a small laugh escapes him.

He smiles and nods, "Can you do it again?"

"I don't know," you admit with a nervous giggle, "I just... It felt like something I should do. I'm sorry, was that okay?"

You smile and kiss his cheek again, "Is that making you feeling better?"

"For the first time in a very long time, yes," he says.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @dragonmurray @honeydew3064 @malfoycassimalfoy @kneelingformyloki @newtomofgods @jiyascepter @eleniblue

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jeridandridge · 17 hours

Text

For Lovers At Night pt 1

Melissa meets someone that makes her reevaluate her marriage and life choices. Part 1

Melissa Schemmenti is miserable. Sitting at her kitchen table mindlessly flipping through a book her eyes catch the gold band on her finger. Joe had promised her when they first got married he would get her a diamond as soon as they got money. That was twenty years ago. She thinks back to before she got married, how carefree and happy she was. She spent her free time in clubs, bars, and artists dens, meeting whoever she wanted and most importantly being a mysterious woman that did whatever she wanted.

Sitting at the table she closes the book and stands up knowing Joe won’t be home for dinner anyway. Heading through the house she goes to their rarely shared bedroom and opens the closet door. Pushed to the side of the closet sits an old leather jacket she hasn’t worn since… god she can’t remember. Most likely since she and Joe got back together the last time.

Running her hand along the tough leather a small smile spreads across her lips as memories are brought back to her. The last time she wore it she opted on the back of a gorgeous woman’s motorcycle and flipped Joe off as they rode off into the night together.

That feels like a life time ago now.

Pulling the jacket out she slips it on and fluffs her hair looking in the mirror. She notes the crows feet by her eyes, the way her freckles are more prominent now in her forties. Looking at her hand she flexes her fingers for a moment. Taking a breath she slowly slides her wedding ring off setting it on the dresser.

When Melissa gets in her car she’s not sure where she’s going, but she knows she’s going into the city. Somewhere alive and lit up. Sticking her hand out the window as she drives she moves her fingers along the chilly night air, her ring finger bare for the first time in many years feels weightless against the wind. She can’t help but smile to herself, something she realizes is happening at random.

Driving through the busy streets she goes to an old haunt of hers not even knowing if it’s still open or not. In an old building on one of the bustling streets of Philly sits an old bookshop, The looking Glass, one that she went to many times in her college days and even after. Pulling up she beams seeing the store still there and the open sign on. She could go for a fireball hot toddy and a new book tonight.

Going up to the door a whiff of fresh books and coffee hit her, throwing her right back to her college days. Walking inside everything’s the same. The hot drink section with its bar behind it, the small counter on the opposite side holding the register and other little items for purchase, multiple seating areas, and of course the shelves and shelves of books so cramped together that if it were any other place it would be a problem. Melissa feels at home.

Walking past people she glides through the rows of books looking around and getting lost in her little chunk of paradise she hasn’t had in so long. Across the establishment behind the bar, you nudge your friend nodding towards the row of books the gorgeous redhead is standing near.

“Just your type. Good luck with that one.” He pats your shoulder as he goes to the back room. Looking across the room with a smirk on your lips you watch the redheaded stranger reach up for a book, her hair cascading down her back in waves. She was beautiful.

Across the room Melissa turns around book in hand, flipping through the pages as she walks up to the bar not bothering to look up until she’s standing right in front of you. “Hi, what can I get for ya?”

Melissa looks up with a friendly smile playing with the spine of the book she found. “Can I get a fireball hot toddy, hon?”

“Name for the order?” You ask moving around the work area, black warm cup in hand.

“Melissa.”

“Melissa, I’ve never seen you in here before.” You smile writing her name on the cup in gold flowy letters.

Setting the book down on the counter so she can open her purse, Melissa shrugs. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“I figured. I’d remember someone like you.” You smile making the drink and sliding it on the counter.

Melissa catches the comment and the way you’re looking at her, and feels a warmth spread through her. “I doubt it, hon.” She chuckles handing the money over for her drink.

“If you need another or just wanna have a riveting conversation, I’ll be here.” You gesture to the counter with a laugh.

Melissa looks at your name tag with a smile.

“Thanks, hon. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Moving across the room with her drink and book in hand Melissa sits on a sofa near a dim lamp, just far enough to glance up every so often to the woman behind the bar. Sipping her drink the warmth from the alcohol spreads through her chest giving her a comforting feeling she hasn’t felt in a long while. The woman behind the counter is stunning, and something about her eyes made Melissa feel something deep within her that she can’t place just yet.

Eventually, she gets lost in her book and before she knows it she’s more than halfway through it and the woman from the bar is gently tapping her arm.

“Melissa, we’re closing up.” You hum with a soft smile.

The bar is quieter now, people are heading out and the main lights are on. Melissa looks around the bar and begins to gather her things. “Sorry, I got lost there.” She chuckles.

“Don’t apologize, I would too if I were reading Jane Rules greatest love story,” you smile.

“You’ve read it?” She asks curiously.

“I have, it was a big deal for me in high school.”

“So when, last year?” Melissa teases making you laugh in return.

“No, more like fifteen or so years ago.” You hum. “Something about an older woman breaking free of a metaphorical cage and finding herself with the help of a wild younger woman always intrigued me.” You admit with a smile. “Let me buy it for you.” You offer.

“I can’t let you do that, hon.” Melissa shakes her head.

“Sure you can. I own the place, I can do what I want.”

Melissa looks at you in awe. You looked so young yet here you were with a business and a personality wise beyond your years. Before she can say anything else you’re already wiping down the coffee table with a rag.

“Wow. It really has been a long time since I’ve been here.” Melissa sighs. “Thank you, for the book and the environment.”

“You don’t need to thank me, just come in more often.” You smile.

And that’s what she does.

The next night Melissa makes sure her hair and makeup are to the nines, her jeans are tight, her nails are painted, and she may or may not spray on an extra shot of perfume. Standing in front of the mirror she fluffs her hair once more and takes a breath.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” Joes voice sounds from the bathroom, a rare thing now.

“Barb talked me into a book club.” She offers with ease. He still hadn’t noticed her wedding ring was off and he didn’t ask any questions- just how she liked it.

“That sounds nice. Have a good time.” He says closing the door.

It doesn’t take long for Melissa to grab her keys and make her way to The Looking Glass. Walking through the door there are more people than the night before given the fact it’s a Saturday night. The redhead can’t help but frown, a pang of sadness hitting her as she makes her way in and doesn’t see the woman from the night before.

Slipping through the crowd she gets to the bar looking up at the menu despite being ready to order her wine.

“Melissa!”

Across the floor near the back doorway the mysterious woman from last night appears.

“Hi, hon.” She lets out with a giddy grin, her heart leaping in her chest as you beckon her over with the wave of your hand. “I didn’t think you were here.”

“I’m always here.” You chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” You admit with a smile as you lean against the side of the bar.

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “I overthink too much I guess.”

“Yeah, I know the feelin.”

“Come with me, I want your opinion on something.” You hold your hand out to the redhead.

Gently taking the younger woman’s hand Melissa feels her cheeks heat up at the simple touch. Walking to the back hand in hand she can’t help but feel butterflies in her chest.

“So it’s dark and cold now,” you start flicking a single hanging lightbulb on, “but I’m planning on expanding the sitting area to here. Less storage, but more room for pretty girls to browse through the books.” You smirk.

Melissa tips her chin up with a matching smirk meeting your eyes. “Do you flirt with all your customers this way?”

“No, I can’t say I do. Just the one I find incredibly beautiful.”

Smile not faltering, Melissa ducks her head realizing your hands are still entwined together.

“Careful, I might think you’re interested in me.” She chuckles lightly.

“And if I am?” You smile.

“I think,” Melissa whispers, her ringless hand still in the woman’s, “I’d like that.”

Everything Melissa knows goes out the window when she sees the look in your eyes. She thinks of all the shit Joe has put her through the last twenty years and how she can be happy if she allows that for herself. It’s what she desperately wants.

“I can’t stay long tonight, but I’d really like to talk to ya while I’m here.” She offers with a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you can that is.”

“I can,” you smile. “Come with me.”

As Melissa is lead through the back room once again she gently squeezes the woman’s hand as they get to the office in the back of the building. It’s simple, a desk, a large couch, and of course a couple bookshelves.

“Make yourself at home,” you offer letting your hand slip away from the redheads, fingers brushing as you go to the small fridge in the corner. “Do you like wine?”

“It’s usually my go to. I bet you have the really good stuff.”

“I do, but this is regular stuff.” You chuckle taking out the chilled bottle. “I’ll have to break the good stuff out another night.”

“Already thinking about seeing me again?” Melissa grins watching her hands move. The lust she felt for the woman was something she’d not felt in her marriage in over ten years and she forgot how much she missed the warm feeling.

“Not to scare you off, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.” You admit handing her a glass of wine.

“Trust me, hon it takes a lot to scare me off.” Melissa was terrified of what she was doing, but she didn’t need to share that.

“Interesting.” You grin into your own glass. “You seem really mysterious, Melissa.”

“Private mostly,” the redhead shrugs. She’d always been private. Her family and connections were usually all she needed in her life, it even took a full year at Abbott Elementary before she let her best friend, Barb, into her life and that was ten years ago.

“So if I gave you my phone number could I expect a call from a restricted number?” You joke.

“No,” Melissa smiles fishing the device out of her purse, unlocking it before she hands it over. “It’ll be just a number.”

Taking the phone in your palm you type your number in followed by your name handing it back after you hit save.

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” Melissa chuckles nervously, so uncharacteristic of the hard exterior she presents.

Sipping your wine you lick your lips setting the glass down. “Someone hurt you pretty good didn’t they?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Melissa offers thinking of Joes cheating and lack of presence. “I’m kinda gettin over it though.”

“Well, whoever they are, I feel sorry for them.” You smile as the redhead finishes her wine.

Melissa can’t help but duck her head a bit at that. “Thanks, hon.”

“Tell me about them,” you prompt leaning back in your seat.

Melissa sobers up immediately at the question. How could she tell a practical stranger, one she was incredibly attracted to, but still a stranger none the less, that she hated her husbands guts and wanted out before she got any older?

“If I answer you have to tell me something important about you.” She shoots back.

“Deal,” you nod with a smile.

“I-“ Melissa breathes out unsure of where to start, “My ex husband made me miserable. He cheated, rarely came home, expected all the cliche housewife cliche things.” She shrugs through the lie. Yes it was a lie, but not entirely.

“What an idiot.” You shake your head unable to break eye contact with the woman. There was something behind her eyes that you couldn’t yet place, but would soon find out.

“How did you buy this place?” Melissa asks breaking the tension.

“It was left to me. I started working here when I turned eighteen and I’ve been here ever since.” You smile. “The original owner helped me out a lot in college and when she retired, she sold ir to me cheap.”

“That’s amazing,” Melissa smiles. “I always loved it here and I’m happy to see it’s the same.”

“I do my best to keep it up and get more people in here. As much as I love talking about my job, what do you do?”

“I teach second grade.” She offers. During your back and forth, Melissa keeps that same look in her eyes and it only changes when she says she has to leave. It changes from whatever it was before to sadness.

“Let me walk you to your car?” You ask hopefully.

“Yeah, hon. I’d like that.”

Getting up you rest your hand on her lower back as you two walk out to the main part of the building and out the front door.

“That’s it there?” You ask with a laugh spotting a black two door truck.

“That’s me.”

“You get more and more interesting.” You grin as Melissa unlocks the truck. “I hope I hear from you soon.”

“You will, hon.” Melissa smiles while she climbs in.

“Drive safe.” You offer with a nod, settling your hands in your back pockets as you watch the truck drive off into the busy night. Turning around you go back into the bar with a smile knowing you met someone special.

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #melissa Schemmenti #melissa Schemmenti x reader #Melissa Schemmenti x you #Melissa Schemmenti imagine

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chronically-ghosted · 2 days

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vivarium

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: ezra x f!reader word count: 8K summary: you request a vacation for your birthday. With the rain and a few drinks, you get a lot more than you asked for. warnings: alcohol drinking, minor age gap (less than 10 years), oral (f!receiving), fingering, smut, possessive!Ezra, dom!Ezra, one booty smack, dirty talk for real, smut, pining, a bit of angst, referenced/implied orphanhood, made a religious sex pun and i'm so proud of myself a/n: so @morallyinept requested this and it turns out when I write for a boy for the first time, it can’t be less than 7K – whoops. i've gotten ezra requests from some moots before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations! **massive thanks to @toomanytookas for editing and providing the initial validation so i don't post in a mouth-frothy haze. I've never had a beta like you before and I genuinely feel like I've turned over a new chapter in my fic writing. thank you!

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Your feet in the clear blue water, the humidity like a wet tongue on your skin, you scratch a nail under the tab of a mustard yellow can, crack it open, and drink. The bite of alcohol dulled by the carbonation, you take several pulls, drawing out the mid-afternoon buzz from two other cans and whetting your mouth in the heat of the jungle day. You lean back on your elbows into the sponge-soft grass, and let out a massive sigh.

A few feet ahead of you, on a repurposed inflatable reentry tube, your long-time privateer partner chuckles, the sound deep in the back of his throat as he floats by. Thick fingers and exposed heels dragging along in the crystal water, he greets the yellow sun like an old friend – arms wide, chest out, a lazy smile on his face. A damp rag – supposedly clean – sits over what you know to be dark-earth eyes, every other inch of him relishing in the inevitable sun tan.

“I see your aaahhh, pet, and I raise you a mhmm.” The rubber squeaks as he adjusts, tips his scarred chin up to the cloudless sky and rests his head back. “Kevva said there’d be days like this, but I think the old hag mighta left out a thing or two.”

You grin, the wet heat of Banu 8’s lowlands drawing sweat droplets onto your hairline at the back of your neck, settling thick behind your ears where it co-mingles with the drunk haze loping around in your brain. You watch Ezra with his bare arms, hairy legs, and prominent nose turned towards the divinity he’s so fond of invoking and the thought crosses your mind – again:

Shit, he’s so fucking hot.

Oh, bad thought.

You drop your gaze, pressing the cold aluminum lip of the can to your mouth, drinking quicker than you probably should, anything to distract you from your partner as he obliviously floats by.

For our sake, you silently beg the hungry little creature that whines and snaps at the image of a shirtless Ezra, please fuck off.

While Ezra whistles a vaguely familiar tune, terribly off-key, you scoop up the cool lagoon water and dribble it over your hot knees, then your thighs, dampening the rims of your make-shift shorts just enough to cool them without leaving them vulnerable to a permanent state of moisture due to the high humidity. You flick the last drops of the water onto your chest, your white cotton bra choked to your skin. A final effect, you press the cool can to the thrumming pulse on your neck, closing your eyes with a relieved grunt, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of the cold metal against the rapid beat in your throat.

From the water, you hear an unsettled grunt and you open your eyes to find that same shirtless Ezra staring at you, the rag now curled in one hand against the rubber float. He swallows, looks at something past your ear, and again tries to adjust in the sticky rubber float without flipping himself over, his hands falling into his lap.

“Neptune, dear, would you do us the favor of tossing over one of those cans? I’m parched. I think my lovely skin is drying out.”

Neptune. His favorite nickname for you. You never got any real explanation from him as to why you got that name, other than after you’d officially joined his crew, you told him you came from a blue planet in a far off system. But that was often the way of things: Ezra did something and you didn’t question why. From that simple truth, you learned about how to repair and rebuild the entire electrical system from a drop pod. You learned, in excruciating detail, the parts and mechanics of a thrower, so much so that you could almost identify the model number at a glance. You learned about which corporate dig sites to avoid, which made for easy marks, and which would draw the eye and ire of entities hardly worth the trouble.

Being out on your own since you aged up out of the orphanage had not gone the way you hoped and life had not been so kind as to teach you any other way to survive. Ezra had found you in the back of a red spice market, cornered and slurping down the last few of your credits from a muck bowl that you had vastly overpaid for.

For whatever reason, he offered you a job on the spot, despite you having nothing to offer him. and no experience in anything except cleaning prophylaxiams and staying out of the way.

And yet, he has been far kinder than life, or anyone else, had ever been to you.

As a result, loyalty was only a fraction of what you felt for him. What had begun as overwhelming adoration had grown hot to the touch, slippery between your fingers at night, and perhaps – what you feared most of all – obvious.

Yet when Ezra looked at you with a smile on his face, it was only comradery he wished to share with you, certainly not his bed. He shared it with practically every other bi-pedal humanoid you came across, but not you. And this you had to accept. And you did.

But being a little drunk made it that much harder to remember where to keep your hands to avoid being burned.

“Sure, Ez.” You tuck your legs out from the cool water and dig around in the canvas bag at the base of the white nut tree. Most of the ice had melted into the bright green grass around the lagoon, but a few of the cans were still cold. You’d probably tease Ezra later for skimping on the insulation bucket the provisions store the port offered, but he had been so eager to get to the camp ground after spending an “exceedingly exorbitant amount of time stacked up against human drivel on public transportation”. One lopsided grin, and you’d give him the world.

“Ez–,”

He lifts the rag, glancing at you over his shoulder, hands cupped as the can flies through the air. The cold metal presses against the overheated skin on his chest and he hisses. Eyeing the can ruefully, he cracks it open and drinks deep. You busy yourself with sliding to the edge of the pool again to keep from watching his throat move.

Ezra finally pulls back, smacking his lips, with a pleased groan. He wets the rag again and dramatically flops it over his eyes. Hidden from his view, you watch the roll of water down his temples, his neck, his chest.

“Name anything better than this, Neptune, I beg you. Free from obligation or assignment on commission. Where my only moral imperative is to drink as many of these as I can and remind you how beautiful you are. Which . . .” he tilts the bottom of the can towards you, head still tilted back on the raft and dripping rag covering his vision, “fantastic, by the way.”

Having stifled your blush while under his watchful gaze about three or four other times today, without him looking, you flush so hard and fast you go lightheaded. Beautiful, he said. You drink more carbonated alcohol to choke back your rising heart, your eyes skim over the curve of his nose, a drop of sweat as it peaks on his forehead. You can’t linger over him too long; he has a six-sense about you – unable to know what you’re thinking but that you’re overthinking all the same.

“Was this worth the trip on public transportation, Ez?” Your ankles stir the water again.

“I could do this all day,” he sighs contently, bringing a warm smile to your face. “And definitely all night.”

Maybe you’ll both be so sun-drunk later tonight, you’ll fall asleep together on the pallet on the floor. Of course, by nightfall, someone will have to come to their senses and you’ll be tucked back into your separate sleeping bags, but maybe, as a present you couldn’t possibly ask for, you can just nap together.

With the bottom plush of your lip stuck between your teeth, you rim the metallic edge of your can with your nail, ankles spinning slow circles in the water.

“Thank you, Ezra,” you say quietly, “for the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

It began as a sort of joke one night on the volcanic hotspring moon of Wulkan after a twelve hour shift hunting through the black ash in search of fire pearls. The job was rather rushed, and Ezra had his reservations going into it, but fire pearls were a near certainty and you both needed a boost after a jump exchange had gone a little cockeyed. Sweat dripping from his temples, the provided water packs in the harvest suits doing just enough to keep him from passing out from heat exhaustion, he extended the skein of hydro-electric towards you across the narrow lane between your cots and asked you if you could be anywhere right now, any system, where would you be.

“Somewhere so cold I freeze my tits clean off,” you said with a sigh and wiped your own sweat-drenched forehead. You could smell yourself after two days of sweating profusely, but your stench in comparison to the rest of the crew, including Ezra, barely registered any more. You took a sip as Ezra laughed.

“A grievous crime against humanity and all its luscious gifts, but I get your meaning. Anywhere else?”

“Water.” This was said with more conviction, so much so it turned Ezra’s head towards you. “The few memories I have of my home planet and my parents, we were always near or in water. An ocean, maybe. I’m not sure. But I remember being really, really happy and I think being near water . . . it would make me happy again.”

You handed the skein back to Ezra, something unreadable in his gaze. He took it back from you, his fingers dark from the ash that clings to everything. On the other side of the tent, the rest of your crew and other teams mill about, yelling, with cutlery clattering as the camp gets ready to slow for the night, a graveyard shift picking up in just a few hours.

Ezra’s eyes are as dark as the ash you’ve been shifting through the past two days.

“Then you shall have it, Neptune.” He said, quietly. “I’d give you the fucking galaxy if I could.”

Those words often came to you in the crevice between sleep and wakefulness, when your mind was idle and the reins that tightly bound your affection for him loosened without a conscious grip. When you thought you weren’t being watched.

The flat of his foot hooking behind your ankle breaks you from your reverie. Cast into shadow by the wide, rubbery palm leaves above your head, he looks at you curiously.

“That look of deep consternation is giving me a headache. Spill.”

With a faint smile, you gently bump his knee with your own. “Nothing, Ez. I’m just glad we get to take a break from it all. I can’t remember the last time I . . . the last time we’ve just had nothing to do.”

He cocks his head as his gaze crawls up your ankle, your shin, to your knee. You think it might linger on your thigh before it bounces to your face. You tighten your grip on the hot, expansive feeling behind your ribs and stare back at him.

“Then that’s a black mark against me, as the leader of this clan.” His mouth curls, eyebrow arching as he talks, knowing that statement has been a point of playful contention between you two for years. “A good overseer knows when to crack the bullwhip and when to let it rest.”

“Well, a better overseer knows when to demand that her team rests, because sometimes they have no idea what’s good for them.”

His foot rotates behind your ankle, his toes brushing against your calf, bringing your attention to your own body part in the water. Your legs are hairy, nearly as much as Ezra’s, and you haven’t shaved your pits in possibly a decade. Ezra once brought home a professional nightwalker, one from the Upper City, to the derelict flat you’d been sharing for two weeks as you offloaded your haul to the under markets. You never forgot how smooth her skin had been, shaved clean and smelling of moon lilies. That scent permeated the small space for weeks afterward. Even now, just the sight of moon lilies makes you nauseous.

His aversion to you runs much deeper than physical aesthetics, even if you can’t help but wonder sometimes if becoming as smooth and hairless as the nightwalker might change his mind.

“Observational to a fault as always, Neptune.” The ball of his foot rests briefly between your legs before he pushes off from the spongy lip of the lagoon’s edge. He floats back into the sun, his head shaking slightly, a smile drained of amusement on his lips. He inhales as the sun crests over his forehead and he glances up at the blue sky. “I have no idea what’s good for me.”

Something about his tone, the way he turns away from you, scratches a very raw place inside of you – a place that fears and obsesses over abandonment. You wouldn’t survive it if he abandoned you, if he left you to fend for yourself one day. Logically, you know he would never do that – he has sworn up and down to your face that that notion is fundamentally ludicrous to him – but the anguish of him silently rejecting you from his bed again and again and again makes that fragile place inside you bleed red.

You stand up, swipe another can from the bag, and move towards the waterfall.

“I’m taking a hike.”

You feel his eyes on the backs of your thighs as you march towards the gentle incline.

“Be safe, Neptune,” he calls softly.

For a fleeting second, you wish he had made you stay.

The first fat raindrop splashes against your cheek and wakes you from a humid, irritated nap. You’re scowling by the time you open your eyes to several more wet droplets as they splatter against your neck, your forehead and you sit up, even more frustrated than when you fell asleep. The last sticky tendrils of dreams snap and pop as you pull yourself onto your feet, back hunched and arm held high against the steamy sprinkle. A crack of lightning, then a growl of thunder, and the sky splits open, drenching you in seconds. With a snarl of your own, you snatch up the empty can from the grass next to you and make for your camp down the hill. As you crest the top, you see a figure standing outside the tent, back tense and hand raised as if searching through the twilight gray downpour.

Normally, the thought of warming up beside Ezra in your yellow tent fills you with something inexplicable, the grime and load of the day melting from your shoulders, but your buzz from earlier has thickened, made worse by the heat, the emotions in your heart all gummed up and smashed together. The sight of him cranks up your irritation high in your ears. With a huff, you concentrate on a smooth slide down the hill without breaking your ankles and not the fire rising in your gut.

But the rain and the distance apart has only stoked his own outrage.

“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as you yank back the velcroed tent flap. He is dripping from head to toe in jungle rain as he follows closely behind you into your small space. You ring the water from your hair into a corner and scowl up at him.

“I fell asleep. The rain woke me up. I came back as soon as I could.”

His eyes narrow, water rolling off his bare shoulders as if he still stood out in the downpour. The droplets pat pat pat against the tarp floor as he snatches up a fiber towel and dries himself off, scowling all the while.

“I searched for you, calling your name up and down this fuckin’ jungle and I didn’t hear a peep. What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d been hurt?”

“Then I would have fucking dealt with it, Ezra.” You stomp to your feet, neck hot from his patronizing gaze. Hands on his hips, you feel like you’re being scolded. “I can take care of myself.”

One dark eyebrow arches mockingly, the scar on his cheek twisting in his scowl.

“And you expect me to lay about, twiddling my thumbs, while I wait for you to return or until you deem it appropriate for me to fret over your corpse?”

That patch of blonde hair is a shade darker, drenched and pressed flat against his forehead. His bare chest is littered with scars and divots where chunks of flesh had been torn away. His skin is a reflection of the hard life he lives. You doubt you’d look any different if you’d seen yourself in a mirror.

“We are partners, Ez,” you grind out between locked teeth. “Equals, alright? I am not your little sister for you to fuss over and you are not my keeper.”

At that, the indignant swell of his chest deflates and the anger in his eyes flickers before fading out.

“You are beyond capture,” he mutters, eyebrows down but gaze distant. “I’d never dream of keeping you, Neptune.”

Again, it’s his phrasing that hurts most of all. You glance away, the backs of your eyes growing hot and tight, drying out despite the sticky moisture warming the inside of the tent. But then his hand around your elbow startles away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“You are the most important thing to me in the entirety of this world and the next,” he says softly, earth eyes searching your face. “I came on too strong, I know that, but the idea that you’d ever be gone from my side for any amount of permanence . . . well, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve felt fear like that.”

His frown goes belly-up, a hopeless smile on his face. “I wasn’t aware I even still could.” His calloused thumb brushes your skin, skin that nearly catches fire from the rough drag of scar tissue, before he lets his hand drop. Your own curls into a fist at your side, a tremor rattling the bones of your wrist in an effort to keep from reaching up and touching that moon-shaped scar you dream about at night.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ez. You taught me enough to survive in a world like this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

That smile goes wan, sickly. “That’s the problem, dear heart, I trust you with my life.”

He swallows, as if suddenly bashful to make direct eye contact with you. He clears his throat before rummaging around in his canvas bag for dry clothes. He yanks a black, sleeveless shirt on over his head before setting up the materials for a flameless pocket fire.

“Since my dreams of showing you something called a barbeque have been quite literally rained out, we’ll finish off the rest of the dredge pack tonight. But come first light, I’ll fix you breakfast so succulent, the smell alone’ll make your mouth water. How does that sound, Neptune?”

He barely slows to breathe as he seamlessly switches topics from breakfast to another meal made at camp without looking up or stalling in his prep for dinner, hands almost disconnected from the humming of his mouth – one so methodical, the other like a channel rat on fire.

“– and the thing was no one was really sure enough what a squatter egg looked like when it goes bad. But being out in a cramped hold-out for two weeks where it was so dark, your own ass and someone else’s had no demarcation, well, there wasn’t a single peep of dissimilitude . . .”

Words strung together so quick and so melodic, it was always incredibly easy to fall into a sort of easy trance around Ezra. Sounds and syllables just sounded right coming out of his mouth and after a while, that trance became a state of repose, Ezra’s own sense of calm filtered to whoever was also in the room. But not to you, not right now.

After spending immeasurable time with less than half a space between you in cramped tents and in claustrophobic dig sites, you could read the tension on the lines of his body as well as the lines on the palm of your hand.

“Neptune? You with me?”

Ezra glances up at you, always aware of you and your movements like the twinge on a spider’s web, a signature smile that has always seemed to shine a bit brighter for you plastered over his face. The anger was the only thing holding you up and with it gone, you can feel your bruised heart twinge as it folds over itself.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m gonna switch out of these wet clothes before we eat, okay?”

He hums, nodding, eyes fixating on the steadily boiling water in front of him as you turn away to the other side of the tent, by your pallet and traveler’s pack. As further evidence that he feels nothing but companionship for you, you feel his eyes remain nowhere near you as you strip off your shorts and bra for a sun-warm suit. Then again, you’d like to think it’s kind of scandalous to be changing in front of him, but you’d both seen each other naked more times than you could count – there is no modesty in foxholes. The space between your hips and your thighs feel sticky from sweat and the slick rain, the curve of your spine warm and flushed. The zipper is loud in the silence.

You’re braiding your damp hair away from your face when he sighs and the noise makes you look back at him.

“Answer me honestly, if you’ve ever cared for me a tick. Do you regret it?”

His eyes are sorrowful, worried, brow fixed down. Ezra is not, and never has been, a man prone to melancholy. His wrists rest loosely over his knees, gaze deep in the bubbling bone broth. The rain outside taps insistently at the tarp.

“Regret what?”

“Coming with me and taking on this life. It’s not an easy one,” he says quietly. “I should have offered you another choice, that day in the market. But one look at you and I . . . I was willing to trust you with my life, Neptune – far, far too soon. Even at my best, you make me irrational.”

You watch him, his broad shoulders moving, as he scoops up the hot, dark liquid into two bowls, and joins you by the entrance to the tent. You pin back the flap as he settles, the scent of humid rain immediately flooding your mouth, the pattering sound now twice as loud. Wordlessly, he hands you a spoon before digging into his own bowl.

The heat of the soup burns away all the silly, impossible things sitting on your tongue. You sit in silence, his presence never rushing you to answer before you are ready. As you eat, you stare out at the dark lagoon, where you had both been only hours ago, the clear water murky beneath the downpour.

“No, Ezra, I don’t regret it.” He stills, as if surprised you’re answering him now, mid-meal. He lowers the bowl to his lap, eyes trained on you. “You saved my life, more times than I can count.”

Your words loosen the rigid lock of his shoulders. He grins. “As you’ve said, you would have been just fine without me.”

Your vision goes blurry. You pin him with such a stare, you watch the blood rush from his face.

“But it would have been only half a life.”

“Don’t kid about that, Neptune, it’s not –,”

“I’m serious.” You put your bowl down and rub your eyes with your sleeves. Of all the ways he hasd seen you bare and naked, he’s never seen you this vulnerable. “I don’t wanna do any of this without you. I want you, Ezra.”

“You have me, dear heart, you have me.”

“Not like that and you know it.” You watch as understanding rolls across his face. His lips part, eyes wider. He swallows and you stare at the ceiling, cheeks suddenly wet and hot. He said he’d never leave you, but what if this is the thing that finally does it? Could he work with you, knowing just how deeply you love him, and not feel an ounce of disgust? “You told me once sex is just a way to pass the time, but never, not once, have you ever even tried to pass the time with me.”

He swallows, deeper this time, jaw locked, his eyes fluttering with the force of it. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Because it wouldn’t just be passing time with you.”

In that moment, you’re grateful for the rain, for the sound of something to fill the silence.

You stare at him, cross-legged in front of the open corner of this yellow tent, abandoned bowls growing colder, but he sits with his leg up, knee to his chest, as if to ward you off. Ward off whatever is growing in your gaze, under the flat bone over your heart in your chest. But whatever is stifling the air in your lungs, is warming his eyes past the point of comfort, barrelling towards expletives and the crass, the lewd and depraved. You cannot go back to having him look at you any other way.

That look loosens every line in his face when you crawl into his lap, your knees around his hips. The backs of your thighs go damp, even through the suit, pressing down onto his still-damp shorts, and you think his breathing has quickened.

His massive palm hovers near your cheek, unwilling or unable to pull you forward or push you back, his oak eyes searching your face for signs of discomfort as if he had somehow dragged you across the tarp floor.

“Neptune,” he mumbles as he focuses on the curve of your bottom lip, “this is unwise. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You can feel the hard curve of his shoulders as you follow the lines of his arms and settle them on his collarbone. Nothing has happened that can’t be undone – not yet. Your perfect, vicious Ezra hasn’t pressed you flat on your back like you thought he would at the hint of sex. You could return with your dignity tomorrow morning, this moment never spoken of again, and he’d let you have that. The shake of his elbow with his palm against the tarp is the only indication that something might be unsettling to him.

But it is your birthday after all. Maybe he’d let you have this one thing. He doesn’t know you’ll die without it.

“If you don’t want this . . . if you don’t want m-me, then say something. Push me away and I’ll never bring it up again.” You cup the sides of his neck as your hips shift forward, closer to him. The air in your lungs tightens, breath coming in shallow pants. Only then does he drop your gaze and fixate on your encroaching heat. “At least then I’ll know.”

There. Out loud. It’s been said, heard above the deluge of rain against the tent and the jungle outside.

His palm finally settles on your cheek. It brings a sense of wholeness to you like you’ve never known. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a breathy exhale pours out of your mouth. His thumb catches the plush curve of your bottom lip and he draws it towards your chin, his own mouth open, enraptured.

“Sweet thing, how have you not always known?”

His mouth is humid against yours, as if he swallowed the jungle while looking for you, his thumb releasing your lip to capture with his own. The tip of his pointer finger massages the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear, and he manipulates your head until your mouth parts like he wants.

His tongue skims your upper lip, a tentative exploration into the unknown rewarded with a low groan that is warmed by the heat coiling low in your hips. You taste his tongue, a hot glide inside your mouth, and you feel his arms slip around your lower back, his inhale of breath sharp across your face as he brings you closer. He bites your lips roughly, the spark of pain and pleasure crackling across your face as if you’d brushed a live wire.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, prying you from the back of his neck, just for a moment, his eyes heat-soaked. You suck your teeth, mouth open and seeking, and the hand around your jaw drops to your collarbone, the breadth of his palm nearly suffocating your throat.

The briefest pressure – the slightest touch – at the pulse at the bottom of your neck and your hips rock forward into him as he flattens his other palm to your ass, clutching you to him and pinning you to the pallet.

His teeth scrape against the curve of your ear, pinching the cartilage between his incisors, while his hands frantically search up and down your waist. His weight smothers you, his stomach breathing into yours, the flat plane of his chest rubbing your nipples raw against your suit, an unfocused lurch to his hips every time you tug on his hair. With every breath, every time you try to savor his touch, the taste of his mouth is like a wave, dragging you forward, wrapping a dizzy chain around your throat and squeezing.

Ezra’s greatest weapon has always been his mouth, that silver string spinning faster the longer he captivates you, spell-bound. Now he uses to decimate you in entirely new ways.

The suck of his lips against the moist flesh below your ear distantly distracts from the afterburn of his unkempt beard against your jaw, your cheek. His lips alternate patterns of reward with a plush kiss and punishment with a stern nip when you try and stifle a moan. The edge of his shirt is damp from resting against his shorts when you slip your fingers underneath to palm the small of his back. He stills when you run your fingers around to the front of his trunks.

His hand curls around a clump of hair at the base of your skull, his eyes darker than volcanic ash. The steady heat of his groin against your thigh is a sensation you’ll chase for the rest of your life.

“You know what happens when you touch a man there, Neptune?” He’s breathing hard, you both are, and the way he snags your hair in his fist has your head twisted at an odd angle, but you’d be damned to a Kevva-forgotten corner of the cosmos before you drop his gaze. You nod and that moon-shaped scar on his cheek twitches. “I know I didn’t teach you that.”

“L-learned it – somewhere else – Ezra.” Your mouth isn’t working properly, your lips swollen from his kisses, the slight pain in your scalp making it difficult to focus, while your cunt tightens hungrily. “Had to.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you wouldn’t give it to me.”

He leans back, his forearm tense and corded where he has you by the hair, a seemingly disinterested scowl on his face. But by the throbbing length pressed up against you, so far from where you need him the most, he is anything but.

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Without breaking eye contact, his chest raised inches above yours, his fingers snag on the blue zipper by your collar and your breathing nearly stops. He hums to himself, eyes following the path of the zipper as the material separates, click by click by click. When it reaches your belly button, he stops.

“Ezra –,” it’s a whine and you can’t even chastise yourself for it. And neither, it seems, can he.

Head tilted as if curious about the label of a box beneath colorful wrapping, he dips his wide hand beneath the edge of your suit. The heat that radiates from his palm against the curve of your stomach has you writhing underneath him, your knees drawing up to his hips, trying to catch any relief.

But he takes his self-satisfied time. Callouses of a hard-won life snag and drag over the soft paper-thin skin that covers your ribs as he maps you in one hand. When he cups your right breast in his palm, the noise you make is a sob of gratitude.

“You let another man besides me do this to you?”

The snarling pit of your own thoughts slows as some awareness realizes he’s speaking to you.

You swallow, clutching his bicep, begging for forgiveness before even opening your mouth to answer.

“It didn’t mean anything, Ez, it wasn’t you – it meant nothing to me–,”

“But you let someone else touch what’s mine, hm?” That lazy, slightly irritated look on his face, he rotates his hand, squeezing the cup of your tit again, before sharply pinching your nipple.

“Ezra–,” you choke out and his thigh shifts between your legs, just close enough to feel the heat but nowhere near close enough to grind against. His thumb rotates the raised flesh slow enough to capture and catalog every sigh it draws from you, his eyes catching between his hand and your relaxed face.

He wears the same expression he does when sitting in the backs of blackmarket tea shops and smoky alebins. When the prospect of striking gold becomes all he can think about.

“Strip.” He suddenly commands. He lifts off you just enough for you to wrench your arm through the armhole, all the while keeping a rough palm on one breast, and then the other. You watch him massage your flesh and your ribs tremble with an unsteady breath. Only when a slightly cool breeze meanders over your bare shoulders and chest do you realize that the tent flap is still open, your head inches from the edge. A perfect and unimpeded view to anyone who wants to watch him hungrily grope your tits. Embarrassment peaks sharply, despite his hand pressing you into the tarp, you wrench your neck back and look over your shoulder through the window of the open tent as if you need to confirm that you are giving the jungle a floor show.

“Ez– shit, the flap–,”

He finds that the skin beneath your breast had grown sticky and slick from sweat, the humidity still oppressive even with a breeze. He bends his head and licks that same sweaty path and your attention snaps back to him, nails curling against his scalp, his warm breath a high-intensity balm to your roughly-played-with nipples.

“Not a soul in sight, Neptune,” he murmurs lazily into your ribcage, his nose running up and down the valley between your tits. “And if there were, let them learn a thing or two.”

His teeth nip the swell of your stomach as he crawls down your half-naked body. Without his heat and hands, the tenderness from his attention on your breasts ratchets up to an ache, a minor preoccupation before he hooks his fingers around the rest of the jumpsuit and tugs.

You are naked beneath him, swollen chest rising and falling, your knuckles scraping against the pallet as you search for something to grip with all your might. You smell of lagoon water and hot jungle air, of muggy photosynthesis and algae. The smoky scent of the black ash of that distant planet never really left Ezra and the dampness of the rain seems to stir it up. He towers over you, dark and breathing heavy. Smoke and brimstone.

He gropes your ankles, then your calves, hands gliding over the thick hair there – now grown soft in length – as he slowly spreads your legs, with a light you’d never seen before in his eyes.

“Neptune, I revolve around you.”

A wave of anxiety lurches up your throat when he brings his mouth to your cunt, the cloying, imagined scent of moon lilies threatening to tear you out of the moment – he won’t want you wild like this – but it’s forcefully yanked back down with a single stripe of his tongue. His previously casual, authoritative persona cracks when he buries his face into your unkempt curls and lets out a deep, overly pleased moan.

Your back bends and he’s gathering up your limbs in his arms to pin them down, nearly resting his forehead on your pubic bone. A few more licks, some deeper than others into where you drip for him, and your thighs start to shake. His fingers around your thighs squeeze roughly against your flesh and pull you further apart.

Between the flush of slick seeping from you at an embarrassing rate and the wiry hair kept natural out of a certainty no one would see it, he must be drowning or choking, his tongue flicking and sliding, nose prodding your clit just enough to spread the sparks of arousal up through your spine. Feeling as though you’re losing your grip on reality, you sink your hands into his hair, thumb rubbing back that blonde patch, and tug. The moan he shoots into your cunt as he rocks forward into your touch has you whining helplessly. The tarp squeaks where he rubs his hips into it.

His arms curled around your thighs, your hips shake with restraint against every lap of his tongue until he flicks your clit and your hips grind up against his obliging mouth, a sunspot of pleasure flaring brightly. But all too soon, Ezra lifts up onto his elbows, his hands smoothing across your stomach and he pops his mouth up from your wet folds. With an irate gasp, the swell of bliss fading, your gaze snaps down to plead with him, but he shakes his head.

Wordlessly, he takes one hand from your thigh and wipes his mouth clean with a swipe of his fingers. Then, with his eyes wide, the skin around his mouth loose, he crooks two fingers at the top of your mound before sliding them down where his mouth was seconds ago and presses them inside of you. That simmering in your low belly roars back to life and you toss your head against the unforgiving pallet, eyes slamming shut. He growls at the obscene sucking noise your cunt makes as he plucks at you, in and out.

“Oleaginous,” he hums, so quietly, it might have been for him. He tongues your clit lightly, pushing his fingers as deep as they can go, watching you thrash. “Mine. Understand?” You remember that tone of voice from when he had you dissecting throwers on a workbench in front of him. You nod, eyes fluttering open, balancing on the precarious edge of release.

You want to obey his every word.

His thumb twists up, opening your clit to him and within a whispered breath of “good girl” he sucks your bundle of nerves and launches you into orbit.

Your entire body goes stiff from the force of it, only to crash back down into his waiting hands, your voice wavering on a high-pitched, girlish wail that shrieks above the sound of rain. Waves of bliss lap at every nerve ending and your vision goes fuzzy for a minute, the only sound you can register is the pounding of your blood in your ears.

And then you register the steady, wet plunge of his fingers still dragging in and out of your pussy.

“Was that mine?”

Your clit tingles from overstimulation, but you’d rather die than have him stop – you want to answer, if only you could pick up the pieces of your voice. You can only nod, whining. He presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, the skin there smeared with your release.

“You did a bad thing, letting someone else touch what’s mine.” He scolds, rubs that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head, holds his finger to it until it burns. You cry, his punishment evident. “Now you have to apologize, Neptune.”

You nod again, mouth wrenched open as he drags you back and forth across pleasure and pain.

“Y-y-yes, Ezra,” the words are bone dry, cracked between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Pure wickedness strikes those earth eyes and scorches them a singed black.

“Unfortunately, atonement is a fickle thing,” Ezra tuts, dragging his lips across your thigh in a mockery of a kiss, “and I’m not quite ready to offer absolution. Despite your offerings,” he wipes his mouth with a stroke of his palm, “this godhead remains rigid.”

You whimper. He grins with a mouthful of teeth.

Ezra pulls back onto his knees and shuts your thighs, his hand palming your ass as he indicates that you should turn. Your entire lower half still feels like jelly – no one has ever made you come that hard with just their mouth before – but you obey. You stagger onto your hands and knees in front of him.

His wide palm appears beneath your chin.

“Spit.”

You do.

That spit-wet hand cups your still wet cunt, middle finger rubbing briefly against your clit, before it disappears. You feel him move closer, hear his slick hand pump himself a few times with a grunt. Hot lips drag up your spine, interspersed with the nip of teeth, and when he lays across your back, his hands overtaking yours and threading your fingers together, his bare chest presses up against the skin of your back and you shudder.

He noses your temple, his throbbing cock coated between your folds. He bites at your jaw and follows your line of sight through the open tent flap.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? All that moisture, dripping and running over smooth rock and fern. All that heat coagulating in spaces it shouldn’t fit. All that . . . open field, for anyone to just wander into. Take a look around and smell the air. Could they smell you like I can, Neptune? The way you leak for this cock?”

As he hums filth in your ear, his hand settles again at the base of your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to threaten, before sliding down to your swinging breasts, rough palms catching your swollen nipples, then arching down your stomach and between your legs.

He plays slowly with your clit; barely enough stimulation and he knows it.

“Ask for forgiveness.” He croons in your ear. The breeze returns for a moment, and between the heat of him mounting you like a feral animal and the hesitant touch of outside air against your sweaty chest, you shudder with a groan.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so–,” his middle finger increases its pressure slightly and the words shatter in your mouth, “sor-ry.”

“And for what?”

He continues to rub between your folds and the minute hitch in his breath is more intoxicating than anything he’s done so far. This is affecting him just as much as it does you. He kisses your jaw then tugs on the skin with his teeth.

“For letting a-anyone but you t-touch me.”

Ezra presses his damp forehead into your shoulder, panting, your correct answers soaking the neurons in his brain. Your reward is the faster stroke of his finger.

“And why was that a reprehensible thing to do?” His hips rut into yours, the scrape and rub of his cock between your slick lips and thighs almost enough to set you off.

“Because it’s yours – I’m yours – f-fuck, Ezra, I’m yours, I only wanna be yours,” you sob.

He’s suddenly gone from above you and the loud crack of his hand against your ass cheek deafens you for a minute, the sting skittering up your back and down your thigh.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your elbows shudder, the weight of his tone, his hand nearly forcing you onto your chest with your ass still in the air. You wanna be so good for him.

He’s breathing hard and his skin is warm and damp where you feel his thigh press against the back of yours. There’s a measure of restraint he’s showing and it makes your heart pound in anticipation. You swing your hips back at him, as if you could catch yourself on his cock.

“I wanna show you I’m yours,” you cry, nails curling into the pallet. “Please, Ezra, please!”

His broad hand settling on your spine draws a hiccup out of you, a sob.

“Breathe . . . Good girls get what they need.”

On an exhale, his blunt tip spreads you apart and he shuffles closer as he thickens inside you. His loud, unabashed moan overwhelms yours, when you think you might just be devoured by him. His hand, the one at your hip, squeezes you, silent reassurance. You can feel the knuckles on his other hand against your slick lips as he feeds himself into you.

“Neptune, talk to me. How,” your cunt tightens around his girth at the sound of his voice coaching you along and he grunts, as if suddenly dizzy, “h-how do you feel?”

“Amazing, Ez. Please keep going don’t stop I can take it–,”

He obliges; something’s reconnected the wires in his brain enough to tell him to move. He huffs before sinking deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out and waits again, letting you both catch your breath.

“Spent a hundred moons thinking about this.” The puff of breath against your shoulder is the only warning you have before he presses his mouth to your skin. His hand free of your clutch, his thumb softly rubs the muscle of your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, wherever he finds bare flesh. “Would wake up in the night, with you a few feet from me, looking like divinity made sin, made real, but I wasn’t worthy to touch you. You got me all tongue-tied, Neptune, all mucked up in the head. A silly boy,” he purrs.

You glance over your shoulder, unsure which Ezra is going to meet your eyes, but wanting all of them. The man you feel most safe with in this world and the next greets you and you reach back and squeeze his hand. He chuckles softly, and with it, comes a gentle roll of his hips. You gasp, airily, your gaze slipping from his face to his chest, to the steady breathing in his stomach, and then to the growth of hair that fades as it reaches up his low belly. How many times did you sit across the room from him with your fists in tight balls, watching as he regaled exploits of riches and wonder, all the while thinking about how thick his cock is outlined in his suit – you’re so blinded by breathy dreams of what the musky scent of his cock must taste like that you miss that he’s pulled out farther, halfway now, and you are completely knocked senseless when he thrusts back in, a beat faster.

“Later, Neptune. I’ll let you suck my cock later, but right now I’ve gotta ride this pussy to oblivion.”

Your thighs quake at his promise, cunt squeezing him, and he huffs, picking up speed.

“I felt that. You really like sucking cock that much?”

All you can answer him with is a whine. Your knees are starting to ache from the barest cushion the tarp provides, the palms of your hands sore, but you can’t find it in you to remotely care. With every stroke, he fills you up to a breaking point before riding you back out. Moaning gratefully, you finally drop onto your elbows, your cheek scraping against the pallet with every forceful thrust behind you. He tilts your hips up higher, on one knee to fuck down into you; he’s searching with his cock for that spot that made your brain numb.

Like a flood, you feel bliss roll down your spine, his hands on your lower back pulling you up another peak, and you gasp, at the edge of a very, very long drop, the sounds in the tent as sticky and wet as the rain outside.

But Ezra’s sounds are loudest of them all. Grunting. Hissing. Moaning like he’s fucking the best pussy of his life. You open one eye, glancing over your shoulder and the sight drops open your mouth. Hips pumping forward, skin dewy with sweat, he breathes like a freshly broken-in stallion, relieved that something finally bested him. Chest full and tight with muscle, flushed pink with roaring blood. Stomach torqued with tension. His rhythm is caught between his hands pulling you onto him and his cock thrusting into you. A frantic beat that bounces wet and hot, mouth agape and eyes rolling shut, his head drops back between his shoulders. You push back slightly and he stutters, the hand on your hip tightening.

“Not gonna last, Neptune–” he grits, his jaw locked tight. The image of him actively staving off an orgasm for you to finish first has been imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life.

“J-just a little harder, Ez.”

He obeys, submitting as you had for him, sweat curling around his neck and down his chest.

As release barrels down on you, those mahogany eyes catch and hold yours in a second that lasts through infinity. They promise you things that you didn’t know you asked for, those eyes, made vows only your soul could hear. You see, in that instant before you are swallowed whole, that he’d die at your feet, if you asked him to. He’d give up every worldly treasure he won through grit and his teeth if you needed it or wanted it. If it made you happy.

His Neptune – in the crushing grip of your gravity. Willingly caught in the trail of your comet as you fill up his night sky.

“Yeah, that’s it, right there – Ez-ra!”

His face blown out in near ecclesial bliss is the last thing you see before your vision goes white. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly, it's the only thing that exists for an instant. And then you shatter with a perfectly soft cry, bliss breaking across you like a heavy wave, and you succumb to exhaustion.

Behind you, he groans, fucking you faster through it, snarling something entirely incomprehensible.

You think you might say his name, you don’t know what your mouth is doing, but whatever you say, it breaks him and you are dragged through another low shock, the flood of cum deep into your achy cunt enough to contract your walls again, his harsh groan stuffing your ears just as full.

The rain is barely louder than your desperate attempts to breathe.

The tarp crackles as you slump forward onto your stomach, Ezra dropping to his side with half his body over yours. Panting raggedly, his hand curls up to the base of your neck, a reassurance of his presence and commitment when words have failed him.

You lay like that for a long time.

And then, when feeling starts to return to your limbs, you turn your head, your nose rubbing against his. When you breathe hotly across his face, he grins a satisfied grin that splits into a chuckle. You laugh with him too, curling up into his chest, his forearm is sticky across your spine, and he kisses your forehead.

Staring up at the tarp, together you listen to the rain.

In the long drawn out, buzzy silence, his nails scratch the base of your skull. And then, like he remembered something vital, he picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do you want this to change things for us?”

“Yes.” You cup the muscles of his thick neck. “Yes, Ezra. I want this to change everything between us. Please.”

He smiles, unguarded and open.

“Wild horses never stood a chance . . . especially against these tits.” He nips at the swell of your breast and you laugh. “I had no plans of letting you go in any case . . . but we are bound from this day forward. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod. A stroke of heat passes over his eyes and Ezra leans forward to kiss you, his hand on your cheek pulling you in close, as close as you can be, two sticky bodies, cum-dried and tingling.

“And if we’re going to spend every year of our lives together, I have a question for you.” he pushes away a stray strand of hair stuck to your face, nose tip to nose tip, “did you have a good birthday, Neptune? Are you satisfied?”

With a giggle that has his eyebrow arching playfully, you kiss his cheek.

“I already told you. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

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phoward89 · 20 hours

Text

Based on this ask

You've been married to President Snow for 25 years now and have 4 children between the ages of 20 & 9. When your 15 year old daughter wants to go on her first date, Coriolanus isn't taking it well. He's an overprotective girl dad.

Takes place in the Anti-Hero Universe

Your daughter, Demeter, was a total daddy's girl. She was spoiled and had Coriolanus wrapped around her little finger. Just like her 3 brothers, your daughter was the spitting image of her father. Platinum blonde curls, cerulean blue eyes, mile long legs, and a prominent nose.

Your daughter inherited your smile and your demeanor. You saw so much of your younger self in your daughter. More so than in your other children.

So, of course, Coriolanus had strict rules for his princess when it came to boys. Well, really it was only one rule. No dating until enrolling in the University.

Meaning Demeter couldn't date until she graduated from the Academy- at 18. But, you're sure that when that time comes a new rule change will come into effect- making her age of dating pushed up by a couple of years.

Demi was a bright girl in her first year at the Academy; she was adhering to her dad’s rule until one day she wasn't.

You, Coriolanus, your first born Cassian, his longtime girlfriend Phoebe (who you stopped the president from poisoning a few times since he couldn't stand the flippant girl), Demeter, and your other sons Caspian and Caelestis were gathered around the large, ornate dining table in the presidential palace for dinner. Despite being kept busy as the President, your husband was very adamant that the family ate together every night. Hell, the family ate breakfast together every morning too- in the sunroom.

Minus Cassian's girlfriend since Coriolanus did not let her live in the Presidential Palace. He's still pouting over the last poisoning attempt that you thwarted. One day, you're certain you won't be able to stop him and he'll succeed.

“Seneca Crane asked me to the Yule Ball and I said yes!” Demeter blurted out, an overjoyed smile on her youthful face, as the Avox served the first course.

You could hear a pin drop. Even the Avox paused in their motions of serving the tomato bisque to watch, wide-eyed, President Snow's reaction. Oh boy, everyone knows the one rule your husband had for your daughter. And Demeter announcing that she was asked out and said yes broke that one rule.

Even if it's for the Yule Ball, the rule of no dating is still being broken. Attending a ball or gala with a boy is considered a date. Or at least it is in the Capitol.

“I’m sorry, Demi, but you'll have to tell the young Mister Crane that you won't be attending the Yule Ball with him.” Coriolanus calmly, but cooly, told your daughter. Then he snapped his fingers and motioned for the Avox to continue serving the soup to the family.

Everyone’s eyes fluttered between Coriolanus and Demeter. Yours included. Would she accept her father's order or would she push back.

You knew exactly what she'd do. Hell, it was the exact same thing you did when your own guardian, your older half-brother, forbid you to see Private Snow anymore. You pushed back and picked Coryo; you're sure that Demi’s going to push back and pick Senaca Crane.

And you're right.

“Daddy, all of my friends are going to the Yule Ball. Everyone's going! And I'm going too, with Seneca Crane, whether you like it or not!” Demeter shrieked, only to loudly push her chair away from the table and storm out of the dining room.

“Demeter Juniper, come right back to the dining room! You haven't been properly dismissed yet!” The President orders in a loud, authoritative tone.

But your daughter didn't come back. In fact, you think she stormed off to her room. Not that you blame her.

You knew that Coryo would let her be; that he wouldn't chase after her. Demeter had him wrapped around her finger. She was daddy's little princess. The President would never make a scene by leaving the dining room to chase after her; he’d wait til after dinner to have a word with her.

Hell, this isn't the first time something like this has happened and it won't be the last.

The President took a deep, calming breath while motioning the Avox over. Once the Avox appeared at his side, he told the Avox, “Have a maid wheel a trolley full of all the supper courses to Demi’s room.”

Of course your husband was having the full course meal sent up to your daughter. Even tho she stormed off during dinner, Coriolanus didn't want her going hungry. He loves his children too much to ever let any of them go hungry.

The Avox nodded and took off to get your daughter's meal sent up to her.

“Now, let's go back to our soup.” The President said, causing everyone to pick up their spoons and begin to eat their tomato bisque.

“Mister President, maybe you should let Demeter go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. It could be the beginning of a sweet relationship.” The teal haired girl sitting next to Cassian has the idiotic nerve to tell your husband.

“Phoebe…” Cassian hissed warningly at his girlfriend while giving her a swift kick under the table.

“Yes, well, my son took you to the Yule Ball his sophomore year of the Academy and you've been a barnacle on the Snow family for years.” Your husband curtly told Phoebe, causing Cassian to cringe in embarrassment. “But unlike my sons, I have stricter rules for my daughter.” Coriolanus explained while pristinely bringing his soup spoon to his mouth.

“Phoebe, perhaps you should just enjoy the tomato bisque and not worry about how my husband and I raise our daughter or, in fact, any of our children.” You told the teal haired girl with a pointed fake smile while placing a supportive hand on your husband's under the table, on his lap.

Phoebe’s eyes went wide, but she silently nodded and went back to her soup. In fact, after your remark, everyone began to engage in light conversation while tentatively sipping on soup.

Coryo squeezed your hand, that was on his- on his lap, only to lean over slightly to tell you, “After dinner I'm going to talk with Demi; explain to her why she's not allowed to attend the ball with Seneca Crane.”

“Don’t be too strict, Coryo. Remember, she's young and likes Seneca.” You knowingly advised your husband.

“Hmph.” Coriolanus huffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I know she's young. She's 15, my darling, and that's why I need to be strict on her about the subject of dating and boys.”

“Honey, my brother told me it was either you or them; I picked you. Demeter's all you in looks, but all me in personality. So, just don't push her too hard on this.”

“I know, my darling rose. I know.” Coriolanus sighed right as a maid came in to clear out the soup bowls.

As the maid left the dining room with a trolley full of empty soup bowls the Avox appeared with the main course. Time to carry on with dinner. They'll be time to deal with your daughter's dating drama later.

Demeter Snow was sitting on her bedroom floor, back against her bed, while thumbing thru fashion magazines. Since her Auntie Tigris was the most popular stylist and fashion icon Tigris, she was looking thru magazines to get ideas for her Yule Ball dress. A dress that her auntie would no doubt make for her.

The young blonde’s dog-earing a page in the magazine whenever a knock followed by her door cracking open and her father's head popping in with a simple, “Demi, it's dad. I'd like to talk.”, sounded out in the air.

“Come in “ Demeter flatly said while going back to thumbing thru her magazine.

Coriolanus walked into the room, only to frown whenever he saw the untouched food trolley near the door. “Princess, why didn't you eat?” He asked while making his way over to his daughter.

“I'm not hungry.” Demeter shrugged, flipping the page of her magazine.

The President pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low sigh before sitting down on the floor next to his only daughter. Turning to the platinum blonde girl, he sternly told her, “Demi, don't starve yourself in protest. I refuse to have any of my children go hungry, so I order you to eat your dinner once we're done talking.”

“Fine.” Demi sighed.

Coriolanus snatched the fashion magazine right out of his daughter's hands while telling her, “I don't know why you're looking at dresses for because you're not going to the Yule Ball with Seneca Crane.”

“Why not? Everyone else is going with a date. Why can't I go with a date, dad?”

“Princess, you're not like everyone else. You're the president's daughter; you're not going to the ball with a date because it's just not proper.”

“Not proper my ass.” Demi mutters under her breath.

“Excuse me, young lady, but such language is not permitted in this house.” Coriolanus scolded his favorite child. He was appalled by her actions right now. He expected her to accept his word as law, but it seems that you're right about her. She's pushing back, much like you did as a teenager.

“And you know my rules, no dating until you're 18 and have graduated the Academy. That includes balls and galas, Demeter Juniper.”

“Everyone in the districts is right about you, dad. You're such a tyrant. A damn dictator.” Demeter hatefully spat out, taking the President aback. He never thought that his little princess would say such hurtful things to him, but she did.

Blinking, Coriolanus stood up. The President’s shoulders were shaking with a mix of hurt and anger as he told his daughter, “Since I'm such a tyrant; a dictator, you're grounded, Demeter Juniper Snow, and you're not attending any balls or galas this year. Alone or with a date.”

“That's not fair!” Demeter whined as he dad went over to the door.

“Life isn't fair, princess. Maybe your mom and I have been sheltering you too much, but you don't always get things your way in life.” The president told his daughter before leaving her room.

Your husband was in a sulking mood all night while in the family room with you and the children. He didn't seem like himself and when you asked what was wrong he just waved you off; said everything was fine.

You knew otherwise.

Everything wasn't fine. Your husband was hurting and you have an idea why. Your daughter and him had words; something was said that cut him down.

Wanting to get to the bottom of things, you excused yourself with the intention of checking on Demeter. On seeing if she wanted to come down and join the family. Your husband just nodded while nursing his glass of bourbon whiskey. Your younger sons didn't say a word, being too engrossed in their chess match, while your first born son just kept his nose in his book.

So, that's how you found yourself sitting on your daughters bed, holding her while she picked at her strawberry shortcake and complained about how unfair her dad was being.

“I understand you feel like it's unfair, but your dad has his reasons for his rules. And lashing out on him, saying that the districts are right about him being a tyrant and a dictator, wasn't right, Demeter.” You firmly tell your daughter.

No wonder Coryo's sulking. You can't imagine how badly your daughter’s words have hurt your husband. Coriolanus truly believes that his pro-Capitol and strict District political policies have made Panem thrive. And, honestly, after the bullshit you experienced in the Districts during your youth, well, you side wholeheartedly with the Capitol.

With your husband.

“But-” Your daughter began to protest, only for you to cut her off with a motherly, “No buts, Demi. What you said to your dad hurt him. He only wants to keep you safe.”

As your daughter put her half-eaten dessert plate on the trolley, you told her, “Your father works hard not just to keep us safe, but to keep the Capitol and all of Panem safe. For you to say such hateful things to him isn't called for.”

“Everyone else gets to go to balls and galas with dates; I just want to be able to go too.”

“I know, honey, but it's not that simple. You’re the president's daughter; people might try to take advantage of you for that.”

“Mom, Seneca Crane's really nice. He wouldn't try to take advantage of me.” Demeter told you with such conviction. She truly believes that Seneca was just a nice guy that liked her for her.

Sighing, you told Demeter, “I’ll talk to your dad about letting you go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. But, you need to go down to the family room and apologize to him.”

“Okay.” Your daughter nodded, accepting your terms.

Later that night, you're in your large master bedroom with your husband. You're wearing one of your silky nightgowns while sitting at your vanity, doing your nightly beauty regime. Coryo's lounging on the bed you share, dressed in a pair of silky red pajamas. His platinum curls are in their natural state and he's got gold gel patches on under his eyes to prevent bags. His face is also lathered in facial creams, to keep his skin hydrated and wrinkle free during the night.

You and Coryo are in your early 40’s, have been married for 25 years now, and have 4 children- one who's 20, one who’s 15, and the others that're 11 and 9. And after all of that life experience you still find each other as handsome and beautiful as ever. Even lathered up in your nightly beauty and skincare regimens.

“Now, I've got no doubt that Seneca Crane's a nice boy- after all I knew his aunt and she had a personality to die for, but I'm not letting Demi go to that dance with him.” Coryo told you, watching you with sharp eyes, as he sat against the king-size velvet headboard.

“I thought you said that Arachne was a bitch that got a broken bottle to the throat cause she was teasing her tribute with it?” You asked, brow raised, as you finished applying your body lotion.

“I did say that.” Coryo nodded. Running a hand over his beard (which he began sporting after receiving a scar along his jaw from an attempted mine uprising during a business trip in 12 that occurred about 15 years ago), he sighed, “Maybe if it was Heavensbee’s son I'd reconsider, but a Crane?”

You picked up your silver brush and began to brush your hair. “Coryo, I know how you feel about this, but we need to trust her judgment on this.”

“But-” Coryo began, only for you to cut him off with, “No buts, Coryo. Maybe we need to let her go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. Give her a tiny bit of leeway; show her that we trust her.”

“Fine…” Coryo relented with a defeated sigh. Pointing a finger at you, he declared, “But I’m giving him one hell of a shovel talk when that boy comes to pick her up for the Yule Ball.”

And your husband was true to his word. President Coriolanus Snow gave Senaca Crane the shovel talk of all shovel talks. In fact, Seneca was so nervous after that talk that he barely even looked at Demeter. In fact, after the Yule Ball he never talked to her again; made excuses to not be around her, etc.

Safe to say that President Coriolanus Snow scared away his daughter's first potential boyfriend. It could've been worse. At least he didn't poison the boy.

So, after the Yule Ball and the failed date with Seneca Crane, Demeter Snow went back to worrying about her studies and fashion. She didn't bring up the topic of dating again, much to her dad’s relief.

But in 3 years time President Snow would have to deal with his daughter falling for her tribute, but that's a story for another day.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @meetmeatyourworst @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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guksfairy · 17 hours

Text

I’m Tired Anyways

Jungkook x bubbly OC

playlist • original scene •

WC: 2K

In which Jungkook shows you he genuinely cares about you in his own way

💗: HEAVENLY inspired by that one scene in ‘When I Fly Towards You’! If you want to see the original scene I based this fic off of I linked it above and it starts at minute 19:32 💗 !

note: I wrote this fairly quick so please excuse mistakes 🥲

You wish you could stare at her with a genuine smile but how could you? There she was standing with your Jungkook! Maybe not yours yet but eventually your Jungkook!

You watched as they stood in front of a stand looking at all the souvenirs displayed on the table along with a variety of other objects.

“Are you aware you’re pouting like a kid who was just told no?” You stare back at your best friend of 4 years and let out a breathy sigh.

“Sua, do you think they’re still close?”

“Considering this is their first time seeing one another after 2 years…no,” you begin to smile, “but who says people can’t reconnect,” and it goes away in an instant.

“You’re not helping,” you say fully turning and staring at the variety of sunglasses on the rack in front of you.

“You know I’m only joking! You can’t seriously be this upset because Jungkook and a girl from his old school are catching up,”

You walked out of your English exam tired as fuck. You looked at the other students walking out along with you and every single one looked tired. Your exam group had to get up at 6 AM for your test which would be from 7 AM to 10 AM.

Not all 3 hours were used but if you wanted a good mark than you better use them. As you walked down the ramp to the exit you catch a glimpse of Jungkook walking back and forth clearly waiting for you at the exit.

“Jungkook!” you run to him with a completely different emotion from the prior. His group was slightly luckier with their test only being 2 and a half hours long.

“I thought your test ended a half hour ago. Were you waiting for me?” you liked to tease him. He wasn’t big on emotions but even a smile would do for you.

“Oh- uh I just came out now,” you can tell he was bluffing but let it go realizing your other three friends weren’t with him.

“Have Sua, Jimin, and Minhyuk not finished their tests?” you question as you watch his eyes trail to the left and stared at the three crouching on the floor.

“She’s so in love with him she doesn’t even notice us,” you hear Minhyuk say as you smile shyly at Jungkook as he lets a barely audible laugh.

The three walk towards you and Jungkook.

“Well I need some food in my system. Should we look up places to eat here?” Jimin’s already taking his phone out before you can all agree but all your attention is quickly taken when you hear a voice call Jungkook’s name.

“Jungkook! Is that you? I thought I recognized you!” it was an older man walking towards your group with a girl who looked your age.

“Mr. Fukutomi,” Jungkook turns and greets the elder with a handshake. He wore a green badge signifying he was a teacher.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you! You remember my granddaughter, Tsuki,” she waves at your entire group and you try your best to keep a smile.

He remembers her?

“I’m assuming you came here to take your annual science exam? How was it?”

“I did and it was fine. I enjoy science a lot,” he speaks as the four of you just watch and listen to their interaction.

“Well it’s almost lunch time. Have you all eaten?” he asks and stares at us all.

“We were just on our way sir,” you hear Minhyuk behind you. You could hear the desperation in his voice for this conversation to end so he could finally grab some food.

“You should let Tsuki show you around town and then have lunch together afterward. She practically grew up here,” the elder suggests making a hand movement towards Tsuki who just smiled.

Again. You hear Minhyuk let a quiet sigh at the thought of doing something before eating.

“Oh we wouldn’t want to bothe-” ”Nonsense! I’m sure you two would like to catch up too!” he cuts off Jungkook before wishing you all a great day and walking away.

You all wave goodbye to him and watch Tsuki walk closer to you guys.

“I know this great sight seeing area but we need to walk a bit far for it,” she says.

“You think we can grab some snacks or something first,” Jimin asks.

“Of course. We can stop at the souvenir shop around the corner. They sell tons of snacks from around the world,” she explains.

“Lead the way,” Jimin replies as she lets out a small laugh and you all begin walking.

You walk shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook before realizing Tsuki was on his other side and they were laughing and conversating so you walk slower to be with Sua who was behind you.

“What’s wrong?” she notices your head slightly down as you wrap your arm around hers. You don’t even realize when Jungkook took notice of you leaving his side as he stared back at you.

You looked upset which worried him. Maybe he’ll ask you when you guys arrive at the shop.

“Tsuki’s pretty,”

“So are you, Y/N,” she replies.

“Tsuki seems smart,”

“So are you, Y/N. Stop sulking before I tell Tsuki to leave. Besides you know how head over heels Jungkook is for you,”

No. You don’t. Often times your friend group would tease you and Jungkook and would always say how in love he was with you but you never fully saw it.

Sure he’s defended you multiple times, has come to your rescue on multiple occasions, and always walks you home but maybe that was just him being nice.

He’d have to do much more for you to feel fully confident in his feelings towards you.

“Stop it. You would never,” you say leaning your head on her shoulder following the pace of the group.

“Tsuki!” you hear her call out and immediately panic resulting in you giving her a minor hit on her arm before staring at Tsuki and smiling at her. You end up making eye contact with Jungkook who also turned around.

“Nothing! Are we almost there?” Sua ask.

“We’re here!” she says pointing the bright shop filled with a variety of snacks.

Jimin and Minhyuk run inside grabbing snacks they know your group would enjoy leaving you, Sua, Jungkook, and Tsuki outside to stare at all the keychains, bracelets, and postcards.

Tsuki drags Jungkook over to a table opposite of you and Sua before she begins picking out random items.

“Got them! Let’s go” Jimin and Minhyuk walk out of the store with 1 bag filled to the brim of snacks for the 6 of you.

Tsuki begins to lead the group once more to a different destination in mind.

This time she led you to a steep hill. Not too steep but steep enough. You felt your legs giving out just from looking at it.

“I told you guys it was a bit of a walk but I promise the sights on the way up are so worth it!” she says with desperation in her voice hoping you all wouldn’t mind.

When you got ready this morning you weren’t exactly dressing for a hike.

Tsuki smiles and begins walking up and was followed by Jungkook and wherever Jungkook goes so do Jimin and Minhyuk.

“Let’s go,” Sua says walking a slower pace then the rest yet you still felt the burn after some time.

“Up ahead is a famous landmark if you guys want to go even further. You can see further out and it’s pretty during the day. Besides it’s a weekday and not many people are around if you guys are up for it,” Tsuki told the group.

You had all been walking for about 20 minutes and had finally reached an area with a bench and a sight.

“Is it the same one that people post all over their Instagram accounts to seem adventurous? Because if so, I am in,” Jimin’s eyes light up

“Yeah I mean we’re already here,” Minhyuk says with energy received after eating a bar of chocolate.

The group begins to move again before you interrupt.

“You guys go ahead! I’m going to rest here and wait for you guys. My shoes are making it slightly uncomfortable to walk,” you voice gets audibly quieter as you speak.

You look at Jungkook whose eyes don’t leave yours for a second watching you lift your leg off the ground just slightly to ease the tension in it.

“I’ll stay with you if you want,” Sua says staring at you.

“It’s fine, really, go enjoy the view,” you say looking back at the group and realizing his eyes haven’t left your face at all.

His expression read worried before his attention was pulled by Tsuki, “Jungkook, let’s go?” she begins walking away and Jungkook stares at you one last time before following suit.

You watch as the rest of the group continues walking uphill and sit on the bench staring out.

It had been about half an hour since the group left and you were growing bored.

As you take out your phone a hand reaches in front of your face holding a carton of strawberry milk with a straw poked in.

Jungkook always does it for you.

“You didn’t go with the rest of the group?” you say smiling up at him and take the strawberry milk from his hands.

“I saw a stand of drinks when we were walking and you said strawberry milk always makes you feel better,” you listen to him as you take a sip of the sweet drink and watch him sit next to you.

“Besides, I’m tired anyways,” he looks back up to where the group originally left from before speaking once more, “…they’re probably going to take a while. Do you want to explore?” he says looking at you.

“Explore?” you stare at him as he smiles at you and begins grabbing your bag and placing it over his shoulder and allowing you to get up before walking a bit further down.

“Tsuki failed to mention there’s a cable car that takes you directly to the land mark,” Jungkook says leading you to the cable car waiting for passengers.

“Oh my god if Sua found out about this she would be so annoyed! She was also starting to get irritated with all the walking,” you say taking another sip of your drink.

He’s staring at you like you hung the stars and leads you to the cable car before the two of you sit and watch the trees pass by as the machine gets higher and higher.

“You’re not afraid?” he says looking over at you and you shake your head.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of when I’m with you,” you say with the biggest smile and he stares away before you can watch his face flush

From there you completely forgot about your friends, Tsuki, and time.

Jungkook led you to other areas he thought you’d like. He bought you both ice cream and even bought you a small plushie to put on your bag because you said it reminded you of him. Eventually you two ended up on the beach collecting shells and staring at the sunset. Afterwards you decided to enjoy the view from the pier.

You watched him staring out at the birds flying above the waters and promised yourself you wouldn’t give up. Even if it took you years for him to reciprocate his feelings you would not be giving up.

When he turned to stare at you it caused you to immediately fluster and face the sea pretending you weren’t staring.

He was the one watching you this time. He was thinking about the carnival that’s coming to your city soon. He was thinking about the fireworks they would be releasing at 10 PM sharp. He was thinking about how you would react to him asking you out.

Would you turn him down? Jungkook was well aware your feelings for him were serious but he was never sure how to make it obvious he too had them.

Would you say yes and kiss him like you had in his dreams?

He would just have to wait and hope for it all to workout.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook

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fearful-quartet · 17 hours

Text

So I've been listening to The Magnus Protocol, and managed to get my dad into TMA last year so he's now listening to Mag Protocol too. So last night we were listening in the car to the latest statement, and I was half-jokingly saying which fear the statement sounded like mostly, to which my dad starts talking about how he doesn't think these statements and the O.A.I.R are connected to the Fears at all. I'm gonna try to put a cut for anyone not caught up but here's how this led to a theory of mine:

So Lena said to Gwen that there's good and bad forces that need to be balanced, but she never said which side of that the O.A.I.R. is part of, if any. I was noting this when it hit me.

Every single Magnus Protocol Statement so far has been about misfortune coming around due to perceived fortune or a fortunate opportunity becoming misfortune.

Let's break this down ep by ep so you see what I mean.

Episode One: It's a little hard to figure out what the fortune is to the misfortune, especially since it's mostly getting us used to the characters and the overall setup of the show, but for the first statement I think it's not the statement giver, but the husband. Harriet (the one emailing) says he sounded excited in an unsettling way (I am assuming the "he" she is talking about is her husband since she doesn't mention anyone else). When she meets him, or what has him, she describes that he laughed and laughed. Her misfortune was his fortune, his joy.

The second statement in that episode of course is about the Institute, but by way of a bunch of spelunkers looking for something intriguing to discuss. I haven't quite figured out the connection here but I am sure there is one, even if it's through the characters (aka Sam) finding something within it.

Two: A lot easier to connect to this. Daria is finding joy through getting this tattoo that allows her to change how she looks and alter her appearance immensely (and grotesquely). Enough said.

Three: This statement is one that overall I just don't understand tbh, but I think it shows the opposite? As in the victim is experiencing fear and discomfort the entire time, but towards the end you'll notice he gets much more happy and calm about the situation.

Four: This is again easy, it's about a violin that needs blood but will give you amazing talent if you pay that price, and horrible bloodshed if you don't. Self-explanatory.

Five: The guy is trying to make a living off watching and reviewing horror movies, gets excited at a live showing of one just for him, then realizes it's not what it seems and posts everyone should see it. Easy enough. (Very Grifter's Bone in energy)

Six: The introduction to infamous new tumblr sexyman, Needles. I shouldn't have to spell out how he gets pleasure from others in pain by needles.

Seven: All I gotta say is it's "all for a good cause" and you should get the picture.

Eight: Utilizes that uncanny fear of false hospitality if you ask me, but either way this statement is clearly taking something associated often as comforting and twisting it.

Nine: The dice literally affect fortune and misfortune and likely make the statement giver into the embodiment of fortune. 'Nuff said.

Ten: Bonzo needs no explanation for this in his introductory episode so let's move on.

Eleven: This one goes more into obsession territory than anything, which is another running theme of the show and another theory, but it also talks about how the sea brings comfort so that could be part of it. (Also I noticed the sneaky possibly Dr. David reference in there lol)

Twelve: Now I know what you're gonna say, "How is this one connected to fortune at all, Cal? It's about some woman being traumatized at a strip club!" Well think about this: what if it wasn't supposed to end in Bonzo? Gwen gave Bonzo an "assignment," didn't she? And Lena pretty much outright says that this statement was that assignment. So it's possible this is what happened after stopping the initial outcome.

Thirteen: The latest episode as of typing this, and the most clear with evidence. The man literally gains a fortune from his own misfortune, so ya know it's right there.

So every statement is a good thing turned bad or a bad thing turned good. So what? Magnus Archives had plenty of statements similarly framed, so why am I focusing on it here?

Because what is the tagline for Magnus Protocol again?

Fear takes many forms.

#the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #magpod #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theory #alexander j newall #jonny sims #tmagp needles #tmagp mr bonzo #magnus archives #the magnus institute #podcast stuff #the magnus pod #magnus protocol #someone please tell me I'm not crazy #cause i swear im onto something here #we'll see i guess #but if im right im coming back to this and saying i told you so

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queen-of-the-avengers · 2 days

Text

Practice Makes Perfect

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You're working on a movie alongside your celebrity crush, Elizabeth Olsen. Can you overcome your nerves enough to get through it?

Squares Filled: wanda maximoff for @badbitchesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Action movies are your specialty. Action movies are what make you comfortable. You like doing your own stunts, getting makeup done to look bloody, and getting your adrenaline going because of how extreme they want you to act. It’s what you’ve always known since all the movies you’ve been in have been action films.

Not this time.

Your agent got you a role in a modern romance film since she thought you’d be perfect for it. You are but that doesn’t mean you don’t know how to act in one. All the action films had a bit of romance to it but nothing like what they‘re asking you to do now. You only accepted because the director is a really good friend of yours and you couldn't turn her down.

Not only are you nervous about being in a romance movie, but you’re even more nervous that you’re acting beside the legendary Wanda Maximoff. Elizabeth Olsen has been your celebrity crush for years and you’re not sure how you’ll be able to film a romance movie with her without freaking out.

Actually, she’s more than just a celebrity crush you have. You’ve met her a few times over the years and she is the sweetest person you’ve ever met. She is shy and reserved but she is down to Earth and genuinely cares about people. She is a good person and that’s hard to find nowadays with celebrities.

You pace back and forth in your trailer with the script in hand for the few scenes you’re going to be acting out later. The director feels like it helps to get all the awkward and uncomfortable scenes out of the way so you don’t have to feel it later on, so the script is nothing but kissing scenes here and touching scenes there.

God, why did you think you can be able to do this? If your costar was anyone else, you wouldn’t have a problem with it. It’s only because it’s her that you do. What if she doesn't like the way you kiss? What if she doesn’t want to kiss you? What if she becomes repulsed by kissing you that she doesn’t want to do the rest of the movie?

Making her feel uncomfortable is the last thing you ever want to do, and you don’t want to ruin what you two have if there is anything there to ruin.

Someone knocks on your trailer door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Lizzie. Can I come in?”

You practically throw the script somewhere in your trailer so it doesn’t look like you’ve been obsessing over it. You lean against the counter in an attempt to look nonchalant.

“Yeah, sure. “ The door opens and Lizzie walks in with a smile on her face. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you before we head down to set for the day.”

“Oh? What about?”

She looks around the room and sees the script half on the couch and half hanging over it.

“About that. I’m guessing you read most of it if not all?”

“Yeah, I did,” you nod, your resolve fading fast.

“Anything I can do to make it better? I figure we should talk about it so it doesn’t become awkward when we’re actually doing it.”

“I gotta know, are you in a relationship? I know actors who have these scenes are, but I have to know.”

“No, I’m not,” she smiles and walks closer to you. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Good. We got that out of the way.”

“Yeah.” Your breathing picks up the more she comes closer to you. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well, you know the saying, ‘practice makes perfect’?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that applies here, don’t you think? You don’t want either of us messing up and having to redo the scene dozens of times to get it right, right?”

Now that you think about it, it might not be a bad idea until you think of everyone watching you mess up.

“Right,” you whisper.

“Then come here.”

She pulls you in by your belt loops and kisses you softly at first to test the waters. Only when you cup her jaw with both hands does she kiss you a bit harder. Butterflies explode in your stomach from the contact because this is everything you thought it was going to be and more.

You two don’t need practice because this comes naturally to both of you.

“You give me butterflies,” you whisper against her lips.

“Same here,” she grins.

And that is how you started dating your wife, Elizabeth Chase Olsen.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen fic #elizabeth olsen fanfiction #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen fluff #elizabeth olsen fiction #elizabeth olsen fan fiction #elizabeth olsen fan fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fic #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

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dfortrafalgar · 23 hours

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Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t? You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew. You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god. You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old. You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship. You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors. But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight. Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats. And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are. You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time. Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced. Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being. Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from. Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving. They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away. Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt. You loved your crew, you really did. You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you. Like you were unprepared. Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit. And you cried. You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?” It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you. He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear. He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him. Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen. It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin. “Did someone say something to you? Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm. You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax. “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people. It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain. His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly. “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face. Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.” Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders. “Being a part of a crew. You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately. “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’ That’s impossible. We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly. “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was. You feebly nodded. “Yeah. That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible. He was basically flush against you at this point. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek. “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described. His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words. Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp. ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent. If anything, he tried to pull you in closer. The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder. But he still didn’t let up. He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?” He sounded completely oblivious. “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore. No more crying,” he demanded. “Captain’s orders.” His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips. After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace. You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected. Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated. His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts. Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back. “Not yet,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily. Everyone’s different. Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them. Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.” A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart. “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes. The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved. It was miraculous. All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy oneshot

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xonavia · 3 days

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can you do a Dan Heng x fem! reader?

to elaborate: fem! reader is a famous singer — an interastral one, to be precise. she lives in Penacony and once in a year, she hosts this enormous party where you are able to do how flashy the lights are from the Astral Express. on Dan Heng’s side, he was only able to experience it once and got interested as to what it was, doing research and the more he did the research, the more he fell in love with the idol. now, for this year, with the Trailblazer who had managed to become one of the fem! reader’s bodyguards due to what was happening in Penacony with the deaths that were so random and sudden. not only that, the Trailblazer managed to become a trusted friend and they knew how much of a fan Dan Heng was since they managed to accidentally access Dan Heng’s tabs on the databank so to make it fair for him, they managed to get a free ticket into the VIP — front row seats, too! and to be able to get an autograph after.

-> I’m not entirely sure if this is what you meant, but I did try my best so if it’s not quite what you wanted just lmk and I’ll try to rewrite it to the best of my abilities!!

It was only once every year this happened, an interastral idol, (Name), would perform in Penacony. That was all the news was talking about the moment the astral express stepped inside penacony, of course, March being hip and knowing all the famous idols was so excited that right as they arrived was time for the yearly party and begged for them to go, but with the whole issue happening in penacony it didn’t seem like now would be the best time. But Dan Heng, still on the express, was confused as hell. What was with all the lights and sounds, he thought penacony was going through a crisis, not a party? It wasn’t until a couple days later when everybody else came back that he had figured out that it was a annual party, he didn’t think much of it until he had March blab about how much cool merch and stuff she saw in the stores how she got to witness the set up of the whole party, but to her demise never actually got to see the host. March talked about them in a way that was almost magical. Nothing bad, and it seemed like this “host” was almost like the nicest person in the galaxy? That’s what first got Dan Heng into his records to see what he could find out about you. It wasn’t long before he found some really interesting details about you, a picture, when the party took place every year, where it was, and anything along the lines if you had a partner, ya know, just for future reference!

Another year later the Astral Express was back in penacony, with more deaths and more issues, and ironically enough around the exact same time they were here the year before. Though this time it was about the party. As it was an annual party most of the people who were in town at the time were there for said party and if the party was canceled due to the issues people would start getting scared and the family would have to explain what was happening, which is the worst case scenario. So instead they invited the astral express back over and had the trailblazer act as a bodyguard for (Name) as it seemed one of the other hosts wouldn’t be there and they thought it was a plot to take out the party all together. Better safe than sorry. March was so excited when she realized that the trailblazer was able to actually meet one of the best people in the galaxy. Dan Heng was excited as well, but not like you could ever tell. He’d been reading up on you anytime he had the chance, he knew a lot about you and was very happy when he realized that they were able to go back to Penacony, not so much about all the issues that were happening, or the potential plot on your life.

A couple days later, and about a day before the party the trailblazer came back to the astral express he saw both March and Dan Heng sat on one of the couches watching the party from the year they were here last. They chuckled a little as they walked over, asking about what they were watching which March happily responded with

“The party from last year! I just found out that Dan Heng is actually a pretty big fan of (name)!”

Of course the trailblazer already knew that, they had been up a couple times and accidentally stumbled on Dan Heng researching about the party, and more specifically about you.

Trailblazer sat down with the other two and talked about how since (Name) had a couple extra tickets for friends and stuff and how they were already so grateful for them watching over them and making sure to keep them safe that now the astral express had 3 VIP tickets for the Party for the next day. March already started squealing, and pretty sure that they saw Dan Heng smile at the sight of the tickets.

The next day was the day of the party, and as packed as it was there was a small section that (Name) had told the trailblazer about when they gave them the tickets that were for VIP only so they wouldn’t have to wait in that huge line! But when they got into that section it led them straight to the front row. How freaking cool!

A couple hours after, the hosts and main people in charge were all walking around when you ran over towards the trailblazer, noticing them in the crowd and coming to say Hi, and thanks, again. When you walked over, March was awestruck at the sight of you right in front of her, and quickly asked for a picture to which you happily accepted and posed with her before the trailblazer realized that no way in hell would Dan heng every actually ask for something from you, so they took charge in their own hands by asking an autograph from you, which you of course were pleased to do, handing it to them with a smile, before you were pulled away again by one of the security guards, waving bye, before turning your attention to some of the other guests.

When they got back on the astral express, they all seemed really excited, well besides Dan Heng, but it’s hard to see through his facial features, but the way he was ever so carefully holding the sighed piece of paper from you, said a lot differently.

He was just hoping next year the astral express would come back, and maybe he could talk to you himself this time

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #dan heng x reader #dan heng #xonavia's writings!

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promise-you-doie · 22 hours

Text

J. Jaehyun | Coming Home

After hitting a dead end in your job search, you reluctantly return home to stay with your mom. However, fate has other plans as you unexpectedly cross paths with an old flame. Sparks fly as you navigate the complexities of past feelings and present circumstances, reigniting a passionate connection that refuses to be ignored.

Jaehyun x reader (Exes to lovers)

6k words

Fluff, Angst, Suggestive.

Playlist

As a little girl, you had this idyllic vision of what your adult life would be like. You thought by the time you entered your 20s, you would have graduated from college and easily walked into your dream career. But now, as an adult, you're confronted with the harsh realities of life. You only have $300 to your name, a coupon for a free pizza from your go-to pizza place, and a tech degree that seems to be of no use. To make matters worse, you've ruined your credit during your college years, and you've just ended a three-year relationship. It feels like everything is against you, and the only choice you have is to go back to your hometown to stay with your mom until you get back on your feet.

Leaving Los Angeles was hard enough, but landing in Connecticut felt like a blow to your pride. Everything looks the same as when you left, and the people haven't changed much either. You want to drop down to your knees and cry when you realize that this is where you're going to be for the next few months of your life. But you still have some dignity left in you, so you grab your luggage and try to compose yourself as you walk towards the pickup section to wait for your mom.

Blinking back tears, you inhale a deep breath and pull out your phone. You wait patiently as your phone searches for service in the area. When the service finally sets in, your phone blows up with 70 different alerts: two calls from your best friend, Joy, and three text messages from her telling you to have a safe trip and to keep your head up.

Six missed calls from your ex-boyfriend and seven text messages from him begging you to talk to him.

51 emails from the various job search sites that you signed up with and one singular text message from your mom.

Mom: Hey! I won't be able to make it. But don't worry, I'll have Jaehyun come pick you up. Can't wait to see you!

As if on cue, a familiar black 2015 Toyota Corolla pulls up right in front of you, and none other than Jung Jaehyun gets out of the car.

"This has to be a joke." You breathe, your shoulders raising as you do so.

He smirks the second he lays eyes on you, "Wow you haven't aged a bit."

You wish you could say the same about him, he'd grown a lot more mature since you last saw him. He wasn't the 18-year-old boy you were once head over heels for. He was way taller; he grew his hair out, and you could tell that he started hitting the gym.

"Why are you here?" You look up at him with folded arms.

He doesn't take you seriously. He never did. "Sorry, I'm late." He chuckles and takes your suitcase from beside you to load it in the back of his car.

Once he finishes his first task, he walks back around to open the door for you, gesturing to the passenger seat with both arms and a smile that you wish you could hate.

"I'm not getting in the car, Jaehyun." You remain in your spot, arms still folded over your chest.

"No?" He asks condescendingly.

You repeat, "No." Firm on your feet.

"Well, I guess. I'll see you there then." You watch him close the door and walk to the driver's side without sparing you a look. He starts the car and drives away, leaving you with two options.

You could chase after him and embarrass yourself, or you could remain stubborn and just call an Uber.

You choose to chase the car after realizing that the phone that you would use to call an Uber was sitting in the back of his trunk.

He watches you run after him from his rearview mirror; he slows down but refuses to stop until you were banging on the side of the window, begging him to stop. He got a thrill out of this, and you could tell.

"Did you change your mind?" He teases

Physically, Jaehyun was a completely different person; he grew up, well, you'll admit that. But personality-wise? He hadn't changed at all. He was still the same sarcastic asshole you met in high school.

You mutter, "I don't have my phone." As you slide into the passenger seat, out of breath. You subtly look around, taking notice that the car still smells the same way you remembered it; it was just cleaner now. Sooner or later, your eyes dart to the back seat, and Jaehyun chuckles when you do.

"So what's L. A like?" He asks suddenly, one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped over his thigh.

"It's fun and different. My boyfriend helped to introduce me to a lot of new things." You purposely mention your (ex) boyfriend just to see his reaction.

To your dismay, his reaction is as simple as none. He only asks, "How will long-distance work out for you? It didn't seem to work with us."

"We'll do fine." You say, trying to sound confident.

The car falls silent for a few moments before he starts up a new conversation. "I'm glad you're back."

The statement seems taunting, even if you know that's not how he means it. You always dreamt of moving away to a big city where no one knew who you were, and now that you're back home, it just feels like you are a failure.

"I'm not staying for long." You gaze out of the window.

"Since you're back in town, we should hang out sometime," he suggests, sneaking glances at you.

"I didn't come back to see you."

"Suit yourself, but remember I'm always just a phone call away."

As you step into the familiar house, you can't help but notice that everything looks the same. Though your mom has rearranged some things, the overall feel is still the same. She's standing at the counter, wearing her favorite white robe and sipping on a glass of wine. Even she looks the same, and you can't help but wonder if the past five years have been stuck in time.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun speaks up from behind you, offering to take the bags upstairs. You're about to protest when your mom pulls you into a warm hug, rocking you back and forth. "Oh, my baby, I missed you so much," she coos, holding your face in her hands. "Have you been skipping meals?" She asks, eyeing you closely. When you shake your head, she mutters disapprovingly, "I hope you didn't start one of those stupid L.A diets." You hear Jaehyun snicker from behind you, but you can't break free from your mom's grip to glare at him.

"No, mom." You mutter shamefully like a middle schooler who just got through a scolding.

"We've got to fatten you up." She pinches your cheeks before she lets you go. Oh, you and Jaehyun should go try out the taco place down the street." Your mom swings her index finger between you and your ex-boyfriend. "They opened it up after you left. It's amazing, and the staff there is amazing, too."

You open your mouth to speak, but Jaehyun beats you to it. "I think she'd rather the tacos in L.A" he says as he stands beside your mom, looking down on you in a way that feels degrading. The only thing you can do is wonder when they got so close.

Your mom has always liked Jaehyun, but it seemed like she adopted him after you left. If you look close enough, you might find similarities in their facial features.

"Jaehyun probably has other things to do. Why don't we just go instead? It's been a while since it was just you and me." You waltz over and loop your arm around your mom's right arm. Opposite side of where Jaehyun was standing

"Or we could all go out together." Suggests, Jaehyun with a grin so big you could see his dimples.

Your mom's face glows at the thought as she pushes you aside. "That sounds like a wonderful Idea."

"How was your flight?" Joy's voice comes through the speaker of your phone while you prop it up against your old desk. You slide back in your seat to start your face care while simultaneously talking to her.

"Long, it should be illegal for infants to fly on a plane." You mutter, slapping the moisturizer on your face and rubbing it in circles along your cheeks.

Joy gets closer to the camera just to say, "That's harsh," but she doesn't bother to try to hide her laugh.

"Okay maybe not illegal, but there should at least be a secluded area for parents flying with newborns, or you know… just kids who still cry." You drag out the last part when you get closer to the mirror and run your index finger along the new pimple you have growing in.

"Like a daycare?" Joy asks

"That wasn't what I was thinking, but that works too."

"Okay enough about that, have you seen him yet?" Joy whispers against the speaker of her own phone and thankfully so because just as soon as she mentions him Jaehyun comes walking into your room without a notice or a knock.

"Dinners ready." He stops at the entrance of your room but gets closer when he sees that you're on the phone. Close enough for him to show up on your camera screen and wave his hand around. "Hi, Joy." He smiles tauntingly.

"I have to go," you mutter and hang up the call before either of them can get another word in. Turning in your seat to ask "Why are you here?" for the second time today.

His smile doesn't falter, and he doesn't back away, either. "What? You don't want to see me?" he teases.

"I don't," you murmur, pushing him away with the palm of your hand and rolling your eyes. You stand up when he backs up, but his eyes remain on you. You hate that you didn't hate it, and you hate that you don't hate him.

You always thought you would be angry if you ever saw him again, you expected that you'd shed a few tears even. But all of that was furthest from the truth because now that you saw him again you were only reminded of the love you kept harbored away for him.

You were gonna be fine, as long as you kept your distance.

"You invited him over for dinner?" You quietly mutter to your mom, hoping that Jaehyun won't hear you.

"Don't be like that, he came over all the time while you were gone. That's not gonna change because of a little breakup."

"But Mom." You whine.

She hears none of it as she continues setting the table and praising Jaehyun for how helpful he was compared to her own child. You grimace at the statement before plopping down at the table with your arms crossed.

Jaehyun takes the seat across from you, and your mom takes the one adjacent. "Isn't this wonderful? It's been so long since I've seen the two of you together." She smiles and clamps her hands together.

"Is he going to come over every night?" You ask, wiping the smile off of your mom's face. You've always been a fan of your mom's cooking, but now you were picking at the rice and mixing it around. Your spoon clinks against the bottom of the glass plate before you go to take a spoonful.

Sucking in a hiss when your mom smacks your arm, "Why don't you be nice?"

"I was just asking." You whine once more but pull your lips into a thin line when you realize that no matter what, she's going to take his side and Jaehyun's enjoying it.

"You know the carnival is opening tomorrow." Your mom starts again, "You guys should go out and have fun. It's summer, and you're still young."

"I can't. I have to…" You look around for any excuse that won't get you slapped for a second time. "Unpack."

Your efforts count for nothing as your mom slaps you again on the arm. "Oh, don't be stubborn." She laughs. "Jaehyun, you aren't busy, right?"

"No, mam." He smiles, specifically at you.

"And neither are you," she says when she looks at you. "So it's settled; you can pick her up tomorrow." Your mom claps her hands together with a bright smile.

"No, I really can't." You wave your hand around.

"Well, you don't have a job, do you?" is all your mom has to say to make you lower your chin and shake your head. "Then I don't see why not."

"Besides, you could use a picker-upper since you broke up with that little boyfriend of yours." She adds unsolicited. You want to hide, curl up into a ball, and just vanish, disappear, and go anywhere but here.

"You broke up?" Jaehyun pipes up with a smirk.

You scramble to defend yourself, but the best you can come up with is, "We're just taking a little break."and that's all you get to say before your mom interrupts.

"Say, Jaehyun, don't you have that pan I let you borrow? I think I might need it for tomorrow night's dinner."

He nods, "Yeah, I can bring it tomorrow if you'd like."

"No, you might forget. Y/n, why don't you ride with him and bring the pan back."

The mention of your name makes you choke on your food, "What?"

"That'll give you guys some time to catch up." If you didn't know any better, you would think she was doing this on purpose. But you did know better and knew she was doing this on purpose.

"But it's late, and he has bad eyesight." You point, searching for any way that you could to get her to change her mind. Redacting when you see the way he's looking at you. "I mean, it's never safe to drive at night."

"That's more of a reason for you to go. I wouldn't want him stranded on the side of the road." says your mom.

"What about me?"

"If you're ready, we can go now." She ignores you when Jaehyun stands up in his chair.

"Yes, you two get going. I'll clean this up." Your mother hurries you out of your seat, pushing you along with Jaehyun to the door. You don't even get to say anything before she's waving and slamming the door in your face, locking you out of the house with your pajamas, bunny slippers, and your ex.

"You coming?" Jaehyun yells, standing on the passenger side of his black car.

You look at the door once and let out a long, deep sigh as you stomp to his car, sliding past him and into the passenger seat, but not without rolling your eyes.

"If you keep rolling your eyes, they're going to get stuck in the back of your head," Jaehyun teases before closing the car door.

He gets into the car shortly after and starts it immediately. You hope to keep the car ride quiet, but Jaehyun has other plans as he starts returning to his place. "I see long distance isn't your strong suit."

Naturally, you want to roll your eyes. You notice it's just a common occurrence when you are around him. "I already told you were working things out; I just didn't wanna hold him back."

You turn to him when you hear a small laugh. "Working things out," he repeats. "How come I didn't get that option?"

"You didn't deserve it."

"So you really love him, huh?" He glances over to see your reaction, and based on your facial expressions alone, he knows he's right.

He knows the answer, but you're not as sure. Is it possible for you to love two men at once?

"I don't wanna talk about this tonight, Jaehyun." You sigh and gaze out of the window. Per your request, he remains quiet for the rest of the ride. But now that you're sitting in complete silence, all you have to do is think. Think about the feelings and emotions you thought you had left in the past.

What would things be like if you had never ended things with Jaehyun? Would you have met your ex? Would you be conflicted right now sitting in the passenger seat of your ex's car while thinking about your other ex?

"Are you coming in?" Jaehyun asks, holding his apartment door open for you.

You prop up against the wall behind you and fold your arms. "No, I'll stand right here," you say, but swiftly run behind him when you hear someone else leave their apartment. The last thing you needed was someone else to see you standing outside his door, whether they knew you or not.

"Hi, Johnny." Jaehyun turns to wave at the neighbor against your wishes, smiling at you when you glare at him. "Don't worry, he's not gonna bite you."

Your only response is another glare; he simply smiles while you walk past him and into his apartment.

This seems to be the nature of your relationship: You're hot-headed and easily irritated, while Jaehyun is sarcastic and loves to get under your skin. It's always been like this, and there was just no telling how the two of you ever managed to fall in love.

Jaehyun stands behind you when you scan his living area. It's exactly what you'd expect from a man, and especially Jaehyun. There's a couch and some small decor here and there, but it feels cold and bare for the most part.

It's almost hard to believe that this is where he spends most of his time.

You keep your thoughts to yourself and follow him into the kitchen, where you continue to look around.

"Seems like you and my mom got close," you speak, hoping to distract him from how you are inspecting everything in his apartment.

Jaehyun answers, "Yeah, I guess you could say that." His head dips into the cabinets under the counter, searching for the pan that brought him here in the first place.

You raise your hands to each arm and sigh, "So was that on purpose… or?"

"She was the closest thing I could get to you." He says casually, as if everyone's heard that before.

You, on the other hand, aren't as casual about the subject as he is. You drop your arms to your side and start looking around again for a sudden change of conversation, which Jaehyun misses with his head still tucked under the cabinets.

"I like what you've done with the place; it's cozy." You lie, and you're glad he isn't looking at you because you know he can tell that you are with just a glance.

You forgot that he could also tell when you were nervous. He's always been able to read you like a children's book, and he always used that against you.

"It wasn't as easy for me to jump into another relationship as fast as you did." He stands up with the pan in his hand. The look he gives you makes your face feel hot; you begin choking over words.

"I- I don't wanna talk about this."

"I do." He slides the pan back when you reach for it but closes the distance between you. He gets so close that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He's so close that you're scared he might hear the beat of your heart. He's so close that you could just kiss him. "I missed you, Y/n. More than you could ever imagine."

You admit you still have feelings for Jaehyun but won't act on them. After all, you're a firm believer in "Control your actions, not your emotions," but he's only getting closer and closer.

You start to rethink your philosophies when you breathe in the scent of his cologne. Your skin feels hot and you don't know how long you plan on holding back from him.

It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner? You think as you allow him to take the last step needed to close the space between you.

When his lips connect with yours, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and suddenly, he lifts you up by the back of your thighs to carry you back to his bedroom.

The bright yellow light beaming over your closed eyelids wakes you up from your deep slumber. The arm wrapped tightly around your abdomen causes your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head.

Your clothes sprawled on the floor is enough evidence to prove that last night wasn't just a dream. Being pretty much naked in nothing but one of his T-shirts is just the icing on top.

You really slept with your ex.

"Jaehyun," you whisper, gently tapping his arm, which is more than enough to wake him up.

He groans, "Good Morning" as he starts to lay kisses all over the back of your shoulders. And if possible, his hold on you just gets tighter as he pulls you back towards him.

"I have to go home."

"Sure thing, baby." He says, laying one kiss on the back of your head and another on your cheek. With that, he rolls off the bed and begins getting dressed, smiling like an idiot while he does so.

You choose to ignore it; for once, he wasn't acting like an asshole, and you just need some quietness while you take the time to collect your clothes from around the floor.

However, when you reach the car, your thoughts spew like a waterfall. "We can't do that again." You don't give him time to respond, to neither agree nor disagree, before you go on a tangent that lasts the entire 12-minute car ride.

"Okay," Jaehyun responds after pulling into the driveway of your childhood home.

He's never really been much of a talker; if anything, he just liked to say simple things that he knew would piss you off. You're certain this has to be one of them. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop your blood from growing hot.

"okay?" You repeat with squinted eyes. "I just told you I never wanted to see or talk to you again and just go 'okay?"

"What do you want me to say?" He almost laughs, and that just riles you up more.

"Anything else? Did you even mean everything you said yesterday, or were you just looking for sex?" He doesn't say anything at first. He looks away and gazes out the window for what feels like half an hour but is only 8 seconds.

"I don't know." He shrugs

"You don't know?" You repeat him yet again.

"Well, do you want me to tell you the truth?" He asks calm as ever, completely opposite to you.

"No, I don't." You murmur, stomping out of his car and slamming the door behind you.

Jaehyun lets you get to your porch before he rolls his passenger seat window down and shouts, "I'll pick you up at two." When you turn around, you're met with a dimpled smile and his crescent eyes.

If you weren't already so angry, you would've matched his smile, and for a second, you almost do.

He always knew how to make you mad and how to make you laugh. That's why you fell in love with each other, and it only took a special set of dimples to remind you of that.

The sun is still young at 2 p.m., well, 1:51 p.m., to be exact. You were coming to terms with the fact that you had slept with your ex and that you'd been counting the seconds, waiting for two o'clock to come.

The knock at the door sends you rushing down the steps, nearly tripping over your own feet. You barely contain your smile when you see Jaehyun standing on the other side of the door.

"You're early," you scoff, walking past him and closing the door behind you. Jaehyun does nothing but smile at you, reaching for your hand to pull you closer to him as he guides you to his car.

He leaves a kiss on your cheeks and mumbles, "I couldn't wait to see you." To which you roll your eyes in an attempt to hide the way your lips turn up against your cheeks.

The wind from outside seeps into the car as he drives through the highway, one hand interlocked with yours and the other on the steering wheel. He glances at you a few times and, after the third time, says, "You know this is a date, right?"

You turn your head towards the window and pretend like you can't hear him. Only for him to roll both windows up and repeat, "You know this is a date, right?"

"I didn't agree to a date." You retort, "I'm only here cause my mom forced me to."

"Is that why you're still holding my hand?" He asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

You shift in your seat, but you don't dare to let go of his hand. If anything, your grasp on him just gets tighter, and you go back to looking out the window. "My hand is cold, and yours is warm," you murmur.

Your answer warrants him to bring your hand up to his lips and leave a chaste kiss or a few. He does that often throughout the evening, randomly pulling you closer to him just to leave kisses on your cheek or forehead.

It feels like high school all over again. Jaehyun's still staring at you like a lovesick fool, and you still get butterflies in the pit of your stomach when you make eye contact. "This isn't a date," you state suddenly.

The warm breeze, carrying the scent of summer, gently tousles your hair as you gaze up at your ex. "And I meant what I said. After this, I don't wanna see you again." The air is filled with the sounds of young teens cheering and laughing, their voices blending into a joyful cacophony.

Jaehyun uses his index finger to move the hair out of your face and push it behind your ear. "Okay," he says softly, with his hand still lingering on your cheek. His thumb softly grazes your lower lip.

You breathe, "I'm serious, Jae." But the use of his nickname and the way you look at him tells him you're anything but serious.

"I know." He says, switching his focus between your eyes and your lips. He kisses you, but you take the initiative to pull him closer by the nape of his neck, feeling the heat of his body transform onto yours.

The feeling is all too familiar,‌ like euphoric bliss or, rather, a certain type of high you don't ever want to come down from. "I missed you." You slur against his lips, arms still tied around him so he can't go anywhere.

"I know." is all he says before he leans in to kiss you again.

The car is pretty silent other than the small taps of the raindrops on the windows and the music playing on his car radio at the lowest volume. Occasionally, you can hear vibrations from your phone.

Jaehyun's hand is firmly wrapped around yours, and it's been like that for the past hour. He pulls you right back every time you try to slip away. "So what about Sicheng? How is he?" you ask, resting your head against the back of the seat.

"He's married now," Jaehyun answers. The tips of his lips turn upwards into a smile when he sees your widened eyes.

"To whom?"

"I don't know her name." He looks off to the side as if to think. "They got married a year ago."

"I would've never thought." The car falls silent again, and just as soon as it does, your phone buzzes for probably the hundredth time of the night.

Jaehyun lets your hand go just long enough for you to check your messages.

There are over 20 missed calls from Joy and one text from her telling you to call her ASAP.

Then, there are three messages from your ex begging you to call him. His contact is still saved as "my love." It's been like that since you first got together, and you hadn't thought of changing it after you broke up.

Well, it's more like you couldn't bring yourself to do it. If you were to change his name and block him, things would be real for you. And you were desperately clinging on to hope. Maybe things will work out; you'll go back to L.A and be with him again.

"Are you okay?" Jaehyun pulls you out of your thoughts, sliding his hand into yours and interlocking your fingers.

"Yeah," you shake your head and lock your phone.

You have no idea what tomorrow might bring, but for tonight, you just want to sit with Jaehyun, even if it is just for tonight.

"Hello." It's probably 6 am if you had to guess. Birds are singing right outside of your window, and the sun isn't all the way up yet.

You sit up in your bed with one hand holding your phone to your ear and the other moving your hair out of your face. "Why didn't you call me back?" Joy's voice echoes through the speaker of your phone.

"Maybe because I was asleep?" You snap back, eyes barely open.

"I got you a job." That's enough to have you leaping off your bed with your eyes jumping out of the socket.

"Say, sike." You chirp. "Please don't say sike."

"I'm serious; I told them you were out of town, but you can start next month." She explains, calm as ever.

"Joy, you are amazing." You exclaim into the phone. "Have I ever told you you're the bestest best friend in the entire world?"

"You've mentioned it a few times." You don't have to see her to know that she's smirking. "I have to go now. I just wanted to tell you about the job. I'll call you back later."

She doesn't give you time to say anything else before the call is dropped. You throw your phone down and plop down on your bed. You can't help but smile, thinking about how things are gonna go back to normal.

However, when you feel your phone vibrate against your side and you read Jaehyun's name ‌off your screen, your smile fades. You were so excited about going back to L.A that you forgot about him.

For the next few days, you do your best to forget about everything and just spend time with Jaehyun, whether it be chatting in his car or even helping him redecorate his sad and cold jail ce- apartment.

"What's the catch?" Jaehyun asks suddenly, his index finger twirling in your hair. You shift your ‌ head against his chest to look at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been acting really weird lately," he explains, "You're all clingy now. Which I like, but it also feels too good to be true." You can see a shift in the way he looks at you and in the tone of his voice. "It feels like you might try to leave me again."

"I'm just trying to make up for lost time." You're too afraid to tell him that your time with him is limited. Too afraid of his reaction and of your own emotions.

"You don't have to lie to me." He sits up against the headboard of his bed, and you do the same thing. "I knew this was only temporary, and I know I shouldn't have let my feelings get involved again." Jaehyun takes a deep breath before continuing, "But I love you. I think I always will."

When you don't say anything, he keeps going. "Let's try again." He says.

"Jaehyun-" He cuts you off with a kiss, not wanting to hear ‌your rejection.

"We can move to L.A together." He speaks against your lips, "And we can find an apartment. I'll get a job, I'll sell my car if I have to."

His determination makes you giggle, and soon enough, he starts laughing with you."I thought you hated the city."

"I do. But you love the city, and I love you,"

"I didn't know you were such a romantic." You beam, butterflies erupting as he reaches to move the hair out of your face and behind your ear.

"But we'll have to move my son out too. I'm not asking you to play stepmom, but I do want to be in his life." Jaehyun speaks casually, but your jaw is growing heavy, and the butterflies are starting to feel like poison or mini daggers hitting your gut all at once.

You only manage to squeak "What?" Even though there are so many questions, you want to ask.

"I'm kidding." He breaks into a laugh, but you're still left confused and slightly heartbroken.

"That's not funny, Jae." You whine when he pulls you in to leave a kiss on your forehead.

"It's hilarious, baby."

You jump up off the bed the second your phone begins to vibrate, running to the door and checking the doorway to make sure Jaehyun is occupied before you slowly and softly close the door to answer the call.

"Hello?" You breathe into your phone speaker as you tiptoe back to the bed.

"Hello? Girl, why are you whispering." Joy asks, "Where are you?"

You don't have to answer that question because Jaehyun answers that question for you when he busts through the door to ask "Do you want take out or should we cook tonight?"

"Take out." You answer, covering your phone mic.

Still, your best friend hears everything, "Who is that?" She questions.

"Okay, do you want Pizza or Chinese food?" Jaehyun asks, leaning in between the doorway.

"Y/n, that better not be who I think it is." Joy scolds from her end of the line.

You answer Jaehyun to ignore Joy. "I don't know what you choose," you say urgently, anything to get him out of the room.

"I know how you are, baby. I don't want to get you something that you don't feel like eating," Jaehyun explains, walking further into the room.

The closer he gets, the louder your heart beats and the more your best friend yells at you. "Baby?" She barks through the speaker and right into your ear.

You rush to hit the mute button, but with your eyes focused on Jaehyun, you slip up and accidentally put your best friend on speaker phone. "Y/n, you better answer me right now."

When her voice rings through the room, your heart stops beating altogether. For the second time this month, you want to vanish, disappear into thin air, and cease to exist.

"Hi, Joy." Jaehyun greets with a large grin that shows his dimples on full display.

Joy only responds in a monotone, "Jaehyun." You rush to say, "I'll do a plain cheese pizza." Once again, you are just trying to get him out of the room.

"Sure thing, baby." He cooes, with a kiss to your cheek. Soon enough he's out of the room and you're alone again. With a deafening silence.

"Things happened." You hesitantly speak.

"Things like what?" Your clothes slipped off, and you fell into his bed?" You hear a sigh immediately after she snaps, and you're too afraid to say anything else. "What about—"" I don't wanna talk about him," you interject.

"Okay, but does he know you're coming back?" Joy asks, referring to Jaehyun. When you don't answer, she gets worried. "You are coming back, right?"

"Of course I'm coming back. I just haven't told him yet." You trail off on the last part.

She doesn't say anything for a long while, and neither do you. You sit in your own disappointment, you didn't need her to tell you that you messed up because you already knew that.

"Y/n, I'm only saying this because I love you…" It doesn't take a genius to know that what's coming next is about to hurt. "You're being really stupid right now."

That hurt a lot more than you thought it would. "Wow, thanks, Joy."

"Listen, I don't want you to get hurt again."

"I'm not, he's changed, and things are different now." You explain although you're not even sure you believe it yourself.

"Then why haven't you told him yet?" She asks, but you don't answer. "You're going to give him the chance to break you again?"

"He's not," you cry, pulling against the ends of Jaehyun's oversized shirt, which you stole out of his drawer to wear.

Joy can hear the tone of your voice soften, so she softens hers as well, but it doesn't change the gravity of her words. "Do you remember how long it took for-" "Please don't mention him." You interrupt her, already knowing who she's about to bring up.

"Look I'll figure things out, but for now I just wanna be happy." You continue, "I think I deserve that."

"You do, Y/n. You deserve nothing but happiness, and if he makes you happy, then don't let me get in your way. but don't forget who you have waiting for you in California with open arms." Joy attests

"I know you're just looking out for me, but I don't know if I can go back to him knowing what I did while I was here."

"You know better than I do that he'd never judge you." And you did. You knew that very well. Your ex never made you feel insignificant or anything of the sort. He never shamed you or made you feel guilty for anything. But that didn't change the fact that you would judge yourself.

"I just need time to think about everything." You say, almost in a whisper.

"I trust that you'll do the right thing." Joy reassures, "I'm gonna go now. I love you."

"I love you too." You say before hanging up the phone and throwing it on the other side of the bed. The call leaves you feeling nothing but confused, and Jaehyun notices it the second he walks into the room.

Your subtle pout and the way you're holding the pillow to your chest tell him exactly how you're feeling. "What's wrong?" He takes the seat beside you, tugging at your waist so you can scoot closer to him.

"Did you mean what you said about moving to L.A.?" You ask first. Your hand rests over his when he reaches to stroke your cheek.

"I wouldn't play about that Y/n"

You take a deep breath when you get the answer you want. "Joy got me a job, and they want me to start next month."

"What? That's amazing, baby." He cooes, grabbing each of your hands. "We're going to L.A"

He reacted way differently than you imagined he would; the look on his face tells you he's sincere, and the flutter in your heart makes you hope that he really is. You don't think you can't take another heartbreak, not from him.

As you stand in your old room, the brown paper box at your feet, you can't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia wash over you. You take in every detail: the way the sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow on everything in the room; the creaking sound of the wooden floorboards under your feet, each one carrying a memory of its own; and the scent of your old perfume that still lingers in the air, like a faint echo of a bygone era.

This time, as you prepare to leave, it feels different. It feels like you're saying goodbye for good, and the thought of leaving this place forever fills you with a deep sense of loss. When you first arrived in Connecticut, you couldn't wait to leave, but now you find yourself wishing you could stay just a little bit longer so you could relive the memories of your past, which you hold so dear.

However, you know that the real reason you're dreading going back is that you don't want to face your ex. The thought of telling him that you're now in a relationship with the man you used to cry to him about fills you with anxiety. You're unsure of how he'll react, and the mere prospect of facing him makes your heart race with fear.

The more you think about it, the more you realize that things are not looking good for you. You're caught between your love for your new partner and your fear of the unknown.

Suddenly, your mom yells from downstairs, "Y/n, someone is here for you." You don't pay much attention to the hesitation in her voice, too lost in thought. You wish you had because when you reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, Doyoung, your ex, is standing right across from you with a saddened smile and a black duffle bag. Your heart skips a beat as you see him. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that he is, you don't know how to react. You mutter, "What are you doing here?" As you wrap your arms around yourself, unsure of what to do next.

Part 2

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ladykailitha · 4 hours

Text

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

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