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word-wytch · 9 months

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 14

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 14/? 18k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ An invitation to The Hideout answers some long burning questions.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter CW: kissing, heavy petting, jealousy, protective!eddie, drinking, smoking, fluff

Tuesday, December 10th 1985

Winter crept in like a lamb. It nipped at your ankles when you got out of bed, beckoned you to hibernate in the warm cocoon of soft sheets and heavy blankets. The room was a lightless cave, the sky still as dense as midnight. Feet shuffling blindly at the floor to find your slippers, you clicked on the small lamp atop your nightstand to offer some light to your habitat.

Standard routine — making shadows on the wall as you brushed your teeth, emerging out the door to the dark hallway, squinting under the harsh light of your kitchen. Two eggs over easy. Two pieces of toast. One phone that hung to the right of your small kitchen table like an omen as you dipped the crust into the yolks. Looming. Waiting. You swallowed a feeling with your next sip of coffee; flutters that danced down your throat and settled in the pit of your stomach.

By the time you returned to your bedroom, the sky touched your sheer curtains with the palest blue. Your clothing was already laid out neatly on your dresser, poised like soldiers in a row — thick ribbed stockings; plaid wool skirt; stiff white blouse; cream knit sweater.

As you suited up, stripping yourself of warm pajamas to brace the chill of your formal attire, your eyes drifted to an object on your desk. Powder blue and collecting a fair amount of dust; an IBM Selectric II typewriter. It was more or less a decoration now, pushed against the wall to make room for piles of papers in need of grading. Still, you liked the way it looked; cheery against the drab apartment wall, like something a real writer would have.

It was a trusty old thing, still chugging along despite countless college essays hammered into the grey keys. It had been your only company in the wee hours of many mornings such as this one, only then there had not been sleep to separate you from the night before. Sturdy and dependable, it captured your imagination too, letter by black inked letter.

Fastening the buttons of your blouse in a methodical rhythm, you could almost trick yourself into believing it was any other morning, except today there was something else you needed to do before you left, and the clock on your nightstand let you know in glowing red that your window to do so was closing.

Cold linoleum creaked under your stocking feet as you padded into the kitchen, stomach twisting into knots as you approached the phone. If you were going to do this, it had to be now.

Running your finger down the laminated tabs of the well-loved address book on your counter, you flipped to the section labeled “J”. After scanning a dozen hand-written names, you found the one you were looking for. It was a mess of chalky white-out and hasty scribbles. Last name replaced, same with the phone number and address. You weren’t sure why you didn’t just write it all fresh under “P”, perhaps it was something about not wanting to erase the history entirely.

You took a deep breath and snatched the phone off the receiver. Pressing the cold plastic to your ear, you glanced down at the numbers in blue pen and whispered them quietly to yourself as you slowly, hesitantly, clicked them one by one into the cream button pad on the wall.

You stared across the kitchen in sober contemplation of your life choices as the phone rang. Again. And again. And again, until a familiar, groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Janet!” you greeted brightly, sounding far too awake for 7:06 AM. In your nervous haste, you almost forgot to tell her who was calling.

“Oh… hey there,” came a hesitant voice on the other line, a sharp squeal cut through the static followed by a hush.

“Hey, um, I know it’s like, super early and totally last minute but I wanted to catch you before I left for work. Listen, I’ve had a hell of a week already and I was wondering—and I totally get it if you can’t, but—well I was wondering if you’d be up for going out tonight. Like say around eight-ish?” You bit your lip and grimaced, twisting the gummy cord around your finger.

The pause was filled with the rattling of tiny fists against plastic. “Oh! Well let’s see,” she said in a voice that was suddenly very awake. “The kids will be asleep by then, or at least they should be,” she chuckled, “and Bob doesn’t go to bed till after eleven anyway, so I’m sure he’ll be fine if I escape for a few hours. I mean I’ll check with him but I really don’t see why not.”

It was equally as promising as it was a relief; the excitement that crept through her voice.

“Great! Yeah, I figured you could probably use a night out.”

“Oh gosh, you don’t even know the half of it,” Janet laughed. “So where were you thinking? You wanna just go to Pal-Joeys again?”

Pacing toward the counter, you braced to offer your suggestion. “Actually, I was thinking we could go to The Hideout, I hear there’s a band playing tonight.”

“The Hideout?” she asked through an incredulous smile.

“I know,” you breathed nervously, “it’s not really our um, regular haunt, but that’s kinda why I want to go, you know? Shake things up a bit. Everything’s just been feeling so… routine lately, you know?”

Janet’s sigh was deep and heavy. “Oh trust me, I know.” A bright coo crackled through the telephone line.

“Like, I kind of want to just…” you coiled your finger deeper into the phone cord, glancing at the glaring red clock above the stove, “I dunno…pretend to be somebody else for a change.”

“You know,” she started, a quiet mischief creeping into her voice, “I could really stand to be somebody else for a night too.”

You paused in your pacing as a smile cracked across your face. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Gosh, do you know your birthday was the last time I went out? Seriously! And before that I don’t even remember. Sometimes I look around and it’s like, man I used to be fun. You remember when I was fun, right?”

You chuckled, drifting back to memories of truths and dares, of creeping down her dark basement steps with freshly painted toes. “You still are fun, Janet.”

“Well maybe you can help remind me because sometimes I look in the mirror and I swear I don’t even recognize myself. Really! I swear I see my mother more and more and that’s what’s really terrifying.”

“You mean you don’t see Bloody Mary anymore?”

Janet’s cackle would have woken the whole house had it not been wide awake and eating Cheerios already. “No that’s just at my parents’ house, remember?”

You snorted, leaning back against the counter. “I think we screamed so loud we woke the neighbors. I swear that bathroom is haunted.”

“That’s what I’ve always said! You feel like you’re being watched, right? My parents still don’t believe me. Oh well, not my problem anymore.”

You laughed, the knot in your belly releasing slightly before you glanced at the clock again, 7:13. “Crap, I’ve gotta get going. So I’ll see you at eight tonight? At The Hideout?”

“Yeah, should be fine. I’ll call you if anything changes. Ah!” she squealed, “I can’t wait.”

“Glad you’re excited,” you chuckled, gripping the smooth plastic. “Ok, see you later.”

“Bye now!”

You hung the phone back on the receiver and stood in the blaring silence of your kitchen, frozen by the impact of your choices. It was real now. In a matter of about thirteen hours you would be getting in your car, driving down a dark road, and parking it at a seedy bar where you would see Eddie for the first time in public. Your feet felt glued to the floor, but as the clock blinked to 7:15, you willed them to move.

Before taking the dark road that led to a seedy bar, you would first need to get in your car and take another road — to work.

You cursed the cold. Cursed it as you hurried across the parking lot to find your car covered in fractals of frost. Cursed it vehemently as you worked the glass with your feeble plastic scraper, shaving holes just big enough to see out of your dashboard and rear window as the clock on your wrist ticked on minute by precious minute. You cursed it audibly when you turned the key and the engine whirred, and whined, and refused to turn over. It must have heard you, because after the fifth time of stomping on the brake and snapping your wrist forward, the engine roared to life.

You rode in on a wave; a daze like the fog that escaped your lungs in shallow breaths. The sun rose above the frozen farmlands, casting its golden-pink light across the empty fields. Out here the roads stretched on for miles. Flat and straight, with little variance in elevation. There was nowhere to look but straight ahead. No curves to surprise you, just you and the rumble of the salt-dusted road, bumping along in silence as an anxious fog rolled across the landscape of your mind.

A sea of students swept you through the front doors of Hawkins High and into the bustling office. Amidst the flurry of ringing phones and voices settling into the cadence of their roles, you grabbed your punch card and stamped the date and time in line with the rest. Pushing the metal handle of the heavy glass door, you exited the humming reprieve of the office and into the din of the main hall. Your boots made hollow clicks against the glossy tile, wind at your face as you marched forward, dodging roughhousing students and hall monitors rushing toward them.

Goodness was a mantle. A strap that dug into your shoulder; heavy with books, and papers, and responsibility. You wedged your thumb beneath it, shrugging it up onto the padded wool collar of your coat as you strode on, vision locked ahead as chaos swirled around you.

Your mug left a ring on the big desk; a remnant from where you’d sloshed it coming down the hall. You’d tried to be careful; slow and deliberate in your pacing when you left the teachers lounge with it, but when a blur of wild curls drew your gaze, your footing faltered. At least you missed your shoes.

Coat hung on its solitary hook and grade book stationed at the center of the desk, you took your place in front of it. Clutching your clipboard, you glanced across the rows of desks, down at the rows of names, beside the rows of boxes that your green pen would fill with neat little P’s and A’s like it did every day. Bell after bell, swipe after swipe of your eraser at the board, the fresh sticks of chalk dwindled to nubs. Question after question, the patience in your voice grew thin.

Between the bells at the top of fourth period, you stood poised like a sentinel outside the door to your classroom. Arms folded across your knit sweater, you sighed, shifting your weight back and forth between your tired feet, offering gentle smiles as your students filed through the threshold of the door. You smelled him before you saw him; the waft of leather and cigarettes with notes of shampoo more prominent than usual.

Against the flow of traffic, Eddie Munson brought his salt-licked combat boots to a halt in front of you. Thumb hooked under the heavy strap of his backpack, he offered you a smile so broad it crinkled the corners of his eyes and made your knees want to give.

You tightened your arms around your sweater, over the hard plastic of your faculty lanyard, and breathed a shy, girlish greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he mimicked, shifting his weight with a less than subtle restlessness as his dark eyes drank you in. They darted back and forth between yours, plush lips parted and primed with words. You felt them brimming impatiently behind his eyes, saw them in the pink flash of his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.

Out here in the bustling hallway, with eyes that watched and voices that echoed off the polished tile, Eddie edged a bold foot closer, dove in, and ghosted the shell of your ear with his burning question.

“Will I see you tonight?”

The words were a low, hot rumble — rippling from your ear down your spine, pooling deep in your belly. His heat thawed your shoulder as he hovered there, lingering for each aching second it took you to eke out your response.

“Yeah,” you whispered into his curls.

Pulling back with a blinding grin, he tipped his head and ducked into the door of your classroom.

The slam of a locker made you jump. Arms crossed to shield your pounding heart, you stood there in the middle of it all, swimming in a sea of passing bodies, struggling to keep your head above the waves. It surged with images of a lighted stage, of bottles, and tables, and a dark corner for both of you to hide in. The bell echoed loudly down the hall, shrill enough to wake you from the dream you were surely having. Donning your mask, you took a deep breath and dove in, shutting the door behind you.

______

Eddie swung open the heavy back doors to his van, piercing the darkness with the dull yellow overhead light. Gravel crunched under his boots as he leaned in to grab the first amp from the stack, like a pile of black Christmas presents awaiting unwrapping. The night air bit at his fingers, stars twinkling in the patches where the clouds gave way above the tree line. Tightening his grip around the thick gummy handle, he hoisted it and followed the pale path the moon offered out of the side parking lot toward the patio behind The Hideout.

It wasn’t much; a stout fence in dire need of a paint job that caged in a few meager picnic tables. They still had umbrellas in the middle, wrapped tightly like mummies for the winter. He knew the back door would be open, it always was. Turning the weathered knob with his free hand, he welcomed the heat that wafted toward him. He could almost say he welcomed the piss smell coming from the bathrooms as his heavy boots thumped down the dark linoleum hallway, but that would be a stretch. Accustomed was a better word. Familiar was a better word.

Stale beer and cigarettes soon drowned it out as he entered the dimly lit bar, stopping to plunk the heavy amp down to his left on the stage, which was little more than a raised platform painted black. The thud drew the attention of the five usual suspects at the bar, and Eddie wondered which one of them was responsible for playing “Free Bird” on the jukebox.

Bill raised his hand, tipping his baseball cap back in a friendly nod as his fingers splayed. “‘Ey, Eddie!”

He returned the gesture of a single raised hand and flashed a smile before turning down the hall again. Eddie took a deep breath at the door to calm his pounding heart before pressing it open. He couldn’t believe he had been crazy enough to suggest something like this. That soon enough, you would be perched atop one of those rickety stools at a tall, sticky table, watching his every move, listening to his every note. The chill of the night air was a welcome thing, sobering and distracting from the heat that was creeping up the collar of his thick, leather coat. As the gravel crunched under his boots again, headlights blinded his vision.

He could hear the bass pounding from the outside of the small sedan as it rolled up beside his van, followed promptly by another. After a moment of squinting, the headlights shut off with the rumble of the engine, leaving him in the darkness once again. Seatbelts clicked and laughter emerged from the open doors as his friends tumbled out into the parking lot.

“What the fuck took you guys so long? We left at the same time,” Eddie groused.

Dave lumbered over and sighed, a smirk playing on his broad features in the moonlight. “Jeff had to take a shit and he parked me in.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, swinging the door shut with a huff as Gareth laughed into the night air.

Eddie sighed, glancing toward the tall stack of amps and drum heads sitting backlit in the rear of his van. “Ok, well we’ve got like forty minutes to get our shit together so start hauling.”

Dave groaned, cracking his back with a twist of his hefty torso. “Ugh, can you at least let me hit this doob before you put me to work?”

On any other night, Eddie would have welcomed the suggestion, but his nerves were traveling to his hands now and he itched to move them. “Dude, it takes us like an hour to set up, we don’t have time right now. We can smoke after we get this shit on stage.”

Jeff quirked his brows suspiciously, “Dude, since when do you care that we’re on time for anything?”

“Yeah seriously, we’re late like every week,” Gareth added.

Eddie balked, searching for the answer in the treeline, one that excluded you. “It just—if we’re ever gonna play anywhere else besides here we’re gonna have to start getting our shit together.”

There was a lukewarm pause as the band considered his answer. By the looks on their faces, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure if they bought it, but it was the best he could come up with and the statement was true. Dave broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. “Come on. I’ve been jonesing since we got to Gareth’s. His mom is so anal we can’t even smoke outside.”

“That’s ‘cause you reek when you come back in,” Gareth defended.

“At least I don’t reek of ass like you,” Dave chortled.

Jeff didn’t miss a beat. “That’s debatable.”

Gareth’s cackle wafted into the frigid air as he pointed a pale finger at Dave.

“You wanna find out the hard way?” Dave’s eyes glimmered wildly as he hooked an arm around Gareth’s shoulders, locking him into a power noogie position.

Gravel shuffled under their stumbling feet. “Let go of me you asshole,” Gareth gritted through a strangled laugh. Jeff only egged them on, howling uproariously like he had tickets to the show.

Eddie dragged his hands down his face with a deep, seething breath as Dave ground his thick knuckles into Gareth’s mop of hair, kicking up rocks and pivoting as Gareth attempted to pry away. This was his circus, his monkeys, and he would have to step up and be the ring leader if they were going to take the stage at all tonight. “CUT IT OUT!” he hollered.

Dave paused, arm still locked around Gareth’s neck. “Come on, we’re just having a little fun. You remember fun, right?”

Gareth groaned weakly, looking up at Eddie with pathetic eyes. “Who’s we?” he choked.

Eddie’s expression didn’t budge from its scowl. With a roll of his eyes and a resigned huff, Dave released his arm and Gareth stumbled backward, gasping. “Fine, captain killjoy.”

A heavy plume of fog left his nostrils as Eddie stormed toward the back of his van, weaving his arm through a thick ring of cables to rest on his shoulder before hoisting another amp from the stack. Gravel shuffled behind him as the others followed suit.

You were risking a lot to come here. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you.

______

The silence gnawed at you, filled you with an itching discomfort as you thumbed your dresser knobs. Staring into your open shirt drawer, you faced off with your biggest decision yet — what to wear tonight.

The chasm of options laid before you in neat, folded rows. An excavation site of cardigans, and turtle necks, and things you hadn’t unearthed in years. You ran your fingers through the layers of folded cotton, peeling them back with deep consideration.

Nagging thoughts crept in like whispers over the softly ticking clock, pinball plunger pulled and ready to fire. With a determined huff, you stepped back from your dresser and padded down the hallway, out into the living room.

Your skirt pooled around your stocking feet as you crouched down in front of the long wooden cabinet that housed your records. Fingers dancing over the worn cardboard spines, you flipped them softly forward as you perused one by one, walking steadily until one of them fell open to a scene; a painting of a man hunched over with sticks tied to his back that hung on a wall of peeling paper. You paused, pulling it out to scan the track list. This would do.

Placing the the record softly on the felt pad, you lowered the needle to the ridges, and with the press of a button, a crackle roused the room.

Hey hey momma said the way you move

Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove

A smile, like a crocus peeking up from the snow, bloomed across your face. You cranked the volume, wrapping yourself in a sound that would carry to your bedroom.

Your fingers found the tiny metal tab behind your waist, and with a downward tug of the zipper, your wool skirt became a puddle on the floor. Peeling back the layers, your tight sweater joined it in a heap, your thick stockings lay deflated on the pile, the buttons of your stiff blouse worked free until it was a crumpled afterthought. The chill that kissed your skin was a welcome thing. Goosebumps raised like the current flowing through you as your near-naked silhouette danced across the wall to approach the open drawer once more.

Emboldened with a curious delight, you began to dig. Past the crust of crisp blouses, beneath the squishy mid-layer of cardigans, down into the sub-layer of camisoles and tees, deeper and deeper until finally your fingers made purchase with a soft treasure.

It fell open as you unearthed it, the solid black gone grey from washing, the white letters and arched angel cracked and faded: Led Zeppelin — United States of America 1977.

It happened on a Sunday in April, which began as most Sundays did, with you hunched over your powder blue typewriter in a race between the clock and the keys. You had it down to a science. At the speed you were typing, a rough draft could be finished by dinner, and the final could be churned out by cutting into a few hours of your sleep. A worthy sacrifice, as your final grade was on the finish line. This, like countless others, was how you planned to spend your day — until your roommate found you.

You remembered the way she leaned against the wooden frame of your bunk bed, amused, watching the paper you hammered with black-inked letters grow longer and longer. Finally she spilled it; as of an hour ago, she was down one boyfriend and up one ticket, and now it had your name on it. When she dangled it between you and the tidy rows of text, your hands froze over the keys.

You eyed the invitation — temptation printed on a neat, orange strip. Free admission, at a price.

The show was sold out. It had been for a long time.

Your class was at 9:00 AM tomorrow. A late paper took twenty percent off your grade.

You loved the band dearly, had a bigger crush on Robert Plant than you’d openly admit to anyone. Fights had broken out over tickets nation wide. You had no idea when they would play the states again.

The clock ticked on beside you, the long hand grazed past three. Maybe you could churn out the rest in the next few hours. Maybe the rough draft would be enough. But the realist in you knew neither would happen if you seized the ticket. Your grade would never recover, your streak of straight As you’d kept since grade school would come to an end. Your GPA would dip for the semester.

On April 17th, 1977, you left your paper sitting unfinished in the typewriter to see Led Zeppelin play Market Square Arena. You didn’t know it then, but it was the last time they ever would.

On April 18th at 9:00 AM, you showed up to class with empty hands and a brand new shirt.

You had altered your souvenir; taken scissors to the collar so that it draped off your shoulder. Time and your washing machine had made Swiss cheese of the bottom hem, so you cropped it. You admired the handiwork as it draped off you now, the way the black strap of your bra peeked out from the slope of your shoulder like a coy secret.

Pulling open the lower drawer—opened far less frequently than you would like—your knuckles grazed the bottom of the smooth wood interior as you peeled back the layers of folded denim. A crease of black jumped out from the sea of blue, and you examined it. It had a nice worn-in fade for only having lived in your dresser a few years, a flatteringly high waist, and most importantly, tapered legs that could easily be tucked into the tall, black boots sitting in the back of your closet. Your bare legs welcomed the barrier against the chill, and you caught a glance at your rear as you hiked them snugly upward. They hugged you in all the right places, as the music electrified the air, you transformed.

A vision of you — sprawled across a blanket on the quad with your face in a book. Making shadows on your dorm room wall while transmuting fantasies to black-inked pages. Strolling down a lamp-lit street, face to the stars, fueling your wild imagination. Here, in your reflection, the ghost of you looked back.

You painted her darker than normal, swapping the usual chapstick for a deep, dusty red exhumed from the bottom of your makeup bag. Eyes smoked and cheeks dusted, you drew out the beauty from angles of your face with every stroke.

Coat donned and purse in hand, you paused at the front door, glancing over your shoulder, down the hallway, toward your coffee table piled with papers. There was another ghost of you here — tucked into her slippers and cozy robe with the voices from the television as her only company, flicking her green grading pen down rows of questions.

On December 10th, 1985, you left the papers sitting on your coffee table to see Corroded Coffin play The Hideout. With a decided twist of the handle, you pushed out into the cold night air.

Light pooled in sparse puddles as your boots echoed off the rough pavement. Stillness whispered on the wind as crisp remnants of fall scuttled across the asphalt. The apartments behind you were a tapestry of glowing squares, pictures of the rest of Hawkins tucking into their slippers and washing their dishes, grabbing their blankets and turning on their televisions.

You grabbed your keys and unlocked your car, and when it roared to life with a swift flick of your wrist, a strange exhilaration coursed through you.

It rose like the moon over the barren fields, thrumming in your chest, spreading to your limbs, alight with something wild and teeming as you drove past rows of lighted windows—vignettes of tired routine—and stopped at the same red sign you did this morning. Your fingers twitched over the turn signal leaver — an impulse to flick up, to turn right, to settle into the familiar rhythm of your muscle memory. This time you pressed down, pressed your foot to the gas, and cranked the wheel left.

Cruising boldly down the straight and narrow road, fields and farmland faded in your rearview mirror and soon there were trees on the horizon; dense and dark. Gripping the wheel as the silhouette closed in, the corners of your mouth drew upward, pulled by a wild, awakened force. Headlights illuminated pale, naked limbs. Eyes beamed back at you from the shadows. You cranked the volume on your stereo, and as you braced for your first bend, something deep within you—dormant and restless—howled.

______

The water was so cold it burned. Eddie cursed the old plumbing, instantly regretting having the decency to wash his hands in the first place. Soap just barely rinsed, he twisted the lime-scaled handles and shut it off. With a trembling hand, he grabbed one of the last paper towels. Gareth’s kick drum echoed down the narrow hallway, thundering just like his chest. He glanced at his watch again. 7:56.

Eddie took a ragged breath, chucking the crumpled paper at the overflowing trash bin in the corner. It bounced dejectedly off the wall and onto the dirty tile. With a deadpan glare, he left it where it lay. Hands barely dry, he felt for the flask in his pocket. Screwing the tiny cap and flicking it open, he tipped it back. Eddie welcomed the burn. It chased down his throat and settled in his stomach with a warmth that radiated, instantly numbing his nerves.

Meeting his own eyes in the tiny, smudged mirror, he gave himself a final glance over. His curls were holding; fresh and clean from this morning, fluffed by the icy wind in the trips from van to stage.

Here, in the dingy confines of The Hideout, words like freak and loser lost their stick. Words he could shake like a dog at the door. He’d fashioned them like armor in the daytime; a shield in hallways and in lunch lines. What was stickier were feelings. The feelings that came with chewed pens and answers left blank. The feeling of lectures slipping like a sieve through his brain. The feeling of stares and stifled laughter, of staring numbly at the board, of filling the silence with bullshit instead of an answer.

Microphone feedback squeaked outside. The dull, heavy walk of a bassline. Laughter. Cymbals. That kick drum again. Eddie took another swig, searing the flutters in his stomach.

He wanted to be good for you. Seen under stage lights instead of fluorescents.

Good like an answer he knew.

You saw the sign first, peeking from behind the trees — simple, effective, and yellowed with time. The Hideout: a hole in the woods. Tucked around the bend you now braced against, it sat like a neon beacon. The chipped, grey exterior faded into the shadows, leaving only the holy glow of Budweiser and Miller Lite signs to guide you to the promised land.

Pulling into a spot along the narrow parking strip, you faced off with your destination. Looming and real. Frozen as reality stared back at you in the glare of your blinding headlights, you gripped the steering wheel and looked around. There were a few other cars beside you, but none of them Janet’s. Around the left of the building there appeared to be more parking, and the stout silhouette of a two-tone van you did know the owner of. Pinballs hammered in your chest.

When you arrange a time to meet someone, you are always punctual. Perhaps a life organized by bells on timers trained you to be this way, but the thought of entering alone filled you with dread, and part of you wondered whether you should wait out here for her. Your hands were starting to shake, and not from the cold.

The list of crazy things you had done in your life was a laughably short one, but this made the top by a long shot. As you turned the radio down and sat in the wake of your rumbling engine, the questions grew louder. Serious questions about where you thought this night would go, about where you wanted it to go and if you would truly go there.

Suddenly your headlights felt too bright, like a beacon drawing eyes from the woods, or even more terrifying, eyes from the building. You promptly flicked them off and waited, staring dead ahead at the chipped grey siding. It was fine. You were fine. At least you could no longer see your breath. You could hide here as long as you wanted.

“Alright man, it’s doob o’clock,” Dave said with a satisfied stretch as he took in the stage setup.

Eddie ripped another frantically scribbled setlist out of his spiral notebook and shoved it at him. “No it’s eight fifteen and we still need to do soundcheck,” Eddie scathed, glancing at the door. “You can start by plugging your mic in, Jesus Christ.”

Dave huffed annoyedly through his nose, squatting down to find the cord with exaggerated difficulty. “Yes sir,” he mocked. Eddie shot back a testing glare. “Dude, what’s up with you tonight? You’ve been on one since Gareth’s.”

“Yeah, you ok man?” asked Jeff.

The knots tightened in his stomach as the attention of all three of them closed in around him. “Just—let’s just get our shit together…please,” he deflected.

Glancing around frantically, you wondered, for the hundredth time, where the hell Janet was. You couldn’t be that surprised that a woman with two small children was late, but your exhaust was making a smokescreen of the parking strip, and you wondered if anyone inside had noticed, if anyone could hear the low rumble of your engine and questioned why this strange woman was idling. With an irritated sigh, you turned the key, leaving you in deafening silence and leeching cold. You could hear your breathing now, your pounding heart, the squeaking of leather as you shifted in your seat. What one of the kids got sick? What if she called after you left?

What if she isn’t coming?

Eddie’s eyes lingered at the door as he clicked the pedals with his feet, plucking a soft, testing melody into the mic. His watch glared under the stage lights, confidence fleeting with every minute that ticked by. Gareth snapped his foot petal with a deep thud. Dave walked out a bassline before squealing feedback made the whole bar flinch.

The strum of a chord made you jump. Booming and electric, you heard it through the walls. They were starting. They were starting and you weren’t there. Gripping the steering wheel, you tossed your head back in an anguished sigh. You sure as hell weren’t going to stand him up. As you glanced around the parking lot one last desperate time, the bitter conclusion rose like bile — you may have to do this alone. Seatbelt clicking under your gloved thumb, you steeled yourself for the cold, for the eyes of strangers in a strange new place. With a decided pull of the handle, the door opened to the frigid night air, and you emerged from the heat into the unknown.

You met your reflection in the glass of the entrance as your hand gripped the weathered knob. Pinballs fired off at lightning speed — a jackpot multi-ball bonanza. Checking your hair one last time with eyes locked on your own, you turned the handle with a determined sigh.

A bell dinged above your head, and winter’s chill gusted in on your heels.

The whole room turned at once — at you. You, from the front of the classroom. You, from behind the big desk. You, in the doorway of The Hideout. Across a dark sea of scattered tables, poised on an altar of sound and light, Eddie Munson smiled at you — brighter than all of it.

The door fell shut behind you. Hot under the gaze of what seemed like the entire bar, it suddenly felt like you were the one on stage. Standing there like a deer in headlights in your long wool coat and clean black boots, you surely must have looked as out of place as you felt. Shoulders rolling back to counter your thrumming nerves, your boots left the rug and found the tacky linoleum as you approached the bar that lined the left wall.

Eddie busied his shaking hands with tapping another test melody into his mic, pausing when he heard a voice over his right shoulder.

“Is that…?” Jeff pointed toward the back of your head.

Gareth’s eyes lit up in recognition. Dave peered over with a shit-eating grin. “Did you invite her?” he mouthed.

Eddie’s face betrayed him, burning like it did under the fluorescents. Burning to greet you at the bar, for the liberty to patronize it, to offer you something more than his aching gaze.

“No,” Eddie lied, “but I may have told her we play here on Tuesdays.” He struck the strings with the weight of his frustration, drowning out any further questions with the opening chords to the first song on the setlist. The others took their cue with chuckles and shaking heads. Heart pounding like the kick drum behind him, Eddie’s fingers found the frets, tugging a muscle memory from deep within as his eyes stayed fixed on you.

There was an older man in a sweatshirt behind the bar. The owner, you figured, by the way he was standing — arms crossed, stance wide, unafraid to take up space. By the way he was looking at you, like he wondered what would drive a new face to his establishment on a random Tuesday night in December. From the glances the others passed between them, the feeling seemed unanimous.

“How can I help you?” he half shouted against the chugging chords, leaning against the bar with a curious smile.

You braced with your brightest grin, placing your gloved hands down flat on the waxy bar. “Hi! Yes—um,” you scanned the selection under the neon lights, the liquor bottles of all shapes and sizes reflected in the dirty mirror behind them. The bar back was tightly cluttered with old stickers and hand-written notes taped behind the cash register, with half-empty bottles of bitters and bobble heads nodding to the palpable vibration. Having no interest in standing there awkwardly while he fixed you a cocktail, you selected a bottle of Coors.

He nodded and ducked to open the steel, magnet-plastered fridge beneath the cash register.

Your gaze, like a magnet, drew back to the stage. It was all you could do just to watch him — the way his curls fell gently at his cheek, the way they bounced with every strum. There was a tension lingering just under the curve of his lashes. The music was fast and loud, purely instrumental. You recognized nothing about it but the genre. Head dipped in concentration as his left hand tapped a frantic melody into the frets, he raised his eyes bravely to meet yours.

He wasn’t the only man staring. It was hard to ignore; the man in the baseball cap to your right as you stared right through his line of sight. You pinched off your gloves and shoved them in your pockets to occupy your hands.

A bottle cap plinked against the bar top. “Two bucks,” the owner stated, slinging a towel over his shoulder.

You fished through your purse, feeling those eyes on you as you opened your wallet, as you slid the bills right under his gaze across the waxy counter. You snatched the cold bottle and raised it to your lips. Turning over your shoulder, your eyes clung to Eddie on stage, to his tendons as they flexed to pick a rhythm at the strings. His was gaze a soft and yearning thing, a contrast to the sharp and punchy chords that left his fingers.

“You know these guys?” the man in the cap asked finally, pointing to the stage. Your eyes shot toward him in surprise, lips still pursed at the bottle. He had that working man sort of look. Average features, subtle crows feet, a whisper of sandy stubble across his strong jaw. His grey-blue eyes were gentle, but brimming with a heated curiosity.

You used the much needed swig to buy yourself a second. Did you? The cold, bready fizz sparkled down your throat. You supposed you didn’t have to specify how you were acquainted. “Yeah,” you answered simply, plugging your mouth with the bottle like a dam.

A bell rattled behind you. Grateful for any disruption, you whipped around quickly to break the connection. Janet lit up as soon as she saw you, a mixture of relief and apology playing out on her face as she strode across the room. Tight blonde curls emerged from her lowering leopard print hood. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” she lamented, arms opening to embrace you.

Relief washed through you like a warm buzz. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it!” you said as your nose took a dive in her soft, perfumed curls.

“Sarah would not stop crying, it took forever for me to finally get her to sleep. I swear babies have a sixth sense, they always know when you have fun plans,” she said through a laugh. Her lashes were long and thick with mascara, eyeshadow a solid sky blue so vibrant that it popped even in the dim neon glow.

Janet ordered a margarita. There was nothing new to speak of, really, over the electric roar of the band, but you tried to listen. Intently, you tried to listen to the new words her son was saying, to offer some lukewarm update about how work was going, but your eyes had their own agenda.

The rolled cuffs of Eddie’s tight, acid-washed jeans bunched against the pull tabs of his boots as he tapped the rhythm with his heel. There was no jacket for him to strain against, no flannel to constrict him, no sleeves on his T-shirt in December. It was more than you’d seen of him yet. Ink flexed with each generous swell of his bicep, and with every attack, he would flash you his ribs through the hand-hacked holes.

“Mmm,” Janet mumbled, sipping off the top of the very full, salt-rimmed rocks glass. “Come on, let’s get cozy,” she said with a wink and gestured toward the tables. The air was thick with smoke wafting from the bikers at the bar. Eddie tapped out another lick and peered through a few stray curls as you followed her across the room to a high top, back and center.

You wanted to be closer. Close enough to see the umber of his eyes, the ridges of his knuckles as they plucked the strings. There were a few shorter tables down in front, back about five feet from the stage. But as the beams of light bounced off the glossy wood and over the seats in blinding white, you were grateful for the shadows ten feet would afford you.

Janet stripped off her coat to reveal a tight black dress with long sleeves and sequined, padded shoulders. It hugged just above the knees of her sheer hose, punctuated with sharp ankle boots.

“Look at you all dressed up! You look stunning.” You meant it, she really did.

Janet’s smile was a shy deflection, but hiding just beneath it, a glimmer of belief. “Thanks, this thing’s been sitting in my closet for like a year now. Can you believe it? I just felt like, you know, if I’m going out I’m gonna dress up goddamn it,” she laughed, punctuating with a slap against the table. “We coulda gone to Benny’s, I still woulda worn it.”

You laughed, for the first time since you’d talked to her that morning. Unbuttoning your coat, you let it drape over the metal back of the stool behind you.

“You’re not looking too shabby yourself,” Janet said with a wink before taking a sip.

“Honestly I’ll take any excuse I can get to dress down,” you said with a sheepish huff, propping your elbows on the sticky table before bringing the bottle to your lips.

A nervous crackle wound its way through Eddie’s stomach at the vision of you. You, perched on a stool in a dive bar. You, in jeans and a t-shirt. You, arching forward just enough to grace him with a sliver of your back. It was real — you, here. He soured a note, and those words he shook off came creeping back in as he fumbled through the next lick. But you didn’t seem to notice. You propped your cheek against your knuckles and let the warmth of your eyes usher his doubts away.

When the song came to a ringing conclusion, Janet’s cheer was uninhibited, clapping her hands above her head. It drew eyes from the couple seated at one of the lower tables, from the bikers at the bar, from the band. Your applause was more demure, but you couldn’t mask the brilliance of your smile.

“Thank you, thank you,” Eddie said into the microphone. “Looks like we really have a crowd tonight. Seven drunks.”

The room erupted with hollers and cheers.

The bassist muttered something to the other guitarist and the two shared a laugh, casting their eyes towards you. Suddenly your face grew very hot. Of course they recognized you, Jeff was in your second period class. You anticipated this, and yet it was the realness of it all that shook you — the hard stool beneath you, the stares you could feel as your finger idly traced the cold condensation on the glass. Pinballs fired off at rapid speed. You drowned them with a tip of the bottle.

Eddie shifted, clicking the pedals with his foot. “Ok, so this next one is uh, definitely not an original.” He breathed a laugh into the microphone, glancing up at you — at your shoulders, hunched in shy defense, at your worried brow and downcast gaze. He wished he could reach across the room, lift your chin with his words and draw you from your shell. “Anyway, you’ll uh, probably recognize this one,” he said, to you.

Eddie nodded to the band, counting off silently before they struck a chord together — a low, droning thing, gritty and slow as the bass walked steadily over the foundation. Eddie swayed back and forth, rocking in time with the beat like a march, resting his heavy-lidded gaze on you. Across the divide of scattered seats, you — at the small table, saw him — on the big stage. His nimble fingers struck the chords with an ardent conviction, and the ice in you began to thaw.

Suddenly the beat changed pace. Gareth smacked his drum sticks together to count off, and the first two chords sparked instant recognition. A smile rose up in you — a wild and thrumming thing, radiant and rising until it cracked through.

You knew what was coming. Two chords, quiet taps for a count of sixteen, and then those two chords again, like a one-two punch, booming and building with anticipation. Again, and again, as the energy rose in the room. You caught the wicked glint in his eyes as his hands—those hands that fidgeted and fumbled with dog-eared pages and chewed up pens—wielded power. A surge of electricity swirled through your stomach, crackled because you knew what was next.

Eddie took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

Generals gathered in their masses

Colors. Warm and bright, tingling like a shockwave from your chest down to your seat.

Just like witches at black masses

In your secret daydreams, you often wondered what his voice sounded like in song.

Evil minds that plot destruction

Tried to guess from his deep hums and brilliant laughter.

Sorcerers of death’s construction

Now, it suspended in the air like a battle cry, reaching out across the chasm of tables and chairs.

In the fields the bodies burning

Surging like a wildfire.

As the war machine keeps turning

Swirling through the darkness like a strange magic.

Death and hatred to mankind

Reaching out like it wanted to touch you.

Poisoning their brainwashed minds

And so you let it.

Oh lord, yeah!

The music rocked and swelled. Like a balm reverberating through the air, it softened the hunch of your shoulders. Like an antidote, it dissolved the knot in your stomach. Like an arrow, it pierced the shell of you.

Janet took a generous sip of her margarita and bobbed her head to the rhythm. You caught her gaze from across the table and shared a laugh, a mutual knowing through squinted eyes and shaking heads that this was, in fact, a Tuesday night in December, and the two of you were here.

As the cold drink warmed your limbs, you became acquainted with the hard curve of the stool beneath you, with the of rings left behind on the glossy table, with the crowded ashtray. Acquainted with the smoke that wafted through the air and the darkness that enveloped you like a blanket. The music settled over the room, and as you settled into that heavy buzz, you started to get the feeling you might actually enjoy yourself tonight.

Janet needed no convincing. Her first margarita went down easy, leaving nothing but the ice and her hot pink lipstick on the rim before they finished their fourth song. When she returned from the bar with one in each hand, she placed the extra in front of you. Her treat, convinced they were better than Pal Joey’s, insisting that you try it even with a few sips still lingering in your bottle.

It surprised you — the balance of lime, and liquor, and something else you couldn’t quite place. It surprised you how it easy it melted the tension in your stomach, how it encouraged you to lean in a little more, to let your shoulders drop.

Eddie noticed it, peeking out from under the coyly dipping collar of your shirt; bare and soft as you leaned against the table — your shoulder. He missed a note. Cursing silently, he glanced down at his fingers and tapped into that deep, subconscious part of his brain again where they knew just where to go. But when he closed his eyes to find it, the image remained painted to his lids — a ripened fruit, tempting but too far to taste. Across it, a stripe of black hazard tape, a trail he itched to follow.

There was a hunger in you, stirring more with every song, with every decadent flash of his pale ribs. He was good. Stadium good. Those nimble fingers tapped the frets, making them sing in a way that made you wish you were wire and wood, looking at you in a way that made you think he wished the same. He stroked the neck of his instrument with a reverent touch, attacked the strings with a holy power, like a wingless angel with a spotlight halo. You whispered a silent prayer, venerating him from your faraway pew in the only way you could — with your eyes.

The animal stirred in its icy den, roused by the warmth of his voice as it stretched across the bar. It stirred in that place you rarely acknowledged, rarely indulged as you considered what other talents his hands might have. You considered the shades of those sighs and swallows he took before painting the air, considered what they might sound like if he showed you. It settled and throbbed in that low, blooming place, and you smothered the feeling with a cross of your legs.

Busying yourself with what remained of your beer, you shifted your shoulders to face him directly, leaning your free arm against the metal back of the stool with an ease that Eddie considered looked almost as good on you as the shirt did. Your lips lingered on the rim of the bottle before parting with a soft pop. He swallowed.

There was a gap between you; a sea of scattered tables and wide open ears and eyes amongst them. What could he possibly say from his position? From a microphone on stage? A thousand words ached on the tip of his tongue and he swallowed them with a sloppy chug of water as the applause bought him a moment to consider.

The white lettering across your chest jumped out at him from the shadows like a bright idea. Eddie swiped droplets from his mouth and turned to his bandmates, bringing them into a huddle as the noise drowned out what he was saying. Whatever it was, after some deliberation, they seemed in agreement about it.

You hadn’t seen Janet like this since the summer between your junior and senior year of college. She was always a happy drunk; talkative and bubbly, spilling over with laughter and the sort of wild enthusiasm that a child at a carnival might have.

“I wanna dance,” she said longingly, glancing toward the stage as she slumped in her seat.

“Maybe we can go to a club next time,” you joked as you downed the remainder of your sweating drink.

The band assumed their positions again. Eddie tapped the pedals with his feet and rolled his shoulders back with a deep, collecting breath. His eyes found yours across the room, brimming with such a longing you wondered anyone else could sense it too. After the longest second, he snapped his head over his shoulder with a steely conviction and nodded off a count before making his attack — the opening riff to Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”.

Your hands shot to your face.

Suddenly Janet perked up, inspired by the catchy rhythm and her own suggestion. “We should dance! Will you dance with me?”

You balked, shrinking down. “There’s like… six people here! I don’t think it’s really that kind of—”

“Oh come on, please? What’s there to lose, huh?”

Oh, only my last remaining shred of dignity in front of my students. But you couldn’t say that. “Janet,” you hissed. “We are not—I can’t—”

Her three margaritas had a different opinion. They reached across the table and grabbed your hand. “Come on, live a little! That’s what we came here to do, right?”

You buried your face in your other. The truth was you wanted to. You wanted a closeup of that smart smirk, of the sweat beading down his temple as he strummed the punchy chords he hand-picked just for you. You wanted the fantasy, the memory, the experience. It was convincing — her pouting pink lips and pleading eyes, almost as convincing as the tequila coursing through your veins. The truth was you left your better judgement at home on the coffee table. To her giddy satisfaction, you surrendered. Dragging you from your seat, she led you to the front of the stage.

Eddie’s smile could have blinded you, even through the shy web of your fingers. Cheers erupted from the bar, from the whole band, as Janet shimmied her sequined shoulders to the beat.

Eddie opened his mouth again, this time with an ardor you could feel in your bones.

You need cooling, baby I’m not fooling

He crouched down to level with your eyes. I’m gonna send ya back to schooling

You lowered your hand to mask the girlish grin that cracked across your face.

Way down inside, honey you need it

They were breathtaking up close — his eyes. Sparkling with an energy you’d never seen before. Rich umber alight with something you couldn’t quite place, too mesmerized by the promise his tongue wove through the air.

I’m gonna give you my love

I’m gonna give you my love… oh!

He straightened with a backward toss of his head, and you found the word you were looking for in the droplets that flung from his curls. Power.

Wanna whole lotta love?

Janet—having an absolute field day over the spectacle—offered you her hand like she wanted to tango. Freeing your face with a brave sigh, you accepted with a slap of your palm in hers. She tugged with a childish delight, and you took your cue — spinning into her waiting arm and shooting back out with a flourish dredged up from some long forgotten place. The room became a blur of sound and light, of cheers from the bar and the stage. You stilled to find your footing, landing on his eyes.

You’ve been learning, and baby I’ve been yearning

He dipped down again. All them good times baby, baby, I’ve been lear-er-nin’, he punctuated with a shake of his head. He could see the whole vision of you, bright and clear under the stage lights. A wildness lingering just behind your eyes, a fragment unseen until now. It pounded at the cage of your chest, rose up in the shallow breaths you caught before Janet snatched you away again. He swore—silently on a deep inhale—that he would do everything in his power to coax it out of you.

Way, way down inside, oh honey you need it

I’m gonna give you my love

You couldn’t remember the last time you really danced. The last time you felt a rhythm with your body and followed its blind inspiration. No rhyme or reason, no plans or choreography. It felt awkward at first, like trying on skin fresh from the wash. Feeling your feet shuffle against the tacky linoleum, finding the rhythm of yourself with a room full of strangers as witness.

Somewhere between the beams of light and the wink of Eddie’s rings beneath them, you found it. Like a memory rising up, sweeping through you like a current. Visions of a stadium, roaring as a lion struts the stage with his golden mane, as he commands a sea of thousands with his voice. There was an animal in you too, wild and careless.

It grew wilder when the music dropped to nothing but percussion. When the room fell away to nothing but the heat from Eddie’s eyes, sparkling with play. It made your hips want to sway a little more, your legs want to dip a little deeper to match his wildness with your own. Imbued with a sudden, potent energy, he struck his wicked instrument as the rhythm and melody unraveled.

Janet took it in stride, leading you in a rocking shimmy as you swayed to the change in tempo. Light danced on her sequined shoulders as she tipped her head back in a blissful cackle. You followed her lead, eyes fixed on her with a surging power in the knowing of whose eyes were fixed on you.

The air was a cool kiss against the sliver of skin where your shirt left off, daring you to show a little more. With a twist of your arms toward the spotlights, you blessed him with the dip of your back — the alluring shadow of your spine that trailed into the high waist of your jeans. He panged with the urge to follow it, fell to his knees and wailed through his fingertips.

You broke from Janet’s pull to face him, eye-to-eye level, watching reverently as the sweat glistened in his clavicles, as his pelvis jutted into his weapon to eke out his solo. Howling for you with each stroke of its neck, each bend in its strings as you matched his rhythm with your hips. A secret world, just you and him, the rest fading out into nothing. He swore, like a spell in each note that he wove through the air, that somehow he would make it last.

From his knees, Eddie grabbed the mic off the stand, and with a wordless nod earned by years of friendship, Jeff took over the melody. To the delight of the crowd, he stripped himself of the weight of his instrument, setting it carefully off to the side.

You’ve been cooling, baby, I’ve been drooling, he crooned as he crawled forward.

All the good times, baby, I’ve been misusing

You played with him there. With your shoulders, with your eyes locked no more than a foot from his. Desperate to touch him, you worshiped every bead of sweat that fell from his temple, every wet curl that strayed from the nape of his neck and hugged the strong angle of his jaw. What left his lips next dripped with such fervent intention you that you couldn’t keep your hand from your face.

Way, way down inside

I’m gonna give you my love

I’m gonna give you every inch of my love

I’m gonna give you my love

He was pure energy; raw and manic. Free in the way that wild things are. He snatched your breath away, dragged it to his den and had his way with it as he queried the chorus to you. There was wildness all around; in glinting sequins and megawatt smiles. In the flashes of limbs under the lights. In the rhythm you carried with your whole body now, moving in a way that was both so foreign and natural all at once.

You wondered how it looked from the outside; you and him. From the bar it might have looked like drunk spontaneity. From the stage it might have looked like a stint of support for the arts. You wondered, with a twinge of fear, if the others could feel the longing too or if you had masked it well enough as a performance.

The music dropped out to make way for the final lyrics.

Way down inside, he belted into the silence, punctuating with a deep inhale. Woman, he shouted, locking eyes with you for a pregnant second as the world came to a halt, you need… he drew a deep breath in the space the two chords allowed him before wailing the final word at the ceiling — loooooooove!

You felt it with every cell of your body in one suspended moment. Felt—for the first time since you could vividly remember—truly and completely alive. With a crash of cymbals and an electric instrumental boom, the rhythm—and the world—reconstituted around you, swirling with a vibrant energy that swept you away.

His dark eyes opened with a wicked glint, and his next breath left his chest as a command.

Shake for me, girl. I wanna be your backdoor man!

You obeyed with a shimmy of your shoulders and the room went wild.

______

Janet left you with a tight, perfumed hug. A gentle reassurance that yes, she was fine to drive home. She left you in the vacuum of slamming guitar cases and distant voices as the jukebox picked up where the band left off. Left you to sober up to how idle and awkward you felt sitting at the table you once shared with her, picking at the peeling label on the wet, empty bottle.

When you heard footsteps approaching, a part of you was grateful for the prospect of someone—anyone—to talk to, though it wasn’t who you hoped. Instead, it was the man in the cap from the bar.

“Hey, love the shirt,” he remarked, glance lingering a little too long over the text across your chest.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, gaze drifting back to the bottle.

He stepped closer, setting his can on the table. “I take it you went to that concert?”

“I did, it was really last minute actually.” You told him the story. You told him with your words and gestures, twisting in the tall stool to face him, but it was Eddie that drew your eyes. Crouched down with one knee bent beneath him and the other straining against denim slits, he collected his pedals into a tiny, vintage suitcase. There were words coming out of your mouth, but faced with the rigid angles of his thighs, you were helpless but to stumble over some of them.

It was then that you noticed he had already been staring, though not at you, at Bill — with a simmer behind his eyes.

“Man, I woulda killed to go to that show. I was working a double when tickets went on sale and a buddy of mine said he was gonna camp overnight for us. Well, he ended up getting into a fight with his girlfriend and flaked out. ‘Course they were sold out and closed by the time I left work.”

You expressed your genuine sympathy.

“Boy I was pissed at him then, but even more pissed after Bonham died. Like damn, that was my last shot, man!”

“I’m sorry you had to miss it. It was quite the show.” You told him what you could remember. The setlist, the stage, what they wore.

Eddie watched closely, carefully darting between you amidst the gathering of cables and closing of metal latches. He watched your hands come to life like he loved so much, like you always did when you were explaining something with fond enthusiasm. Helplessly, he watched the way Bill leaned closer, the way his hand and forearm made themselves at home on your table. The simmer hissed and bubbled behind his eyes.

“Anyways, it’s good to see such a lovely new face around here. One with great taste, I might add. Made my night.”

The simmer kicked up to a full, licking flame.

“Oh, well thanks. I don’t get out much,” you said with an awkward chuckle.

Bill stepped closer, as if his next point was something he had to lean in for. “By the way, and I hope this isn’t too forward, but… you’re a great dancer.”

Eddie watched your hand dive behind your neck, your face contort into a feeble smile, your shoulders hunch, your eyes glance down. He could hear the distress in your beautiful laugh and he boiled so hot he could have seared a hole into the back of Bill’s head.

He extended his hand. “I’m Bill, by the way.”

Eddie wrapped the cable in hasty circles around his forearm. Heat rose behind behind his tight lips and exited in short fumes.

“Hey man, have you seen the drum key anywhere?” Gareth called from behind him.

It barely registered. The world was a fragment now. A red-hot, narrowing tunnel reduced to a singularity — Bill’s hand.

Bill’s hand; hovering like a salacious invitation, too close to the soft swell of your belly. That open, rugged palm — weathered, experienced, and free. Free to reach into his wallet, to reach across the bar, to hand you a drink, to wander all sorts of places where Eddie could not.

You, ever polite and always accommodating, reached back.

He touched you.

Eddie’s vision narrowed red. Helplessly, he watched Bill’s fingers snake around the back of your hand and squeeze, linger at your palm as they released. A coil wound through his body. It rose up like bile — up through his spine, into his shoulders that rolled forward and back with a deep, seething breath. Up, up, into that primitive space at the base of his skull where words and civil manners had no place.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Eddie dropped the cable.

The world blurred in the wake of his target and in five swift steps he was at your side. “Hey, Bill. Uh—” his senses ebbed back to him with a curious look from the man he’d shared countless drinks with. A man he would call his friend had he not breeched a sacred distance, a contract he knew nothing of. His vision was clouded, the coil tight and hot.

“She’s um,” he continued quietly, a murmur he had to lean in for. An urge seized his hand. The urge to claim, to slip across the divot of your back and pull you close where you belonged, to but the noise from the stage and the eyes that followed forced his hand deep into his pocket. He swallowed his frustration, hoping the simmer in his eyes would be enough to convey what he meant. “She’s with me, man.”

A throb from that low, blooming place, rose up in a full body yes. In the arch of your back, in the dip of your eyes as you caught the desperate heat from his.

Bill blinked in honest surprise. “Wait, you mean,” he pointed between the two of you, eyes darting back and forth with a confusion that only deepened the insecurity of everyone involved, “you’re—”

“Yes,” Eddie hotly interrupted. The coil in him released slightly, a low rumble replaced by a surge that settled in his cheeks at the trembling, nervous laughter in your voice.

Flutters roared through you all at once, spinning the room well beyond the scope of the liquor that lingered in your veins, heightening your senses to the warmth radiating from the aching nearness of his body to yours.

“Well, hey man, we were just talking—”

“Yeah—well,” he glanced at you, an apology playing out in the widening of his eyes as the coil cooled to sobering embarrassment. He wished he could bury himself, open a trapdoor and take you with him. A parade of stomping feet and slamming cases trudged on behind him from the stage. He prayed the din was enough to mask the conversation.

“It’s ok!” you nervously exclaimed to both of them. “Really. Besides, I—I need to sober up anyway before I go home, so… it’s really ok,” you soothed to Eddie specifically.

Eddie’s pulse thrummed in his hears, his body a livewire of stress and embarrassment. “Ok. Well, I just, um… thought I’d let you know,” he concluded to Bill, desperate to string together some semblance of dignity. He dipped his head toward you until his voice hummed lowly in your hear. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. I gotta get the rest of this shit cleaned up, and then we can, um—” his eyes darted back and forth between yours in wordless exasperation.

“Yeah,” your body whispered, overriding any protest of your noble mind. To what you were agreeing to was unimportant. Whatever he wanted.

Eddie nodded and pivoted toward the stage in a swift exit.

In the wake of his absence was an awkward pause, a space Bill was quick to fill with words. “Well, um, it was nice to meet you,” he said with an awkward dip of his head.

“Yeah, you as well,” you said, a feeble anchor to the spinning room. Bill’s gaze hesitated with a flash of disappointment before returning to the bar. It was all you could do to just stand there a moment, heart pounding in stunned realization as the space whirled with the clammer of footsteps, the thud of equipment, the clinking of glasses. Suddenly the weight of your aloneness in the middle of it all was crushing. You retreated to the down the short hallway and ducked into the bathroom.

She’s with me.

In the muffled quiet of the dimly lit reprieve, the words echoed louder than ever. You were almost afraid to check your reflection, to look yourself in the eyes and face the person who ached to hear them repeated, but you did, and she surprised you. Something about the way your lipstick feathered clean in the center from the kiss of the bottle, the way your mascara settled at your lower lashes in the delicate lines beneath. It was oddly flattering, like the shadow of a good time.

You liked who you saw, and perhaps that scared you most.

Jeff’s laughter echoed down the hallway and the pinball trigger snapped again. What the fuck am I doing?

You would ask yourself this question as you pressed the tip of your boot to the dirty toilet handle, as the cold water woke your skin, as it dripped onto the salt-stained tile, as you dropped the soggy remains of the last two paper towels into the overflowing trashcan.

When the clammer of footsteps and slamming of the back door faded to nothing more than distant murmurs from the bar, you slowly cracked the door and peered into the empty hallway. Your boots clicked tentatively against the tacky linoleum, emerging from the shadows as you drew a steady breath. The stage was dark, the men perched on stools had their backs to you, all roaming eyes cast down over drinks — all except one.

Eddie stood in the middle of it all; hands on hips, damp curls clinging to his neck, chest still heaving from movement and stress. He locked eyes with you, and you could feel relief in his sigh from the apron of the hallway.

Your smile was a shy, timid thing, blooming to a helpless grin as the softness of his features heightened into focus with each progressive step. As the distance between you closed to less than a foot.

“Hey,” he breathed like a soft apology.

“Hey,” you answered, like you always did. A nervous crackle of anticipation wound through your gut.

“I um,” Eddie wrung a hand behind his neck, flashing a dark tuft of hair that made the animal in you stir. “I need to cool down,” he admitted with a raw, candid urgency. He patted his pockets. “I’m gonna step out for a cigarette… if you… wanna…” he nodded toward the back hall.

Yes. Anything, the animal growled. You simply nodded and went to grab your coat.

Eddie snatched the heap of leather from the railing by the stage and draped it over his arm. He ushered you forward with a sweep of his palm through the air, catching your eyes with a softness that threatened the strength of your knees. A giggle escaped you — honest, uncontrollable, automatic. Clutching your arm with a coyness that surprised even yourself, you shuffled in front of him, the towering presence of his closeness like a tingle at your back, a safety in the thud of heavy boots behind you.

The night air was a cold refreshment, a sobering reprieve from the hot, smoke-dense air of The Hideout. Your lungs helped themselves, filling to the brim, releasing just a little of the tension that was mounting before you arrived. It left you in a thick fog, drifting out into the empty patio, catching the glow from the singular bulb posted by the door. Eddie pulled it shut with a soft thud and shrugged on his coat in a rattle of zippers and chains.

Silence. A howl of the wind through naked limbs. A sigh that left both of you at once.

Eddie dipped his head in subtle reverence as he crossed in front of you, placing his hands on the short, wooden fence to your right. He paused a second, drawing a deep breath before spinning around to face you, hands splayed in an open plead. “I am so fucking sorry.”

Your mouth hung open. “A-about what?”

He ran a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. “About Bill, about how I acted, a-about…” he swallowed, “what I said…”

An O trembled on your lips but never made it out. “It’s fine, really—”

“It’s…it’s not. It’s just that,” he huffed, “Bill was hitting on you a-and you just looked so uncomfortable and…” it drove him fucking crazy. It lit his blood on fire. It made him want to grab a man who’d bought him countless drinks by the collar and ram him into the wall.

You stepped closer, close enough to see the whites of his eyes in the darkness, the shadow of his pinching brow. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t stir something in you. Hearing those words. Hearing the ones he said now in profuse apology. “Eddie,” you soothed.

He closed his eyes; a split-second relish of his name on your lips. “It—” he sighed. “It wasn’t cool, to say that…” he shook his head before meeting your eyes in soft earnestness, “in public.”

The breath froze in your lungs. Out here the world fell away to the rustle of trees, to a darkness that cloaked you like a blanket. You were alone. Truly alone. A question tugged at your heart, twinged on the tip of your tongue but felt still too bold to leave it. What would he say, then, in private?

It played out like a tape behind his eyes — the curl of Bill’s fingers around your hand. It was such a simple gesture, benign outside of context. Yet there was something deeper, something that wound like a serpent through his gut. It struck, and stung, that in one fell swoop, Bill had touched as much of you as he had. That Bill could do as much in public as he could only manage beneath a shadow.

“Anyway, now that… that’s out of the way,” Eddie shook his head as he fumbled with the zipper of his pocket, curls feathering his delicate cheekbone, gaze cast down in weakly hidden shame. He procured a box of cigarettes, thumb flipping it open with an ease earned by years of habit. Popping one into his mouth, he paused before snapping it shut. “Y-you want one?” he mumbled. It seemed rude not to ask, but the question felt dumber by the second as it hung in the air. You were good. Good like 6 AM coffee, like the early morning sun. Good like the buttons on a crisp, white blouse. Yet here he stood, hand extended, offering what little he could — an experience.

Goodness was a mantle. A weight that kept your shoulders back, your lips pressed tight, your head cast down, your feet in slippers, your curtains drawn. Eddie Munson stood beside you, rugged and regal like a dark knight, arm outstretched in humble offering. With hesitance, you eyed the invitation.

Out here you could be anything — a vagabond, a runaway, a princess escaped from her castle. A woman who spends Tuesday nights at dive bars and smokes cigarettes with men in leather jackets. Anything you wanted.

You wanted to taste it. You wanted the flame, and the smoke, and the raw, ragged air that wound through your lungs and left like a beacon that soared toward the sky.

You wanted to be bad for him, and so you accepted.

The cigarette almost dropped from Eddie’s mouth in shock. He fumbled another from the box before tucking it into his back pocket. With a flourish, bending in its presentation as if it were a single rose, he offered it to you.

Never in a million years could you have imagined it. You, in a position like this. Him, in a position like that. Least of all that it would be so wildly romantic.

You accepted with the tips of your fingers, your index and middle, brushing ridges of his knuckles with feather-light indulgence. They closed around the offering, pausing for an aching second before drawing away with it.

Eddie closed his eyes, so quickly he could have masked it as a blink, but you caught it. The sigh, the swallow, the batting open with a burning hunger as he relished in the barest fulfillment of what he’d been craving since he saw you this morning — to touch you.

The cold nipped at your knuckles as you took in the foreign sensation between them, admiring it like a sinful adornment under the moonlight.

With a flick of his thumb, the parentheses of his mouth lit up in a warm glow. He took a few quick puffs, smoke billowing from his nose and the corners of his lips before taking a long drag. Satisfaction exited his lungs in a deep sigh, a billow that rose toward the twinkling sky. He turned his attention back to you. “Here,” he offered gently, beckoning you closer with a gentle come hither motion, readying his lighter.

You held your hand out gingerly, willing the trembling of your fingers to cease with little success.

Eddie closed in, bringing a finger to his lips as a gentle suggestion. “Put it in your mouth,” he said, unable to suppress the boyish grin that surfaced from the words.

You did as he told you, held it in your smirk, searched for your next instruction in the depth of his eyes but found only delight. Delight in the whole sight of you; the way it dimpled the swell of your lips, in the attention of those dutiful shoulders, like you wanted to be good at misbehaving. Delight in the fact he was teaching you something.

Eddie leaned closer. “Like this,” he instructed softly, framing his own with his long, ruddy digits before taking a quick drag. Obediently, you mirrored him, like a natural smoker would, like they did in the movies and inside the bar.

The flame ignited between you, flickering in the wild wind. Eddie cupped it with his other hand, forming a shield with the curve of his knuckles — gentle and protective. The fire caught the tip of the slender roll, but his palm was far more captivating. Inches from your face, you could study it closer than ever, plush and glowing — the broad heart line, the soft meat of its heel.

A deep inhale had smoke ghosting over your tongue. Eddie pulled away to reveal the ember and you took your cue. The drag you took, long and determined, left you coughing.

Eddie couldn’t suppress his chuckle, couldn’t mask the crinkle of his eyes as you—from behind the big desk and before the big board—were swallowed in a clumsy cloud of smoke.

“Are you laughing at me?” you asked through a giggle of your own.

Like oxygen to a flame, his laughter only brightened. “I’m sorry, you’re just… so…”

“So…what?” You gave him a look, trying to suck your dignity back through the end of the cigarette.

A million words ached on the tip of his tongue. The wind ripped across the small, frozen field, shyly disappearing in the treeline. Out here there were no bells, no footsteps, no concrete walls to listen. Eddie watched those fingers of yours pull away from your lips, blow a billow toward the open sky, and one in a million came tumbling out.

“Beautiful.”

A puff retreated back through your lips, froze in your lungs. The truth hung like smoke in the cold night air, rolled around in your chest, warmed your body from head to toe. Eddie plugged his mouth with another draw to prevent more from slipping out.

There was space for the truth out here. Space like a vacuum, vast and quiet. A shyly muttered “Thank you,” was all you could manage to fill it with.

Eddie raked his fingers through the damp curls at the nape of his neck, cheeks pinking visibly, even in the dim glow of the single light on the other side of the patio. He leaned against the fence and met your eyes again, nervous breath rolling over his plush lips.

His movement, like a magnet, drew your feet across the pavement. Deeper into the shadows with the gentle pull of his eyes. The tobacco settled in your body with a comfortable heaviness as you drank him in, and you suddenly grasped the appeal.

Out here he seemed even taller, shoulders stacked over slender hips as he leaned into the fence, an ease that washed over him with each generous draw, like the stress was rolling off into the shadows. Out here he took on a different posture, different than the one under fluorescent lights. Different than the one in the small chair next to you, the one with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes.

You tapped the ash of the cigarette off with your finger, like a natural smoker would. He smirked at the gesture, and you caught the twinge of pride in it this time.

Out here he could be anything. He could be clever and daring; a roguish enchanter. A man who casts spells with his fingers and charms with his words. Anything he wanted.

He wanted to make your eyes light up.

Eddie took another drag, hollowing his cheeks before sending out smoke in deliberate puffs with his tongue. It left his mouth in rings, hovering in the gap between you before drifting across the patio.

He got what he wanted. A gasp left your lips, eyes twinkling brighter than the stars. “What?! I didn’t know people could actually do that!” You exclaimed, delighted like a child on Christmas.

Eddie blew the rest off to the side and returned a blinding smile. It was more satisfying than the cigarette — the fact that he could do it, make your face light up. The fact that he had the power.

“How do you do that?” you asked, ever inquisitive.

His instructions were simple; take a big drag, hollow your cheeks, make the shape with your mouth, and push the smoke out with your tongue. Simple enough, from the sound of it.

Your first attempt failed, miserably. Uproariously.

“The shape is critical,” he reminded through a chuckle, “it’s gotta be like, a perfect O, not an oval.” His eyes lingered over your lips as you tried his suggestion, struggling to will his mind away from the gutter.

Your smile made it hard to maintain. “Wait—wait, hold on I think I got it.” You tried again with great focus, sending out puffs with your tongue that looked nothing like rings. It was worth it though. Worth making a fool of yourself for the amusement that colored his face, for the bright laughter it earned you. “Ok, fine. Maybe not.”

It looked good on him, just like it did on stage. This knowing that drew his shoulders back, made him lean with a powerful ease. The knowing that he was really good at something, that he could show you.

“It’s a bit advanced,” he said with a wink before taking another deep drag. He puffed a ring and cast it forward with a push of his hand, like a spell through the air. It broke on your nose and you relished in the soft sensation of his life-force ghosting over your face.

It was all you could do just to look at him — rugged and regal in the way that only he could be. It was dangerous and thrilling; how alone you were right now. His aura pulled you closer, eyes tugging at those burning questions, serious questions at war with your lingering buzz. You broke the silence with the truth; soft and sincere. “You’re insanely talented, I hope you know that.”

The curve of his lashes dipped shyly with a little puff through his nose. They raised with a sparkle that cut through the darkness. “Thanks, it uh… comes a lot easier to me than chemistry.” He tapped off his ash on the pavement.

You tucked your free hand into your pocket with a bashful shuffle of your feet. “Well, good thing rockstars don’t need to know chemistry then.”

Eddie scoffed and gave his eyes a quick roll, unsuccessful at hiding the brilliance of his smile. Heat crept up his neck, and he soothed it with a wring of his hand.

There was a gap between you; a space you were too scared to breach. The two of you filled it with shy chatter as your cigarettes dwindled to nubs. It was easy, to talk to him. About music, about anything. Easy because you gave each other turns to take it; the space. It almost made it easy to forget who you were to each other before you came out here, who you would go back to being tomorrow.

The cold was wicked and relentless; biting at your knuckles as you tapped the last ash. Even the tobacco’s heavy warmth sinking to your feet couldn’t stave it off. It was a Tuesday night in December, and the wind made sure to remind you.

Eddie followed your eyes toward the door. “It’s ok,” he reassured. “Nobody comes out here. We’re safe.”

His words sparked a tingle in your chest, a pulse of heat; low and thrumming. Neither could halt the shiver that seized your limbs.

“You ok?” he asked gently, stepping close enough to almost feel the heat from him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You blew on your hands, rubbing them together feebly to fight the cold. You were stubborn to surrender, determined not to end your stolen moment by succumbing.

It was all he could do just to look at you. You, shaking like a leaf in the wind. You, with longing eyes and trembling lips. You, with your soft skin and softer soul. His fingers burned, wrestled with the silence, and the distance, and the howl of the wind through the trees. They warred with the ticking clock, with the chill against his precious moment, with the threat of it winning. Suddenly his fingers—bolder than they’ve ever been in his life—twitched to animation. They toyed with the cold metal zipper at his neck, and in one decided tug, he opened up for you. “Here,” he offered.

You froze, more than the cold could ever manage, as you eyed the invitation — the warm leather cave, the exposure of his heaving chest. Your lips parted but words would not come. You wanted it — the heat, the tight embrace, to be wrapped in his aura, to feel his laughter with your palms.

Your noble mind as it cast its disapproval like a shadow toward your heart, but your hands and feet were deaf to it. Boots shuffling boldly against the rough pavement, they filled the gap between his. You accepted with the tips of your fingers, delicate and tentative, like his skin was a hot iron and yours at risk to burn. You watched them disappear into the darkness, felt the soft cotton warmth as it enveloped you. With trembling slowness, you traced the divots of his ribcage, settled into them like grooves, felt him gasp into your palms when the ice that you’d become found the velvet, heated skin under his arms.

“Sorry—”

“Hah—hmm—no-no it’s ok,” he grimaced, pinning your hands beneath his arms to stop your recoil, as if the pain of the freeze hurt less than the pain of its absence. “I—ah—I asked for this.” His chuckle was a warm vibration, a flutter as the cage which housed his heart contracted.

A shiver racked your body as you thawed. Whether it was nerves, or fear, or the chill that had settled deep in your bones long before you stepped foot outside, you were helpless to control it.

“Come ‘ere,” he breathed with equal care and need.

You submitted, tracing his contours as he pulled you closer — head against his solid shoulder, into the soft pillow of his hair, into the source of his scent: leather and tobacco and the sweet, salty musk of his skin. You closed your eyes and basked in it, nose buried in his curls, drawing in deeply to steady your rattling chest.

Broad palms splayed across the fabric of your coat, pulling you deep into the comfort of his heat, tracing your waist to settle in a place they burned to be — your lower back. “It’s ok, you’re ok,” he murmured into your hair, bracing you tightly as your whole body shook.

You could have died here, buried yourself in his arms and made him your tomb. They would find you in the morning; frozen like a sculpture. Left out for all of Hawkins to see, to point and say terrible things. It wouldn’t matter. You would have died happy.

His heart was pounding with disbelief. You, here, in his arms. You could feel it through your coat, hammering against your chest, into your palms at his back. Eddie felt your breathing slow, your body soften and relax. He crooked his forearm firmly to your back, to the place where it belonged, fingers curling like a cage around your waist. Out here he could be anything — strong and stable, a haven for your tired bones to rest. Anything, for you.

In the dark leather cave there was a landscape for your hands to study. The satin liner grazed your knuckles as your hands explored the angles of his shoulder blades with tentative slowness — down along the muscles of his back, the dip of his spine, the birdcage of his ribs; expanding and contracting, deep and steady.

He was real, here, in your arms. Two swelling lungs. One beating heart. Two hands that clutched the wool barrier between you. One solid shield of a chest. One humming column at your cheek. Eddie Munson; wildfire. Close enough to thaw you. Close enough to burn you to the ground.

Your hands settled at the slim taper of his waist. Pliant and yielding under soft cotton, swelling with each ocean breath. His cage around you tightened, and you breathed him in, felt him swallow, felt his hips slot against the groove of yours with sensed belonging.

The animal in you keened with curiosity, emboldened by the dark. Your hands wouldn’t dare beyond the roadblock of his belt, but they would move in slow strokes up and down his back. A gentle comfort, a mask for your indulgence.

A quiet moan rose up in him, one he couldn’t swallow. The best he could do was cloak it in a sigh. It hummed against your ear; your cheek so close to the crook of his neck you could almost taste it. You breathed him in again, lips pressed to his soft curls against tough leather as the smoke, and musk, and crisp night air filled your lungs.

His hands were less patient; dipping toward the slope of your hips, pawing at thick wool, thumbs drawing aching circles there. It earned an arch from your back, a grasp from your hands at the soft cotton barrier.

There was an animal in him too, preening at the cant of your hips, at the rub of your neck against his. With a dip of his chin he could sink his teeth in, but his noble mind willed it away, settled for the scent of you instead — soft like powder, warm and inviting. The heels of your palms drifted toward his belly, and the animal threatened to rear below his belt.

“Ah,” it leapt out his throat.

Hands freezing before reaching the healthy swell, you drew back from his shoulder, checking in. Your lids hung with visible weight, pupils blown by more than just the lack of light, dizzy from his touch. He could do that with his hands, he thought; a split-second revel before concern sobered your features.

His disappointment was palpable, like he’d burst some great bubble. “Mm—no, it’s fine, please—” please don’t stop. His arms around you tightened, eyes pleading with words he wasn’t bold enough to utter, even in the darkness.

A shadow of guilt fell across your face. Guilt for your greedy hands, for your lost control, for your bad behavior. It was a pitiful sight; worse than the one he saw yesterday. Worse because it was here. Worse because he was closer than he’d ever been before.

There was a gap between you; space for the cold to seep between your hearts. Space for the fear that he’d broken the spell. That you didn’t see him anymore, but your student instead.

You thumbed his soft cotton shirt, buried in the shelter of his coat. Eddie Munson — frenetic and compelling. Beautiful in the way that wild things are. Breathing life into your numb hands with each ragged swell. You studied him closely; his soft cupid’s bow, his pink, plush pout, the angles of his worried jaw, the pining in his eyes.

Want. A wild, elusive thing. A summer wind. An admission at a cost. Want didn’t budge. Want looked you dead in the eyes and tightened its grip.

Eddie knew what he wanted, burning like a question on his tongue. He knew he had to be the one to ask. He was terrified — of the question, of the asking, of the fact that he may never get another chance. Your hands grappled with it, clung like they feared he would vanish. He felt the ache in them, the want, the fear, the frustration. It opened up a narrow passage, and he entered with the boldest thing he had ever done.

He asked you with his forehead first. A gentle nod forward; the softest collision. A tickle of curls. A rock back and forth of his strong, sturdy brow. A smile even you couldn’t hide. Your hands released, settled at the dip of his back in quiet permission.

He asked you with the bridge of his nose. A delicate slope. A tender nuzzle. Rigid bone under soft flesh. Cold, round tip. Roaming the map of yours with heated intention as he swayed like a dance in the moonlight. You closed your eyes, surrendered to the fantasy. Felt the heat of his cheek, the pang of his palm at your back as he pulled you closer.

He asked you with a tilt of his chin, and brought time to a halt.

There was a gap between you. A fractional distance bridged by the ghost of his breath. Within it; every party that you never went to, every basement you were never led away from, every page you never shared, every experience you never had. Goodness was a mantle, heavy from a lifetime on your shoulders.

What did freedom taste like? The question brushed across your lips like a warm invitation. You were desperate for the answer. Wanted it more than anything, ever, in your whole entire life. Wanted it for you, for only you. For once.

Eddie asked the question. You closed the gap.

A sigh left both of you at once. One you could taste this time, humming against the plush cradle of his lips. Freedom could have melted you. It threatened the strength of your knees, but his arms were stronger. Locked against each other in the shadows you borrowed, your lips began to explore, to express every secret wish the two of you had dreamt apart.

Freedom tasted tentative at first. A slow drag of his lips, a languid slip that rippled to the dormant parts of you. Catching like tinder as they grazed over yours, hot with an ache you could taste. It was sinfully exquisite; tasting the curve of his smile, the hyper-real rasp of his stubble as those lips—the ones that shot you smirks from down the hall and spilled over with song—found a rhythm with yours. Broad palms clutched the wool at your waist like you’d slip through a crack if he didn’t hold on.

Freedom was slick. It tasted like cigarettes, like a thousand unsaid words ushered past the border of your mouth. You could taste every one on his tongue, soothed them with the slickness of yours. Every aching word, dripping in each soft caress. Diving like a dance, echoed in the soft, wet smacks when you parted. You devoured them like you were starving. Every sigh, every hum, every color that left his lungs slipped eagerly down your throat.

The wool at your back was a nuisance. Eddie pawed at it, desperate to feel the shape of you through the fabric, to store it in the vault of his mind, to play with it later in private. He halted his hands at your hips, willed them decent, rationed with the small working part of his brain that your lips would have to be enough. He relished in the way you accepted him. The way you spread for him, parting eagerly for his tongue. The way your lips closed around him, rocking as he prodded like you’d done it before. Like you wanted to elsewhere.

The spell was broken. The line, miles away. There was a hunger in you, sudden and surprising, roused by the very first taste. Eddie palmed your hips with an urgency that stirred you. Like a bear in the spring, thawed by the heat of his touch, you devoured him. Devoured him with the wholeness of your splayed hands, tracing up his pounding ribs, dragging across the expanse of his broad chest. It heaved under your touch; solid muscle under soft cotton. You devoured his moan; a hot, strangled thing that escaped his plush lips. Like a match to the strip your tongue, you ignited.

His hands lost their patience. Breaking from your waist, they dove behind your ears to cradle your face. Your face. Your jaw, your delicate cheeks he caressed with the rough pads of his thumbs, as if the swell of them—the rigid bones under soft skin, the absolute realness of you in his arms—could wake him from the dream he was surely having. He was tasting you, tasting the want on your tongue. More satisfying than a four course meal, more satisfying than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. You wanted him. More than that, you savored him; the taste of his hot, eager tongue as it slipped against yours.

Freedom was delicious. Bold and complex, acrid and rich. Full bodied. A smooth, sweet finish. You could have drowned in it. Drowned in the angles of his hands, in his tender strokes, in the sopping heat of his mouth. Drowned in his eager sighs, in his scent. Drowned completely if he hadn’t held your head above the surging waves.

Eddie was good like a midnight snack. Good like a wide open road. He was good at this. Good at knowing how to ask and answer. Good at at finding the rhythm of you.

You broke for air, stilling against the bridge of his nose, afraid to look him in the eyes just yet, to break away from the safety his shadow provided. Safe from the world, safe from consequences, safe from the thoughts that battered at the door of your mind. Safety was fragile and fleeting. You knew it, he knew it. Your breath mingled in hot bursts as you steadied your spinning world for a quiet moment together. You felt him smile—heard it—big and bright as it cracked across his face. The air stung your cheeks when he took his hands away. Leaning back against the fence, he tugged you closer, further into the safety of the shadows, enveloping you in the crook of his heat.

It was good like this — the angles of you and the angles of him, fitting like they always belonged. It felt safe to explore them, to paint his pounding chest, down the soft swell of his belly, stopping at his hips. With a thick bob of his Adam’s apple, he closed the gap again. It was chaste this time, peppering your lips with space to breathe between each kiss. They were slow and savory, steady and sure. They lingered long enough for you to get another taste, to capture that plush Cupid’s bow and let it melt across yours, to flick your tongue over his soft bottom lip and taste him there too.

You could taste his need when he greeted your tongue with his own. It was safe to show it here. Safe to let the animal inside him bare its teeth. Safe to let the animal in you do the same. It growled when he nipped at you, hooked its claws through his belt loops and tugged. It was a quick, testing thing, and your sound let him know that he passed. He lapped it up hungrily, soothed it before inflicting another.

It ached in a frightening way, in that deep, low place. Throbbed awake with each delicious bite. It scared you how quickly the path was veering south, but the pooling warmth encouraged his travels, let him go wherever he wanted. When his lips strayed far enough to track your jaw, a shrinking voice shrieked danger, but the rest of you simply submitted.

Claws braced denim and leather, offering yourself with a tip of your head. Reverently, he accepted, setting his pace with a dizzying slowness. He worshiped you with every latch, every press, every lingering smack, darting his tongue out to taste the forbidden angles of your jaw. It was greedy but good. To him, to you. Letting go this much. Letting him go this far. The trail cooled in the night air, and he settled at the precipice of your neck.

His breath alone was enough to melt you; heavy with the weight of his new position. Heavy with desire, with the weight of thousand fantasies he never thought would come to pass. He drank in the cocktail of your scent; concentrated, warm, deliciously real. In the throws of your own heaving chest, sobered just barely by the pregnant pause, you awoke to your position: open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

He tasted your swallow, felt your breath hitch when his warm, wet tongue found your pulse. Lathing there a moment, lingering and slow, he savored you. Savored the ridges of your neck, the way your head lolled to the side, like a feast laid out for him. He stored the image in his mind, packaged it carefully for when he would surely be starving again. His lips soothed where his tongue left off, over and over until your strangled sound stirred a fiending hunger. He bared his teeth, and you shattered.

Freedom was falling apart in his arms. Crumbling into pieces and letting him grapple you whole. Letting him capture you in his maw and lap up your ruin. Letting him, letting him. His teeth dragged dull and slow, tingling every waking cell, turning you to putty completely. He dragged a moan out of you. A full one, loud and clear. He tucked it away, buried it deep alongside your squirms and your touch.

The door opened.

Cold air shocked your lungs. Head snapping over your shoulder, you broke his latch and Eddie hissed a curse at the separation. With daggers, you both assessed the intruder.

The silhouette of his cap gave him away. He might have even kept on walking but the gasps and the shuffling feet made him turn. “Oh shit,” Bill flinched back in surprise. “Sorry man I thought you left.”

Eddie’s arm tightened instinctively, pulling you as close as he wanted to earlier. Reflexively, you pushed away. It was a strange tug of war — his pride and your fear. “Yeah—no we’re still here,” he snapped.

You swallowed your pounding heart, sobering completely under Bill’s gaze. Suddenly your claws retracted, your hands felt wrong where they rested, shame bit at your neck along the cooling trail he left behind.

Even in the backlit glow of the singular light, you saw it painted clearly on his features — the judgement, the disbelief, the questions rising up but not daring to come out. “Well um, sorry to interrupt. Have a good night,” Bill said with an awkward raise of his hand before making quickly for the parking lot.

Footsteps faded over gravel and left a silence in their wake, thicker than the stillness from before.

Eddie breathed a sharp sigh through his nostrils, brows lowered as he seethed toward the parking lot. The cold was setting in again. Your nose, and ears, and fingers stung with it. The rest of you stung worse; chest numbing, caving like a can under the weight of what you’d just done.

When the flick of distant headlights made you brave enough to face him, frustration painted his features. He pawed at your coat, desperate to salvage what he could of his precious moment. “Anyway, where were we?” he muttered, eyeing your neck with a tilt of his head like he was about to dive in again.

Your hand at his chest stopped him, and the look in his eyes was wounding. “Eddie,” you warned softly. A slow, heavy sigh left his nose, one you could feel with your palm. “I need to go.”

Crestfallen after a desperate, hesitant second, his arms went slack. Your hand dropped, leaving a fierce chill behind. One more, his lips begged, but struggled to release. Please.

It hurt, to crumble like this after all you had built. With the roar of Bill’s engine, the fantasy shattered around you. The carriage became a pumpkin, your gown turned into rags. Shrill bells rang out in the distance, coming surely as the sun would rise. Pinballs thundered as that sweet oval face—the one from the back of the room and the chair next to yours—pouted with lips still swollen from where you had broken your contract.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed.

Gathering himself with a deep breath, he straightened to a dignified height, conviction filling the cracks in his composure. “I’m not.”

It was terrifying — the prospect, the consequences. What it meant for you, for him, for the world you’d have to face tomorrow.

Most terrifying of all was how good it felt to hear him say.

______

A/N: Thank you all for your patience on this one. It took me nearly all summer to finish but I'm really proud of how it turned out. Please let me know what you think! I've missed hearing from and connecting with all of you. Next one won't take nearly as long, I promise. 💕

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @storiesbyrhi @cursedyuta @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @big-ope-vibes @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

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MASTERLIST ⎮ AO3 ⎮ KO-FI

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #don't stand so close to me

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

Text

𝓵𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 & 𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 | kitten braden x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | it's been hard for you since she moved out, of course, and she didn't give you much warning before she stopped by to acquire some forgotten belongings. you know this time, if you let her leave again, she'll be out of your life forever-- could that really be what she wants?

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | 4.3k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | smut (18+ only - thigh riding, fingering, a touch of dom!reader), angst (break up), internalized transphobia/body image stuff, insecurity, lesbian reader, fluff and sweetness 💕

You swung open the front door, having to stop yourself from biting your lip at the sight of her— just how you remembered, except… no, even more beautiful.

She was wearing a simple silky slip dress with a massive fur, the perfect contrast as always; pearls, of course, but not the ones you’d bought her. Maybe she just wanted to show off that somebody new was buying her pearls now, and god, could you blame them?

You probably looked ridiculous, staring at her like that and not even saying anything. “I just came to get my things,” she informed you in that soft, melodious voice of hers.

Your chest deflated. “Y-yes, sure,” you nodded, stepping back to let her in. She brushed past you quickly, a sort of tightness to her walk— a little prissy, you thought. But you sort of liked that, too.

You inhaled a whiff of sweet perfume just after she walked by so briskly, something new, something fresh and a little tart: lemon and lavender. Had she put herself together like this, just to come here and flaunt how incredible she looked? How she’d somehow become more beautiful since she left— how she was doing so well, probably better than ever without you? It should’ve hurt but you didn’t even mind; she could walk all over you with those stilettos and you’d be grateful for it—

You shook your head as she made her way to the bedroom, deciding not to indulge in that train of thought… at least not until after she’d left.

“I thought you, erm, took everything already,” you mumbled as you followed her, watching her go through your drawers— she kept her chin up as she looked, only lowering her eyes in that way that made the length of her lashes all the more apparent. Was she toying with you on purpose? You really hoped she was.

“I couldn’t find my earrings,” she explained, “the little blue ones? I think I left them here— and a few pairs of knickers.”

“The blue ones,” you remembered, “I remember them— they match your eyes.”

She shot you a little look, a frown, and kept searching amongst your socks. “Don’t be like that,” she mumbled, eventually. “I’m just here for the earrings.”

“I know, sorry,” you breathed, “it’s just that— you look great.”

“Hm,” she acknowledged, quickly turning her head to send those blonde curls in a swing; it reminded you of when she twirled in her dresses, laughing and blushing when you told her she looked beautiful. You still couldn’t really believe that was all behind you now, that she was really gone…

“You look good too,” you added, doing an impression of her soft voice, and she seemed confused as she finally looked at you again. “That’s the polite thing, you know— what you say when you run into an ex.”

“I know,” she agreed, “but, well… I said I’d never lie to you. I’m still keeping that promise.”

You scoffed, not sure which part of that to start with. What promise did I break to you? You remember saying you’d never lie to me? I don’t look good?

“And—” she started again, like she’d tried to bite her tongue but couldn’t help herself. She spun on her heel and crossed her arms at you. “And you look like a mess! Stained joggers, your sock’s got a hole in it—”

You looked down at your feet, sighing when you saw your big toe exposed.

“And look at the apartment!” she continued, raising her arms to gesture around at the disorganised room. “God, you’ve got take-away boxes everywhere, you’ve got dirty clothes and dishes on the bed—”

“I am a mess,” you explained, stepping closer. “Of course I am. I’m not like you, I can’t just… I can’t just forget.”

“Forget?” she repeated, offended. “Is that what you think I’ve done?”

“How else can you come in here, looking like that,” you laughed thinly, motioning over her form as she held her coat together shyly, “asking about some bloody earrings… how can you walk through this apartment and not get your heart broken with every step?”

She glanced down, almost looking embarrassed— an emotion you were all too familiar with on her face. You stepped a little closer, dying to meet her gaze.

“I can barely stand to be here,” you breathed, “and I lived here first— I lived here for years before I even met you! And now— fuck, Kitten—” you stopped for a moment to bite your lip as you tried not to cry— “now I just come home and I keep thinking: that’s our apartment.”

She blinked quickly but said nothing. You waited for a while for her to say any of the thousands of things you wanted to hear right then: for her to admit that she still wanted you, too, that she was so lonely without you, that she came up with an excuse to come by because she wanted to make you jealous— even just that she missed living here. But she just bit her lip and avoided your gaze, and your heartbreak shifted to frustration: you quickly knelt down and yanked open the bottom drawer, forcing her to pull her leg out of the way before the wood scraped her ankle. You flipped open a shoebox and dug through until you found the blue ceramic flowers.

“Here,” you decided as you balled them up in your fist, “the earrings you wanted so damn bad.”

But before you stood up, you tossed them carelessly back into the box and picked it up, standing and facing here.

“You know what? Take the whole thing,” you offered roughly, pushing the box into her chest until she delicately held it. She took the lid off and gently began to look through what was inside. “It’s all there— the knickers, too.”

But it wasn’t just her earrings and lacy underthings in the box— it was everything. Ticket stubs from movies you’d seen together, receipts from diners and lingerie stores, dried flowers and ribbons from picnic baskets… the pictures you’d taken of her, Polaroids mostly— some a bit more salacious than the rest. “Darling…” she breathed, and your heart skipped. “You kept all this?”

“Of course,” you replied, hating the way your voice cracked; you turned your head away when she looked up at your face, defiantly wiping a tear from your cheek. “You can keep it now, I don’t… I don’t need it anymore. I just wanna forget.”

She cooed at you sweetly as she set the box aside, grabbing your face and wiping another tear away tenderly with her thumb. You found the strength to look at her again, though you tried not to get your hopes up that she’d really come back. “Oh, sweet thing,” she sighed, “we can’t forget. Neither of us can.”

“Then how am I supposed to go on?” you wondered, sniffling. “I don’t— I really don’t know if I can live like this—”

“Ah, hush,” she dismissed, “you’ll do fine— you can have any girl you want, you won’t have any trouble.”

“But I only want you,” you insisted, grabbing her wrists and holding them tightly. “I only ever wanted you, Kitten.”

Now she turned away, looking like her eyes might be getting misty. “N-now, that can’t be true,” she denied softly.

You laughed a little, mostly out of amazement rather than amusement. “Who the fuck else did you think I wanted?” you wondered. She got her hands free from yours, chewing her lip and crossing her arms, but you stepped closer again. “Kitten, who else would I possibly want?”

“Well, you know,” she stalled, “I just wondered if maybe… I mean, nobody could blame you if— you know, you’re… you’re a lesbian!”

“You’re just now noticing this?”

“No, I mean,” she choked, “I just mean maybe… maybe you would’ve wanted…”

She didn’t say it, she just held her hand up to her mouth— starting to bite her thumb nail nervously— and finally met your gaze. And you heard it in the air, you saw it in her eyes. Maybe you wanted a real girl.

You knew she was sensitive about it sometimes… for the first few months you were together she didn’t even like you to see her naked, didn’t want to be touched too much down there. Then it was okay as long as it was in the dark— or through panties. It took a lot of patience and promises to get her really naked for you, and god was it worth the wait. And now here you were, fucking bewildered that she could think you didn’t like what you saw.

“Kitten,” you breathed, stepping up and frowning when she looked away again. “Kitten, look at me. How could you think that?”

“I just—”

“Was I not obsessed with you enough? Did I not kiss you enough, touch you enough? You had me on my knees— you had me around your finger—”

“I know,” she groaned, “but doesn’t the novelty wear off after a while? You got to try something, you know, different— strange. But a fetish is just that, you know— not meant to be forever.”

“That’s why you left?”

She nodded.

“Oh, Kitten— you stupid, stupid woman.”

“Hey—!” she protested, cut off by your lips pressing onto hers. The resistance didn’t last for more than a half-second, and then she melted into you in the most beautiful way. The way you’d been imagining ever since she left… or, really, ever since you first laid eyes on her.

She hummed sweetly into the kiss, and let you pull her closer. Normally this is where you would’ve dragged her to the bed, but the bed was an aforementioned hellhole, so you had to try to think quickly while your brain short-circuited from the loveliness of the kiss.

Tugging her back by the fur coat, you guided her towards the couch with you, bringing her into your lap without ever breaking your lips away; then you could tug the coat down her arms, exposing the impossibly-thin straps of her dress. She dropped her freckled shoulders in a coquettish way, as you finally pulled back and admired the way you'd ruined her lipstick.

Running your hands down her arms, and then over her sides, you sighed at the sight of her draped in silk— the way her legs straddled your lap only made the dress ride up a little higher, and it was driving you wild already. “Tell me you weren’t just dressed like this to run errands,” you laughed breathlessly as you pet her thigh, dragging your nails a bit to tickle her through the stockings.

“No,” she admitted, watching your hand brush over her garters and reach up under the skirt— only to come back down before it got too far. She whimpered as you teased her, and you felt your chest fill with pride. “No, I dressed up like this for you…”

“Fuck,” you groaned, “all for me?”

“Yes,” she sighed, partially an answer to your question, partially a response to the way you started to kiss her neck.

“Dolled up for me, huh? Wanted me to see what I was missin’?”

She nodded, biting her lip, and you carefully ran your fingertips along the edge of her panties.

You scoffed as you lifted the dress and found those garters pinned to delicate lace. “Earrings my fuckin’ arse,” you mumbled, tickling her inner thigh as she hummed coyly. “Knew exactly what you wanted when you came here, didn’t you, naughty Kitten?”

Her smile fell into a shuddering gasp as you grabbed her between the legs, and she could only nod a little.

“Well, then come and take it,” you offered, grabbing her hips next and pulling her down onto your lap to rub on your thigh. “Go on, lemme see how bad you missed me.”

She sighed, moving carefully at first, but then really started to rock against you as you groaned proudly. “Oh, kiss me,” she pleaded after a moment, and you pulled her down to your open mouth. Finally she was letting go, relaxing in your arms, kissing you and grinding on you shamelessly. She moaned and hummed against your lips, and you ran your hands all over her body— the stocking-clad legs, the curve of her waist, up over her back and chest until you could hold her head. You cradled her face in your palms as you pulled away, enough to speak to her softly while you ran your fingers through her hair.

"Can't go leavin' me again, Kitten," you warned her with a little tug on those lovely blonde curls. "Need you too much. Hear me?"

"Yes," she promised, panting as she thrusted herself a bit faster against your thigh.

"You're mine," you reminded her, and she moaned happily. "Say it."

"Yours," she whined, gasping as you suddenly groped her chest through the silk. You smirked when you felt her nipple harden against your palm: they were always so sensitive. "Yours, all yours—"

You roughly tugged her dress down to suck on her tit, and she gasped before giggling sweetly as she held your head.

"Oh, you brute," she moaned, "you'll rip my dress—"

"You wanted me to," you challenged, letting your teeth graze the little bud until you felt her shudder in your arms. "You put this dress on— these panties and stockings— and you thought about me ripping it all off of you, didn't you?"

Her hips jerked a little in your lap, and that was answer enough for you.

"Needy little Kitten," you praised. “Now let me suck these pretty tits.”

She moaned, head falling back, as you went back and forth between them, mostly shutting your eyes tight and remembering exactly how to lick and tease her, but occasionally looking up at her face: it was just perfect like this.

She whimpered as she started to grind harder against your thigh, pretty pink lips open loosely for her moans to pass through. Just when you thought she was lost in it entirely, and you started to lean back to just look up and watch her go, she moved her own leg between yours to press against your heated centre. You sighed a little and caught her raising an eyebrow as she looked down at you, looking a little proud of herself. "Want you to feel good too, darling," she explained, nodding encouragingly.

You moved your hips and groaned as the friction made you shiver all over. You'd gotten so turned on from watching and touching her that every movement made you groan softly, and you had to take a tight hold of her ass— which made her whine sweetly— just to have something to keep you steady.

"I want us to come together like this," she whispered. "Don't you think it's romantic this way? Just moving together, too desperate to slow down, feeling each other…?"

"This is how it was the first time," you reminded her through a sigh. You remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it was months and months ago: the way she was so shy and delicate about it at first, the sweet noises she made for you as you touched her— Does little Kitten purr? you'd asked her teasingly. She does when a handsome new friend makes her come, she'd replied, or gives her some money.

You'd done both, actually, desperate to make this lovely Kitten your pet. It felt more now like she owned you, and you didn't mind it one bit. "I remember, too," she giggled, "you said it was the most fun you ever had without taking your clothes off."

“And then I asked you to stay with me,” you remembered with a laugh of your own. “I was yours from the start, Kitten, and you knew it, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer, just petting your hair and lifting your head so you’d look up at her. “I was yours, too, darling,” she promised, looking deep into your eyes. “Now won’t you come for me?”

“I’m close,” you breathed, “fuck, Kitten— you wanna make me come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she smiled, breathing heavily by your ear as you bucked your hips up against her faster. “Yes, I’d like to see it.”

“I wanna see you soak those panties,” you countered, panting yourself as the pressure began to build. “Show me, Kitten— show me that pretty face when you cream your little knickers—”

“Oh!” she yelped sweetly, and you could feel it— the pulsing between her legs, through the fabric of your pants. You pressed even harder against her thigh and came, too, both of you moving helplessly and instinctively— and it was pretty romantic, like she said. But it was dirty in just the right way, too.

“Good girl,” you praised, though your own voice wasn’t very commanding anymore as you were reaching your high. “Fuck, you’re so good—”

You choked and dropped your head back, your hips slowing to a stop while she smiled and relaxed above you; “Darling,” she purred, leaning down and kissing your cheek with a conservative peck. “That was lovely.”

You nodded in agreement, smiling up at her and tucking her hair behind her ear— it still looked pretty perfect despite all that it had been through.

“Now maybe let’s clean up and get some lunch,” she offered, but she whimpered when you grabbed her waist aggressively.

"No fucking way I'm done with you already," you growled, watching her eyes get a little wide.

You ran your hand up her body again, feeling the way her chest swelled and sank as she tried to catch her breath.

“Get them wet for me, love,” you ordered softly as you pressed two fingers to her lips, and she dipped down to wrap her mouth around them. You hummed in praise as she sucked them gently, batting her eyes at you— because of course she would.

She looked at you expectantly as you dragged the fingers slowly from her mouth, watching her plump lip go slack and bounce back when you pulled the digits away. “Gonna put those inside me?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

“If you ask nicely," you teased.

“Oh,” she sighed, “please— I missed them, you know. Missed how you feel inside me— any part of you, really— but those fingers, darling, you know what you can do to me with those…”

“Did you try with your own fingers?” you wondered with a smirk.

“With these nails? Heavens, no,” she denied. You reached into her panties and teased her hole with the wet fingers, circling her rim as she mewled, hoping to break her patience. “C’mon then, did I not ask nicely enough?” she wondered after a minute or so of that.

“Lay down on your back,” you whispered your command to her, “and open your legs for me. Then I can give you what you want, princess.”

She got up off your lap and sank down to the floor in front of you— you figured she would’ve stayed on the sofa, but this felt a little more submissive— laying back slowly and seductively. How could she do that, look so much like an angel and vixen all at once, while just laying on the ground?

Looking up at you with sultry half-lidded eyes, she slowly spread her legs and let you get an eyeful of the stockings and garters, the lace panties stained with come, the sweetest legs and the heaven she'd been hiding between them.

You fell to your knees in front of her, snapping the garters off and yanking her stockings down to touch her bare, smooth skin. “God, Kitten,” you breathed in awe, “you know exactly what you fucking do to me.”

“Missed this sweet little cunt, didn’t you?” she noticed with a proud smile.

“Course I did,” you panted, kissing up her thighs. “You know I fucking did.”

You reached down and pulled her panties aside, pressing your fingers to her hole again, but this time you actually slipped one in. She jolted a little when you pushed past the resistance, and you smiled.

“Always so fucking tight,” you praised softly, still kissing her bent knee gently but meeting her gaze now. She had this look in her eyes when she had something inside her, a wonderful look you never wanted to go too long without seeing.

Tight, yes, but it was a needy hole, too— and you both knew she already wanted more than just one. She moaned through a smile as you added the second, carefully stretching her open as her hands clenched fistfuls of the shag beneath her.

A shag on the shag. You would've snorted to yourself as you realised the humour in the situation if you weren't too wrapped up in how gorgeous she looked spread out on your floor like this.

You still only had the two fingers about halfway in, focusing on stretching her carefully and just barely teasing that little spot that you knew all too well— you wanted her begging, if you had anything to do with it. You had to get some sense of control back after she'd walked in here and made a complete fool out of you.

She hadn't said anything yet, though, just moaned and rocked her hips against you. Your free hand kept petting her thighs encouragingly, and you kept looking back and forth between her hole swallowing up your fingers and that gorgeous face lost in pleasure.

You pushed your fingers deeper, all the way to the knuckle, and she arched her back up from the carpet. “O-oh, more, please,” she begged.

“More fingers?” you smirked. “Two’s not enough for you?”

“No, I just mean—” she pouted, “I just want more of you…”

You leaned down and laid over her, bringing your face close to hers, as she looked at you with the slightest hint of nervousness in her eyes. “Like this?” you offered under your breath, and she nodded before hiding her face in the crook of your neck. She was rarely shy about sexual things, even when she pretended to be, but sentiment sometimes made her act like this— she didn’t like to ask you for affection, as if she still feared you’d reject her. Generally, your solution to this was to shower her in it, so she’d never have to ask… but you had to admit, you loved the way she begged for you.

She moaned into your shoulder as you held her closer with your free hand, still curling your fingers inside her and finally properly rubbing the most sensitive place inside her.

She whimpered and bucked her hips a bit when you pressed against it, and you smiled; “There, baby? Is that where you need it?”

“Yes, yes,” she mewled, clutching tighter onto you.

You brushed through her curls with your fingers, trying to coax her out. “Let me see that pretty face,” you cooed, laughing a little when she shook her head against you. “No? I don’t get to see my angel?”

She sniffled and pulled back enough to let you see her: big, wet eyes with her mascara beginning to smudge, her lip caught between her teeth.

“You’re so beautiful,” you promised softly. “But I love you for who you are, Kitten. You’re not a fetish, or a compromise. You’re just the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She whimpered and held your face, kissing you sweetly— but the kiss got faster and more desperate at the same time that your movements inside her did, and soon she was making those sweet noises that you knew meant she would come again.

“Let me see one more time, love,” you requested, “lemme see that pretty face you make when I make you come.”

“O-oh, fuck, I’m close,” she promised. “I’m close, darling— I’ll come, I’ll come for you—”

“Yeah,” you agreed encouragingly, “yeah, you’ll give my fingers a nice squeeze, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she whined, arching her back deeper. “L-lick them again, please…”

“Your tits, honey?”

“Yes, please, please—” she chanted, moaning louder when you dipped your head down and wrapped your lips around one of those cute little nipples. You suckled at it while she came, thrusting your fingers into her while she writhed and whimpered out your name; you didn’t stop moving your fingers until she seemed like she was trying to move her hips away, and you didn’t stop kissing her breast until she pulled you away from it by your hair, dragging you up to kiss her— it was sweet and lazy and slow, yet with a sense of desperation felt not in the speed of it all but in the way she tried to hold you tighter with weak and shaking hands.

You must have kissed for ages before you broke apart, and you rolled onto your back at her side; the two of you laid on the floor, sweaty and sticky, panting as you looked up at the ceiling.

After a moment, she turned her head and looked over at you, and you looked back at her as she offered you the softest smile— a real heart-melter, that one. Her smile made your knees weak from the very start. Reaching forward, she wiped some of her lipstick off of your lip, and you kissed the tip of her thumb.

"You really do look awful," she said suddenly, and you chuckled nervously.

"Your pillowtalk skills have seriously diminished since the last time we were together," you noticed.

"No, I just mean— I could tell you'd been crying," she whispered.

"Yeah," you sighed in return, moving a curl out of her face carefully. "Well, like I said, I was pretty miserable once you left."

"Then why'd you let me leave?"

"I figured you'd met someone else," you breathed. "You wanted to get out so fast— I thought maybe you found a man."

"A man?" she repeated, lifting her head slightly in shock.

"You don't have too much trouble with men," you reminded her, and she laughed.

"I only have trouble with men," she assured, and you felt her hand reach for yours, clammy fingers tangling together. "Besides— who else would I possibly want but you, darling?"

#patricia braden x reader #kitten braden x reader #kitten braden smut #cillian murphy x reader #breakfast on pluto

669 notes · View notes

rerefundslocals · 1 year

Text

drunk on lust j.jk

Summary : drinking night with your best friend spills the truth upon secrets within you both.

>>paring - jungkook x fem!reader (she/her)

>>trope - best friends to lovers

>>genre - angst, fluff(smut in prt2)

>>warnings/tags - horny Kook, feeling and confessions, some tears, not many warnings as smut is in part 2.

a/n - soo this was supposed to be one thing but until I actually know how to put the keep reading thingy, my first will be longer, don't be shy, please help. But for now please enjoy and give feedback through reblogs or inbox me! Not proofread

~★~

"C'mon give me a kiss- infact make out with me and then make love with me. Pretty please ____."

"Jungkook, you drink too much beer. You're drunk." Internally his words make you hot inside.

Your feelings are kept at bay because you don't really want to ruin the ten year friendship with Jungkook. Though you always dream about having him in not so innocent ways, but that doesn't mean you don't think of the softer side of it.

Dreams of you holding his hand romantically in public, give him kisses when you feel like it and make love to him just like he'd said a minute ago,but it must be the alcohol in his system.

So you don't let it bug you too much.

"I'm not drunk, I seriously just want you." He smirks at you. It's a lazy seductive smirk, and definitely soaks your underwear right through. But your mind tells you it's inappropriate because the man is clearly drunk ; karaoke mic in his hand, the beat of the song acting as background music for this conversation.

Lips pulled into a light frown, you tell jungkook that, "it's time for bed, Kook."

"So yes? You'll make out with me and let me fill your cunt?"

"Jungkook, stop! Just stop it." You're hot all over. You wish he could stop putting ideas into your head and just call it night.

Just like every other night, the next morning is a harsh hangover and forgotten words.

"I'm sorry, love, I really am." He mutters, head thrown back with eyes closed, clear to see he I lulling to sleep.

"It's okay, Kook." You whisper.

You move closer to him out instinctively ; cuddling into his warm chest, your hand reaches up to his hair as you lightly brush his scalp.

Besides his words and his flirty demeanor, you nonetheless feel safe in his arms and everything almost feels the same, as if he wasn't talking about filling your cunt.

You irraduclly swallow your spit at that thought, focusing back on your mission, putting Jungkook to sleep.

Mission successful.

You know this because his snores and the burning candle are almost in sync.

You move even closer, if possible. Face tucked into jungkooks neck and his tattooed hand wraps around your waist, the blanket falling off your hips.

That's a normal night in Jeons household, the conversation long forgotten about and the mission is just sleep now.

~><~

The next morning is a cry for help as you turn to Jungkooks empty spot on the couch.

You can hear him throw up in his bathroom, the sounds making you jump off the couch to help your best friend.

Sliding onto your knees, next to Jungkook, you bunch up his hair in your hands allowing him more space to throw up ; your head is turned to the side as you avoid the smell of black noodles and beer.

"Holy shit." Jungkook, now leaned up against the wall mutters as he removes himself from your body.

"You okay, Kook? That was pretty bad." You ask.

He nods at you, simply standing up to flush the toilet and you feel dismissed as he walks out on you,not even muttering a thanks.

You wonder if it's still the hangover making him behave like that. It could be. The alcohol can't possibly wear off that quick.

That's what you tell yourself 3 hours later, sitting in jungkooks bed, cleaned up and feeling fresh as ever.

Except Jungkook hasn't spoken to you the whole day, only when he asked what you wanted on your pizza.

He is currently sat by his gaming setup, dressed in his black Nike tech, paired with socks and slides.

Most importantly, his incredibly sexy glasses.

You snap out of your sick thoughts as you stand up from the bed to finally get down to the bottom of this.

"Jungkook, can we talk?" You ask behind him.

He ignores you. As expected. He only responds to his teammates on the other side, shouting over at them to 'take cover'

Sighing with a prominent frown on your face, you shuffle on your feet, feeling really really sad. "I'll go home then. Goodnight." Despite him ignoring you, you'd never miss the chance to kiss him goodbye.

So you do that, leaning down to place a peck on his toned cheek.

Grabbing your duffel with a weight of a mini fridge, you start packing in your dirty laundry and other essentials you had left out in Jungkooks room, tant you had planned to keep for the whole week you were spending with him at his apartment.

But not anymore, you guess. The guy doesn't even want to talk to you.

"Where you going?" Pulled out from packing, you look up at Jungkooks hovering body over his nightstand, where you stand.

"I figured you didn't want me here, so I'm just leaving." Your response is straight forward.

"Oh, who said that?" Jungkook chuckles. For the first time today.

"I dont need to hear it from you. I can see it. Ever since this morning! You say different shit the night before but you're a different, bitter person the next day!"

"So what___ you want me to repeat the shit I said? I know why I did this. I figured you were uncomfortable so I gave you space." Almost shouting in response, Jungkook keeps his cool, his voice at a lower bass so he isn't scaring you away.

"You what-? I never once felt uncomfortable. I wouldn't have laid up with you or tried to help you if I want fucking uncomfortable, Kook." By the time youre done, the room is dead silent. It's just you and Jungkook locking eyes. Difference is yours are slightly watery, the tears threatening to fall.

At the Crack of your voice, you speak up, "I have feelings for you, Jungkook. What you said last night was under the influence of alcohol so I figured it meant nothing. And it probably still doesn't." You pause.

"You don't have to reciprocate my feelings, if it makes things awkward,I'll leave. I really am sorry that things turned out this way." When done with you mini speech, you turn away from him, continuing to pack.

He so then starts, "look, I...have feeling for you too and how I went about wasn't the best way. Yeah sure I was drunk and said some sexual stuff, and I do understand now that I should've been straight forward but you wouldn't believe me anyway. So yeah, ____. I feel the exact same way." He finishes.

You both stare into each other's eyes, shock in yours and hope in his.

"You really- really mean that?" You carefully ask. Not trying to ruin anything.

His lips lift in anticipation. A loving smile. "I mean that. Sorry it took so long. "

"It's okay. I kinda liked what you were saying." The last sentence was meant to be playful and Jungkook catches on, as his lips lift into a smirk.

Walking closer to you,hands in his pocket, and nose on yours. He whispers in question, "wanna make it come true?" You nod at him.

"I do."

~♥︎~

Part 2 here

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simonrillleyyysss · 2 months

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ THE THINGS ID CHANGE

‘i don’t think any amount of praying, could save me, ma’am.’؛

ཐིཋྀ after lieutenant simon riley visits soap mactavishes hometown, he stumbles upon a devout catholic, whom he forms strong opinions about.

𐙚 simon riley x afab!religious reader

; smut, fluff, angst

chapter one; genesis

it all happened so fast. the quick cock of the gun pressed to johnnys head, the thud of his body, blood beginning to seep in a small puddle around his limp head, weakly tumbling down onto the concrete footing beneath him. it all happened too quickly, too suddenly for riley to comprehend, watching his partner in crime huff out heavy breaths as he was rushed away afterwards what happened even faster was the plane back to scotland with the man.

or—perhaps longer, the forever feeling of gratitude towards whatever god or deities above had spared johnny, the longing feeling of relaxation and thanks internally. oh, how fortunate they both happened to be, the first moment in centuries he believed there was an other worldly entity.

‘ye’ready tae experience some good oul’mactavish homeland?’

tan quizzed happily, despite having a large, thick band of bandages and cotton slung ‘round the side of his head, similar to a eyepatch that those of pirate life would’ve used, except across the side of his face and head; a smelly seagull from the beach could suffice as his parrot, simon thought.

‘don’ think i’ll ever be ready, johnny.’

a gruff voice erupted, letting the man march ahead infront of him, leaving blonde to carry bags of luggage and items, thick brows furrowed in an agitated expression, nose scrunched in soft thought as they walked down the laneway, a soft gasp and patter of footsteps sounding just ahead of them.

‘johnny! what happened to you?’

‘awk, stop dotin’ nai’—you’ve seen mawae’ worse, doll.’

brown eyes quickly darted up to meet your own, which were glancing into his own with a heavy sense of novelty—just before they quickly fluttered back to johnnys, thick lashes brushing against the chub of your cheek, fingers gently caressing the stubbled, strong jaw of the individual above you.

‘you have a lot of explaining tae’do, johnny..’

‘would you like some more, sir?’

you started, hovering at the kitchen counter, turning to the man hunched beside mohawk— empty mug in hand, that of which was previously filled with a generous amount of caffeine given to him by the poise woman glaring at him.

‘shouldn’.

he responded briefly, attention fixating onto soap, whom was carelessly folding himself across your sofa, practically using your lounge as a temporary camp for the pair of men, placing the mug down onto the glass coffee table infront of him.

‘hawve’ye’ been?’

‘i should be askin’ you, johnny. what the—what the dang where you thinkin’? told you not to get into that kind of work! s’for bad men, bad bad people involved in that business, for..for heavens sake!’

you spoke so carefully, so tenderly to johnny—yet so angrily, pure anxiety and frustration bubbling beneath that worrysome tone of yours, simon read you like a book within minutes, watching your fingers fumble with the crucifix pendant dangling between the valley of your chest, your brows knitting in sadness towards hawked momentarily, foot bouncing against the wooden boards of your floor.

‘ye havnae’ changed a bit, bonnie. yer’ still praying and going tae’ mass?’

‘always, sir. ever since you stepped foot out of this—this—horrible town.’

as your eyes met soaps, he reached out to encase his large palm around simon’s shoulder, standing himself up as the other beast followed suit, hands tucked in his tracksuit bottom-pockets, staring at you with a hardsetjaw, lids narrowed in study.

‘course y’ave..well, yeno’ where i am, aye?’

johnny paused, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck slowly.

‘we.’

he hummed, gesturing to the blonde beside him; who’s eyes were scanning along your outfit.

that night he said his first prayer in decades.

i do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform

251 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 3 months

Text

In the mood for...

Feb 17th

~*~

1. I may have asked for this already at some point, but I do love it so... ITMF fics where an outsider misconstrues Wangxian's relationship. A great example would be "Happy Not Knowing", in which LXC thinks they're just friends with benefits. Another great one is "Every Mother's Son," where Madam Lan sets out to rescue WWX from suffering the same fate as her. Any misconception will do, I just want to see characters' baffled realizations that wow, these two really are disgustingly in love after all. @invisible-mirror

The F-Word by raspberrymocha (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Family Dynamics, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Humor, Fluff, Light Angst, Weddings, Engagement, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Sex, 5+1 Things, Heteronormativity) might count, where everyone believes Wangxian are just friends, when the two have been trying to announce their engagement

Marital Claims by yeolinski (M, 5k, wangxian, Lawyers, Established Relationship, Marriage, Married Life, Accidental Marriage, the juniors are interns, nobody believes they're married basically)

~*~

2. Hi (^▽^) this is for ITMF! I would really like to read something where the juniors find out about the past™/ what happened to WWX, and get angry for WWX(not at him!!), kinda like they are taking his side? I guess?? something like that, thanks, have great day (^▽^)/

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & Juniors, wangxian, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, BAMF WWX, Humor, junior quartet is the wwx fan club)

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon) A demon turns WWX into a child with only the memories of his childhood on the streets; the juniors take care of him while trying to break the curse, draw parallels to his adult behaviour patterns and we all cry; even Lan Qiren sniffs.

~*~

3. For the next IMTF: nephew reveal fics! Anything where JC finds out about Lan Sizhui, either as the primary focus of the fic or as a more-or-less significant plot point. Preferably ones where they end up with a familial relationship, or on the road to one. @linderel

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

and autumn comes when you're not yet done by tired (M, 36k, JC & WWX, wangxian, JC & LSZ, Angst, Family Issues, JC's crumbling mental health, Death Wishes, Regrets, defence mechanisms, Projection, Post-Canon, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Depression, Feelings, Canon-Typical Violence) I haven't read this, not nephew reveal but sounds like it could fit

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) it's not the focus (only like three paragraphs) but it's my favourite JC reaction to the Sizhui reveal

~*~

4. For itmf. I asking for fics where LWJ groveling a little after WWX, doesn't matter the setting or if just a few scene.

Thank you.

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with feelings, College/University) is a good one! It’s a modern fic roughly 20k

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

~*~

5. Hiyaa. A) Can I have some books where it's of the Yin Hu Fu being turned into a child or children? Similar to The Unquiet Grave

B) ITMF some fics that are mostly wwx being a nie or just being besties with nhs while NMJ is a whole big brother to him :) @thatperson0-0

5B)

shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NMJ/LXC, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 417k, WIP, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Deserves Happiness, WWX, Deserves Love, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings)

The Light That Fails to Dim by glowingreverie (T, 310k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mild Gore)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

~*~

6. hi!! i hope you guys are doing well <3 I had a request for itmf, I was hoping you could rec some darkji fics? I don't mind any genre as long as there is no mpreg!!! thank you for all your hard work 💗

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not rated, 11k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Teacher LWJ, dark twin jades, Age Difference, Manipulation, Protective LWJ, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Relatively canon-typical abusive Jiangs, WWX Get a Happy Ending, wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Clan Friendly)

~*~

7. Thanks for all your hard work ❤️

I have a request for the next itmf.

Are there any crossover fics with only wangxian and hualian from tgcf? I searched and they had bingqiu but i haven't read svsss yet or any other ship. I would really like to only read crossovers between mdzs and tgcf.

Thank you ♥️

~*~

8. Can you direct me to some wangxian fics that are beautifully written and have plot but also with smut?

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, wangxian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy..., then sexual intimacy, playing fast and loose with mdzs lore, WWX learning to accept intimacy without deflection, occasional LWJ humor agenda, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, wangxian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror, Mystery, The intrinsic horniness of wound tending, Yearning 2: The Electric Boogaloo, [Podfic] 爱不释手; never let me go by argentumlupine)

🔒 Due Process by Kytrin, ShotsOfSunshine (E, 279k, wangxian, JC/LXC/NHS, JL/LSZ/LJY/OYZZ, Modern, Canon-Typical Violence, Foxxian, dragonji, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid WWX, Wwx identifies as male, Organized Crime, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of child abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reincarnation)

curse of the dragon emperor by lulu_kitty (E, 96k, wangxian, Dragon AU, Canon Divergence, Mythology References, Identity Porn, Cursed WWX, Trans LWJ, Trans Male Character, Misgendering, Canon-Typical Violence, Gender Dysphoria, gender euphoria, Phoenixes, Curse as a Metaphor, Dragon WWX, Fox WWX, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Bottom LWJ, Dirty Talk, WWX Running His Mouth, LWJ Getting Bullied in Bed, Submissive LWJ, Trauma, WWX Has PTSD Minor Character Death, Prince WWX, Emperor WWX, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Mpreg, Trans Male Pregnancy, Size Difference, Dragonxian has two dicks, YLLZ WWX)

🔒 the past drifts away with the waves by thelastdboy (E, 46k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, LSZ & LWJ & WWX, WIP, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Fall of Lotus Pier, Major Character Undeath, YZY Being an Asshole, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Major Character Injury, Amputation, Loss of Limbs, Transformation, Merpeople, Fierce Corpse WWX, Merperson WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, No Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cultivation Sect Politics, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Resentful Creature WWX, Undead Merperson WWX, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Revenge, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Resentment, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, River Spirit WWX, Non-Human Genitalia, Dark WWX, Monsterfucker LWJ, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, Wēn Remnants Live, Wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Sect Leader WQ)

~*~

9. I was watching a YouTube video where the tuber was talking about how all men in ancient China had facial hair like Teacher Lan did. I know that MDZS takes place in a fantasy China setting. Hopefully there are plenty of fics out there about Wangian growing facial hair and they both think the other is absolutely gorgeous. I would love to read about them. ☺️ @lizzybgood

~*~

10. Question for the next Mood For, dear Mods. Do you know fics set in the canon verse or similar where lwj goes (stays) violent / dangerous and maybe mad with grief after wwx's death, a menace to the cultivation world? Bonus points if he is still like that when wwx comes back. @tehanu1979

Only death awaits the ones who disobey by Siera_Knightwalker (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Dark LWJ, Angry LWJ, Minor Character Death, Adopted LSZ, BAMF LWJ, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Immortality, No noncon, The world only survives 7 years before Wei wuxian is emergencied back into it, Protective LWJ, Sad LWJ, LWJ Loves WWX)

~*~

11. not exactly sure how to phrase this itmf, but could you please rec me some fics of the BM fam hustling toward a better life? as a community, they farmed and built and made wine and clothes etc, so id love to see them interact with the people of yiling/similar (could be any other jobs, including entertainment or anything else)

thank you!

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Necromancy, Demonic Cultivation, farming, Found Family, Pre-Slash, canon-typical corpse desecration, Questionable approach to cutivation, Making Shit Up As I Go, Cultivation Sect Politics, Fix-It of Sorts, canon typical genocide mention, Burial Mounds, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU)

🔒the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 88k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

~*~

12. Itmf wangxian fics where jgy is a good person and supportive

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 46k, JGY & WWX, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death)

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, JC & JYL & JFM & YZY, not YZY friendly, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, not JC Friendly, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters, hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings)

The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die, LWJ’s canonically intense feelings about everything all the time, WWX’s clinical depression gets treated and blamed on resentful energy, navigating gay marriage in ancient china by utiliizing class snobbery for your own ends, if you’re not sure whose fault anything going on in here is then blaming NHS is probably a good bet, WWX plays ‘summon LWJ’ it’s super effective!, the ‘unexploded cow’ approach to dealing with your enemies)

walk away from the sun by KouriArashi (M, 107k, LXC/JGY, LXC & LWJ, wangxian, LWJ & JGY, LXC & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort,vEmotional Hurt/Comfort,vDeveloping Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Politics, supportive brothers, supportive husbands, Canon-Typical Violence, Lan Family Feels, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

The Misadventures of Wei Wuxian in Cultivation Realm by makkurokuro93 (E, 77k, wangxian, Transmigrator WWX, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Courtesan LWJ, Courtesan LXC, Parallel Universes, Slow Burn, Good Person WX, Good Person JGY, BAMF CSSR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content)

🔒 omegaverse murder gremlins series by ShippersList (E, 203k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, rape/non-con, underage, A/B/O, nontraditional A/B/O dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good JGY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse)

Peony to Lotus Series by Deriliarch (T, 72k, WIP, YaoLi, WangXian, ChengQing, Soft AU, Canon Divergence, POV JYL, JYL Lives, JYL-centric, Demisexual Character, Demiromantic Character, Slight pining, Arranged Marriage, Fix-It, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending, Marriage of Convenience, POV Alternating, Trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters--nothing huge, Trauma, Pregnancy, Parenthood, Fluff and Angst, Family Bonding, Anxiety, Courtship, Asexuality, Internalized Acephobia, Slice of Life, Flirting, Discussions on consent/relationship boundaries, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Past XiYao, Internalized Misogyny) Wangxian is pretty background here, the focus is JGY/JYL

Reluctant partner by sacrificial_fawn (G, 31k, WangXian, XiYao, Modern AU, Mpreg, Family Reunions, bonding over your shared trauma, Reluctant Bonding, Married Life, Supportive LQR, Past Miscarriage, Male Lactation, non-graphic birth, Intersex WWX, Slight OOC) this one is hilarious

~*~

13. Hi! First of all, I’m really thankful for you guys’ work! I’ve found some of my favourite fics through your account!

Do you guys happen to know any fics where teenage or war era wangxian meet adult (and married) wangxian? It can be time travel or anything honestly! I’m not particular about the details.

I’ve been trying to search for something like this but was unable to come across anything.

花无百日红; the flower that withers by yiqie (M, 29k, wangxian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Case Fic, Spells & Enchantments, Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, It's about the emotional catharsis, If you have ever laughed at WWX clowning himself for the 'no one will marry you' scene, This fic is: for you)

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, wangxian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, LJY having the time of his life, Voyeurism)

🔒 ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX, JYL & WWX, WQ & WWX, LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, Major character death, Time Travel Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Future Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Truth, Honesty, Guilt, Crack and Angst, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc)

~*~

14. Itmf wangxian fics with

A) exhausted WWX and doting lwj

And B) your favorite most feet-kicking fluff

14A)

🔒we made space by MajorEnglishEsquire (E, 19k, WangXian, Getting Together, Sleep, Sleeping Together, Lap Sitting, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Adopted Children, Exhaustion, Happy Ending, Sex)

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

Red Flower With One Hundred Petals; Smoke Carried on the Blue Dusk Air by carolyncaves (T, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Alcohol, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Tenderness, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, thoughts of death/dying, Rabbits, Caretaking, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Fluff, Family Feels, Literal Sleeping Together, Shotgun Wedding, angry wedding planner JC, Yunmeng sibling drama and fluff, physical affection, Terrible Parties, Happy Ending, for WangXian, i'd call it a 'significantly more optimistic' ending for the larger plot)

14B)

Hand in hand is the only way to land by so_shhy (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Fluff)

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, WangXian, NieLan , XuanLi, Modern AU, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, Confused WWX, Happy Ending)

i’ll have you and you’ll have me by sundiscus (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, fluff with a sprinkling of angst (for flavor), i’ll have you and you’ll have me [Podfic] by Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard))

Setting in a Honeymoon by harriet_vane (G, 1k, WangXian, Fluff)

Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Actor AU, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Light Angst)

looking through a window by glitteringmoonlight (T, 5k, wangxian, modern, college/universtity au, outsider pov, fluff, humor)

🧡 A Study in Fluff by WeaverOfTheNight (T, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost bunnies, Vet LWJ, Architect WWX, Kid LSZ, Domestic fluff, Modern with Magic)

~*~

15. heyyy admins, any suggestions on sick wwx and lwj takes care of him? thanks for your hard work lovelies! :)

between two lungs by fruitys (M, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, but also. Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, but also! A Different Kind of Sleeping Together, First Kiss, Love Confessions)

I'm For You Now by phnelt (T, 5k, WangXian, Sickfic, Caretaking, Bathing/Washing, Comfort Food, Good Uncle LQR, it's a mild cold, low stakes softness, Domestic Fluff)

🔒 may your sunlit soul find its way home by puddingcatbeans (G, 10k, wangxian, JC & LWJ, Post-Canon, PTSD, sort of a case fic, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Tenderness)

🔒 Love in all forms, something tender by Vrishchika (T, 4k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ, WWX & LXC, WWX & LQR, Post-Canon, married wangxian, Established Relationship, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Feels, Sickfic, Sick Character)

Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, wangxian, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, sick/comfort, Healing, Illnesses, Fever, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Happy Ending)

Talismans by brooklinegirl (E, 10k, wangxian)

~*~

16. Hiiii for the next itmf I want fics with wwx wearing the lan forehead ribbon (like properly wearing it yk not in the ‘inappropriate use of the lan forehead ribbon’ way lol although I don’t mind if that’s part of it too), signaling he’s part of the sect cause he married in

Thank youuuu :D

~*~

17. I’m in the mood for fics that are long(ish) (about less 100k more than 30k) with plot but with not too much angst and that still prominently features wangxian relationship. Thank you for your hard work 💕

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 46k, JGY & WWX, wangxian, canon divergence, child endangerment, JGS being JGS)

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Canonical Accidental Baby Acquisition, Families of Choice, References to Depression, Happy Ending, I Swear To God I’m Giving Them A Happy Ending, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Well Except WN But He Was Already Dead So, Fix-It of Sorts, [Podfic] Wide Enough and Wild by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)) this isn't super plot heavy, but there's some plot

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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sanakimohara · 5 months

Text

“COLA” - B.C.

“I got a taste for men who are older…”

Synopsis: Having a crush on her best friend’s older brother was a secret Y/n L/n had managed to hide for years. She presumed those feelings had disappeared over time, but when Chris—or rather, Chan, as he’s called by the rest of the world—makes a surprise visit to Australia to spend his last break of the year with his family, Y/N is bewildered to find that she, in fact, is still infatuated with her best friend's brother. Unbeknownst to her, Chan is already well aware of it and isn’t above taking advantage of her innocent crush on him. All fun and games, right?

WARNINGS: [MDNI! 18+] pining, fluff, smut, a bit of angst, cursing, smoking, and alcohol use. oh and the DDGL dynamic is implied…

A/N: Let’s hope I don’t scrap this and at least finish writing it…also Chan is his current age 25 and the reader is 18+

—————————————————————

*click click click*

The pen in her hand chirped the sound repeatedly as she anxiously toyed with it. Her foot tapped under the desk she sat at, another sign of her stress level rising and a less noisy indicator of nervousness to her peers seated around her. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to clear her racing mind for a split second to conjure up an answer to the question printed on the paper in front of her.

It seemed impossible to focus on the invisible weight of perfectionism that she subconsciously mounted. It was just a test. A written one. No big deal. She’d been completing assessments like this all year. However, the notion of it being the final and most important test of the year had Y/n second-guessing knowledge she’d consumed tirelessly throughout the year. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she inhaled and exhaled as slowly as her body would allow her to before her gaze refocused on the question.

She scanned it once, then twice; the answer to it eventually peeked through the fog that was her brain. She jotted it down with urgency before flipping the paper over to signal she was done. The professor monitoring the room full of boarding students lifts their heads at the sound of a paper turning. To no surprise, Y/N is the culprit of the clumsy noise but receives no reprimand from the instructor. Instead, they smile and motion for the young woman to hand her packet of questions in.

Y/N wastes no time in doing so, gathering her personal belongings before retrieving the paper. She cautiously descends the stairs that lead towards the professor's desk, and when she reaches her destination, she smiles sweetly and places the packet in the professor’s waiting hand. “You had me worried for a moment Ms, L/n,” they joke with a knowing smile and said girl nervously glanced at her shoes before answering in a hushed voice with a coy smile. “I was worried for myself actually…” It’s the truth. Her anxiety always worsened under pressure -especially during tests.

The professor maintained their smile and began grading her packet which slightly unnerved Y/n. “I don’t see why you’d be worried Ms. L/n. Your work has been exceptional the whole year….” The paused, pen pointed right at Y/n, “…you shouldn’t worry so much all the time. You can relax sometimes, it’s healthy for you, you know?” Y/n nodded, internally grimacing as they repeated advice she’d heard a thousand times before, but found it increasingly harder to do in a prestigious school without a single friend there to “relax” with.

She wasn’t a social butterfly but she did prefer the company of friends she’d grown close to throughout her childhood. Unfortunately, most of them attended other universities, started a family early, or just down right fell of the face of the earth at some point. The only person she had left to spend time with was Hannah Bang. Her best friend since grade school who had chosen to attained university closer to her family.

Y/n wished she could’ve done the same but her parents would never allow it, so here she was being told to find joy in her life of education without a single person to do so with. “I’ll keep that in mind Professor. May I leave now?” Y/n already knew they wouldn’t deny her request since it was the last day of the semester but as polite as she was walking out without properly asking didn’t seem right.

The professor stared at her a bit longer, a sort of concern swimming in their eyes as they processed her question. A moment passed and then the instructor wished her a good break and allowed her to leave with a simple nod of their head. Y/n let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she exited the cathedral like seminar room and entered the limestone halls of the large campus.

Not many students were out and about and even less took notice of her so she pulled her phone out and checked her messages. A smile appeared on her face as a new message alert from Hannah Bang shown on her screen.

>> You’re still coming right? 🤨

Y/n rolled her eyes at Hannah’s sarcasm. She could practically hear Hannah asking her this with a trademark snicker in her tone.

<< yes, I wouldn’t miss it for the world :)

>> Yes you actually would. Well, for a test or smth 🙄

<< wow you got me there Han…

>> I in fact do.

>> no but seriously…

>> I won’t forgive you if you cancel last minute like you did last year.. :(

Y/n cringes remembering how she backed out of her plans with Hannah last minute last holiday. There were a mixture of reasons she’d canceled but the main and most truthful reason was because Hannah had mentioned her older brother would also be at home for the holidays.

Like a coward, Y/n immediately backed out of staying with the Bang family hearing the news that he was there. She felt so ashamed and selfish of that decision and so when Hannah offered Y/n a chance to spend her break with them again this year she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

It also helped that Hannah mentioned her older brother wouldn’t be making appearance like last time. Y/n gulped, face turning rose red, tummy doing backflips as the thought of seeing Christopher Bang in the flesh again caused her to malfunction. She chewed on her inner cheek, mindlessly wandering to lean up against a nearby wall as the few memories of him she’d religiously studied for years flooded her head. It was like all the logic left and all she could think about was him. After all these years she’d thought he’d be a distant memory or at least a less vivid one.

That just wasn’t the case though and no matter how many times she denied her attraction to Hannah’s older brother, the mere mention of him had her dumbfounded with adoration.

*buzz buzz*

Y/n snapped out of her lovesick daze as her phone vibrated. She’d totally forgotten to answer Hannah’s text and tried not face palm herself for it.

>> Leaving me on read is so mean.

<< Shush you’ll survive Han. I just blanked for a minute sorry.

>> Sure whatever you say 😔

<< don’t try to guilt me Han. You leave me on read like 99 % of the time

>> damn you got me there.

>> okay so you’re coming right? My mom keeps asking me so hurry up and decide!

<< I said you yes I’ll be there Han…

<< Just to be clear though….Chris won’t be there this year right?

>> …no why?

>> are you mad at him for something cause you asked me that last year too..🤨

<< NO I’m not mad at him lol!…

<< I was just wondering cause ya know he seems so busy in Korea with his band.

>> Oh I see.. I forget that you’re a closeted Stay sometimes.

>> No, he won’t be here though. Told our dad him and the members have too many end of the year award shows to preform at this time.

Y/n relaxed her body reading Hannah’s last text. A twinge of disappointment hit her heart but overall she was glad Chris wouldn’t be an obstacle in her break. Besides being attracted to him, her and Chris got along fairly well the few times she’d interacted with him while hanging out with Hannah. Due to his career and their slight age gap there wasn’t much Y/n could hold a conversation with him about and it was no help that she was in fact a fan of Stray Kids since their debut.

The pride she felt watching them on stage -watching Chan perform- was immeasurable but she assumed if he ever found out about her love for his idol activities he’d avoid her entirely.

A double edged sword that Y/n wasn’t fond of.

She told herself it wouldn’t be an issue this year though. Spending time with Hannah and Mrs & Mr Bang was all she wanted. Her family weren’t very….warm to be around. Especially not around the holidays so she preferred the company and hospitality of the Bang family anytime they offered it.

Y/n pushed her body off the cold stone wall, continuing her walk to her dorm suit across the campus as she texted Hannah back.

<< okay.

<< omw to start packing, see you in like 5 hours i think?..

>> your uni is only 4 hours away dummy…but yeah I’ll see you then :)

She shut her phone off, slipping it into her bag of belongings, and continuing on her way towards her dorm.

The whole walk there she was smiling, already reminding about the time she’d spent with the Bang family. How Hannah was and always will be her favorite person but most of all Chris, and the way his presence melted over her existence like warm honey.

As much as she wanted to taste its divine sweetness she knew it’d only make a mess of things…

—————————————————————

This was a series posted on my main acc but I decided to move it here. Please lmk what you think and if I should continue it. I already have PT2 in the works…

BONUS CONTENT +

#Spotify #skz #bang chan #stray kids #bang chris #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #chan skz #christopher bang

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axigailxo · 4 months

Text

Pretty Like You | PJM (2)

part two: parties and pilates

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub! jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.8k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised. mention of “unaliving” in this chapter.

ch summary. where oc convinces jimin to go to a frat party in an attempt to break him out of his shell

**this is part 2 of my series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | <-previous | next ->

“And then despite it all, she asked if I wanted to talk, can you believe it?”

It’s been a couple of days since the incident at the art room, and Jimin can’t stop ranting about it like it’s new news. He still hasn’t texted you, and it’s not like he could since he doesn’t even have your number. He could get it from you in class, but thats a little hard when he’s on a streak of skipping.

After you suggested to help him embark on a self love journey, Jimin has been so damn confused. He doesn’t know whether to jump at the opportunity, rot away in embarrassment that you read his journal, or be slightly offended that you’d suggest help when he thinks he’s just fine. Kind of.

All options are tempting, nonetheless.

Daisy, Jimin’s cat that is currently victim to listening about what happened for the hundredth time, lifts up off her soft body and saunters out of his room. What? She’s fed up.

Jimin, who is suffering from her rude and sudden exit, huffs as he debates whether he should follow up about that whole thing with you. Because despite all his options, he’s leaning more towards just avoiding you at all costs and pretending that situation never even happened.

Except he’ll remember. It’ll haunt him and his thoughts every night until he finally just addresses it.

And so that’s why he should go to class today. Maybe. Jimin squints his eyes as he contemplates and considers, ultimately deciding that coffee is the first step that should be taken. Especially since it’s way too early to have a crisis, that can wait for later. Per usual.

Making his way to his Keurig, he pops a peppermint mocha flavored pod into the top compartment followed by a little water in another compartment until he’s clicking a button to brew it.

“So now you like me,” Jimin scoffs as Daisy rubs against his ankle, excited for Jimin to give her breakfast.

Commanding to the manipulation of the feline, Jimin grabs a can of cat food out of a cupboard, internally scolding himself for being nice and buying her the expensive kind again.

Although, Jimin can’t blame Daisy for being fed up with all his predicaments. He would be too. However spilling to Daisy is much more acceptable than telling it all to his human best friend, Taehyung.

Jimin has already thought about the fact that if he spends time with you, whether it be for a self love journey or not, that’d be breaking some sort of bro code with Tae.

You’re Taehyung’s crush, and Jimin respects that. Plus it’s not like Taehyung has to worry, you’re out of Jimin’s league anyway.

However that hard on be got the other night still baffles him. He’s narrowed it down to being that you’re just attractive and he’s just a gross horny man. But not even that sounds right.

Jimin has thought about inviting Taehyung to every outing you may have together, but he can’t. How in hell would he explain to his best friend that the whole reason he’s seeing you is so that he can learn to accept himself and flaunt that feminine side of him? Let alone explain to him that you read his journal full of how much he envies and adores you at the same time. He can’t. More specifically, he won’t. Taehyung doesn’t need to meet that side of him, Jimin thinks. It’s for the better.

Jimin ponders for a second, and he hates himself for pouring his coffee into a travel cup and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He figures since he’s already keeping a secret from Tae, one more shouldn’t hurt. Plus he can’t avoid you forever. There’s really only one thing to do now.

“Eat up Daisy, I’ll be back after class.”

“Jimin? Hey!”

Standing in line at the campus’s cafe, Jimin washes over in a cold sweat as the loud call of his name attracts the attention of almost everyone near. He came here to get an additional caffeine boost before class and more importantly stall from talking to you, but it’s just his luck that you’d be here too.

“Hi,” he mutters awkwardly, eyes on the ground the second you get closer.

He’s never seen you so up-close before. He wonders if your skin has always looked so smooth.

He wishes his skin were as smooth.

“I was gonna call to ask about your no shows in class but I completely forgot to give you my number the last time we talked.”

Jimin finds this incredibly new and odd. Just a few days ago he hated you without knowing you and now you’re talking to him like a friend. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Here,” you say as you hand him your phone, a new contact page open and ready for him to fill out. “That way we can talk out of school, plus I found multiple super-helpful self esteem websites that you might li—“

“Y/N,” Jimin halts your enthusiasm. Again, way too early in the morning for this. “Can we not talk about it in such a public place?”

His tone is hushed and embarrassed, trying not to let the several eyes on them to hear that he’s struggling with self esteem. God this is so much more depressing than Jimin initially thought it’d be.

“Of course, yeah no my bad.” You rush your words, retracting your hand down before Jimin grabs the phone from you, typing his number.

“I dont expect you to waste time on me. Just text when you have absolutely nothing else to do. This isn’t important enough to occupy your schedule.”

Immediately, you frown at his words. Sure this is important. And contrary to his request, you already cleared something off of your schedule for him.

“First off, this is important. I won’t have you taking down on yourself anymore.”

Jimin so badly wants to ask why, but he won’t because that’s rude and you don’t deserve anymore rudeness from him. Not after what you read in the art room.

“Secondly, I already cancelled pilates for you. I have something else fun planned for us.”

Jimin can’t help his sudden snicker.

“What?” You ask, slightly offended.

“Nothing, it’s just funny you take pilates. Of course you do.”

You wanted to carry on with being offended, but you felt a pang of accomplishment upon getting him to laugh. Progress, you think.

“Yeah yeah,” you dismiss as you tuck your phone into your back pocket, trailing back out of the cafe. “Laugh all you want but just know that this ass didn’t grow itself!”

You: u, me, frat party tonight at 9.

Sat on the hard seats of the lecture hall, Jimin’s eyes go wide as he reads your reply to his text.

The second you sauntered out of the cafe, you were quick to text Jimin in hopes to break the tension between you two— which technically isn’t tension at all given Jimin is the only one who finds your new friendship odd. Well him and the rest of the students who saw you two talking together.

Jimin had asked what you had planned, and when you replied with frat party, he felt physically ill.

Jimin: absolutely not. sorry.

You: hear me out, it’s not even a big party

You: it’s very discreet and there’s only gonna be a couple people

Jimin locks eyes with you from across the room and mouths “no” with an adamant shake of his head. You roll your eyes before your thumbs get back to texting him.

You: we can pregame before we go so u can loosen up

You: if you’re with me, there’s nothing to worry about

Jimin wants to be offended. He most definitely does not need you at his rescue. The intent however was a little sweet. God Jimin is reminded exactly why he despised you— you’re perfect.

Jimin: i’ll think about it. that’s not a yes.

He pretends he doesn’t notice the little happy dance you do in your seat, nor the squeal of excitement you let out even though he didn’t give a definite answer.

Jimin starts to smile, but when he looks to his left he sees someone else who’s smiling at you and it vanishes. Taehyung. Completely gawking at you, Jimin fights that weird feeling that suddenly engulfs him. Maybe it’s the fact he’s hiding his new friendship with you from Tae.

Either that or somewhere in his subconscious, he doesn’t like how Tae is smiling at you.

“God dude, isn’t she so cute.” Tae whispers, completely oblivious to why you’re dancing in you’re seat.

Jimin trails his gaze to his lap as a bitter mood takes hold of him.

“Yeah… definitely.”

Jimin is in a rut.

Even though he’s still not certain about going to that party, finding a potential outfit never hurt anyone. Moments after he got home he was already sucked into his closet by the magnetic pull of all the great clothes he has— even though he knows himself well enough to understand he will end up changing into his “boy clothes” no matter what he ends up choosing.

He slips on a black, oversized distressed sweater. The seams are ripped in just the right places, leaving a fraction of his chest, his belly, and a dash of his waist to be visible beneath the shredded fabric. The back showcases a fair amount of skin as well.

This one, Jimin thinks to himself, isn’t so feminine. It’s doable. Maybe.

He wants to pair it with a skirt but that would only be a waste of time because if he can’t even leave his apartment in a skirt to check the mailbox, he sure as hell will not be wearing it to a frat party of all places.

He grabs a pair of black chinos that he thrifted not so long ago, letting it rest low on his waist. He pulls the look together with black combat boots and a dainty necklace that he tucks beneath the sweater. It makes him feel pretty despite the fact he’s the only one aware it’s on him.

He steps back to absorb the outfit in the mirror, and he feels good. It’s a combination of both masculine and feminine and it’s definitely testing the waters but Jimin knows his night won’t be enjoyable in the least if he wears a baggy hoodie or tee. He likes what he has on, even if the frat boys will give him shit for it. Which they definitely will.

He hears Daisy meow across the room, and upon directed his gaze to her his eyes settle on the makeup bag tucked into the far back corner of his desk.

He’s tempted, he is. But he can’t. He’s not ready yet.

Just as he begins to walk towards his desk, only enticing himself further, a knock on his door is heard and he takes that as a sign from god herself that he should skip the makeup.

With a sigh, he heads to the door.

“Knock… Knock… Knock!”

“Just a minute! For fuck’s sake.”

Irritated at the swat team-like announcement, Jimin swings the door open to reveal none other than Jessica Rabbit?

“You didn’t tell me it was a costume party!” Jimin complains as he steps aside, gesturing you to come in.

Both hands holding a bottle of E&J, you let yourself in and place the bottle on his countertop.

“Oh yeah, it’s a costume party.”

“It’s not even halloween,” Jimin states the obvious as he instinctively heads for two glasses out of his cupboard.

“It’s to make up for last year. There was a big game the day of halloween so none of the guys were in a party mentality.”

Party Mentality?

Jimin can’t believe he’s hearing about frat news from you, who is in his apartment dressed like Jessica Rabbit and is downing a shot straight from the bottle. What has his life come to.

You notice him staring so you apologize as you offer him the bottle to pour.

“Figured we’d pregame like I said. Also we gotta figure out a costume for you. Ooh what about a slutty artist or something.”

Jimin swears you make him lose brain cells. Sliding a now-filled glass toward you, he takes a large gulp of his own.

“Slutty artist?” He thinks out loud. “I’m fine with what I have on.”

Jimin counts down the seconds until you praise his bold sweater choice, but he can feel the alcohol rise back up when you say the opposite.

“In all honestly I thought that was a sleep shirt. We’re putting you in something else.”

You navigate yourself straight to what you assume is him bedroom, and Jimin nearly falls flat on his face chasing after you.

This may be a bit embarrassing for Jimin to admit to himself, but he’s never had a girl in his room before. It’s intimate, he thinks. Having someone inside a room that has witnessed every one of his breakdowns, outfit changes, alone time moments, etcetera. Jimin cringes as memories from the other night come back to him.

“Cute room,” you tell him as you look around, admiring the fairy lights and album covers displayed. Jimin was always big on music. Maybe posters were too far given his age, but he didn’t care. He never thought someone else would ever see them.

Although, Tae has been to Jimin’s place before. He knows about the posters and fairy lights. Though he never once questioned it or even talked about it. Only when he called that one poster of Ariana Grande hot. That’s what Jimin likes about Tae, he never questions him. But it’s not like Jimin gives him much to wonder about. He’s completely masked to the eyes of his best friend.

“This,” you start, dramatic tone and all, “this is gorg.” You hold out his favorite black skirt, and it’s lightening quick how fast he snatches it from you.

“No.” He tells you, cheeks getting hot. He’s embarrassed to say the least. He knows you know about his self esteem issues, but you have yet to discover his fondness for feminine clothing. But you have now.

“What? You’re embarrassed I found a skirt? If it’s socially acceptable for women to wear sweats, then it should be acceptable for men to wear skirts.”

Someone who gets it, Jimin thinks. This is the first time he’s ever felt understood when it comes to this, and he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“But skirt or no skirt, I think it’s important that you feel sexy tonight.”

“And why is that?” Jimin plays along. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed as you continue to look through his wardrobe.

“Because halloween parties exist solely for people to feel sexy all night.”

“It’s not halloween,” Jimin argues again, earning a shirt thrown at his face. Giggling, he holds it out in front of him.

You stand in front of his closet with a look of excitement on your face. His reaction disappoints you, however.

“Y/N, no. I can’t wear this out.”

“Just try it on.”

He knew this was part of your plan to get him to gain a little confidence and even convince him to leave the house in something he feels good in, but Jimin is adamant. He cannot wear this.

It’s a fitted baseball tee, extremely cropped and a shade of pale pink. Jimin cannot leave the house like this, despite how good it makes him feel deep down.

Reluctant and a tad shy, Jimin removes his sweatshirt from his body as he replaces it with what you threw at him. In the short moment he was bare, you might’ve stole a glance at his figure. His body is perfect, you think. Slim waist with faint yet toned abs and a noticeable amount of muscle on his arms. You take another sip of the drink that has yet to leave your hand.

“I look stupid.”

“You look sexy.”

The compliment was unexpected and was more than enough to have Jimin’s eyes widen. He breaks eye contact because how could he not, and he self consciously wraps an arm around his stomach.

More so his lap.

“I don’t know,” he says faintly, mumbling over his speech. “I think it’s a bit much.”

“Change to grey sweats. You can tell people you’re a 60’s athlete, they dressed like this back in the day you know.”

Yeah right, tell a bunch of actual scary frat boy athletes that’s he’s mocking their style from the 60’s.

His brows furrow when you step closer to him, reclining down and reaching for the skirt he had snatched from you. You grab one of his wrists, placing the bunched up material into his hand. His cheeks are on fire, his heartbeat picking up.

“Try it on,” you whisper. “For me.”

And fuck. Jimin is fully erect. He physically cannot bring himself to stand let alone change in front of you. He pushes your hand away, never wanting to disappear so badly.

“Another time. You already got me to wear this tee, baby steps.”

Disappointed, you think he’s right. You can’t beg him to gain confidence to wear an entire outfit like this on the first day of his journey. It takes time, and luck for Jimin you’re very patient.

“Another time,” you repeat softly.

Jimin has been to a function with very little people before. He knows what a small little get together looks like. This party— it isn’t that.

“You said a couple people!” He shouts over the blairing music as you pull him through the front hall and to the packed kitchen.

He has no clue who’s house this is and he hasn’t seen a single normal person. Everyone is either drunk, high, or the worst: a frat. He shivers in discomfort before you bring a shot glass to his lips.

“Guess word spread and more people came, no biggie.”

He downs the shot of what turns out to be tequila, wincing as he coughs out a reply.

“Huge biggie.” He looks around the crowded house after a bystander drunkenly bumps into him and slurs an incoherent apology.

This was a mistake.

“Y/N, what is the point of me being here? This isn’t making me feel good about myself in the least, this isn’t my environment.”

You take another shot before quickly grabbing a lime and placing it between Jimin’s plump lips, and before he can register what you’re doing, your lips are already on his as you suck from the lime. Nipping the fruit with your teeth you pull it out and drop it into the sink, grin wide as Jimin turns fire hydrant red.

That shouldn’t count as a kiss, but you just sort-of-kissed Jimin. His mouth is dry, heartbeat in his stomach, and he is hyper alert on the way his knees are subtly shaking.

“Ease up Jimin, it’s gonna be a long night.”

He didn’t know it then but that’s the last time he’d be seeing you until the end of the party. He sauntered off to a random couch that was unoccupied for the most part, only some random (and gross) couple having a full blown make out session on the opposite side.

He made sure to keep his cup filled the whole night as that’s the only thing keeping him from walking straight out the door and back into the comfort of anything that’s not this party.

He’s spotted Tae a few times, who is dressed as Jack from the titanic, but Tae hasn’t noticed him yet which is probably because his rather different fashion approach and the fact he’s at a frat party. If anything that should be a reason Tae spots him since he’s the odd one out, Jimin thinks. Then again it is a costume party and no one look normal per-say. Nor is Tae the sharpest tool in the shed.

He also thanks the universe for not letting Tae notice you and Jimin arrive together.

He’s been glancing at you for a while now, the way you sway your hips to the rap song playing on the surround sound speakers. The way your skin is glowing even under the dim, groggy lights of the house. He watches the way smoke exits your mouth as Tae places a blunt between your perfect lips. He looks away when Tae also places a hand on your waist, dancing with you so intimately that it pains Jimin to see.

He knows he’ll be hearing all about this from Tae. You’re his favorite person, he’s probably over the moon about dancing with you right now.

“Jimin?” Speaking of the devil.

Jimin waves awkwardly as Tae whispers something to you and proceeds to walk towards his direction. You go off to dance with a frat guy who’s been waiting all night to have your attention. Jimin finds him pathetic.

“What are you doing here? You never come to these kinds of things.”

The music is loud but that’s nothing compared to how deep and confident Tae’s voice is. Despite Jimin’s desire to be more feminine, there are some masculine traits he wishes to have. A deeper voice is one of them. Not Tae’s level of deep, but deeper than what his currently is.

“A friend forced me to,” he admits, not naming names because how could he.

“Oh you have friends?” The younger man teases, earning a grumpy eye roll from Jimin. He takes another swig out of his cup.

Jimin remembers what he’s wearing and wonders why his best friend hasn’t said anything about it yet. He almost wants to point it out so it doesn’t awkwardly go unsaid and leaves Tae to catch on to his secret need for femininity.

“Like my costume?” Jimin asks, masking the fact that this is actually just a random shirt he’s had in his wardrobe and not a costume.

Tae gives him a quick once over, not lingering his eyes on the top for long.

“Oh what are you supposed to be?”

He definitely thought that wasn’t a costume and instead a normal outfit. Jimin cringes, hating you right now more than ever for making him show up in this. But he also loves you for providing him with the save he’s about to use on Tae.

“I’m a 60’s athlete. They used to dress like this you know.”

Taehyung hums, genuinely convinced.

“Wah that’s clever. I thought that was yours for a sec.”

Jimin hates himself for what he’s about to say.

“Why on earth would I own a pink crop top, that’s ridiculous.”

They laugh it off, and Jimin feels a gut wrenching pang in his stomach. That sentence wasn’t made for him, and it made him a liar and a hypocrite to his own desire.

He needs to go now before he says even more self damaging nonsense.

“Hey Tae, do you think you can get me a blunt?” Jimin asks in hopes to excuse his friend and, well, get high.

“Is this coming from the same person that said smoking isn’t good for you?”

Jimin remembers when he said that but he’s far too drained to be defensive or right. He shrugs as he admits to his hypocrisy.

“Yeah well so are frat parties but here I am. Cough one up, I know you have some.”

Tae stands up to reach in his front pocket, pulling out a steep tin that reveals 3 joints. He hands one to Jimin, telling him a brief “I’ll be back” before vanishing to find you again.

Something told Jimin to stay at the party despite how badly he wanted to go. He thought about how it may make you sad if he were to just leave, then he ridded that idea because why on earth would that make you sad. Nevertheless, he glanced outside to see if the crowd was acceptable to join. It wasn’t.

Deciding to not smoke with a bunch of frat guys, he goes the alternative route and heads for the hallway to secure an empty room. When he succeeds, he closes the door behind him and props the window open as he lights the tip of his joint.

He doesn’t smoke often, barely at all, but he needed this. As the smoke entered into his mouth he inhaled it eagerly, head rolling back as he slowly blows it all back out. This feels good, he thinks. The atmosphere on the other hand still could be better.

Jimin laughs to himself. Smoking weed at a frat party you invited him to. The world is funny that way, he nods to himself. Almost as funny as how you’re all he can think about right now.

He doesn’t know what it is. It’s not hate. For sure not love. He’s just thinking about you. Perhaps he misses your company? Or the way your skirts never reveal too much but just enough to drive him crazy.

The way your pouty lips move when you talk.

Your soft skin.

Your silky voice.

The way you look in that Jessica Rabbit costume you wore tonight.

Jimin is painfully erect, and without even noticing his hand has been palming himself desperately this entire time, blunt being delicately held in the other hand, occasionally being brought up for more puffs to fuel what he’s doing right now.

“Fuck Y/N, yes.”

He unties his sweats. One more rough drag and he kills the blunt on the rim of the windowsill, both hands focusing on himself now. One hand tugging his waistband down, the other guiding himself out. And all he can think about is how sexy you are.

He gets carried away, going so fast on himself that he doesn’t hear or see the door open. He’s high beyond belief, god only knows what Taehyung had laced in that blunt, and so when he sees you he swears his imagination is just very vivid.

Until his conscience registers and he almost squeals as he lunges back in shock of the situation.

Quickly you run up to him just in time to pull his entire body back and preventing him from falling out the window. You’re breathing heavy, half because of what you saw moments before and partially because you just saved his life.

“Fuck Jimin, be careful.”

And how fucking peculiar it is that you’re not addressing his cock that is out in the open between the two of you.

Jimin can’t speak. He almost literally died from being caught jerking himself to you while being high out his mind.

What a fucking legacy he’d have left.

After catching his breath he frantically goes to put himself away but his hand is stopped by yours.

“You know people sneak into rooms at parties to have sex with each other, not to do themselves.”

His cheeks flush red.

“Only freaks do that.”

Jimin has wanted to before, but he officially wants to unalive himself. How pathetic he is, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m really high right now and I thought I locked the—“

He cuts himself off when you guide his hand back onto himself.

“You’re not gonna ask me why I came in here?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“Why?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, very slowly putting his own hand into motion against himself.

“Because I’m a freak too.”

Your words came out in a faint whisper but Jimin’s senses are heightened and he hears it like a megaphone in his ears. Your tits are practically spilling out your tiny red tube dress as you lean to help him stroke himself. A shiver cascades down his whole body, an unintentional yet hesitant whimper rumbling off his throat.

You giggle, then abruptly you stand. You lean down and peck him on his frozen, plump lips.

“Have a good night Jimin, I’ll be in contact for our next power move.” You walk towards the door. “Masturbating is a good way to show yourself love, kudos to you kid.”

Jimin’s hand is glued to his stiff cock, frozenly just keeping it there as he stares at you with his mouth agape.

“I’ll lock this on my way out, by all means finish and do not fall out any windows.”

And just like that you open the door only a couple inches and squeeze out to give him privacy. He’s left in the same spot, still in absolute shock.

You’re perfect.

You’re beautiful, and apparently so fucking sexy in sexual situations. It takes only one more stroke and one more thought of you for Jimin to reach the finish line, cum dropping down his hand and shaft as he fucks into his fist.

He breathes jaggedly until he’s drained of all energy and collapses on the bed.

To his shock, he’s not freaking out. He’s actually smiling. Then again that could easily be the weed talking. What did taehyung put in that anyway?

Jimin’s smile dissipates as an ugly thought sends a cold chill throughout him.

You’re his best friend’s crush. You’re Taehyung's. And he just betrayed him. Jimin hates how the universe works sometimes. When one thing goes well, the whole world goes to shit.

The world is funny that way.

ply pt 2???? im sorry for how long it took luvies, last year was so intense. i hope you all are still here to read😿 run this uppppp cuties!! til next time luvs🤭❤️

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39 @mawwnsterr @zadkielr @iamjimintrash @chansbaybygirl @canarystwin @dearsullix @polyparkj @mannymalfoy @jmincore @kyglover @coralmusicblaze @midnightangel13 @jm-jkfics @lovelyflower02 @xcherrywaltz

soooo many of u guys who asked to be in the taglist changed your usernames so unfortunately i couldn't tag u☹️hopefully this found u!🫶🏻

(for anyone else who'd like to be in the taglist pls reply to this post <3)

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seosracha · 1 year

Text

CUPID'S ARROW! lee heeseung x f!reader

SYNOPSIS-> you and heeseung, the schools hot topic and archer, have always despised one another. ruining each other's presentations, tripping each other in the hallways- you name it. so when the boy stops tormenting you due to his new girlfriend, you realize maybe you wanted him more than you thought you did.

PAIRING-> lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE-> enemies to lovers, highschool au, fluff, a little bit of angst maybe?!:!:??' oneshot

WORDCOUNT-> 9k ! (hello ?)

AUTHORS NOTE-> in honor of my favorite libra i decided to comeback🤗 if this flops im leaving again Okiiiii Purr👌 this took me 5 years By The Way. I dont even remember if i had a perm taglist Hel! Update i found itReblogs are greatly appreciated let your favourite enha tumblr senior pop off

PERM TAGLIST-> @bubblytaetae @qghosty @viagumi @artstaeh @bigtoewinwin @strwberrydinosaur @enhacolor @rendezrei @shinsou-rii @notrosemary

The school's atmosphere was always bustling, you and your small friend group never felt like outsiders in these rusty walls. Graduation was right around the corner and as much as it should have been a good thing, you felt as if a huge part of your life will be taken away from you. Instead you'll receive a piece of paper for the countless sleepless nights and mental breakdowns. You wondered where all the time between freshman year and the last months of senior year had gone.

Niki. He was with you since birth, or at least you liked to believe that. It was the perfect cliche, next door neighbor and family best friend born on the same day. You always called him a walking red flag for the numerous times he'd do something against the norms. It was small things like pouring his milk first or more concerning instincts where he’d tie his shoes before actually getting into them. He’d defend himself with the barrier of time saving, but you doubted it was even true. But aside the weird things he’d do, the true him was a sunny and caring person. He liked the feeling that making people happy gave him. He put the people closest to him before himself. In Conclusion, he had a heart of gold but a brain full of air.

Jungwon. It has always been hard for you to give a coherent depiction of his personality. Every first of the month he became a new person. In September he made ‘deez nuts’ jokes but as soon as october came they were old and cringe. His confusing being made Jungwon an interesting and alluring person. Although he changed his identity every month or so, his heart and kind nature never changed. He was your personal 911, under the phone for every small inconvenience or big downfall. You loved every part of him and would never trade the clumsy boy for anyone else.

Yunjin. She was outgoing and so talkative it was almost impossible not to fall asleep during one of her storytimes. In freshman year you told her to befriend the school's most envied girl, Miyoung. The moment you almost lost her to the shit person Miyoung was, you realized how much your friendship really meant to you. Yunjin was stubborn so it took you a lot of courage to confront her about the problem. She also pulled the swim team's captain, Jake . Most people envied her for the bond she shared with him, some wondered how these two people even got together in the first place. It was true. Yunjin was nothing like Jake, but maybe her true self was the reason she fit so well into the mold he gave her.

You all assumed the entirety of your small town was or is in this school. The people were welcoming and talked until their tongues went dry. You all internally agreed on making the most out of the time spent in school before going on with the miserable life this town was offering.

The only exception was Lee Heeseung.

He tried to make your life miserable even before graduating. One dirty look could make you shut off for the entirety of the next period on your time table. And if that wasn’t enough he’d try to ruin everything good you had left of that day. Sometimes he’d leave you alone, just to make you believe it was all over. Those days always felt like the rain before the storm. He was nothing but a full of himself asshole who rode off of academic success and school popularity. Girls admired him for his archery achievements and tall, sporty figure.

It was hard to tell exactly where it had all started, the competitiveness and hatred he shared towards you. How did sitting together at lunch, or attending his competitions turn into something so disastrous and sad.

Perhaps it was the track you both took up, and had to compete against each other in. Or maybe your final results that topped his. On the other hand it could've been the brief relationship between you and his best friend, Park Sunghoon. But you’d rather believe it's just pure jealousy. You were always better than him in everything except that pointless arrow shooting he cherished so much. No one performed as well as him in archery so maybe that was the reason he liked to rub it in your face every chance he got.

You got to know him from both sides, and sometimes you’d deny the fact you missed him before he got brainwashed by the meaningless highschool fame.

“It’s eight, right?” Heeseung asked, pen pointing towards the answer in the middle of all his scribbles.

His glasses were constantly sliding off his nose, as he used all the brain power left after the tiring school day to solve his algebra homework. The numbers started to look all the same, and he wondered if x was a number or the problem he had to solve.

“I got 4” you said and he sighed.

His head hung low as he scribbled over the answer once again. Heeseung’s eyes traced over the equation, looking for the moment he made a mistake. He looked disappointed, and you felt bad for being the smarter one at that moment. It’s not like you corrected him to boost your own ego.

“How do you do it? Why do you always get the right answer?”he asked quietly, embarrassed with himself.

You had wondered yourself. Why did you always have the right answer to everything and algebra equations? It came to you naturally, and you never thought of it as something others didn’t possess.

“Show me your paper, Heeseung, '' you asked politely. His wrought hand slid the paper towards you, avoiding any eye contact. “2608 divided by 652 isn’t 8”you pointed to the set of numbers.

He said nothing, just wrote down his final answer on the spot under the question on his work sheet.

A beat of silence came in the library, and you just noticed how quiet it has gotten. Usually the small whispers of other students caught your ear, but now it felt as if you two were the only ones in this modest room. Your eyes trace the study desks and contrary to your belief, all of them were packed with groups of students studying. Some were deeply focused on their literature assignments or chemistry homework, others rather spoil the learning process for the rest.

“I think I’ll just give up. This is pointless” Heeseung murmured, packing his things back into the emptiness of his backpack.

“If you give up now, later it’ll be even harder for you. We’re only in freshman year” you said, grabbing onto his hand.

It was cold, and you felt the feeling of failure radiate off of him.

“Heeseung, I believe in you, I promise. Let’s just finish this and I’ll reward you with some dinner after this. How does that sound?”you sounded like a mom, but he didn’t seem to care.

A smile briefly decorated his face, as he brought the black backpack back up to his chest to pull out the worksheet once again. He grabbed a pen from your pencil case without asking, and continued to focus on the next question.

“I think that sounds nice,” he answered in a moment of comforting silence.

The thought of that day brought you back to the memory of the Heeseung you learned to like.

///

“Oh c'mon I have no money!” Jungwon said cuddling up to Niki.

Niki’s lunch plate was full of delicious food and the most random items the school's cafeteria offered. He looked at Jungwon and just slapped his hand away, pushing a handful of chips into his mouth. To show off probably. Jungwon sighed and moved onto his next target.

“What about you Y/nnie? I’m so hungry, can you hear my stomach rumbling?” he questioned giving you puppy eyes. You just scoffed and slid your extra sandwich towards him.

He squealed in excitement, and took the smallest bite, savoring the treasure in his hands. Niki just shook his head, and kept on eating what his plate gave him.

“I thought we agreed on sabotaging Jungwon every lunch?”he commented, and Jungwon glared at him confused.

“What do you mean by that?”he asked, concerned for himself, and his empty wallet that accompanied him to every lunch period.

“Where is Yunjin?” Niki asked, dogging the older boy's question.

Jungwon just sighed and finished whatever he had left of the sandwich in his hands.

“With Jake, I’m not sure,” you replied.

“They're probably making out under the bleachers again. I mean it’s summer time” Jungwon said, wiping his fingers on the soft material of his pants.

Every summer time, Jake and Yunjin would be caught under the bleachers of the football field. They’d usually get detention, and continue it there. All of you saw it as their little tradition, as disgusting as it was. The bleachers reeked of the most disgusting smell, probably not being thoroughly washed since they were built.

Jake seemed like the typical player type, full of himself, and way too proud of his athletic achievements, but he was the complete opposite. He liked to hide away in the depths of the school, never interrupted class with the stupid jokes boys his kind made, and loved small gestures people directed towards him. Jake liked Yunjins company because she brought out the best in him. She brought him to heights he's never seen, and that is not in a sexual context only. People didn’t envy her for being with Jake, but rather for being the missing piece in his puzzle.

“We should go to the football game next week!” Jungwon asserted excitedly at the thought of Yunjins and Jake's tradition.

“Isn't that something straight people like doing?” Niki snorted.

He didn’t see anything special in seeing the boys of this highschool compete against some other highschool nearby. He had a point though, our school is going to lose either way.

“I thought you and Sunoo were friends?” you said, remembering Kim Sunoo was a famous quarterback. He was tall, really attractive and actually looked decent on the field with all that gear.

Even you found yourself crushing on him in the beginning of sophomore year. He had a charming aura that you wanted to get to know better. It obviously didn’t work after he indirectly rejected you. Looking back at it now, you aren't sure what went through your mind.

“Well my friendship with him doesn’t mean I care enough to watch him throw a ball around” Niki shrugged.

It was hot and dry, the sun peeked through the large windows. It hit your back, warming you in a not so comfortable way.

“I could really get a cold water right now” you sighed and looked over to Niki who despite having an overflowing plate, didn’t possess any drink at all.

You regretted voicing your inner thoughts as the chair behind you jerked. It was like you could predict the future when Heeseung’s tall figure covered the boiling sun that spread through your back.

“You want something to drink, Y/nnie?” Heeseung said and you could feel his eyes burning a hole on the back of your head.

His arms extended to grab the Sprite off his table. Sunghoons hand stopped him.

“Leave her alone dude” he said calmly.

Jay and Sunghoon have grown tired of Heeseung’s childish antics. They knew he had absolutely no reason to keep on making you miserable. They’ve called him out on it countless times, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

“And what if I don’t? You’re not her boyfriend anymore”he whispered and groped the drink in his hand.

He turned back to you smiling, your body was already facing his, a look on your face he knew well. It was you signalizing you knew what was coming. It’s not like he hasn’t pulled this ‘prank’ at least forty times this year.

“Back to you. What about a Sprite, hm?”he said with a sly smile.

“Can you just leave me alone, seriously?” you said, unfazed by his dominant act “You already spilled coffee on me last week, Heeseung”you added and he chuckled.

“Yeah I did, and it was fucking awesome” he said twirling the can in his hand.

You felt the fizzling liquid quickly move on from your freshly washed hair to your forehead and along the length of your shoulders. You felt sticky, and disgusting. Heeseung laughed, probably being the only one who found the incident funny.

The chair jerked once again, and Sunghoon stood up pushing Heeseung away from you. He took the tissues from the pocket in his jacket and handed them to you.

“You don’t have to help me, you know?” you said avoiding eye contact. Sunghoon shrugged.

“This is the least I can do to make up for having an annoying and childish friend”he mutters, but the admission alone was enough to calm your heart.

Your warm hand trembles slightly as you grab the tissues from him. You wiped whatever you could off your face, and put the wet hair into a messy ponytail. Words leap at the tip of your tongue as you hold back everything in you to keep yourself from wrestling Heeseung to the floor.

“I think we need to talk, Heeseung” you say and he calms his laughter down.

“For what? No need to waste anymore time on you today” he laughs and gives you that dumb face you hate.

You exhale yet another breath of annoyance “I don’t think you have anything better to do, if this is the peak of your day”

“I do, right Sunghoon?” he asks, hoping to get the answer he wanted but Sunghoon stays quiet, observing the scene before him. “Why do you still act the way you did when you two dated? Seriously, it’s so annoying” he huffed.

“Cause you’re being an asshole, Heeseung” Jay interjected, still seated by the trios usual table.

“And you’re being stuck up. What's wrong in having a little fun?” he sighed.

“You’re the only one having fun, Heeseung” you said, and he stared into your eyes.

He wasn’t fazed by your words or anyones in fact. He wanted the high ground in life so going under the influence of peoples opinion wasn’t even an option for him.

“I have to put myself first” he giggled, and you rolled your eyes at his stupid comment.

He was standing inches away from you, and you could swear the heat was radiating off of him. He smelled of Japanese cherry blossoms. You found that strange, expecting a man like him to wear the strongest cologne out there.

The truth was, Heeseung always went for a softer look. He had the whole package from the hair to the shoes. Maybe it was one of his tactics to stand out and showcase his individuality as best as he could.

“Can you just let this go? The whole act you have going on. It’s become old”you say, your voice monotone. He looks around the cafeteria.

“I don’t see anyone better to make fun of” he states, and grabs your hand “Consider that as a compliment” he adds, and smiles brightly.

No matter how much time has passed from the day you met to this moment, his sweet and charming smile never changed. It was made to mesmerize others, and sometimes you couldn't help but get excited.

Your hand jerks away from his “Fuck, just cut it out, please. Just let me have some fun with my friends before graduation” you plead.

Heeseung has never seen you actually beg him to stop. As much as an asshole he was, maybe you were right. He didn’t think about graduation until now.

Heeseung was scared to graduate and leave his school career behind. He knew whatever accomplishments he had in archery would give him nothing in return in college. He knew the adoration of younger girls wouldn't transcript to college. And he knew his friends wouldn't waddle after him. He knew he’d be alone again.

He stayed quiet. The only thing consoling the immediate silence in the small circle you made, was the chatter of other students placed around the cafeteria. Heeseung’s heart courses unsteady blood through the canyons of his uneasy stomach as he exhales a rocky breath.

“Whatever” he murmurs into the sunshine, leaving you and his friends behind as he walks out of the large lunch hall.

///

The school days became more steady and quiet. No clouds in the sky, and no interruptions during lunch. No dumb comments when you spoke in class, and certainly no cocky notes in your locker.

You didn’t see Sunghoon’s and Jay’s smiley faces waving at you anymore as you sat down at your usual lunch table with Niki, Jungwon and Yunjin, since they didn’t sit behind you anymore. At first you wondered why, but you just assumed it was a blessing from the god above. Not that you hated Sunghoon or Jay, you could never, it was more about the boy you despised.

Sunghoon and you used to date, and you knew he couldn’t get enough of the comments Heeseung made about it on a daily basis. He started using it as an insult, and scolding him everytime he tried to help you after one of Heeseung’s foolish pranks. The reality of your relationship was pretty sad. Cause not only is Heeseung using it as a taunt towards your now ex boyfriend, but he was the authentic reason for your breakup. He felt as if you stole his best-friend from him, so he made your lover choose between you or him. The choice is probably obvious by now. I mean he had no certainty this love would last.

“It’s been pretty quiet without Heeseung coming around, hm?” Yunjin whispered, doodling hearts around her English worksheet. A smile perks up on her lips as she writes Jake's name in one of them.

“Well, finally”you reply shortly, focusing on the question before you. You twirl the pen between your fingers, as Yunjin chuckles softly.

“Weren’t you used to it by now? I mean isn’t it weird to not have him spill drinks on you anymore?” she nagged you once again, knocking you out of your trance.

“Who wouldn't be used to it? But I definitely do not miss having wet hair and clothes for the rest of the day”you smile, and write down one of the answers.

Of course you felt like something was missing, but you’d never actually admit it. You knew something was missing, but coming to the full realization of what that was, belittled you.

“Didn’t you ever like Heeseung? Like at some point you had to like him. Especially when you two were practically besties!”she exclaimed, and you had to hit her, afraid Jay might hear.

Jay sat next to Yeonjun, head in hands. You snook secretive glances at the boy, and he seemed just as confused as you were. He kept asking his deskmate for answers but from what it looked like, he didn't have them either.

“I don’t know, Yunjin. Maybe, but it surely wasn’t anything big. You know, Heeseung used to be pretty fucking cool back then”you smiled, your mind rushing back to the memory of freshman Heeseung.

“Niki was so jealous of him, I’ll never forget that” Yunjin giggled, and grabbed your pink highlighter to color in her heart dedicated to Jake.

She smiled as the heart filled with a bright pink color, fading her boyfriend's name a bit, but she made sure to correct it right after.

“Don’t you ever hang out with Heeseung? Especially since you spend so much time with Jake?” you asked curiously.

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We never hang out with a third person. We’d probably make them really uncomfortable,“ she answers, and you laugh along with her.

“Back to you, Jake told me Heeseung doesn’t even talk about you anymore. Can you believe that?” she huffed, as if it should have offended you.

You shrugged. The less embarrassing things Jake, Sunghoon or Jay knew about you, the better. But you wondered why he’d talk about you in the first place.

“He’s also been really secretive lately. They were supposed to go play some games at Jay’s, but he bailed out. Jake said he never does that '' she exclaimed dramatically.

“I really don’t care, Yunjin. Maybe he finally realized what a shit person he truly is” you explain, and she just laughs.

“I hope so too” she whispered a short response “Are you still coming to the game? I finally convinced Niki to come ‘see his friend throw a ball around’ ”she made air quotes, and you chuckled.

“Yeah, me and Jungwon wanted to go from the start anyways” you say, and she squeals excitedly.

///

“Can we sit here?” Sunghoon’s voice caught your attention, as he stood alongside Jay and Jake.

Yunjins face lit up at the boy standing in front of her “Yes!” she squealed, and clung onto Jake’s side “You never sit with me at lunch, baby” she murmured into his chest, and he giggled.

“She’s right, you guys never sit here. What happened to mood killer Heeseung?” Jungwon asked, and they shrugged, just as curious as him.

You looked around the cafeteria, but in fact a six foot, blue haired man was nowhere to be seen. You always wondered why he chose a hair color that could potentially make him look like an idiot amongst the towns people, but you couldn't lie and say it didn't fit him.

“He’s not here, and he’s not answering our calls, I think he’s skipping,” Sunghoon said tiredly.

“I heard he’s been ditching you guys quite often lately” Niki asserted sarcastically , picking at his lunch uninterested.

His parents cut off his money after he failed his math exam, so he no longer had the option to buy out the whole buffet. He was stuck with the disgusting, soggy food the school offered for free.

“Yeah, he has. I don’t want to offend anyone, but after the lunch incident it’s like something has changed in him,”Jay said, being a witness of the scene.

“Why would I be offended by all people, the more freedom, the better” you said, and Jay silently agreed with you.

Getting rid of the fear's tight grip, really washed a lot of other things off of you. It made you so much more comfortable and especially much cleaner, literally and practically. But his sudden ignorance and complete change in demeanor wasn’t all pluses, but maybe it was too early for you to realize that.

“Seriously I should've studied for that exam” Niki muttered, pushing his plate of soggy pasta away. He reached for his backpack but found nothing edible inside.

“What’s wrong with him? That pasta used to be the highlight of my day in freshman year” Jay hummed.

“There is something seriously wrong with you, man”Niki responded “That pasta tastes like battery acid, and maybe like the crumbs on my bed on a good day”

“You eat the crumbs you find in your bed?” Sunghoon asks, disgusted.

Another red flag Niki carried around with him.

“Yeah, you don’t? I thought everyone eats the crumbs in their bed” he said, and nobody agreed.

“First of all, I wash my bedsheets and don’t eat in my bed” Sunghoon said, and Niki scoffed.

“You’re seriously mentally ill, all of you actually. Bedsheets are supposed to be changed every two months or maybe every month if I feel generous”he educates them.

“Me and Y/n once slept over at your house, and I woke up with crumbs in my ass” Jungwon said, and Niki rolled his eyes.

“Could have slept on the floor then”Niki asserted, and sneaked one of Yunjins fries into his mouth. She was way too occupied with Jake to even notice or have any awareness of the people around her “Okay I think we should stop talking about my crumbs now, please”

“Trust me, no one wants to know about your disgusting ass habits,” Jungwon sniggered.

Somehow you found yourself looking around the hall for that one familiar face, yet as good as your vision was, you couldn’t spot him anywhere. Why did you want to see him so bad?

“What about you, Y/n?” Jay asked, and you had no idea what the initial conversation was even about.

Jay had changed the subject, moving on from Niki a long time ago, but your mind was focused on something, or rather someone else.

“What?”

“I asked what you plan on doing after graduation” he smiled, and you pushed your focus back onto the group around you.

“I don’t know yet. I do want to go to college, a lot actually, but what for, I’m still trying to figure that out” you said quickly. Jay nodded understandingly.

“What about a boyfriend?” he smirked and nugged Sunghoon. He just rolled his eyes and moved away from the boy.

“I don't think I need one at the moment”you answered with a smile.

It went quiet as Jungwon's face changed drastically. He saw something others couldn't make out just yet.

“Speaking of boyfriends and girlfriends,, is that fucking Miyoung?”Jungwon exclaimed, and the mention of her name made Yunjin jump away from Jake’s arms.

“What are you talking about?”she said, her body trembling. Her heart began racing as Jungwon pointed to the entry door.

You didn’t want to look, suspecting the outcome.

“So that's where he went,”Sunghoon laughed, and before he could call them over, Niki stopped him. Sunghoon quickly realized, and gave up on that idea.

“No way he actually started dating Miyoung, isn’t she like a total bitch” Jay said, directing his words towards Yunjin.

“She is the most awful person I’ve ever met,” Yunjin said, her gaze still glued to the couple.

“Well that explains why Heeseung’s dating her now,” Jungwon chuckled.

There was the confirmation you didn’t necessarily want.

Heeseung and Miyoung are dating now.

“So that’s why he doesn’t bother you anymore! He doesn't want to make his girlfriend jealous” Jay exclaimed, you just laughed quietly, and tried to completely cut out your friend's words with the company of your own phone.

“This has got to be a serious one if he gave up on teasing Y/n” Sunghoon said.

As much as it made you happy he left you alone, the reason behind it did not fire up that same emotion in you. But you could not stop life from moving onwards, and if this is what makes him satisfied then so be it, right?

“Why did you stop being friends with her anyways, Yunjin?”

…

“I can’t, me and Miyoung are going to the movies” Yunjin said excitedly, but you couldn't quite return her feeling.

Once again, you were being ditched for Miyoung, and it felt pretty fucking shit. It felt as if Yunjin was drifting away from you for some new girl she barely knew. But you couldn’t stop her, she was your best friend and her happiness was your priority.

So when Yunjin and Miyoung were enjoying the movies you and she loved, Heeseung was by your side. He listened, and helped you cope with the pain of being replaced. You remember him holding your hand so tightly, telling you how much you mean to many people, and to never doubt Yunjins platonic love for you. It was a new thing for you and him. You were usually at each other's side when exams came, and when he competed for the gold medal, but never when a crisis striked.

You wondered why he did it. Did he just feel bad for you and didn’t want to make you more miserable when you came to him?

Miyoung was your complete opposite, she was more like Yunjin. That’s why they connected so fast. You envied their friendship despite the fact you were still considered Yunjins best friend.

When Heeseung heard all about Miyoung, he couldn't hold back the shit he had to say about her. Every bad thing he recognized within her, from him, sounded fifty times worse. It was his way of helping you realize Yunjin will grasp that soon enough too.

And he was right. Miyoung had nothing but bad intentions towards Yunjin.

…

Maybe seeing him all over Miyoung hurt ten times more because he was there for you when no one else was. He was there when his now girlfriend wanted to tear your friendship apart.

///

“You’ve been acting really off recently” Jay commented, while you two accompanied each other on the walk back home.

Jay lived in the same apartment complex as you, but you never cared enough to notice him. Usually it was only you and Niki ignoring the rest of your neighbors.

“I think it’s just your imagination, Jay '' you laughed, and took another bite out of Jay's candy bar.

He made a sad and offended face when half of his chocolate bar was gone.

“No seriously, even Jungwon noticed, and I trust him”he said.

“You and Jungwon really hit it off, hm?”you asked, trying to bring the spotlight off of you.

You guessed it worked when Jay's face lit up “Yeah, we did! He actually seems to like spending time with me”

“We all love spending time with you and everyone else, Jay” you smiled brightly, and he laughed.

It was true. Ever since Heeseung completely cut them off for his girlfriend's company, your friend group adopted them. Yunjin couldn't be more happy now that she got to spend every second of her day with Jake. And you felt happy cause they gave you the little unreal pieces of Heeseung you found yourself missing.

Seeing him with Miyoung, turned something upside down in you. It didn’t let you function properly and it felt like you've hit rock bottom. You couldn't help but wonder, why her? Although anybody else wouldn't make the growing feeling in your stomach any better. It was still a new thing to you, and you couldn't quite put into words what it was.

“Do you miss Heeseung? Or at least the person he used to be?”you asked, and Jay wasn’t expecting you to be the one to initiate a conversation about Heeseung.

“Well obviously. We still talk, but it isn't the same at all. I really want to go back to the day when it all went downhill, maybe I could've done something,”he answered with a fabricated confidence.

“Don’t blame yourself for something you can't control,” you said, holding his hand. It was a habit you picked up from the one and only Heeseung himself. “For the short time I knew Heeseung, he’s just like that. You never know what's coming until it's already done”

“Short time? You and him were constantly talking in freshman, I’m really shocked you didn't catch feelings for him back then”he laughed.

Feelings. Now you realize that maybe after all you did like Heeseung. It came to you after you found yourself reminiscing on the memories you shared. He used to mean a lot to you, and when he started changing his demeanor towards you, it wasn't easy to let go. You tried to fix it but you didn't have any tools. You just had to buy a replacement, but there weren't any others like him in stock. That’s why you started dating Sunghoon, because he was the closest you could've gotten to Heeseung.

“I don't think I catch feelings that easily,”you laughed.

Lie.

You lay in your bed helplessly, the sheets clinging onto your sweaty body. Your room elopes you in a constant darkness, and the wind blows softly through your open window. You can’t focus on anything, your heartbeat picking up at every sharp inhale.

Your mind was racing from one thing to another, but someone who stayed consistently flooding your brain was Heeseung. Because you have finally come to the realization this was never about Miyoung or the childish pranks, it was about him.

It was an untypical connection you longed to study.

///

“I know what's going on so you either say it yourself, or I’ll just be blunt about it right now” Niki said through the speaker of your phone as you kept on straining from the real purpose of the call.

You trusted Niki, but this is something bigger than the time you told him about Sunoo. Back then the only thing you two could do about it was laugh and make up fake scenarios with you as the main character.

“If we both know then why talk about it? It doesn't matter anyway” you murmured, fiddling with the settings of your fan.

“Because I want to help you, and if you don’t tell me the full thing I have nothing to stand on” he explained, and you sighed.

On one hand, you wanted to hear Nikis advice, but would that really help? Would any of this really help your already fucked up situation?

“I don’t even know where to start, Niki” you said and he let out a sound of understandment.

“Just tell me everything, don’t hold back. You can trust me with this” he told you after a brief moment of silence.

You stayed quiet, attempting to process everything through. The admission alone was hard enough, but spilling out the truth to one of your bestfriends was the real challenge.

“Niki, I’m not sure myself, if what I feel is real. I’m wondering if any of this is real” you started softly, and he kept quiet signalizing for you to continue. “I want to have him all for myself, and I know it’s selfish, but what can I do anyways”

“Do you seriously want this?” he asked.

“I don’t know Niki, I don’t know anything just yet” you responded.

“I think it’s okay to not have answers,” he assured.

There was nothing that could help your blossoming feelings for Heeseung. Even after he embarrassed you on multiple occasions you couldn't do anything but fall deeper in love with him. Maybe it’s because you still had the feeling his freshman self was still somewhere inside of him under the pile of shit he’s been consuming lately.

“Okay” you mutter. “Just be realistic with me” you ask of him, and he nods understandingly.

“I would never lie to you, Y/n” he whispers “Just follow your gut, okay? I know that may be hard, but if you actually want to try, do it. There's nothing to lose here anyways” he says.

You nod, unable to say anything. It’s weird, the feeling you're experiencing. It leaves you uneasy, the thought of your current situation. You’re unsure of anything going on.

“I want you to be nothing but happy, if it's with him, or anyone else, but sometimes things don't go the way we want them to because we don't trust ourselves” he adds, noticing you've been awfully quiet.

“I don’t want to embarrass myself again, Niki '' you mutter.

What were you thinking, seriously? Heeseung was the unreachable boy, only the prettiest girls of this school could have. Miyoung was one of them, drop dead gorgeous, skinny with porcelain skin. You didn’t see those features in yourself, but maybe it was just your insecurities getting the best of you.

“You can’t embarrass yourself if you don't even try. Even if you do, what's wrong with that? You know you have us, we’ll never make fun of you” he assured with a soft smile.

“Is it even worth it? I mean I don't have any assurance this would last if anything. What if we just went back to hating each other, and I’m left all alone again” you ask, and he shakes his head.

He gets closer to the camera, head in hands. “Just because of what happened with Sunghoon, doesn't mean you have to kill any hope you have of a relationship with others. That's not how it works” he tells you softly. “Just trust yourself, and the process, okay?”

///

You had a goal.

Win Heeseung back by graduation.

You always considered yourself to be a competitive person, not exactly in the right field, but competitiveness always lingered somewhere in your gut. And that’s exactly why you would do anything to feel his touch again.

It didn't take you long to realize you took his teasing for granted. Your mind was begging for him to leave you alone, but your heart perhaps liked the constant attention, and the fact he’d think about you more than anyone. It was stupid, but what could you do? It was hard not to miss the not-so sweet nicknames he’d give you. It was hard not to miss his dumb pranks and sweet laughter.

How were you going to reach your goal? You didn’t exactly know. You just decided to follow your gut, just as Niki said days before. Maybe you were reaching too far, but what's wrong in admiring the stars?

“Sunoo said the team has been actually working hard this month. I’m starting to gain hope in our schools first win” Niki said, clicking away at the Superstar SM on his phone “Fuck, I lost” he groaned.

“Only the best can do Kick It on hard mode” Jay shrugged, receiving a death stare from Niki, who loaded up the song again.

“I don’t think you should get your hopes up too high, Niki. Sunoo said that last time, and guess what?They lost” Sunghoon murmured, copying Jake's chemistry notes.

You silently agreed with Sunghoon. The only reason you all tagged along for the game was the free food your school was giving out on match day. It was probably their way of compensating for the awful game our football team was about to present to us.

“You’re seriously so bad at this, '' Jay laughed, and pulled out his own phone when he saw Niki lose once again.

“Don’t be a show off, I’m just having a bad day. Look, I literally have two stars on Cherry Bomb” he shoved the phone into Jays face.

“Stop being annoying, Niki” Jungwon commented, and the boy looked like he was about to kill him.

“It’s not my fault, he started it!” he said, offended.

“I just got an S level Doyoung!” Jay squealed.

“No way, you’re such a liar, '' Niki said, sliding over to Jay's side.

While the two boys were preoccupied with the beloved game, and Jake was busy keeping Yunjin her special company, Sunghoon and Jungwon were copying Jay's notes, you couldn't stop looking over at Heeseungs table. He seemed to find himself new friends amongst Miyoungs circle. He sat there laughing with Kwangsun and Taehyun, keeping his arm around Miyoung.

Kwangsun and Taehyun were Jakes teammates so you knew them very well. Not only were they the worst on the swimming team, they also had the worst personality. Talking to them was like talking to a wall, they lacked any sense of humor and interest in the world around them. You wondered how Heeseung was talking to them so comfortably. Probably because they weren't responding so it didn't even matter what he said.

“How are you feeling? Everything alright?” Sunghoon asked, keeping his eyes on the notebook. He didn’t look at what he was writing down, just blindly copied Jay's work.

“I’m okay? Why are you even asking?” you answer with a question.

He laughs, and drops the pen. Jungwon takes the opportunity, and slides the notebook closer to himself.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, you know?” he states softly.

“You shouldn't worry about me, Sunghoon. I see you have a lot more to copy, seriously do it before lunch ends” you say trying to change the subject.

Was Sunghoon suspecting something? Did he know something you didn’t? It was hard to tell, and that was making you even more stressed than you already were.

“I’m your friend, I worry about you, Y/n. But i respect it if you don’t want to talk about it now” he smiles and picks up his blue pen “Give that book back” he groans, and slides the book back over to the middle.

“This is unfair, I can barely see what's written there!” Jungwon fights, but the boy next to him just shrugs.

Were your friends catching on? Were you really that obvious?

“Life is still going on, three rainbow stars, beat that” Jay exclaimed, a cocky tone to his voice.

Life is still going on, right.

///

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long!” Niki exclaimed happily, as his eyes scanned the buffet in front of the football field's bleachers. He looked like he was ready to stuff his face any moment now.

“Don’t get too excited, we might not be able to pack you into my car after this” Jay said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Very funny, Jayshit. Let a man enjoy his food” Niki responded, grabbing the first pastry in sight. “Sunoo claimed some really good seats for us, by the way” he added bluntly.

“Maybe you really are useful sometimes, Niki,” Jake said, and got a middle finger in return.

“I remember last time we got some nosebleeds,” Jungwon said, helping Niki sneak half of the buffet into his backpack.

“This is why I am always useful,” Niki said, smiling at Jake.

“That makes no sense, if you were useful you’d get the good seats too last game” Jake asserted.

“Shut up, Jake. Don’t you have a girlfriend to take care of?” Niki rolled his eyes.

You chuckled at his child-like behavior, and grabbed Jay’s drink to take a sip yourself.

“What's up with you and always stealing my shit, get some yourself” Jay said, and jerked the drink away from you. You laugh, and smile at him.

You look around for any familiar faces, but it seems as if no one has arrived yet. That's what you get for being two hours early, just because Niki can't miss out on the strawberry donuts.

“Isn’t that Miyoung, and Heeseung? I thought he hated football” Jake chuckles.

They're here too? It can't get worse can it?

“Miyoung likes it. Her brother is on the team” Yunjin says, and Jake nods.

You drop your head to the ground, and start playing with the strings of your hoodie. Maybe if you don’t say anything you’ll sulking will go unnoticed.

“He hasn’t talked to us for a good two weeks. He really is down bad” Sunghoon comments.

“Do you think Miyoung forbade him from talking to us?” Jay asked, hoping for Yunjin to answer, since her brief friendship with the girl might allow her to know.

“She usually does when she doesn't like her partner's friends” Yunjin fulfilled Jay's wish.

“Why so? Especially since I have probably never talked to her” Sunghoon said, a confused look spread on his face.

“I wish I knew that one,” Yunjin said.

Seeing Heeseung with her was different for you this time. It's like something turned inside of you. Maybe it was because of the fact he loves her enough to sit through a game he hates with his whole soul and heart. You wonder if he’d do the same for you.

The scenery was beautiful. The sound of soft chatter and the summer breeze swayed through your features. The sun hid behind the clouds, the only source of light being the large lamps placed around the field. It was the perfect highschool cliche, but your mind was constantly at war with the bound feelings. It never left you alone. Before you fell asleep, while you ate breakfast, while you showered or brushed your teeth. He always flooded your brain.

“I think I’ll get in a quick bathroom stop before this mess starts” you smile, and get up from your seat next to Jungwon.

“You want me to go with you?” Yunjin asks, averting her gaze from Jake to you.

“Sorry, I don’t really feel like making you hear me pee, I’ll be back soon” you smile, and Yunjin just giggles, setting her head back on Jake’s soft shoulder.

You can’t look at her being happy with him anymore. It makes you want to throw up.

The gentle sound of the latest pop hits poured from the speakers mounted in every corner of the school building as you made your way to the restroom, feeling helpless. Various students hastily made their way to the field.

Yeah, sure, you did hate him. But one look at said enemy, all those words could be shoved out the window.

The air felt so heavy, as you sat on the sinks marble. No matter how hard you searched, there still was no answer. There was no escape and you’ve already lost any control of yourself. You were going insane each sleepless night thinking about him.

You looked into the mirror's reflection and didn’t recognize yourself anymore. Have you changed out of your own pure will, or was it because maybe you weren’t enough for Heeseung when he left. Was it the way you looked, acted or was it any of your other flaws? There’s no answer.

You completely lost track of time, but nobody seemed to be looking for you anyways.

A quiet sound echoed through the bathroom. You didn't even bother to look, expecting Yunjins voice to hit your ears anytime now.

“Do you know how much I hate you?” a so familiar voice reaches your ear.

It still hasn’t hit you. The same person you were bawling your eyes out over, was so close to your helpless figure, yet the calmness of your heart didn’t let the feeling sink in just yet. It was probably the years of Heeseung’s torment that made you believe he was here only to return to his old antics.

You can’t bear to look at him. It’ll just go full circle, and explode, really.

“No” you respond, still avoiding eye contact.

“Words can’t describe” he says, and you can feel him smile. “I go fucking insane whenever I think of you” he added breathily.

You shiver at the harshness in his voice. You didn’t remember it being so coarse.

“Don’t do this, Heeseung” your voice shakes.

“Look at me,” he whispers, and harshly lifts your chin up to make you eye to eye with him.

A long drawn-out sigh from the bottom of his chest leaves him. He slowly lowered his head, and immediately froze in position; making the closeness between you much more intimate. The air around you felt warmer as his eyes pierced through you, studying every detail of your face.

“I’ll show you just how much I hate you” he finally speaks,

Any thoughts you had before Heeseung stepped into the pity party you were hosting in the bathroom, flew right out as his lips smashed into your soft and delicate ones. Your heart heaves uneasily, as you give into the feeling of him against you.

The kiss is lustfull, full of anger he had stored up ever since you went separate ways. He didn’t hold back, his tongue relentlessly prying your mouth open until you gave into his action. The lack of oxygen pulled you apart, your mouth still open from the initial shock.

Yet his lips felt like a magnet; pulling you closer and closer, un-allowing any resistance. You couldn’t stop yourself, leaning over again, wanting to feel his soft lips once again. There really was no turning back.

“Could Sunghoon make you feel this good?” he asked breathlessly, as his lips planted softs kisses on your jawline.

“No” you breathe out, and he smiles.

“That’s what I thought” he smirked, caressing your warm cheek.

Even the mere thought of you and Sunghoon made him burn inside. He liked having you all to himself. Sharing was never an option.

It suddenly hit you.

“Heeseung, why are you doing this?” you asked, backing away from the boy, throwing his hands off your face, feeling a sudden disconnection between the two of you.

“You know how obsessed I am with you?” he whispered, maintaining eye contact. “You remember when you asked me to leave you alone, because you wanted to have just a little bit of fun before graduation?”

You nodded, not knowing exactly what this was about. Hearing all the sweet, yet concerning things that came out of his mouth, made you want to forgive him right there and then without any good explanation to the years of hell he gave you.

“It made me realize, you know, maybe I wanted you more than I thought I did” he finished and although he tried to maintain a dominant act, you could still see his sly smile peek through.

You couldn't give into him that fast.

“Oh so you decided to start dating Miyoung? Makes so much sense Lee Heeseung” you scoffed, trying to intimidate him at least a little bit.

It obviously didn’t work because Heeseung seemed to be unfazed by your words.

“Feelings get caught up in the mind” he said calmly “But loving you long makes it feel a little better”

Whatever he was trying to say didn’t matter, because really you didn’t care. You weren’t gonna lose the opportunity you’ve been manifesting ever since he left.

“Promise this is the last time you pull this type of shit?” you ask after a minute of silence.

Heeseung lets out an airy laugh and smiles. He lifts up his pinky finger, and intertwines it with yours.

“Promise”

Heeseung really wasn’t that tough after all.

///

Heeseung can’t exactly go back to the moment he started to fall in love with you. Maybe it was the day you helped him with his math homework, or maybe the time you cheered him on while he competed in the archery finals.

But he knows exactly when he realized it.

“You promise you won’t tell him, right?” you ask, smiling.

The two of you sat at the back of the library for your weekly study session. You’ve been giving him hints of a recent love interest, and as an unusually curious man he wanted to know more.

“Who's he, just tell me! And I know him, interesting” he laughs.

“It’s Sunghoon. Yes, your best friend Park Sunghoon” you announce and he feels his heart drop. He hoped you’d take him by surprise, and let the words, ‘You Heeseung, it’s you whom I like’ leave your lips. But it was Sunghoon.

Fucking Sunghoon.

Of course, he wouldn’t let this ruin his friendship with Sunghoon. He was sure his friend didn’t even like you back, and soon enough he could be helping you get up after the heartbreak.

But what he didn’t expect was for you two to actually start dating.

At first he held all his anger in, trying his best to avoid any contact with you. Soon it turned into ignorance, and he found himself completely overlooking you. He thought of it as the better way out. When it got to the point he couldn't look past anymore, he made Sunghoon choose, knowing what would be the result of it. Sunghoon chose him, but you submitted to the feeling of hatred.

///

Now, after all this time, Heeseung could watch you bicker with your friends over the tiniest things with his own eyes. He could finally sit down at your usual spot in the library and receive the most prized tutoring from you once again. He could watch you accept your diploma, and run back to him with the biggest smile on your face.

Expressing love for you was different. Years of uncountable pranks, and hateful messages were all just the sweet feeling in disguise.

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writing-in-the-impala · 5 months

Text

Secret Smokes (Part 7)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship, Slowburn, angst, jealousy, fluff

Word Count: 2681

A/N: Where's the update? You promised it on Sunday? Well, happy Tuesday I've been busy.

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 7, Next Chapter

On Monday morning you received an OWL from Lupin once again. "Please remember about your tutoring lesson this evening and about your DADA classes this week. R.Lupin." You looked up from the note and saw Lupin was already looking at you while having a discussion with Hagrid who was sitting beside him, Lupin's eyes were fixed on you even when he spoke, you gave him a gentle smile and he smiled back still not looking away.

You attended Lupin's class as you were instructed to, he was quite active in the lesson waving his arms around like he used to. It seemed like he had regained some of the charismatic energy that defined him as a teacher. After your classes that day you went to his classroom for your tutoring and he wasn't in the room you called out "Professor?" And you could hear him upstairs in the office you stood on the bottom of the stairs and heard him shout back. "Y/N, I'm making tea would you like anything?"

"Uh no I'm okay thank you." You replied stunned by his pleasant behaviour. Not that Lupin wasn't usually this well-mannered, he was with literally everyone that's why his recent actions towards you hurt so much.

"Very well." He said coming down the stairs with his own mug, now wearing a sweater rather than his blazer like in your lesson earlier in the day, the spoon inside the mug was stirring by itself with wand-less magic. "Now I wanted to begin work on your Patronus Charm however due to your absence for the last two weeks today we're going to have to catch up on the lessons you missed." He said opening the theory book.

"That's so not fair." You stated in a huff.

"I promise I'll make this quick, and at the end we can duel to see if you remember everything I taught you." He said in a gentle tone sipping on his tea.

"So I can beat you and show you how I don't need your theory?" You asked and he laughed gently.

"If you can knock my wand out of my hand you can choose what we study on Wednesday. Now let's begin how familiar are you with werewolves." He now sat on a desk in front of you that had his book open while you sat on the table in front with yours closed. He was towering over you but you didn't feel intimidated.

"Very much, I hear they're really lovely, they wear warm sweaters but they get angsty around the full moon." You replied and he had a small smile forming on the edge of his lips.

"They don't get angsty around full moons." He stated trying not to laugh.

"They do." You said in an all-knowing voice.

"They don't."

"Well you've obviously never met one."

"Werewolves don't get angsty around the full moon." He said using air quotes around the word angsty.

"So it's just a you thing?" You asked and he just broke out laughing and put his face in his palms. What you didn't know is nothing warmed Lupin's heart more than someone being able to laugh at his condition, he always felt like people either feared him or feared the subject like it was some secret that could never be talked about with anyone except the marauders, you made him feel normal, but you also confused him more than anyone he's ever met.

He realised at the three broomsticks that he's gotten too close to you, not only that but you were developing feelings for him and he knew he had to do something to stop it, you were just a girl yes you may be 18 but not only are you his student but he's a werewolf and that means that anyone who would ever be in a relationship with him would be cursed with a life of suffering. So he did the only thing he knew he could do, push you away but he kept an eye on you and the more he missed you the more it hurt him to watch you be so okay to the point you didn't show up to his lessons or the bridge anymore. He had his own updated version of the old marauders map which he checked every evening to see if you would go to the bridge at first you did but after a few days you didn't even try and he didn't blame you it was exactly what he knew was right. But his loneliness grew, and he left Hogwarts over the weekend to visit Sirius he nearly told him about you but he was too conflicted this was an issue he had to deal with alone, his method of cutting you out was working the only thing left to figure out is getting you to pass DADA without coming to lessons.

His plan failed when on Sunday evening during his turn to patrol the corridors he heard you and Sebastian taking. Him diminishing your love for muggle books hurt Remus but hearing Sebastian calling you darling made even the wolf inside him jealous so he acted on instinct separating the two of you. Sebastian's words reminded Remus of his own pet name for you and it brought him back to the moment when he had you all hot and bothered, the moment he forgot all responsibilities for a second and allowed himself to feel a glimpse of what it would be like if he was normal man and he wasn't your teacher. Remus longed for that moment, it was all he thought about since. The feeling of your breath on his, your lips so close that he could lean in and kiss you, have you as he's wanted for so long. You weren't just beautiful but you were smart and so strong-willed, he knew your future was a bright one and he was never going to ruin it for you.

But what could he do? How can he push you away when you are so drawn to him, he was aware that you had a crush on him, obviously he wouldn't behave how he did at the three broomsticks if he wasn't sure of it but there had to be rules established soon if you were going to spend any more time together, he knew he should never share smokes on the bridge with you again and never call you dear but there was something inside him that hurt whenever he thought about that never happening again. Remus was a good guy he wasn't going to ruin your last year in Hogwarts by being selfish and longing for extra time to get to know you. You needed to be with people your own age like Sebastian...

"Professor?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay you've gone silent for a minute?"

"I'm still trying to process you calling me angsty." He said with a soft smile pained by the truth of what he was thinking about.

"Wait you're a werewolf?" You asked with a fake gasp and he just shook his head at you in amusement. He proceeded to skim over the facts teaching you the basics over the next hour before closing the book and announcing. "It's time to see how your duelling skills are." Lupin motioned for you to stand and moved all the desks to the side of the room for a swish of his hands. "Now it's okay if you need a bit of time to warm up and practice I know we haven't done this in a few weeks." He began.

"I'm good let's go straight away." You interrupted and like that, the duel began. You began strong as his guard was down and then he began hitting back you continued and then you pulled a special spell you learnt in the duelling club as soon as you began to say the word Lupin disarmed you and quickly came and put his hand over your mouth. "You're about to use dark magic Y/N." He stated harshly before letting you go. "Now tell me exactly where you've learnt all this." He said sternly as you bent down to grab your wand, you could tell fun Lupin was gone and your teacher was talking to you.

"While studying I'm sorry I didn't know it was a-"

"Don't lie to me." He repeated, with the voice of disappointment, while looking down on you.

"The duelling club." You said without thinking of what will happen next.

"What duelling club." He was angry, very angry.

"The crossed wands or whatever it's a secret duelling club started by some Slytherin students to see who's the best at duelling in the school." You blurted out.

"Is this Sebastian's doing?"

"He's part of it yes but I've learnt so much, it's helped."

"Yes but also you've learnt dark magic, you're entering a realm of evil, real evil and you think this is just fun and games? You didn't even know did you?" You shook your head in reply to him. "I am reporting this to Dumbledor immediately." He was almost shouting but his voice wasn't any louder than a whisper.

"No don't they're my friends." You protested.

"Y/N you can't be using that kind of magic, not you. Please. You don't understand what this can cause, how evil it is. You are getting involved in dangerous things and they need to be stopped before more innocent students get involved."

"Please don't shut it down I'll be seen as a snitch, it's the first time I've made friends with people outside Gryffindor, let them have this until the end of the year."

"It's dangerous."

"Please moony as a friend." You said using the nickname you used before to try and get his sympathy, he shared his secret you shared yours would he keep yours? You didn't know this was the same nickname his friends used for him. These five words made him calm down and realise how much he values your happiness over what is right or wrong.

"Can you promise me you'll check spells you learnt there with me first before you use them?" He asked gently.

"Always."

"Very well, I'll pretended I didn't hear a word." He said walking over to his desk and picking up his blazer there to search for something in his pocket. He took out a pack of cigarettes and put on his blazer. "Now if you'll excuse me I have a urgent matter, you're welcome to join if you want to steal one." He said showing you the box and opening the classroom door to let you out. You followed him as you walked together in silence it felt like you needed to say something. The air was too thick.

"Can we go to the lake?"

"There won't be light bugs tonight." He said softly.

"I know I just want to go and sit down by the water."

"Let's go." He said changing the route. You walked outside up to the lake sitting down on the water's edge, Lupin lay his blazer down on the floor as a makeshift blanket. You could see the moonlight reflect on the water and everything felt peaceful and quiet for a moment. You saw the spark of Lupin's cigarette, you looked over at him and noticed he was using a lighter instead of magic. You grabbed a cigarette from his pack that was lying on the jacket in the small space between the two of you. You put it in your mouth and Lupin leaned slightly closer to you lighting it for you with his lighter one hand covering the side from the wind and the other on the lighter right next to your lips. No words were spoken. They didn't need to be you both understood everything perfectly at this moment. After a moment you finally said something.... "Lupin, can we please remain friends."

"We need clear boundaries." He said simply as if he had thought through his answer a million times.

"Yes, okay, I just don't want to spend another week ignoring each other, you really hurt me Lupin." You said being completely honest.

You could hear him swallow as if he's just realised that you were also hurt in the process of him trying to protect you... "I'm really sorry, I was trying to make sure we don't cross a line. I didn't think it would hurt you I thought it was the right thing to do Y/N." He spoke quietly almost a whisper.

"Don't do that again." You said feeling like crying, two weeks of emotions all about to release in this moment. "I felt like I lost someone I was truly connected with, a real friend."

"I know I felt the same, but Y/N we need to set rules we can't get so close to each other."

"Don't call me dear then."

"Okay dear." He said with a little smirk and you playfully pushed him away "shut up Lupin."

"On the same note when it's just us, and we're being just friends maybe just call me Remus. Lupin feels too formal, it makes me remember I'm your teacher."

"Remus. I like that. Now Remus you won't ignore me tomorrow after this conversation?"

"No Y/N, I will not. I acted impulsively, for that I am very sorry and for how I made you feel."

"I didn't like you for a moment when you were ignoring me but you're truly kind and good under all that angst."

"I'm not angsty." He said laughing again. You lay down on the grass and jacket instead of sitting up and watched as Remus sat up watching the water. You felt at peace maybe you will never fulfil your desire to kiss him and feel his lips on yours. Maybe you'll never know what it feels like to have his hands explore your body but at least you knew you could keep him as part of your everyday again and that he did maybe feel slightly attracted to you below all the proper behaviour and all the teacher like nonsense.

"Can I tell you something I've never told anyone?" He asked.

"Are you about to tell me you're angsty?" You replied sitting up to match his position, he smiled in response but didn't laugh this time.

"No, I, I really wish to see a full moon. To see what it looks like reflecting in the water, what the world looks like in its light." You could hear his voice breaking as he tried to keep a straight face. You didn't know what to do, your first reaction was just to hold him. So you hugged him and he hugged you back tightly. Neither of you thought about what was right or wrong you just hugged for a long time making sure he was okay. If you weren't sure already this vulnerability and honestly showed you how he felt about you, he did in fact trust you maybe more than anyone he's ever met before you.

After moments of silence, you both let go of each other and stayed there watching the water reflect the moonlight. Remus checked his watch and at that moment realised how late it's gotten. "Are you hungry?" He asked and you nodded. "Follow me, dinner is over but I can get some food from the kitchen sent to my office." He explained and you both returned to the castle.

As soon as you walked into the classroom it felt like he was back to Professor R.J. Lupin, he opened his office door and let you walk in first. You took in the room as you've never been up here usually speaking to him at his desk in the classroom. His desk here was covered in papers and books, a small plate acted as a ashtray for him laying on top of a pile of books. He immediately began to clean the desk picking up books and putting them back on the shelf he didn't use magic it's almost like he forgot he could. "Please sit down. I'm sorry for the mess I've been very busy recently." He explained you sat down in a nice leather chair behind the desk, it smelled like him, you felt like you almost melted into this chair as soon as you sat down on it. He performed wandless magic to pull up a small wooden chair to the desk and to sit opposite you. "Any preference in what food you'd like?" He asked and you shook your head. "Very well. Would you like any tea?" He asked standing back up and walking over to a kettle that was already brewing on the side. "Milk and two sugars please." You confirmed.

"I have a terrible habit of putting too much sugar in my tea, it started when I was around your age, I would put heaps of sugar in my tea because my condition made me so tired and I thought it would help give me energy. It did not. But it did help develop my sweet tooth." He said as he walked over with the teas at this moment the food magically appeared on the table, it was a platter of different nibbles from cheese to grapes and crackers. The two of you dug in while a vinyl record played in the background and your tea cooled to a drinking temperature. At first, you were so hungry that not many words were said but it didn't take long for the two of you to start talking and discussing different things you talked about, the main topic was muggle world vs wizarding world. You learned a lot about Remus's mother and his childhood in the muggle world. You must've sat and talked for at least two hours as by the time the food was only crumbs and your cups were completely empty you had a blanket wrapped around you for warmth and your eyes were struggling to stay open. When Remus realised the time was past midnight he kept apologising for keeping you awake and you kept telling him it was okay. Professor Lupin felt guilty for keeping you awake on a school night, and Remus felt sad you were about to leave. He walked you to your dorm so you wouldn't get in trouble in case a teacher saw you in the corridors, you thanked him for all the food and tea and then you said goodnight.

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes

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zepskies · 26 days

Text

One Exception

Pairing: CJ Braxton x F. Reader

Summary: Joey has invited you to a party at Pacey’s apartment, and CJ has agreed to go, despite the contentious history between him and your new friends. He doesn’t want to be the reason you miss out on a good thing, but it also means he’ll have to hide his apprehension (and his alcoholism).

AN: Here’s the sequel to Good Morning! This story takes place in 6.14 of the show, with a little twist.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mature themes, but it doesn’t really warrant an 18+ rating. Angst, alcoholism, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, tinge of spice, and implied smut.

“Nice television,” CJ remarked, noting the giant monstrosity in the middle of this very loud apartment.

“See? Told you it’d be low-key,” you said.

More like high and off-key, CJ thought wryly.

Nickleback’s “How You Remind Me” was blaring. People you and CJ recognized from school were crowded in the living room around the TV, as well as milling around the kitchen with beers and solo cups, and it was pretty much a wall of sound that already grated on CJ’s ears. Pacey had to be in here somewhere too.

You squeezed CJ’s hand and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” you asked.

He gave you a smile to hide his nerves. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He was no stranger to parties. He just didn’t often find himself going to parties where the host had once introduced his face to a brick wall.

Before he truly got to know you, CJ had a one-time unintentional fling with your (former) dorm roommate, Audrey. She’d been spiraling out of control in an alcohol-fueled depression. He’d seen a kindred spirit in her and tried to help her. He just hadn’t known that she was still sort of in a relationship with Pacey, who had a mean right hook when he wanted to.

And then there was Jen, Audrey and Joey’s best friend. CJ felt the worst for hurting her along the way, unable to reciprocate her feelings…

And, oh yeah, you still didn’t know about that last part.

CJ silently stewed in all of this when you led him by the hand to find your friend and current dormmate, Joey.

“Hey! Glad you could make it,” she said with her wide, doe brown eyes and a too-bright smile.

You gave her a quirking look when you hugged her in greeting. She smelled like vodka and orange juice, but you’d never known Joey to go too hard in the paint with her liquor.

She gave your companion a little wave. “Hey, CJ!”

“Hey,” he nodded with a smile.

“You guys want something to drink?” she asked, gesturing to the row of liquor bottles and various chasers behind her on the kitchen counter. You internally paused for a moment, glancing at your boyfriend, but you turned back to Joey with a smile.

“Yeah, Diet Coke would be great,” you said.

CJ gave you a curious look, but he asked for the same. Joey bobbed her head before she went to pour the drinks into some plastic cups.

CJ leaned in near your ear. “Sweetheart, you’re allowed to drink. You know I’ve been to parties before.”

In fact, you and CJ had met at a club party. One where Audrey had been led up to some guy’s room while she was drunk, and CJ had all but broken down the door to get her out for you and Jen.

“I know, I just don’t feel like doing alcohol tonight,” you told him.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You just didn’t want to risk making CJ even more uncomfortable than he likely already was, being near Pacey. You’d asked Joey to talk to him for you—a plea for him to not try and kill your boyfriend.

And there your esteemed host was, coming over now.

“Heyyyy, good thinking,” said Pacey. He went over to Joey’s side when she turned to hand you and CJ your drinks. He grabbed another cup to pour one for himself.

“Hey, man,” CJ greeted politely. His hands were in his pockets, trying to mask his stiffness.

Pacey hesitated, taking note of CJ, but the beat of tension broke between the two men when Pacey graciously stuck out a hand.

“Hey. Good to see ya…not with my girlfriend,” he quipped with a smile.

CJ’s was a bit more strained, but he gave a wry chuckle along with his handshake. Joey elbowed Pacey in the ribs.

“Ah, what?” he protested. She gave him a firm look, pursing her lips. Then she turned to you and CJ with a smile.

“Hey, you guys have any whiskey?” Jen cut in, as she sidled up to Joey. “I’m not so much in a beer mood, but whiskey I could do. Maybe it’s the burn I’m craving—”

She stopped short when she saw you and CJ. Her smile thinned.

“Oh! Hey, there,” she said.

CJ offered her nod, but his insides tightened. He watched you brighten and give Jen a hug that the other woman couldn’t easily reciprocate. Jen’s eyes were on him, even while she hugged you.

You and Joey then broke off to catch up for a bit (CJ encouraged you to it), while Pacey went back to watching a football game on the mega-sized TV with Jack. CJ was about to join them when Jen’s voice stopped him.

“You guys look good together,” she said. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand and a small smile on her face. Her blonde hair was shorter now, cut just below her ears. Her black halter-style dress suited her.

But she wasn’t you.

CJ smiled more genuinely. “Thanks.”

Jen was a good person. He was still sorry that he hurt her, but he wasn’t sorry for choosing you.

You were happy to see CJ hanging out with his friend David, along with Jack and Pacey and some other guys from school. Meanwhile, you had the chance to catch up with Joey and Jen.

Maybe it would give you a chance to mend this weird rift of distance that had seemed to come between you and Jen in recent weeks.

You didn’t know where it came from, but you genuinely admired Jen as a person. She was smart, and she always spoke her mind and stuck to her principles. That was something you wish you had more of in yourself.

Now, she was a bit quiet while sipping her whiskey. Joey made up for it, with a kind of giggle-snort you'd never heard come out of her mouth before. You raised a brow, despite your smile.

"Yes, Josephine?" you teased.

"Sorry," she waved a dismissive hand. "Just remembered something. Like the fact that I really like vodka. I mean, it's clear, almost tasteless, so it's almost like drinking water, you know?"

You and Jen shared an amused look.

"Sure, that's what it's like," you said.

Joey's eyes went wide then. She leaned in close to you, leaning on your shoulder.

"Oh. Don't drink champagne though," she said, while eyeing Jen. She "whispered" loud enough to be heard over the music, and also hurt your left ear. "She once killed a girl with champagne."

Jen's mouth fell open incredulously. Your eyes went as wide as Joey's. This was some serious “girl time.”

"Wait, what?" you said.

Jen looked at her empty glass. "Well, would you look at that? Right on time."

She escaped to the kitchen to refill her tumbler, but you and Joey followed her; you out of morbid curiosity, and Joey because she too wanted more vodka than orange juice in her plastic cup.

Jen gave you a smirk as she filled up her glass.

"Don't worry, you're all safe. This is Jameson," she said.

You emitted some nervous laughter and leaned on the kitchen counter, trying to figure out where the joke was here. How the hell do you kill a girl with champagne?

“So are you sure you don’t want an actual drink?” Jen asked, gesturing at your soda.

“Oh, no. I’m fine,” you held up a dismissive hand.

“You sure?” Pacey said, coming up from behind your little group to find a beer. “I got your boyfriend a vodka soda. I can get you one too.”

Your eyes widened, though you tried to hide your alarm, smoothing your hands down your jeans.

“What?” you asked.

Pacey paused. He’d caught the surprise flitting across your face. “What?”

“Um…” Your hesitation came from trying to process information in record time. You looked over and saw CJ with David. Your boyfriend was indeed holding a different cup.

You returned your attention to Pacey. His brows were raised. Joey looked confused as well, while Jen was sipping at her own drink, in a way that hinted that she already knew what you were about to say.

“CJ doesn’t drink,” you explained.

Pacey brows popped higher. “Ah. He’s 21 though, right?”

“Yes, but he’s a recovering alcoholic,” you said with a sigh. You didn’t want to have to say that, telling CJ's business, but you didn’t know how else to explain why you were slightly freaking out.

“Oh…uh, sorry about that,” Pacey said.

“No, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Pacey gave a wan smile and returned to the group around the TV, CJ included. You sighed and turned back to Jen and Joey.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know either,” Joey said.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you said, shaking your said. “I’ll just check on him, if you guys don’t mind—”

Jen’s glass hit the counter, and she poured herself another whiskey on the rocks.

“By all means, check away,” she said.

“Hey, sorry man. I didn’t know,” Pacey had said to him, with a look on his face that also said:

Sorry you’re a leper. That’s rough buddy.

CJ found himself withdrawing from the rest of the guys, even as the smell of vodka wafted from the solo cup in his hand. He glanced down at it with a short sigh, but he didn’t drink it, even though his hand itched to raise the cup to his lips.

You startled him a little when your hand curled around his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted in a whisper.

“Hey,” he smiled back at you. But the worried look on your face made his smile fall.

“Wanna hang out for a bit?” you asked, nodding at a quieter looking corner of the living room.

CJ waved at David with the hand that held his cup, and he followed you over to the far side of the couch. You sat on its edge, arms crossed, while he found a seat on the sill of a large window.

You pointedly glanced at his cup. “Have you been drinking?”

CJ’s lips pursed. He took in your stance: arms crossed, shoulders tense, lips pursed, eyes deeply concerned and wary.

Are we having fun yet? he thought dryly.

“See, I’d be more inclined to answer that question if you hadn’t lured me over here under false pretenses,” he remarked. Though he did set the cup down beside him on the windowsill.

“What false pretenses?” you asked, your brows furrowing.

“You don’t want to be with me. You want to check up on me,” he pointed out. “You’re looking at me like an inmate who got loose in the psych ward.”

You frowned then. “That’s not true. I’m just wondering why you would take an alcoholic beverage from Pacey.”

“Your friend offered me a drink. It seemed rude to say no, so…” CJ glanced down at his hands in his lap. Your head tilted in concern.

“CJ…” you sighed. “Why the hell would you ruin your sobriety over something like that?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he replied flatly.

“Oh really?” you said. Your lips pursed in irritation.

“I just didn’t want to get into it with a stranger,” CJ said, throwing up a hand. “But thanks for telling him that I don’t drink. Now he’s apologizing to me like I’m dying or something.”

A sharper sigh fell from your lips. “I told you we didn’t have to come here. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to—”

“Again, you know this isn’t my first house party,” he said.

“Yeah, I know it’s not. So why? Why did this happen tonight?” you asked. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so disciplined with yourself. You have a set of rules, and you follow them.”

“Yeah, well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I realized that I was too strict on myself?” he said. “That maybe we wouldn’t even be together if I didn’t bend those rules?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously, a bit of anger sparking your blood. He knew he shouldn't have said that. It just kind of flew out of his mouth, immediately sparking his guilt.

“Okay,” you snipped. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be bending those rules at all if this is where it leads.”

CJ's lips pursed. “What, because I’ve been sitting here, spending the last hour debating whether or not to take a drink?”

He gestured at the cup beside him.

Your eyes blinked wider, with even more surprise, and a heavy dose of confusion.

“Wait, what? Are you telling me that you haven’t been drinking tonight?” you asked.

“Is that going to magically change all the conclusions you just jumped to?” CJ retorted.

You closed your eyes with a sharp, exasperated sigh. When you opened them again, you frowned at him.

“Uh, yeah!” you exclaimed. "Of course it does, CJ!"

“Well, it doesn’t work that way,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Fine. Just like I’ve been trying to find some normalcy with you here. But apparently you find that wildly insulting.”

He was getting wildly defensive right now. You sort of saw where he was coming from, but it was still frustrating. You held a hand to your chest as your heart raced with the force of your relief.

“Look, I’m sorry for assuming. I’m just…I was worried about you,” you said honestly. “I knew coming here might be stressful for you—”

“I can handle stress,” CJ said. “What I can’t handle is you looking at me like I’m a powder keg waiting to explode.”

You raised up placating hands as you glared at him.

“Fine,” you said. “Sorry for being concerned about my boyfriend. I’ll try to curb that behavior in the future.”

At that, CJ’s frustration and anger simmered down, swiftly followed by more guilt.

You got up and blinked quickly, like you were fighting tears as you shook your head. You aimed to get by him, but he got off the windowsill and went for your hand. There was no drunk excuse for his behavior now.

No, this one was all him.

“Hey,” he said, in a softer voice. He looked down at you with softer eyes too. He could see now that you didn’t mean to make him feel less than, like you had to watch him so he wouldn’t mess up in front of your friends. No, you were just genuinely worried about his wellbeing.

You looked up at him warily. He held your hand more securely in his.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I am,” he said, when he noted your raised brow. “I’m really grateful that you care about me. That you’re concerned about me. But I’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself either, even when we’re out here in the wild.”

A small smile twitched at your lips. You held his hand back.

“Out in the wild, huh?” you quirked a brow. CJ smiled back and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“I just need you to trust me a little more,” he said.

You nodded, smiling when his forehead gently rested against yours. The ends of his hair tickled between your brows.

“Okay, I’m sorry too,” you said. “Next time I won’t be so quick on the draw.”

You leaned up for a kiss. CJ met you there, sweetly at first. Then he tilted his head and deepened the angle of his lips moving against yours.

“Ooh save that for later,” Joey said, loudly from behind you.

It made you jolt in CJ’s arms. You turned your head and met your friend with a wide-eyed look of confusion. She held an empty wine bottle in her hand and waggled mischievous brows.

“Come on, let’s play.”

You really couldn’t believe that Joey was making you all play Spin the Bottle. For you, it was the stuff of awkward middle school horror stories of the highest form. She’d roped in you and CJ, Jen, Jack, Pacey and their roommate Emma, and Gus, a gross looking guy who was apparently her "fiancé" of some sort.

Gus took the first turn, and got creative with it—giving Joey a nice lick on the cheek.

That’s what you get for making us play this dumbass game, you thought as you laughed.

Joey ended up giving Jack a sweet kiss, followed by him and Emma sharing a little lip-lock, and even Emma and Jen giggling as they came together for a peck.

But when it was Jen’s turn, the wine bottle spun, and spun…and landed on CJ. A chorus of “ooohs” came from the others.

You felt yourself bristle internally. It’s just a game, you reminded yourself. Just a stupid, stupid game.

You patted CJ’s knee and tried to school your face into amusement.

“You’re up, babe,” you said.

He looked a bit uncomfortable when he met your eyes, and then Jen’s. She wore a smile, though she was a little absent in the eyes. She’d been pounding hard liquor pretty much all night.

“All right, CJ. Let’s get this over with,” she teased.

He let out a subtle breath through his nose, but he uncurled his arm from around you so that he could lean over to meet Jen across the circle. Instead of the light peck that he was aiming for, she surprised him by taking his face in her hands and giving him a kiss deep enough to make him taste the burn of whiskey.

He parted from her with a flinch. His eyes blinked wide. A quick glance around the circle told him he wasn’t the only one who was surprised, but you were the only one he cared about. He settled back next to you and felt guilty for your muted disbelief, even though he wasn’t the real perpetrator here.

CJ frowned hard at Jen. She just smiled and crossed her arms around her legs, head bobbing to the tune of the alt rock music playing.

“Damn, Jen,” Pacey said, laughing uncomfortably. “That’s some dedication to the game.”

You were still shocked into stillness. You knew Jen was a bit deep into the bottle, but was she really drunk enough to try and make out with your boyfriend in front of you?

Joey finally dropped her hands from her face (she’d been watching the scene through the cracks in her fingers). She gave you an apologetic look. She was very effing drunk as well, you knew, but not make out with your boyfriend in front of you—drunk.

You finally looked over at CJ, not knowing who you should be more irritated with: Jen for sticking her tongue down his throat, or CJ for letting her.

“It’s your turn, bro,” Gus said. Not that he cared about whoever CJ landed on. He just wanted the chance to kiss another one of the girls. Preferably Emma.

CJ shook his head. “I don’t think I—”

“Go ahead,” you said. Your tone was a challenge, as were your crossed arms, and the tight expression on your face. “It’s just a game, right?”

That last part, you aimed at Jen. She finally had enough self-awareness to avert her drunken gaze. Your teeth were grinding.

Though you had to pause when you realized where CJ’s spun bottle had landed: right on you.

“Aw, well that’s good,” Joey said, with a nervous laugh that broke some of the tension in this little circle.

CJ let out a subtle breath of relief himself. But this was a whole new challenge as he met your steely gaze. He tried to give you a smile.

Your eyes fell. So with a small sigh, he gently took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up to him, just before he leaned in to kiss you.

He plied you softly at first. His lips dragged against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. Then he angled his head away from the circle, away from prying eyes as he brushed his tongue across your lower lip, seeking entrance. You inhaled deeply, and you couldn’t help but let him in.

You uncrossed your arms and found his cheek with your hand. Your fingers soon delved into his hair, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck. He barely restrained a shudder.

“Ah, okay then,” Pacey muttered.

When you parted from CJ, your heart was racing, and there was a fire in your belly that you could see reflected in his eyes.

“I’m a little thirsty, you wanna…” he trailed. You nodded and let him help you off the ground where you all had been sitting.

CJ’s arm once again wrapped around your waist, and he led you into the first bedroom he could find. The door shut against the blaring music, the sounds of laughter and stories and dumb middle school games.

Until all that was left was you and CJ, and the sounds of quick breaths, clothes hitting the floor, and skin against skin.

“I’m sorry about earlier. With the game,” CJ later said. “Jen took me by surprise.”

Much later, where you were tangled up in his arms and the sheets, both of you mostly naked and tucked under the covers. You felt bad that you didn’t even know whose bedroom this was.

Jack’s maybe? You could only hope so. That would probably be the least awkward situation if you two were caught in here.

But at CJ’s question, your blissful mood of moments before was wiped away. Your face dropped into a frown. You turned in his arms so that you could see his face, resting your head on his arm.

“Yeah, what the hell was that with Jen?” you asked.

CJ soothed a hand up and down your arm. He knew it was time for him to come clean with you, even though he knew it might make you look at him differently. He could only hope that it wouldn’t.

“Before you and I started talking, dating—well, you know what happened with me and Audrey,” he said, expelling a breath of regret. “Before then, Jen had feelings for me.”

Your eyes widened. By now you could’ve guessed that Jen wanted your boyfriend, but you had no idea it had started way back then. CJ looked you in the eyes.

“I just didn’t feel the same way,” he said. “Then Audrey and I happened, just the one night. But Jen…I know I hurt her, and I felt terrible. I still feel bad about that, because I never meant to hurt her. I just thought Audrey and I had a connection.”

“And then Pacey,” you supplied, realizing where this story was headed. A fight between Pacey and CJ. Audrey left for rehab in California. And Jen was left to nurse her wounded pride and hurt feelings…especially when you and CJ began for real.

You closed your eyes on a sigh. This explained why she’d been so frigid to you lately.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” CJ said. “I didn’t want to come between you guys, or hurt her more by pursuing another one of her friends…I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

At that admission, you softened. You caressed CJ’s cheek, and you brought him down to you for a kiss. Again, it was slow and unhurried, yet no less passionate.

Your lips parted from his first, so you could meet his eyes.

“I’ll talk to Jen,” you said. “But…I’m glad I fell for you too.”

You and CJ shared a quiet moment then, each of you processing, hands intertwined. It had you thinking about everything he said tonight, even before the game.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Fine,” he’d said. “Just like I’ve been trying to find some normalcy with you here. But apparently you find that wildly insulting.”

You sighed and squeezed his hand. It was comfortably trapped between his bare chest and yours.

“Just for the record, you don’t have to be ‘normal’ for me, or be what you think I want around my friends. Just be you,” you said, meeting his green-eyed gaze. “I do trust you, CJ. I trust that you want to be with me, and that you have a handle on yourself.”

CJ smiled ruefully. He ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

“You were right though. The truth is I did get a little nervous tonight,” he said. “Being here, seeing Pacey…it brought up all that drama again. I took that vodka soda from him, and I was thinking about drinking it.”

“But you didn’t,” you said firmly. “Because you’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know.”

CJ looked down at your hand joined with his, at your face, set with honesty and vehemence. You seemed to believe every word of what you were saying. That alone made him feel strong.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.

It hadn’t been all that long, but he knew this felt right. It always felt right with you.

You smiled back at him and leaned up for a sweeter kiss.

“Thank you for bending your own rules for me,” you teased.

CJ chuckled. He stroked your cheek and pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“You’re my one exception,” he said.

AN: As frustrated as CJ made me at times, somehow he weasels his way back into my heart. 😂💗 If you enjoyed this, let me know!

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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cultleaderyoongi · 1 year

Text

With You, All The Way | myg

☆ pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☆ genre: ex2l, pwp • angst, smut, fluff

☆ word count: 10k (I have no excuse except for I'm frustrated)

☆ warnings: toxic stuff happens, a lot of miscommunication; a lot of making up and making out; some cursing; mentions of alcohol; explicit smut – kinda soft dom!Yoongi, breast/nipple play (he's kinda a boob guy), fingering, eating out, handjob, blowjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control tho which is mentioned), multiple orgasms, simultaneous orgasms, creampie, some praise, some aftercare

☆ synopsis: Break-ups are rough, more so if you and your ex share the same friend circle. How could a simple and supposedly tame night full of fun games change the trajectory of your relationship that is no more?

☆ playlist: Tinashe – Perfect Crime | Alina Baraz – Between Us | Kali Uchis – Moonlight

☆ a/n: Guess who's back after *checking imaginary watch on my wrist* almost a year 💀 Did I whip this out within approximately two weeks? Maybe. This is the fastest I've ever written, so therefore it's sloppily edited – especially towards the end (I'm not a fast writer, ok? I'll come back to edit it soon). Listen, I was super heartbroken about the concert (still am), so my mind conjured up this beast of a delusional, self-indulgent story. Pls think of me when you go see my man live, especially if it's the Newark show tonight 😭

I started off this story with Marie Claire Yoongi in mind, but with the release of D-Day it turned more and more into Haegeum Yoongi, sooo...feel free to imagine whichever version you want. Happy D-Day era to y'all! Lmk what's your favorite track, your favorite look, your favorite whatever. Let's talk and suffer together lol

Enough of my rambling though. I hope you enjoy reading! As always, if you do – thank you and pls lmk what you think ♡

☆ taglist: @main-bangtansmauyeondan @jwlmnbt (I'm really horrible at keeping track of my taglist which is also due to my inconsistent posting, but if you see this and you remember wanting to be on my practically non-existent permanent taglist pls lmk)

You shouldn't be here.

You really shouldn't.

Whose idea was it to bring everyone together for a night of fun activities and drinks? Whose stupid idea was it to invite you when your least favorite person in the world is going to be present as well? And furthermore, whose stupid idea was it to seat the two of you within clear vision of each other?

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." Your friend Jimin, the host and therefore perpetrator of all this, speaks with a smirk as if to answer your internal monologue, watching your other friend Jungkook pick up eight colorful cards after being hit with two subsequent draw fours.

Laughter goes around the circle as the youngest tries to rearrange the abundance of cards in his hands.

Truth be told, you could've declined. It's not Jimin's fault things went south with you and the man whose glare avoids you as if his life depends on it. Yet you spot glimpses of his feline eyes set on you when he least expects it, catching him off-guard – and suddenly the fluffy, white rug beneath his feet is a lot more interesting to look at.

"Oh Jungkook, you're almost as rich as Taehyung!" Seokjin jokes, drawing your attention back to the group.

Hoseok joins in, accompanied by an animated cackle. "You're giving Taehyung a run for his money."

You muster said boy beside you, his brows furrowed and tongue poking out in focus. He can barely spread out his set of cards without dropping any. Poor Taehyung.

As the game continues and more and more people yell out Uno in relief until a loser is revealed (it's a close and tedious match between Jungkook and Taehyung, but at the end Jungkook pulls through) you pay close attention to the way Yoongi toys with the rings on his fingers. He always does this when he's anxious. His action is incessant, almost obnoxious in your eyes. You don't like being here any less than he does, but at least you try your damn hardest to pull yourself together in front of your friends. They're your friends as well as his. You haven't had the chance to see them as much lately while he gets to see them all the time – they live together, for fuck's sake!

"_____." Jimin's voice pulls you back to reality. "Lend me a hand?"

"Uh yeah, sure." You spring up from your seat, realizing Jimin asks for your help clearing the table.

While he collects the cards strewn across the coffee table, you make move of collecting empty bottles and cans. In your position, you're slightly hunched over the surface which involuntarily causes one thing to happen.

Your suspicion is confirmed when you look up at your ex-boyfriend shamelessly staring at your cleavage. There's a split second where you make direct eye contact once he grasps the situation – and now things are ten times more awkward.

Taking a deep inhale, you place everything on the kitchen island nearby before returning to your seat. You muster Yoongi's stone-cold, almost dead-like expression. To anyone that didn't witness what happened seconds ago, it probably looks like the regular go-to mood for Min Yoongi. But you can catch the tiny movement of teeth nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip. Oh, he's frustrated. You can't quite determine yet if you're proud of this achievement.

Meanwhile, Jimin sets up the next game.

"This doesn't look like a safe game to be around Namjoon-hyung," Jungkook murmurs, inspecting the tower of wooden blocks stacked on top of each other.

"Hey!" Namjoon retorts to the boy, his lips pulled into a slight pout. "I can play Jenga alright. Just you watch."

There are noises of disagreement going around the group, some of the guys sharing anecdotes on things Namjoon has accidentally broken recently.

"There's a little twist, by the way," Jimin informs everyone amidst the commotion. "Each block has an instruction on the bottom. Kinda like truth or dare – but you don't get to choose."

"Oh!" Seokjin claps his hands once in excitement. "Now we're talking."

Of course, leave it to Park Jimin to make an already awkward evening even more awkward by potentially causing ruckus with whatever tasks he gives out to people. Great.

After a match of rock, paper, scissor to determine who starts (which is Namjoon who already almost has the tower topple over by crouching down to the table), the first few turns go by in a breeze. Nothing too out of the ordinary has been requested yet. Taehyung choosing Jimin if he had to pick someone he would date out of the bunch or Jungkook giving Hoseok a lap dance like there's no tomorrow seem like natural occurrences for a Saturday night in this house.

"My turn," you murmur as you bend over until you reach the stack. Carefully, you pick a piece from the lower half, smiling to yourself as it slips out with ease. That smile fades though as soon as it appears when you flip over the block to read out the demand: kiss a person of your choice (on the lips! No less than 10 seconds).

There are multiple Oohs going around the group. Some are of surprised and enthusiastic nature – some stem from a place of concern.

You're rooted in place, your mouth running dry at the idea of... What exactly? There's nothing to be nervous about. Most of the guys (emphasis on most) wouldn't even make such a big deal out of this for your sake. Also, you're not blind. You've got handsome friends for sure. Each and every single one of them. It's the thought of him and the consequences. Whatever that may entail.

"I don't think this is right." Namjoon comes to your rescue, most likely sensing your discomfort.

"Why not?" Taehyung asks in earnest, visibly confused about the elder's remark. "She's a free woman. She's free to do whatever."

"Hyung," Jungkook chimes in, "I know for a fact she's not gonna kiss you. You can stop sucking up to her."

The youngest's savage comment has everyone in a laughing fit – everyone except for Yoongi of course.

Uncertainty takes over your mind, covering it in a thick blanket. It's been three months since the two of you broke up. Are you still hung up on him? Yes. A hundred percent yes. Does the same apply to him? You can't say for sure. He's been eerily quiet the entire evening, almost too quiet for your liking. He could either be hiding his innermost thoughts or he actually doesn't give a single fuck about you anymore.

Once the laughter dies down, the sound of his all too familiar voice has you lifting your eyes from the little troublemaker in your hand.

"He's right," Yoongi points out plainly, referring to Taehyung. "She can do whatever she pleases. I don't care."

As he finishes up with a sip of his whiskey, the room falls silent. Nobody dares so much as even breathe. Everyone exchanges looks between each other ranging from unease to utter shock.

So he really doesn't care.

"Okay." You catch his attention with these two syllables, his eyes never straying from you as you place the wooden piece on top of the tower. Making your way over to his side of the couch, you maintain eye contact throughout. There's a slight twitch noticeable in his eyes, confusion taking over his features. Once in front of him, you bend over before leaning in – only you redirect at the last second, wrapping your arms around Seokjin's neck who's sitting next to him. You give it no second thought, planting your lips onto his in an instant.

Although in tunnel vision, you can still hear the gasps around the room. You didn't think this through, but you have to commit now which is why you slightly intensify the kiss by parting your lips. Your hunched-over position becomes uncomfortable though, causing you to drop down to one knee beside Seokjin's thigh on the cushion.

He welcomes the closer vicinity, holding you by your waist with gentle hands.

Has it been ten seconds yet? You have no idea. You assume Jimin would count down, but he's probably too stupefied like the rest of them. Throwing in the tiniest of tongue action for good measure, you part again rather sooner than later. A clear sheen of lip gloss and saliva covers your friend's plush lips. His ears are flushed almost a hot pink.

Your job here is done.

Clearing your throat, you turn around to no one in particular. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. You can keep playing without me."

And with that, you brush past Yoongi's frozen form, ignoring the whispers going around the room.

You've been warned about the sink in the downstairs bathroom not working (once again, courtesy of Namjoon), so you swiftly climb up the flight of stairs to the upstairs bathroom.

Closing the door behind you, you let out a loud exhale before you make your way over to the sink. You don't have to use the bathroom. You just need a minute to breathe. Or two. Or five.

You look up at your reflection in the mirror, the telltale sign of the kiss written all over your lips. Had you known this is how things are going to pan out, you would've opted for smudge-proof lipstick. Turning on the faucet, you dab some water onto the pad of your finger to wipe at the corners of your mouth.

What have you done?

A knock on the door startles you.

"What?" you ask, wondering who it is.

"Let me in."

The deep, raspy tone coming from the other side of the door draws an annoyed sigh out of you. "I'm peeing," you answer flatly.

"No, you're not."

Another heavier sigh passes your lips this time. He's the last person you want to see right now, but something tells you to give in still. "What do you want?" you bite as you swing open the door with so much power you almost detach it from its hinges.

Yoongi steps over the threshold, closing it behind him with equal force. The impact causes the door handle to rattle. He watches you wander back over to the sink, irritation marking every inch of his face. "What the fuck was that for?" he spits with so much venom it's far from characteristic of him.

"What do you mean 'what the fuck was that for'?" You turn to face the mirror, inspecting yourself again. "I did what was expected of me."

Coming up behind you, your ex-boyfriend shoots daggers at you through the reflection. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was way more than what was expected of you!"

"What's your fucking problem? You made it clear in front of everyone, including me, you don't care. Besides"–with your blood pumping hot through your veins, you spin around looking him dead in the eye–"you wanted this. You ended this." You point back and forth between the two of you. "So you don't get to complain now."

He stares you down with what you can now decipher as hurt and rage. "Don't talk about our relationship like it was just a thing. For fuck's sake, _____! We were together for almost two years." His growing distress shows as he rushes a hand through his pitch-black hair. "You took equal part in the downfall. You took equal part in the decision."

A small scoff comes to the surface. "Are you actually listening to yourself? You sat me down and told me this wasn't gonna work out – not me. You came up with all the excuses you're too busy and your career doesn't allow a stable life when you know very well I've tried everything in my willpower to make things work."

His features contort more into agony. "That's because you were never satisfied with my solutions. Who says you were the only one trying to make things work? Nothing was ever good enough for you. I know I have a busy lifestyle, but things always have to go according to your plan. You immediately shut down whenever I suggest something that's not part of your vision."

You roll your eyes at him, partially in anger but also in a poor attempt at keeping your tears at bay. He's not entirely wrong, you're aware of that. It wasn't easy with him, but you could be equally as stubborn. At the time, the glass was simply too broken to put back together – no matter how hard any of you tried. Maybe you needed the time apart to see clearer.

"These past three months were hell for me," you confess suddenly, dropping your head in shame.

There's a beat of silence following your words. "For me as well," Yoongi finally answers, his voice coming out barely above a whisper.

"How come we're so bad at this?" It's more of a rhetorical question, but you genuinely wonder how you managed to stay together this long.

Another pause settles in before Yoongi speaks up again. "I don't think we're bad at relationships. There are things we need to work on, sure. But these things don't come overnight." After wetting his lips tentatively, he continues, "We're already making big progress by talking about this – even if we wanted to strangle each other seconds ago. If anything, we needed this in order to finally be honest and not hide behind a façade anymore."

Your mind takes you back to that fateful day when you talked each other through the break-up. Things were convoluted as you convinced each other you didn't see any future in being together just to avoid addressing the truth and finding a common denominator. It seemed easier this way, running away from your problems and saving face in the process.

Now look where it led you – the worst outcome possible.

Catching a stray tear rolling down your cheek, you muster up the courage to look at him again. "What do we do now?"

He lets out a low hum at the sight of you, his hand coming up to carefully wipe another tear close to spilling from the corner of your eye. "I don't know. All I know is I don't like this. The distance, the avoidance – the animosity."

"Yeah." You let his words hang heavy in the room. Hard agree on this one. "Neither do I."

"And I certainly don't like seeing you make out with someone else right in front of my face – let alone Jin-hyung at that."

His comment has you chuckling lightly. "To be fair, I didn't enjoy it as much as you'd think."

"You're joking." He breaks out into his signature gummy smirk. "Worldwide Handsome didn't do it for you?"

You shake your head, a small smile forming on your face. "He's not you."

At that, his grin grows even wider, his eyes turning into downturned crescents.

"I'm sorry, by the way." You play with one of the bracelets around your wrist, tugging at the golden chain.

Yoongi reaches for your arm, most likely out of reflex as he notices your hesitation. "It's okay. I'm sorry, too." Dropping his hand, he elaborates, "I overreacted earlier. You're not... We're not..."

He struggles to finish his thought, but you know exactly what he's trying to say. "Do you want to be?" you drawl, immediately wincing at how desperate you sound. Maybe it's still too early for this.

Your concern dissipates as his eyes light up in an instant. "Of course," he murmurs. "I've always wanted to."

The corners of your lips tug upwards again at that. "I do, too," you follow up though you're sure he already figured.

What a serious turn of events. Who would've thought things were going to work out this way? You could hug the world right now. Hell, you could hug the entire universe.

"Should we..." he starts, a mischievous glint glossing over his irises, "shake hands on this?"

Bursting into laughter, you shake your head at his ridiculous idea. "That's so formal. We're not business partners."

"Fine then."

Your laughter ceases instantly as he takes a few steps forward, slowly backing you into the marble countertop behind you.

"Should we hug it out instead?"

You watch the way his tongue swipes across his bottom lip as you're caged in between his arms, the closeness sending your mind reeling.

"Or do you have something else in mind?"

Swallowing down hard, your focus switches between his lips and the seductive gaze he holds you with. "A hug would be a start,” you croak out.

He sends you a crooked smile before releasing his grip around the corner of the sink, enveloping you with both arms for a tight bear hug, his cheek coming to a rest on your temple.

You welcome his touch, bending your arms that are stuck underneath his to clasp around his shoulders. An abundance of warmth and comfort washes over you, so you bury your face into the crook of his neck to take it all in. Words can't describe how much you missed this – how much you missed him.

The two of you stay like this for a while until Yoongi breaks the silence. "Just to be clear–"

You lift your head to get a proper look at him.

"–I do care. I always have, and I always will."

All trains of thought leave you as you stare at each other, the sincerity in his eyes granting them with a spark you haven't seen yet before. You swear there's a magnetic force involved, that's how strong the urge is when you slowly close the distance pressing your lips onto his.

Bliss overtakes you instantly, the familiar feeling of his lips bringing back all the memories of the past two years. Things were never easy between you, but you want to make it work this time no matter the cost.

Once you pull apart, all you can do is look at each other, completely at a loss for words. You catch the way Yoongi's focus switches back and forth between your eyes though, trailing down to your lips before coming back up where it ultimately stays.

He loosens one of his arms around you, bringing it up to rest his hand on the side of your neck. With his thumb, he rubs soothing circles into your cheek.

You close your eyes at his touch, unfurling an arm from behind his back to curl around his neck instead. The other follows the curve of his spine before enclosing around his waist.

"God..." Yoongi murmurs, his forehead coming to rest against yours. "I missed you so much."

Blinking your eyelids open, you catch the moment his open just a second later. "I missed you, too."

This time it's he who draws you in for a kiss, his hand gently tilting your head to the side to grant him access.

There's always been something super addictive about Yoongi's kisses. From the tingling sensation that infests your entire body starting at the top of your scalp all the way down to the soles of your feet, to the funny feeling in your core that has you weak in the knees and lose all sense of self – you could never get enough.

You're done for when he parts his mouth slightly, the tip of his tongue slipping through the seam of yours. You let out an involuntary moan, seeking solace as you tighten your grip around the cotton fabric of his shirt.

He steps closer causing you to part your legs to make space for him. With your torso bent backward into a small arch, he starts planting kisses along your jawline down your neck.

At this point, you're like wax in his hands. Of course he's more than familiar with your weak spots.

His hold around your waist wanders down to your thigh as he hooks your leg around his hip, gently hoisting you up on the countertop. In a painstakingly slow fashion, his lips flutter across your collarbone before they land above the cups of your bustier top.

You can feel his hand travel further up your thigh, shyly slipping beneath the denim fabric of your skirt. Before he can go any further, you gently grab him by the wrist.

Flustered, the male lifts his face from your cleavage. "Sorry, did I–"

"No," you interrupt him quickly. You don't want him to get the wrong idea. "Not here."

"What–"

Before he can ask any further questions, you climb off the counter, dragging him out of the bathroom down the dark hallway.

The door closes behind you with a silent click before you switch on the light.

You haven't seen this room since the break-up. It looks about the same, maybe a bit messier than you remember. The bed looks like it's been made in a hurry, there are a few more clothes strewn around than you're used to from your ex-boyfriend. You're unsure of the emotions that overcome you. They're something along the lines of guilt, shame – sadness.

In your daydream, you don't notice Yoongi coming to stand in front of you. "I'm sorry it's kinda messy," he apologizes, scratching the back of his head. "I didn't expect company tonight."

You solemnly shake your head. "It's fine. That's not it."

It's silent for a beat until he speaks up again. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

Again, you shake your head. "I do though."

The man musters you sternly as if to read your mind. Then he cracks a small smile. "Okay. Me too."

One wouldn't be able to tell the two of you were engaged in a semi-heated make-out session just a minute ago with the way you're gradually closing the distance between you. But once your arms are slung around his neck again, the passion from before resurfaces in an instant.

His hold around your waist grows more desperate with each passing second, pulling you further into the room along with him until you reach the foot end of his bed. In between hungry kisses, he plops down onto the mattress with a soft thud.

You're still in a mostly upright position, a little bit hunched over with one knee propped up beside his thigh as you continue kissing him. It's comically similar to the scene from the living room – although this time it's with the right man. The realization has you chuckling against his lips.

"What's so funny?" he asks, breaking out into a smirk of his own.

You playfully nibble on his lower lip. "Nothing," you lie. "Just thought about how strange life is sometimes."

A tiny squeal escapes you as Yoongi suddenly drags you down with him, your arms coming out just right on time to cushion the fall. "Life is strange," he agrees. "But I like where it's leading us right now."

The mischief in his tone doesn't go unnoticed by you, so to wipe that smile off his face you lean down stealing another kiss from him. It starts off relatively tame before you try to rile him up ever so slowly, lowering your body until you're straddling his waist. Your tongues are fighting for dominance, but ultimately you have the upper hand in this as you pull away, watching him from above in all his glory. Or so you thought because the second you lay eyes on his fucked-out expression, his parted lips so plump and shiny and his pitch-black hair splayed out on the white comforter you swear you lose all sense of reality. Ethereal is the word that comes to your mind. He's nothing short of ethereal.

"Ah!"

Yoongi takes advantage of the situation while you're lost in your thoughts, flipping you over on your back. "Enjoying the view?" he jokes, his gummy smirk on full display.

You snort. "Maybe."

His lips are on you again immediately, retracing their path from earlier as he places kiss after kiss over the curvature of your chest. "So am I."

You're reduced to whimpers when he sucks love bites into your skin.

Once he pulls away to admire his work, he informs you with a straight face, "You know, I had a really hard time not staring when we were downstairs."

You bite your lip, patiently waiting for the revelation.

"But then you helped clearing the table, and they were practically in my face, so–"

"You missed my tits," you interject with an amused smile.

He chortles. "You make it sound so crude." Tracing the intricate flower embroidery covering your breasts with his finger, he elaborates, "Obviously, I love looking at all of you. Not just your tits."

The way he repeats the word has you burst into laughter.

"Stop laughing at me." His cheeks rise into full globes before his face falls again. "I'm serious, I missed seeing your face. You look really beautiful tonight."

Whatever bullshit you were about to say – it's gone. The way his words leave his lips with such sincerity and his eyes are set on you as if to imprint every single inch of your face in his brain renders you speechless. All you can do is show him that you missed him just as much – if not even more. Pulling him down to you by the nape of his neck, you press your lips together again, eagerly running your hand through the strands on the back of his head. It's gotten a little bit longer ever since you broke up, and admittedly you find it kind of sexy.

"In all seriousness though"–Yoongi mumbles in between kisses–"as beautiful as you look in this, I want if off now." Toying with the strap of your top, he gently glides it over your shoulder until it loses tension.

You comply with no questions asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. Yoongi catches on right away, reaching behind you to pull down the zipper. It always amused you how contradicting he could be, his patient character cracking when it came to intimacy, his soft-spoken nature turning more daring and demanding.

A low hum resonates from him at the sight of your bare breasts, and it doesn't take long until his attention is on them again, his hand cupping one of them while he bends down to take care of the other.

The sudden contact has you moaning out louder than you'd like. As he changes up the motions on your hardened nipple, it's hard to keep it down now. Throwing your head back, you relish the onslaught of suckles and licks, kisses and bites.

He switches sides, granting your other boob the same treatment while still squeezing the prior.

You're a mess, to say the least, the dampness sodding your panties a sure indicator of that.

As if he's living in your head, Yoongi's hand wanders down the expanse of your torso before stopping right under the hemline of your miniskirt. Tugging at the seam, he grumbles, "Take this off, too, baby."

The audacity to throw in the pet name as well – you've never been quicker at undressing up until this point. Your hands are shaky as you're fiddling with the button though, so Yoongi comes to the rescue, unbuttoning it at the speed of light yet the veins raking across his hands have your undivided attention, prolonging the moment to infinity.

He slides down from the bed to the floor, taking the obstructing clothing with him at the same time.

There's something about you being stripped down to your underwear whereas he's still dressed that sends uncontrollable tingles to your core.

While leaving fluttery pecks across your lower abdomen, the male slips a single digit under the fabric covering your crotch. "We haven't even started yet"–he places another peck closer to your pelvic mound–"but you're already so wet, baby."

A snarky response is on the tip of your tongue, something along the lines of it being a given when he's been playing with your boobs like a man possessed, but you swallow it down when he drags his finger over your folds, dipping the tip into your slit.

Your reaction is immediate, the whimper passing your lips drawing a smile onto his. "God, I can't wait to make you cum," he grunts, and with that his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, removing the last remaining piece of clothing covering you.

Any sort of thought dissipates from your mind as he throws your thighs over his shoulders and his mouth connects with your center, licking up your arousal like it's a sport.

You're no stranger to the things he's capable of with his tongue, but this is no match to the times before. His moves are calculated yet determined, taking you to the brink of an orgasm in record time. There's no use holding back anymore, your hand covering your mouth doing little to nothing hiding your whines.

In between all the licking and sucking, Yoongi retracts for a split second, a wicked grin gracing his features. "Getting close?"

"Mh-hm," you hum out breathlessly. "Please don't stop."

He doesn't need another plea from you, his movements more eager than before as he continues eating you out.

Weaving your hand through his thick locks, you watch him from above. His eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on your pleasure, his hands around your thighs digging deep into your flesh. This sight alone could have you cumming on the spot, but it's the switch-up from small kitten licks to suckles on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure that drives you over the edge. "I-I'm cumming, fuck!"

He guides you through your release, letting you grind on his face as he runs his hands over your thighs locked around his head in a tight grip. Once you're done riding it out, he presses one last kiss to your quivering core, smirking at the way you squirm over the sensitivity.

"Fuck," you curse again in disbelief. The room around you appears surreal. You watch the ceiling above you to regain consciousness. He essentially mouth-fucked you into oblivion.

A light kiss to your temple brings you back from wherever your mind was catapulted to. Outer space or another dimension. No one really knows for sure.

"Still with me?" Yoongi checks on you, his thumb rubbing tiny circles into the highpoint of your cheek.

You swallow down hard, willing your eyes to focus on his looking back at you. The deep brown of his irises resembles that of the Iced Americanos that he loves so much although warmer and more welcoming than the caffeinated drink. "Y-yeah," you manage out.

"Good." He bends down to peck your lips. "Thought I'd lost you for a second."

You might as well be lost for the rest of eternity. Your hands seek for harbor, digging into the sleeves of his jacket. "Take this off," you mumble, impatiently tugging at the garment.

"Alright." Yoongi chuckles at your cute antics, taking it off instantly.

You're not satisfied yet though, curling your hands around the hem of his shirt, dragging it upward until a sliver of his abdomen shows. "This, too."

He shushes you, grabbing ahold of your wrists. "Baby, you're getting too excited."

With your lips in a pout you protest, "I'm not. I just wanna take care of you, too."

His laughter resonates in your ears. "You're gonna get to take care of me soon enough." You're still pouting, so he comes up with a peace offering. "Here, how about this?" Guiding his hand back down to your heat, he proposes, "Give me another one, and I'll let you do whatever you want with me for a while."

You're spent already, your first orgasm having drained your entire energy. But you're willing to go again if that means getting what you want. Nodding your head, you lean back onto the bed.

"Good girl."

Holy shit.

It takes all your might not to melt into a puddle right then and there, but his working hand doesn't give you enough time to even process his words, his ringed fingers already drawing circles on your swollen bud. You gasp out silently, leaving an imprint on the mattress with how hard you're throwing your head back.

His digits expertly tickle your clit as if you're a key on his piano or a string on his guitar, experimentally dipping them into your heat for precise pumps. You thank the gods but also simultaneously curse the devil for making this man skilled with both his tongue and his hands.

It's not long until you feel the all too familiar knot in your core tighten again, squeezing your walls around his fingers as you feel the cold metal adorning them.

"That's it, baby," he growls. The pad of his thumb works your nub while his ring and index finger drag in and out of you with fast strokes. "Almost there."

You barely manage out anything intelligible other than Yeah and Don't stop. Sweat forms on your skin from your neck down to your chest, the golden pendant of your necklace clinging to it. So close, so damn close.

His hawk eyes are on you the entire time, intense and sinister. Not a single twitch of your muscles passes them by. If it wasn't for that crooked smile of his you would think he's studying you, analyzing your every move.

It's easy to feel intimidated under his watch, so to lessen your nerves – and finally bring yourself over the edge – you grab him by the collar, pulling him close to you. "Kiss me,” you murmur as if his lips aren't already pressed to yours.

With one last wicked grin, Yoongi gives in to your request, kissing you as if his life depends on it. He knows exactly how to get you going, lets you taste yourself on his tongue while he produces more of your sinful essence.

All you can do is whimper against his mouth until you break apart, another orgasm ripping out of you sooner than you thought that has your thighs clamping shut and your back arching off the mattress. A string of profanities leaves your lips as Yoongi continues massaging your clit through your high. Your sweaty hand clutching at the comforter snatches his wrist, stopping his crazed motions. "F-fuck okay, stop," you manage out, your throat as dry as a desert.

The man has the audacity to send a soft slap to your folds before pressing a quick peck onto your temple. "You did so well." He peers down at you with a gummy smile as he sits up straight, popping his soaked fingers into his mouth. "That was fun."

You're essentially an empty vessel, watching him with your mouth agape while nothing but a numbing, tingling sensation travels along your limbs. This must be the afterlife. Hell or heaven or maybe both.

"Alright." His voice takes you back to the bedroom. "As promised"–he shuffles to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs–"you have all the creative control now."

A tired chuckle escapes you before you scramble yourself up on your elbows, immediately sliding down to the floor in front of where Yoongi sits. You're quick to work on his belt, looping the leather through the holes although the feeling in your fingers hasn't returned yet.

The sound of Yoongi's laughter fills your ears, and you know you must look like a fool with the way you're trying to get him out of his pants before you even took off his shirt. Oh shit, yeah. You totally forgot about his shirt, but you have all the time in the world. For now, your focus is on something entirely else.

He observes you as you pull down his jeans and boxers in one go, lifting his butt from the bed to facilitate the process for you. He sports this cocky sideway smirk that drives you insane, but you manage to wipe it off his face the second your hand wraps around his length. A hiss passes through his teeth once you start stroking him in an up-and-down motion. Throwing his head back, he lets you take full control.

You add in a twisting motion whenever you reach the tip which clearly affects the man, his breathing becoming shallow and his whines turning into guttural moans. "I've barely done anything," you tease him just as he did earlier. "But you're already so hard."

That smirk returns instantly though weaker this time. "So what? I get hard watching you get off."

"Mh-hm," you hum unimpressed. "So what you're saying is I can do this"–you bend forward to slowly lick a stripe from the base up to the tip, giving the head a light suck–"and it does nothing for your raging hard-on?"

Whatever response is on the tip of his tongue, it disappears as soon as you put your mouth on him again, swallowing half of his length. "Ah, fuck!" His hand shoots up to hold you by the back of your head. The further you take him down your throat, the tighter his grip around your hair becomes. "Baby..."

You wish you could imprint this memory on instant film. The rosiness creeping up on his cheeks and neck compliment his smooth, milky skin so well. A thin sheen of sweat starts forming on his forehead, the strands of his dark bangs clinging to it framing his face like a picture. He's beyond beautiful, especially when he falls apart under the touch of your hand and the wet, warm comfort of your mouth.

Your head bops up and down at an excruciating pace now, his hard-on covered in slick from your saliva. You ignore the stinging ache in your jaw, planning on sucking him dry. He's always been such a sucker for your blowjobs, so you want to put on the best show possible for him.

"Baby," he repeats, his voice quivering. "Please."

Slowing down your movements, you resort to running your tongue across the protruding vein on the side of his length. "Yes?"

His hands wander down to your arms. "Come here."

"Hm?" You give him one final hard suck before pulling off him with a loud pop. Still kneeling in front of the man, you feign ignorance.

Impatiently, he pulls you up to your feet. "Stop playing."

You practically fall into his arms, straddling him in the process. His hands immediately find their way to your ass, grabbing a handful causing you to gasp. "What now?" you ask innocently, covering him with your slick as you grind down on him.

Drawing you in for a heated kiss, he drags your pelvis down onto his even harder. "Hands and knees, baby," the man orders with a sharp slap to your ass.

You don't waste another second, complying as you crawl off his lap. Getting into position with your butt high up in the air, you can hear his feet shuffle across the hardwood floor. He reappears in your vision shortly after, rummaging through the drawers of the bedside table.

"Shit," he curses harshly. "I thought I had some in here."

No further explanation is needed to understand what he's referring to. Sitting up on your heels, you watch Yoongi run a hand through his hair in distress.

"Can you check the other side?" he suggests, his eyes set on you.

"Sure." Leaning over the edge of the bed, you sift through the drawers though without luck.

Yoongi usually keeps the condoms on his side, the right side. When you were together, you would occupy the left side which is closer to the window. You always preferred the one closest to the window. It didn't matter much to Yoongi which side he slept on, but he made sure yours was always cleared so you could store whatever stuff you wanted. From any type of jewelry you took off before going to sleep, to snacks or books you brought with you that day – you always had your space within his home. And going through what were once your drawers, you realize nothing much has changed. They look rather uninhabited, no traces of you or him – or even someone else which is a concern that crosses your mind now.

He scratches the back of his head. "Fuck..." His voice comes out in defeat. "Maybe I can ask one of the other guys–"

"Don't!" You grab him by the wrist before he can wander off.

Confused, he looks down at your hand then back at you. "Why? You don't want to anymore?"

Shaking your head, you murmur sheepishly, "That's not it." There's a beat of silence as he waits for more. You swallow down the lump in your throat before you elaborate further, "Have you been with anyone else after..."

He holds your gaze, his eyes turning somber at your insinuation. "No."

His answer his short, but it's all you need to know. Min Yoongi might be the master of poker faces, but when it comes to you you can read the man like a book.

"Have you?" he follows up.

You shake your head. "Me neither."

Your reply seems to loosen some of the tension Yoongi was harboring, his body language becoming much more relaxed. Intertwining your hand with his, he inquires with a spark in his eyes, "Are you still on the pill?"

Giving him an affirmative answer, you interlock your fingers with his free hand as well. Your gesture changes the mood for good, his signature gummy smile making its return. You pull him closer until you're chest to chest. Sending him a light peck to the corner of his mouth, you curl your fingers around the edges of his shirt, peeling it off his torso.

He chuckles, raising his arms into the air in compliance. His hair ends up slightly disheveled once the clothing drags over his head. As you're smoothing it out for him, he asks, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

You give it another second of thought. It wouldn't be the first time you've done it without extra protection. You started birth control once things became serious between the two of you. Over the course of your relationship, you would stick to double protection mostly to stay on the safe side. Now that you're back here with him and your first time ever since is going to be raw, it puts so much more significance to the situation – but that's what you want. You want to be with him all the way.

"I'm okay with this," you assure him with another peck to his lips. "Are you?"

Nodding his head, he allows you to drag down his pants and underwear that still hang around his thighs, letting them pool around his ankles. You're about to crawl back onto the bed when he stops you midway.

"What?" You look at him from across your shoulder. "What's wrong?"

His arm wraps around your middle, turning you on your back. "I wanna look at you."

With bated breath you watch his eyes linger on your face, taking in every inch of it as if he's trying to paint a picture of you in his mind. God. If he's not going to do anything, you're going to have to eventually –

Cupping your chin, he then kisses you deeply while entering you slowly.

Your reaction is immediate, gasping against his mouth as he sheaths himself inside of you. Thank God. Finally.

The feeling is all too familiar though it still needs some time getting used to. He prepped you well at least, so it doesn't take too long until pleasure ultimately replaces the stinging sensation.

"Fuck," he curses as he moves at a moderate pace. "I missed you."

You hold onto his arms resting beside your head. "I missed you, too."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

It's like this flips a switch inside of him, his movements becoming more eager and carnal. He fills you up to the hilt, thrusting in and out of you with vigor. The silver pendant of his necklace swings back and forth wildly, grazing across your chest.

Your nails leave crescent shaped marks around his biceps. You're reduced to moans and curses. How long have you been hoping for this? Within those three months without him, you never considered a chance of getting back together – but you also haven't stopped thinking about the possibility of it. It seemed so farfetched due to all the circumstances. You had ruled it out immediately. But your fantasy always ran wild with the idea of it. And now your fantasy has become reality.

A particularly hard thrust has you practically screaming. You're quick to cover your mouth, your hand clasping it shut.

"Don't do that." Yoongi grabs ahold of it, holding it down above your head. "I wanna hear you." As if to test you, his hips rut into you faster and harder.

This ultimately does the trick, and you certainly don't disappoint as you let out lustful sounds loud and clear. Your focus should be on the here and now – in the arms of the man that you love so much. Nothing else and no one else should matter. "O-oh God, Yoongi!"

He sends you a satisfied grin as he sits up on his heels, his hips still snapping into yours. "Turn around."

With a mocking voice you tease him, "I thought you wanted to look at me."

"Yeah," he states nonchalantly, separating his sweaty bangs. "Now I wanna see the other side."

You let out an amused chuckle but abide alas, turning around on your side first before falling forward on your hands, your ass on full display for him.

"Perfect," he praises, caressing your cheeks with both hands. "You're doing great, baby."

Seconds pass before you feel his tip slide past your folds again. The stretch is different in this position, deeper and more thorough. You don't even notice yourself backing into him, your behind pressed flush to his pelvis.

"A little eager, aren't we?" One of his hands comes down to spank you, but before you even get a chance to complain he continues his onslaught, rolling his hips into your backside with deliciously slow yet harsh thrusts.

"Oh my God!" You lower yourself until your chest comes into contact with the mattress. "Yoongi…"

The telltale sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls though they're not enough to drown out your sounds. As he gradually picks up his pace, your moans turn unstoppable. It's like an out-of-body experience – and judging by the noises coming from the man behind you he seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself as well.

"Fuck, baby…" Yoongi's grip on your hips tightens. "You take me so well."

You desperately nod your head at no one in particular before burying it in between your folded forearms as you withstand his force. There's a burn you're trying to ignore that spreads along your thighs, but the longer you hold out the easier you lose posture until you collapse like a house of cards.

"Here." His hands guide you further up on the mattress until you're on your half of the bed. "Lay down."

You flop down onto your back like a brick, drawing a chuckle out of Yoongi.

As he positions himself beside you, he puts your legs together rolling you onto your side.

"Oh..." You watch him with wondrous eyes as he settles down onto the space behind you. "This is new."

"Yeah." He grins while looping an arm around you, burying himself in your heat again. "Thought you needed a break."

At that, you chuckle lightly. "How thoughtful of you."

"Right?" With one sharp thrust, he hits you right in your g-spot. "Aren't I thoughtful?"

You moan out as he continuously pistons in and out of you, unable to answer in coherent sentences. "Mh-hm, so th-thoughtful."

His hand resting on your belly trails down to your thighs, spreading them ever so slightly so he can toy with your clit. The other squeezes through a crevice he creates between you and the bed to play with your tits.

When you think this is the highest of pleasure you can experience, he proves you wrong again. As his hips and hands move together in a perfect rhythm, he has the audacity to nip at your neck at the same time. His hard cock driving in and out of your pussy while he draws circles on your clit, pinches your nipple, and laves his tongue over your neck – this overstimulation sends you straight to the verge of another orgasm.

"Yoongi…" You twist your head around, resting it against his. "I'm gonna cum again."

"Okay." His features are contorted, one of the telltale signs of his own high incoming. "I'm about to cum, too."

Grabbing onto the hair on the back of his head, you press your lips together. The position proves itself as slightly awkward but is no obstacle to the heated kiss you're able to share.

Parting for a split second, Yoongi mumbles against your lips, "Should I pull out?"

You give it a moment of serious thought, shaking your head. As much as you loved when he used to finish somewhere on your body, you loved it the most when he finished inside. It always felt the most intimate, connecting the two of you on another level. "Cum inside me," you clarify, your walls already starting to flutter at the thought of it alone.

It's apparent the male is affected by your command, trying his hardest to send the two of you over the finish line. His eyes are shut, and his forehead crinkled into deep creases. "Baby," he huffs out with shallow breaths, "cum for me, please."

His plea along with his relentless ministrations seem to be the final straw for you, that long awaited orgasm exploding within you like a firework. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you manage out a hoarse moan, involuntarily clamping your thighs shut while your legs twitch.

"O-oh fuck!" Yoongi also finds his release right away, emptying himself inside of you. "Shit!"

You barely register the profanities leaving his lips, but once he's reduced to mere whimpers you come back to reality. You always thought they were the sweetest sound in the world, such a contradiction to the strong and secure exterior of Min Yoongi.

The two of you lie there entangled with one another, catching your breaths. It could be a matter of a few minutes or maybe even an hour that you bask in the afterglow until Yoongi breaks the silence. "Come on," he murmurs, caressing your cheek. "We gotta clean up. Take off your make-up and all that."

You agree although with an annoyed grunt, slowly heaving your strained limbs from the bed one by one. There's a slight chill in the room now that your body has acclimated without the added body temperature from Yoongi and the physical exertion.

The touch of a fabric being draped across your shoulders causes you to jump a little. Inspecting the piece, you realize it's Yoongi's shirt from earlier. Thanking him, you slide it on as you stand up to your full height. Your legs are like jelly and there's the telltale ringing in your ears.

"Can you walk?" Yoongi inquires, coming to stand beside you. He’s back in his boxers, inspecting you with care.

Sending a timid nod of your head, you take a step but stumble over your own feet.

His arms reach out for you just in time to prevent the fall. "I went too hard on you. I'm sorry, darling."

"'s alright," you slur into the crook of his neck. "I liked it. A lot."

A smug grin finds its way onto his features. "Now come on," he chuckles. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You're more than thankful in this situation that Yoongi's room is one of the two in this household with an en-suite bathroom (the other belonging to Seokjin – being the eldest comes with benefits for sure) since your legs almost give out at any step despite leaning onto him while you walk.

After you take care of your situation down there, Yoongi runs a warm washcloth along the inside of your thighs for good measure. You thank him with your mouth agape, watching him in astonishment while you're propped up on the sink countertop for balance. It's beyond you how you could agree to the break-up so easily when he's always been so attentive to your needs, has always taken care of you without you even asking.

"There." He rises back to eye-level with you. "All good now."

You turn around to face the mirror, looking around for the things you need to in order to wash up. "Do you have a spare toothbrush?" you ask.

The man takes a second to process your request before his hand curls around the handle of one of the upper drawers. "I actually..." He hesitates. "I've got a few things you could use."

When he opens the drawer, your breath hitches in your throat. "I forgot I left these here," you murmur, inspecting the items revealed to you.

"Yeah..." Yoongi scratches the back of his head. "When you said you didn't need them, I tried throwing them away, but... I just couldn't."

You fairly remember the scene, storming out of the house after that talk, and when Yoongi told you he still had stuff of yours when you came over to drop off his you answered in anger 'Keep it or throw it out'.

With a trembling hand, you reach for the pink headband next to the rest of your skincare products. You don't want it to happen, but tears spring up in your eyes. Trying to keep them at bay, you throw your head into your neck, but to no avail. The first tears roll down your cheeks, so you turn away from Yoongi in shame, letting them fall freely.

"Hey," Yoongi coos, his hands coming up to rub soothing circles into your arms. "It's okay, honey. It's in the past now."

You feel so endlessly guilty of how things have turned out. All you want is for it to work out with him.

He continues consoling you, "We're gonna do better this time. But we have to be honest with each other." One of his hands slide down to intertwine with yours. "So no more of that hiding shit."

You let him spin you around in your spot. Looking up at him through blurry vision, you wrap your arms around his neck. "I want this to work out, Yoongi," you croak out choked up on tears. "I really want this to work out."

"It's gonna work out," he assures you, his arms around you as tight and secure as ever. "We're gonna make it work."

As you pull apart, he swipes his thumb over the last of the remaining tears on your cheek before placing a chaste kiss on it. The gesture draws a smile back onto your face, soothing your haywire state.

It's so domestic how you stand next to each other now brushing your teeth and doing your skincare routines, pulling silly faces at one another through the mirror – and before you know it you're racing him back to the bed, drifting off into peaceful slumber with his chest pressed to your back.

Sunlight peeks through the blinds as you blink your eyes open. You're sore all over, the memory of last night hitting you like a bat over the head though it draws a smile on your lips – especially since his arm is still draped over your middle.

Carefully rolling over onto your side, you're met with a half-asleep Yoongi, his eyelids still heavy as he peers at you.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" you whisper, your smile widening at his cute face.

He shakes his head, burying his face into the pillow. "Mh-mh." His voice comes out muffled, thick with sleepiness. "I woke up a minute ago or so."

You place your hand on his cheek at which he turns his head again. Rubbing your thumb across his soft skin, you shuffle closer to peck him on the lips.

He seems slightly more awake after that, chasing after your lips for another.

You still can't believe this is how you ended up. All the trials and tribulations brought you back together in the end. A huge thank you is due to be said to Jimin.

Yoongi props himself up, looking around the room in search of something. Once his eyes land on the bedside table next to you, he speaks up, "Pass me my phone, please?"

You hum out in affirmation, bending over to the side to retrieve the device.

He settles back down on the bed when you hand it to him, welcoming you with open arms as you cuddle up to him. Tapping on the screen, he unlocks the phone to a plethora of messages. He opens the most recent chat with Jimin.

You're not one to sneak a peek, but it's hard not to when it's right in front of your face. When you read the last message, heat creeps up into your cheeks.

from Jimin [12:04 AM]

i'm glad you guys managed to "talk things out" 😉

"Oh God." You hide your face in the crook of his neck. "They know."

"Of course they know," Yoongi replies with a chuckle. "We were gone for the rest of the night." He types out a quick reply before tossing the phone onto the space beside him. "On top of that, we weren't exactly quiet," he jokes, wrapping his arms around you pulling you flush to his chest.

You linger in embarrassment for a little longer until you can't help but laugh along with him.

A soft knock on the door ends your chatter early to which Yoongi answers with a chipper 'Come in'.

The door cracks open ever so slightly, the chestnut-brown of Seokjin's mop of hair coming into sight. "Everybody decent?" he questions before correcting himself. "Well, you wouldn't have told me to come in if not." Swinging the door open wider until he's more than a floating head without a body, he adds, "Uh... Breakfast's ready."

"Alright, thanks," the younger male responds. "We'll be down in a bit."

"So you guys are good again?" The corners of Seokjin's mouth tug upward as if he doesn't know the answer already.

Yoongi sends him an assuring smile. "Yeah, we're good."

"Good, good. That's a relief." It looks like he's on his way out before he adds with a teasing grin, "Otherwise I would've had no other choice but to ask for your hand in marriage, _____, because that kiss last night was something else. Like wow–"

A loud thud sounds as Yoongi throws his pillow at the older male with full force. Seokjin's fast reflexes save him though as it knocks against the closing door instead.

You shake your head at the eldest’s shenanigans.

"Say…" Yoongi starts again, acting as if what just happened a second ago didn’t. "I’m gonna have to go on some trips starting next month."

Your ears perk up at that.

"I know I can’t take you with me on all of them, and I’m not gonna force you, but…" He studies you with careful eyes. "Do you think we can make something work? Like you keep me company for at least one of them?"

Tracing shapes across the smoothness of his chest, you answer, "It’s a little short notice, but I’ll talk to my manager first thing Monday morning."

He cracks a crooked smile. "If not, we’ll figure something out."

"We’ll figure something out," you repeat as an assurance to him but also yourself. "What’s important is we both gotta be comfortable with what we’re doing and be patient with the process. Chances are things aren’t gonna run smoothly right away."

His smile grows wider at your addition. "Yeah, exactly.” Pulling you closer to his chest, Yoongi says the next sentence with an underlying tone of regret. "I hope you know it’s not your fault."

Your fingers curl tighter around his figure.

"I was just as guilty myself, I made just as many mistakes." Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he trails, "So please, don’t put all the blame on yourself."

Last night you would’ve cried in an instant, but you’re in a much better state this morning. Now you know you both have things to improve in order to move the relationship forward.

Lifting your head off his chest, you nod at him with a small smile. "Thank you for letting me know. And the same goes for you as well."

He reciprocates your smile before pulling you down towards him, pressing your lips together. "I love you," he repeats the words from last night.

Your heart flutters in your chest. "I love you, too." You resume the kiss, your hands roaming around his naked torso. "Do you think breakfast can wait? I feel like"–slinging one leg over to the other side, you straddle him–"I was kinda lazy last night."

At that, he gives you an all-knowing grin and the rest is history.

437 notes · View notes

liveyun · 1 year

Text

m i d n i g h t s | kth (m)

p a i r i n g. taehyung x female reader

g e n r e. friends to lovers + smut + fluff + angst

w. (M) plot? no plot? don't know? smoking + alcohol, mentions of parent death + parent negligency, mentions of abuse , corny stupid jokes + dom!taehyung, kissing, grinding, taehyung and his tongue and taeconda oof , so much of licking + consent because that's the most important thing + don't @ at me for the ending

w c. 5.5k +

m l i s t .

“ Seriously, Taehyung? ”

“ Hm? ”

You narrow your eyes as you watch the half naked man fiddle with his phone, almost looking like he's pretty drunk, but you know it's all for the camera.

“ People you know, call it thirst trap snaps. . ” The shit eating grin on his face is back, and you can't really help but scoff at the smirking man infront of you.

“ In this lighting, I fear your audience would be even able to make out the difference between your hair and the surroundings, for the sake of god. . ” You tap in the cigarette trapped between your pointer and your middle finger, the smoke is gentle and calm: making its way to higher altitudes.

“ That's what it is. When you can barely figure out anything, there's the real fun. ”

“ Aren't you a big time sadist? ” This isn't a question, almost as if you're teasing him. When he speaks next, you feel that stupid smirk on his face,

“ No shit. ”

There as along, it was. You inhale slowly the stick of tobacco within your grasp, and even if you feel your throat burn dry, you can't help it.

It felt relaxing. The dull throb in your head stops pounding slowly as you retreat back to lean on the headboard, watching the man infront of you again fiddle with his phone in his hands. At times you feel like laughing to see how even his phone feels to be tiny when in grasp within his huge ass palms, and sometimes you can't help but wonder…what if.

Anyway.

“ Who're your target audience, by the way? ” Curiosity gets the best of you and you know you're speaking the words even before you know you're speaking, and you internally feel like smacking yourself for asking such a silly question. You do know that Taehyung has a good following base on his socials, one that he's that fucking famous as that when you know that millions of people watch his Instagram stories within a flash of second.

The man only smirks. He runs his tongue on the seam of his bottom lips, slightly running his fingers through his hair. And suddenly, your vision drops down to his grey sweatpants, which is hanging dangerously low on his waist, showing you more skin than you can handle, a very deadly sharp glance of his vline. The smooth and bulked plains of his toned stomach and the tanned, golden skin.

Fuck him.

“ Do you want to ask if I'm secretly a pornstar or some sort of shit? ”

“ You're calling porn shit? ”

No sardonic reply comes back, except that he only turns at you, tonguing his inner cheek and a nearly unreadable expression on his face, holding his snifter within the rim and strides over to the stool nearest to the dresser and your the king sized bed, and takes a seat. Sandalwood and vanilla with a hint of ginger. The scent is so him, so him in a way that even if at times the scent alone ghosts you and you definitely feel like you hallucinate, because it's just so alluring, but also comforting in a way you can't just. . .explain. A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

“ ’m not so qualified to do so, please. ”

“ ’s not ’bout you being qualified, shithead. ”

“ hm, who knows. maybe I do post quality content on my only fans page. . ”

You can only roll your eyes as a response, dragging another shot of the burning smoke in your lungs, and he laughs, filling his glass with the malt whisky on the dresser, and helps himself with a few icecubes.

“ Yeah, good for them. ”

Silence, a comfortable silence blankets over the room; but you don't fail to notice his lips quirking ever so slightly up at your lame remark.

Evenings like this with your best friend are rare; both being responsible adults you've all never nearly got to enjoy the time after school, which is supposed to be enjoyable, they said. Though you're satisfied with what you do and aren't complaining, the thing which stings you is just to know that you and your friend have been drifting apart in the course of time.

Just sitting in silence, healing.

You can only watch his features, partially visible from the lamp light falling in the half of his profile, leaving the chin and mouth in shadow. His focus is set on his glass and the drink. The drink, though alcoholic, is so dark that you can barely make out anything as he lifts the glass to his lips and the sound of the icecubes crinkle the surface of the glass is all what you hear, and oh. The light, oily amber swirls even confirms the nature of the drink, dark.

For a moment it hits you that this evening has been a bit too silent for how it usually is.

You both have the mutual share of the silence which passes whenever you two meet up. There's nothing in your way : just you two, his drinks and your cigar, and you two basking in eachother’s company. No comments, no words. The thick silence is what you both glow in, silently comforting eachother’s soul with silently shared words. No words are really necessary, it's just your presence which makes everything, complete, whole, if that makes sense.

The silence isn't uncomfortable now, though. Just as if an ounce of you feels as if maybe it just you who's thinking this way, but your doubts are solidified when you see a muscle near his left eye, twitch slightly, and in the same time you see his tongue poking his inner cheek.

Something is wrong, you easily can say. The air in the room feels disturbed, and you mentally argue if you should be asking any of it to him. He knows and you do too, that whatever happens, his shit, your shit, your shit, his shit.

From wild teenagers failing together at maths class and laughing your asses off, to those same teenagers who left home in the ghosts of the nights with hands in hands and wide toothy grins, to adults graduating in different majors, moving in different directions to feel the weight of your wings come to action. Life has taken rowdy turns and upturns, like a wave, but with his hand in yours and his presence with you, it has been going on. Even if time has passed, hopefully, there haven't been cracks in between your relationship and his.

Your fingers itch to reach out to his messy bangs falling over his forehead and brush them off, but rather your fingers reach to your own glass of whisky, and you take a sip. You don't really know how many times you've forbidden yourself for your heart to yearn for him, to desire him. A part of you doesn't understand why are you doing this, and another part of you understands that you're doing it for a reason; for why he's too precious to let go.

“ You want to say something. ” You're rather surprised that it's Taehyung who's speaking about this, even if his focus still is stoic on his drink, head dunk down but however, his eyes are now on your glass clad hands. His shoulders hunch down slightly, almost as if he's itching to..hold you, too?

“ What's wrong, Tae? ” your eyes never leave his figure, and as soon as the question leaves your lips, he sighs.

“ Guess we both know eachother too well, eh? ” He tries to lighten off the mood for a while, but it won't work with you. Putting down your cigar and drink on the dresser, you reach forward to hold his shoulders firmly, and give a shake.

“ No, Tae. Let me know what's eating you. ”

Another sigh. This time, it feels like he's leaning onto your touch, closing his eyes. The faint smell of alcohol still roams within, but you do know that both of you don't really have that little resistance to alcohol. You don't rush anymore; you let him think and carry out his words slowly and steadily. His shoulders fall even more, and this time his exhale is shaky.

“ My father passed away a week ago. ”

Oh.

Though you yourself grew up in your foster house and weren't particularly close to your either alcoholic parents, who either were always drowned in alcohol, or when not, to insult you in every way possible. But about Taehyung, he was the eldest child of his parents, and though if the relationship with his parents was strained, you know Taehyung loves his parents, for why he always got back to Daegu atleast once a year, even after both of you ran away from your homes. He cares for his younger siblings, and you'd guess he wasn't particularly close to his father. Even as a child, he used to be the one sitting alone in a corner, with a pout on his face and red nose evident that he sobbed, each time during the event of father's day celebrated in the local farmhouse.

That's when you found him, and hit off instantly as his friend.

And since then, he rarely opens up about his father.

He finally looks up at you, a pained expression settled on his face.

“ I swear I didn't mean to hide anything from you. . ” your name falls from his lips as a silent apology, eyebrows pinched together. “ It's just. . ”

Before he can finish, you're pulling him close to your chest, wrapping your arms around his cold figure. He leans in, and melts completely in your arms, shaking slightly. You feel that pain in your chest blooming slowly in.

“ Fuck, ___. I don't even know who the hell am I becoming nowadays? We weren't close, not even close to that. He just drowned in his own world of becoming the superior, while my mother worked hard to raise all of us up. He thought, that just the money is enough for the upbringing of a family, and became the most distant he could be, from us. .”

“. .I don't even know, I didn't even see his face in years, but shit, why do I miss him this much? Almost as if. . ”

Taehyung, as he grew up, turned exactly what opposite of what he used to be. From a giggly, shy but bubbly boy who'd share his heart out after he has throughly warmed himself up with you (not that you were complaining, you always had enjoyed him beside you, you loved hearing him out. . .) and now, he barely spoke anything which can be considered as to be shared. You dont blame him; life happened and you love your Taehyung as ever your best friend he was, and forever will be. He never needs to explain himself to you. As ever, the moments of silence is all what tugs you to the realm of comfort in the silent winds, sailing in with the warm gushes of warmth.

“ It's alright, Tae. . ” you slowly stroke his hair and his back in sooting motions, cuddling him close to your chest. Smoke and vanilla.

You felt his figure shake and tremble, and soon, you felt the wetness seeping down on your collarbone, and his chest heaved heavily for breaths to catch.

You understand what Taehyung means. Having a parent in your life but still feeling their existence to be non existent, maybe you knew this part too well. Taehyung yearned for that missing love, now impossible to reach, but you hope that he knows it might linger around, right with him.

You hope.

Moments linger off like that, the slow jazz music softly playing in the background as Taehyung cries his heart off to you,sobbing. Holding you so tight that you almost feel breathless. It's rare to see him cry, for you always have felt that he's the one who feels reaching out to feelings difficult, for how he's gonna have the unhealthy habits as his companions to cope up with the empty cracks of his life. Or maybe you, who'd understand him like a puzzle’s respective part.

Maybe if the human nature wasn't that rigid outside, you can only imagine. Had been his father too, proud of his son? Had he too been happy to see Taehyung?

You can only imagine. The happiness Taehyung would've felt if his father would've spent a bit more time with him. The possibility of maybe. . .

After what long, heartfelt moments, you feel him pulling away. Though, he doesn't shoot you off completely: the scent of mild sandalwood and vanilla still lingers around you, and he just pulls out of your chest, to find his flushed face and red nose, shiny cheeks damp with tears which you reach out to gently wipe off. His strong, masculine scent lingers by within. Your heart clenches at the sight, to see him so heartbroken with his messy and fluffy hair sticking to his forehead, all sweaty and eyes nearly swollen and red. He can only sniff, and that's when you feel a large, sweaty palm of his cup your own face, gently.

A soft expression is written on his face, a one which you cannot quite decipher yourself. It's maybe not the first time being so close to him, but each time you get a chance, a sight, he never fails to take your breath away.

“ Thank you….” He weakly mutters, and you nod, once to let him know it's fine, always.

He's so insanely handsome, so unfairly beautiful, the bridge of his nose to his monolidded, warm brown eyes, to his thick eyebrows, to his plush lips, and chiseled face, you never miss even a freckle on his nose which, when you had first met, instantly booped at causing the young Taehyung 's eyes to wide and cheeks go a shade of rose.

So you still do, remembering all the times you've seen him laugh, the contagious hearty laugh with that box like smile and warm hugs he engulfs you in. You lightly flick on his mole, and you don't miss the way his face lights up, the familiar box like toothy grin returning to his face.

Adorable.

He's so adorable, so much, that it almost makes you squirm in your sheets. His eyes never leave your own ones, and you swear you feel him boring holes in your soul. Eye contact with him hasn't been hard, but particularly at moments like these, you don't know what creeps up and you feel breathless, your stupid heart picks up the pace, and you again feel like squirming in your sheets, because, damn this fucking man!

The urge to kiss this handsome man keeps on roaming around your head, at some point, maybe always. . just a rudimentary thought, no, but at this point you can't help but get a urge to taste those pink, damp lips which are tempting you. .

You might as well drop a bomb to your heart (oh no.) that you've been in love with this stupidly handsome guy, always denying of the inevitable truth. The longer you were away from him, you felt your sanity being snatched away with the smell of the faint smell of sandalwood and vanilla, and your head began spinning. Nights of imagining yourself,you're too guilty to even admit, but guess what. . .maybe the longing for this man has went to such a high altitude, that despite knowing it, you cannot admit it out loud. What the fuck, and how the fuck are you even supposed to?

those desparate nights, when you saw yourself beneath him, writhing with pleasure, that dammned shit eating grin omnipresent on that face as he pleasures you, whispering—

“ What's going inside that pretty head of yours? ” And there you see it. His lips are curled to that fucking smirk, which makes you feel like he knows everything which goes inside your head, and he knows that he has you fucking wrapped around his fingers and you're crazy for him.

So what. But you really and seriously cannot deny the way heat creeps up to your neck and cheeks, and the urge to look at anywhere but him is delightful. The wall looks pretty, because you can't look at hi—

“ Answer with words, dear. ” His hands cup your cheeks again, making you look at him. His eyes..are soft, but at the same time so smug that you again feel like snatching and throwing away that pompous vibes from them. You snort, and he smirks.

“ If you don't tell me, would it be mutual? ” You nearly scoff, hating the way you still find him adorable, another lazy smile stretched on his handsome face. ( read : stupid ).

“ Do I make you say it out loud, my dear? ”

Fuck.

It was undeniable, the way you felt your stomach churn with fluttering butterflies. You absolutely don't wish to find the meaning of what actually he means, but for some reasons or other, your blush deepens and you feel a small smile of your own afloat even without you realising that.

“ You're way too handsome. ” Oh no. There it will be again, with that cocky grin and that motherfucking smirk which would make you pounce on him. For sure, he was very much aware of his godly looks, and you knew he won't shut up on this, when you subconsciously utter out those dammned praises. You shouldn't absolutely have done that.

Instead, what you didn't expect in the least is, his smile. Not the cocky, complacent smirk, but an almost soft smile. Almost as if he's happy to hear the words coming out of you. And to worsen that, you feel his hands now gently reach the scalp behind your ears, messaging the skin with those nimble fingers, the smile still plastered on his face.

It sort of shocked you, but it also didn't. Because when you see his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes, almost dragging them from within at it, you feel like you'd stop breathing this instant.

And this isn't the last time he does it; his gaze keeps on roaming from your lips to your eyes, almost as if he's asking you for permission, and you really try your way hardest to not look at his own lips. You try, but fail.

“ Can I kiss you,dear? ” He asks you, his eyes holding yours, and you visibly gulp. The fluttering in your tummy won't cease..and you feel anything but your heart pounding in your chest, so loud, that it almost makes you question, can he hear it too?

The question which you've resisted to urge for years, the feeling which you've denied for years. He's right infront of you, looking just so adorable and kissable that you almost want to give in. Denial has been grave of your heart, but now enough of it. Why not, because this life is short, and now that.. it already happened, you say fuck it, and nod, slowly.

But rather, he smirks. His voice is saccharine sweet when he speaks,

“ Words, darling ”

Fuck this asshole.

Without a single word, you pull him closer by his neck, kissing him with fervour. Your teeth clash together, and you feel his nose slightly bump into yours, but nevertheless you mould his damp lips to yours, a flavour of the strong alcohol’s residue evident as the taste. He tastes so sweet, so sweet that it almost makes you melt, but you feel his lips stop.

And he pulls away.

His eyes narrow mischievously, almost as if he's challenging you. His brows are pinched together almost as if he's mad, and panic instantly burns your veins; did you do anything wrong?

What you don't expect is, that now his arms snake down to your nightgown clad waist, and his another arm reaches for both of your wrists, and pushes you down to the soft bed. You audibly gasp, feeling his strength on your wrists, but he's sure that he's not hurting you. And pins your arms above your head, lips curled in a snarl which almost makes you shiver, and you shiver, a delicious shiver running up your spine.

And his eyes now hold a carnal rage, brown eyes now almost black.

And you resist the urge to arch your back off the bed, feeling breathless all of a sudden. This side of Taehyung is completely new to you, and a part of you is equally astonished as well as fascinated.

His gaze is so fucking strong, you know he's boring holes into your skull, and you dare to squirm underneath him, your stomach twisting as you feel the heat pool in your lower belly.

“ Stop fucking squirming. ” That's not a plea. That's a fucking command, and you nearly feel like disobeying him again, just to coax out more reactions out of him. But much to your dismay, his grip on your waist and palms tightens, and you see his pupils dilate a bit more.

“ Hadn't I told you to use your words, darling? ” Darling. The new nickname sets a fire inside your veins, and equally as you feel heat travel to cheeks, you feel his lips slowly curl to a smirk, but the look he gives you through his eyes, you cannot tell what is he thinking of.

He knows his effect on you too well.

You were you. You were his best friend, the only one who offered him his croissant on that chilly, cold day when his eyes felt puffy and his nose was runny, and everyone seemed to be celebrating. Everyone was happy, everyone had their hands clasped in their fathers, cheering with sing songs and chorus, which made him feel sad. The ten year old him couldn't digest the fact that he wasn't close to his father, and he was the only one who was without a companion, without his father.

Where was his father, back then? No wonder, back to his office, burying his head in those scary looking papers, scribbling his pen on them, busy apparently.

The younger Taehyung felt angry on his dad. So angry, that the anger flushed to tears, to the extent when his loneliness altogether made him cry like crazy in public. The younger Taehyung didn't have friends, for why he was known as the weird one, liking hamburgers and video games more when boys of his age liked soccer and camping. He liked art and talking to the peonies and daises more than he liked talking to others, and maybe he liked his art more than he liked his studies.

His mother, though, loved him. She loved him more than she could express, because having to manage two little children, marely babies and Taehyung who was the oldest, he wwas often the victim of the missed pages while fast turning, often the one left alone with some paper money and a letter on the desk written for him to grab some hamburgers, alone at the day as the bay passed away. All alone, he could only stare gloomily at the walls, whitewashed and faded.

At times he didn't know if he was even wanted by his parents.

But there was you. You too, were without a companion, and even if the little Taehyung saw a pair of bright, doe eyes looking at him, but each time he remembers the memory, he always remember the loneliness, the poignance behind those two, big pupils. You had offered the sobbing boy your own croissant, which he supposed that he missed when getting distributed. A bright smile, and soon you disappeared, much to the confusion and even disappointment, but again he saw the same pair of yellow sandals and painted toenails, and upon raising his head, saw your head and those warm, doe eyes again, with your head tiltled at him. You were holding two cups within yoir tiny palms, and the little Taehyung almost got his cheeks painted a rosy shade of red when he realises that you were beautiful, and his little heart skipped some beats at your cute appearance, slightly shorter than him.

And since then, he doesn't remembers when have you been out of his thoughts since that night.

And now, caged between his arms underneath him, so cutely writhing with desire, your cute eyes shutting close and lips slightly trembling, hands wriggling in his hold. You were now grown up, but still so smaller and cuter, and Taehyung felt every second of hell whenever he had to let go of the thoughts to pick you up and kiss you till you forget your name, and he felt himself growing bitter at the thoughts. So he, let go of everything, and finally let that out, and somehow is releived that he doesn't have to regret that. He felt his heart race; you were always beside him, and this evening was not a surprise.

He wasn't mad at you. He just wanted the first time, the most awaited kiss he'd give you, to be special, not a kiss which almost made your teeth clash together, but he didn't mind. He liked seeing you so precious underneath him, and has dreamt of it since how long, only he knows.

He smiled when he heard your voice again.

“ Just kiss me, Taehyung, a thousand times, yes. ”

He felt his smile growing as he leaned down to brush a stray strand falling on your cheekbone, grazing it carefully to tug it behind your ears. He loves seeing you so small, so precious like this, and he sort of feels like he should pause this moment, and just stamp on you inside his head forever, as if you weren't already.

But however, it suddenly dawned onto him that there's no going back from this. His heart thumps wildly in his chest because this is the moment he has craved for years, and now when finally this has floated to the surface, to reality, the worst of his fears too, cling on. He knows that you're not that type of person who'll leave him without any reasons and with a miscommunication, but is he really willing to take the risk? To take it all and then, lose you?

You visibly see Taehyung move a bit back, his lips drawn in a small pout. He's overthinking, and you often know that this stubborn fella wouldn't let you know a single thought about his, but now the tension is so high that maybe the thoughts which bubble in your head, matches with his.

He too is thinking if this, your bond would be shattered because of the growing desires, hidden affection for eachother since years which finally are coming true.

You cup his warm cheek in your smaller palms, tugging him out of his reverie. His eyes are shine softly, the brown of them sparkling in the golden lamp light.

“ It's okay, Taehyung. We're together in this. ” you flash him a grin, hoping to soothe his nerves a bit, and you're relieved because of the box like grin which stretches on his lips, too.

“ So, may I kiss you, now? ” his voice is gentle as he nears your mouth, hands back to your hips, fingers tracing careless circles into your skin. It tingles wherever he touches and you wriggle a bit, nodding desparately.

His lips inch closer to yours own, till the extent you feel his alcohol mixed breath mingle with your own, his hands feeling warmer as each second passes by. The stupid, small kiss had you reeling in your head, and now as you feel his hair touching your cheekbone, you're sure that if you don't kiss him, you'd die right there and then. His lips felt so soft, so sweet against your own, that to feel them once more had you whining quietly as you clutch his shoulders, feeling the tough muscles ripple at your touch.

Feeling impatient, you connect your lips to his. You sigh, and he grins. You could feel his smile in the kiss as his hands roam up to your hips from your waist, the silk of your nightgown feeling fluffy under his touch as your mouths move with a certain tenderness which you know only if for you. He tastes faintly like alcohol and more like chocolate, and you wonder if it's because of the candy he popped in while he was talking to you. Your hands find his ruffled raven hair, caressing the roots. You're slightly surpirsed when Taehyung purrs in the kiss, and now it's your turn to smile.

But the sweet, tender moment seems to have been burnt when Taehyung pushes his tongue inside your mouth, licking your own. His tongue reaches back to lick the seam of your lips, and that's when you realise that how slowly his hands are advancing towards your stomach, his touch leaving behind sparks of fire. You crack open your eyes to find his eyes hungrily watching you, and you shiver. With the anticipation and the feeling of the shameless heat in his eyes which is melting down your self resistance in all the ways. His fingers dance on the skin of your tummy, all the while licking your lips as you pant, his touch furious as a whimper makes its way up your throat, and Taehyung smirks. You're adding more to his ego and you're totally helpless, not when this man's touch feels so so good.

When his lips touch the junction of your neck, right on the curve where your shoulder meets, you let out a moan. His kisses are drizzled with his warm, wet tongue on your skin and there's a pit of desire bubbling in your stomach, already. The moan urges him to continue, watching you with hooded eyes as you lose it all, the ache in between your legs growing rapidly with each swipe of his tongue on your skin. His hands travel up to your tits, brushing them slightly— and your hips buck up, finding relief for the growing desires inside you. But he takes none of that, and one of his hands fly down to grip your hips, refraining you from any moment and you whine.

“ Taehyung, please.. ”

“ Please what, baby? ” his voice has never been so sultry, so seductive as it is now, and you do not think the meaning behind his words, to take them for another gesture; and you squirm again.

“ ____, if I don't hear it from you, I'm not touching you. I need you to say it. ” His voice is strong, and you nod furiously, letting out a shaky yes, please touch me.

And that's what he needed to hear from you.

His head dips down to the seam of your nightgown, right on your cleavage, licking a long stripe from the seam to where your nipples are, already hardened and pert from his teasing. You gasp, and your back arches, and he repeats the same ministration again, this time taking the pert, aching bud in his warm mouth right above your nightgown, swirling his tongue around it. The sensation goes right down to your clit, your cunt clenching around thin air and you whimper. His other hand fondles with the soft flesh. You wonder if he knows how sensitive your boobs are, because the right amount of pressure serves you the pleasure, travelling throughout your veins in a buzzing pleasure.

He had enough of it, right when he tears off your wet nightgown from you. You're torn away from the daze, when you see the torn piece of cloth in his huge hands, eyes widening on the sudden action. He scoffs at the cloth, and smirks at you, plunging down immediately to capture a nipple into his mouth, nibbling over it and licking all over the same, his other hand pressing and rolling the other bud with his pointer and thumb, occasionally kneading the flesh. Moans fall off your lips like a prayer, hips bucking amd thighs rubbing together in an attempt to releive the ache, because you feel your slick oozing down your hole to the curve of your ass. He's totally ignoring your pussy, and you feel like giving him the taste of what he has done.

He's busy with your tits, while your hand sneaks down to his waist, suddenly grabbing his cock confined in his pants, which seems already so hard and throbbing, and so..thick. He gasps, suddenly looking at you and removing your hand, his pupils blown out with the lust. He grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, and you're suddenly met with his cock on your clothed core, grinding slowly. You close your eyes at the sensation, his sweatpants being too thin to hide his cock, and each time his cock grinds on your clit, you feel like you're ascending to heaven. Your jaw drops, and suddenly there's nothing.

You almost feel like crying. But he's smirking, reaching down to press his lips on your neck, and you shiver when you hear him whispering.

“ You need to earn this cock if you want this so badly, dear. ”

#bts fics #taehyung fics #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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viandclintbarton-supremacy · 7 months

Text

Lost Boy (EngWnt x Male Reader)

This was inspired by Lost Boy

8,869 words

Warning: Swears, Angst and fluff moments

Why am I here? This is isn't home. Well you didn't know what a home is.

You say as you wait outside the famous St George Park. You feel the rain hit the top of your head and shoulders as you hear the car that dropped you off drive away. You sighed as nerves and anxiety crept in. You wanted to be here but also wanted to be home back in Japan.

You missed the feeling, you missed your apartment, you missed your training grounds, your teammates and the Kawasaki Frontale faithful.

You were scared to be in a land that you only been to with your team once before. Truth is you were an orphan, you were left at an orphanage in Japan in Kanagawa from there you grew up and at the age of 13 you joined the Kanagawa youth squad and once you hit 16 you became part of the first team 3 years later, 42 assists and 77 goals for the club. You wanted to play for the japan national team but you kept getting the cold shoulder. You started to deflate, lose motivation and felt the same feeling you felt since you could remember. The pain your so called parents gave you.

Worthless

Dissapointment

Lost

"Lost Boy, Lost Boy, Lost Boy" A smile came to your face and you recollected that chant Kanagawa fans would chant for you. The story of you being a orphan made the fans sympathise with you and your constant big player status on the field made you a fan favourite and was gifted the name Lost Boy.

That chant was something special it made you feel like you belonged, like a son to the crowd. The first time you heard it you had to fight back tears but bowed to the crowd.

It was your Neverland

You looked down before composing yourself, you started to walk into the reception of St George Park and you spot Serena Wiegman and Gareth Southgate waiting for you.

You think about how you ended up in the situation. Playing for England?!?!

You remember playing a man of the match worthy game in the AFC Champions League against 2 time champs from Ulsan Hyundai. Scoring 4 goals and assist. As you walked off the pitch to the famous Lost Boy chants, you didn't notice Serena Wiegman who was enjoying a vacation watching you from the crowd.

She approached you outside the locker room with your manager. Seeing your talent, the fans love for you and potential. She researched your background and found out that you have English relations due to your mother. And Serena wanted to give you a chance as she believed you not playing international football a crime. You was overwhelmed. Leaving Japan, going to England, no friends, no faces you know except for Serena.

But you knew deep down that this could change your life for the better.

"F/N, I'm so glad you are here" Serena said as she approached you with a warm smile. You go for a hand shake but Serena gave you a hug. She made you feel welcome and made you feel protected. You gave her a slight hug back and she turned to Southgate making sure to keep a hand on your back to let you feel comfortable. "F/N this is Gareth Southgate, the manager of the England Senior team." You extended your hand to the man who shook your hand. "Pleasure sir" you said respectfully in English "Nice to meet you L/N, Wiegman told me all about you. I have seen some of your stuff, I hope you step up" He said in a cold tone, you wanted to frown but hid it. It felt like he wasn't happy you were here "Mr Southgate, I said it before and ill say it again. This young man is an extraordinary talent and no offence to the team but his passion for the game shines brighter then your passion when you played for England"

God damn, you eyes slightly widen as you look back and forth between the duo. The tone of her voice sounded like a mother defending her child Talk about putting pressure on you. Southgate clearly wasn't happy with the comment but didn't say anything back. "Anyway, let me show you around. Serena" He said leading the way for you before saying goodbye to Serena "Actually i will come along" The Dutch women said "But what about the girls?" you looked back at Southgate before turning back to the lady. "They will be fine, the staff are already their for the girls training, i will see them after Y/N is settled in" She as she patted your back.

You smiled at her as the three of you walk into the building. You thought about what Serena was talking about. The girls? Her team is here training. The Lionesses! You remember watching them in the Euro's 2022 and it was inspiring to watch and witness. You had hope to cross paths in some way with one of them just to seek knowledge from the European champions if you crossed paths. But the whole team was here!

As you were taking to each rooms and facilities, you made sure to shake everyone's hand. The staff should be treated like they are part of the team. This made Serena smile when she picked up on the gesture whilst Southgate thought it was you trying to look good in front of him.

"This concludes our journey. I must depart now, as we have some new arrivals later. The rest of the team will arrive later tonight. Make yourself at Home F/N. Serena" Gareth said leaving in a hurry as he left you outside your hotel door. You let a sigh and ran your hands through your hair. "Well he sure is something" You say in a light hearted tone as you felt Serena's hand on your shoulder "He is a stubborn man, he rarely changes his team up and when i suggested you he laughed it off. But because of my belief I even went to the FA" your eyebrows raised as she nodded at tour response "Yes I made a case that you are what the men's team needed and they listened and push him on it." You looked at Serena with admiration. She really did believe in you, all that worry and nervous energy turned into determination.

You were going to make sure you proved Southgate wrong, repay Serena and show the world who F/N L/N is "Thank you Serena, you wont regret this" She smiled like a mother and patted your back "Now go rest, you must be tired' You smiled and shook your head "I managed to get sleep on the journey here. If its no issue since none of my teammates are her, can I watch you train the lionesses for a bit" Her curious look turned into a wide smile "Of course" You smiled and dropped your belongings in your room "May I ask, why do you want to watch." She asked curiously as you followed her "Well, you and the Lionesses are one of the top teams in the world, I'd be stupid to not want to watch h and learn from you and the women" She smiled, she found admirable that you would want to learn from the women when a lot just bash female footballers "Why me I'm just the manager?" she would say curious on what wanted to learn from her

You grinned as you walked alongside Serena. "Why you? Really? Well for starters, you're not just 'just the coach.' You're Serena Wiegman, the brilliant mind behind one of the most successful women's national teams in the world. You've achieved incredible success and I have a lot to learn from you. Plus, watching the Lionesses in action is an opportunity I couldn't pass up. Your team's skill, tactics and teamwork are truly works of art to me." Serena chuckled at your response and your excitement, clearly appreciating your enthusiasm and respect for the women's game. "Well, I'm flattered, F/N. We'd be glad to have you watch our training. I believe that learning from each other, regardless of gender, is how we all grow and improve in this beautiful sport."

You followed Serena out to one of the 3Gs the team was training on, You were feeling better then earlier, With Southgate gone and you can be around a pitch and watching football made you happy and at peace. Though nerves did run through as you were gonna be watching top flight pros playing

As you stepped onto the pitch and the view of the Lionesses practicing their drills came into focus, you couldn't hide the awe on your face. It was a sight to behold, the precision, the skill, and the teamwork of the reigning European champions were truly impressive.

You watched as Lucy Bronze skilfully dribbled the ball, Keira Walsh executed pinpoint passes, and Bethany England alongside Alessia Russio showcased her finishing ability. It was clear why they were considered among the best in the world.

The enthusiasm and energy of the Lionesses were infectious and it felt like a privilege to witness their training session. As you followed Serena, you couldn't help but feel a sense of motivation and inspiration.

As the Lionesses gathered in hushed conversation on the pitch, you found yourself still engaged in discussion with Serena Wiegman. Talking about her thoughts and expectations of the team as they near the Women's World Cup. The moment was a unique one for you as you were not only adapting to a new country and a new team but also facing the uncertainty of how you would be received.

Serena's voice was reassuring and she had the ability to put you at ease. She spoke about her belief in your abilities and her dedication to seeing you succeed in the England Men's team. Her unwavering support was like a lifeline. Keeping your confidence up and alive as you days counted down to your international debut.

"You know, F/N," Serena said, Turning towards you with her arms crossed, her eyes filled with determination, "I have high hopes for you. Your passion for the game and your incredible talent can bring a new energy to our national team and football. I believe that your presence will not only benefit you but also inspire our Lionesses. " She smiled as she glanced at the powerful women training and pushing their limits. "We have an incredible family of football here in England and I want you to feel at home."

You couldn't help but smile. Serena's words resonated with you and they helped the anxiety and homesickness that had lingered since your arrival in England fade away for that moments. It was the reassurance and guidance you needed. "Thank you, Serena," you replied with genuine gratitude as you bowed your head to her. "I appreciate your belief in me and your efforts to bring me here. I'm determined to give my best and contribute to the England Men's team. And if there's ever an opportunity for our teams to come together and train, I'd love to be a part of it."

Serena nodded, her eyes filled with warmth. "I'm glad to hear that, F/N." She stepped towards you placing a firm grip and pat on your arm "We're not just about men's and women's football here; we're one football family. Your presence here is a testament to that, and I'm certain you'll make a positive impact."

As you continued your conversation, little did you know that the Lionesses were observing you from a distance. The collective curiosity and intrigue of the England Women's National Team would soon lead to a new chapter in your journey, one filled with camaraderie, mutual respect and the realization that you had indeed found a football family

On one side of the pitch near the goal, Mary Earps, Ella Toone and Alessia Russo exchanged curious glances and hushed whispers.

Mar, the goalkeeper, leaned in and said, "Have you two seen that guy talking to Serena? Who is he, and what's he doing here?" as she played with the football in her hands

Ella Toone shrugged her shoulders, her eyes still fixed on you. "I have no idea, but he seems to be quite interested in what Serena is saying. Could he be a new coach or something?" She said crossing her arms as curiosity settled in

Alessia Russo chimed in, "I don't know, but he doesn't look like a coach. Maybe he's a new player or something? We can ask Serena later."

"Yeah you can ask for his number HAHA OW" Ella showed shout after receiving a kick from Alessia to the backside

Meanwhile on the other side of the pitch, Lucy Bronze, Keira Walsh and Bethany England were engaged in their own discussion. Lucy, with a sharp eye for talent, recognized you from a few clips she had seen online. "I swear seen that guy before," Lucy remarked, nodding in your direction. "He's a player, I'm sure of it. I saw some clips of him and he's got some serious skills if its who I think it is."

Keira Walsh, the midfielder, leaned in with interest. "Really? He looks like he's in deep conversation with Serena. Maybe he's a new addition to the men's team? Don't think I seen him in any of the youth teams in the past" Lucy nodded in thought

Bethany England, who had been eyeing you with curiosity chimed in, "Well, if he's here to play, he must be pretty good. We should introduce ourselves later and make him feel welcome."

As the training session continued, more and more of Lionesses kept a watchful eye on you, curious to learn more about the mysterious player who had captured Serena Wiegman's attention.

Serena would excuse you as she would approach the team to go over things about upcoming matches as you headed to the stands to watch the rest of the session from there. As Serena addressed the team and laid out their plans for the upcoming match, the Lionesses listened attentively. Afterward, Leah Williamson was the first to break the ice, curiosity getting the best of her.

"If I may" Leah began, "who is that boy you were talking to earlier? Is he a new coach or part of the England media team?"

Millie Bright, seated nearby, chimed in with her own question, "Yeah, he looked quite engaged in your conversation. Is he here to help with our training or something?"

Serena smiled and decided to share a bit about you, the new member of the England Men's team. "Actually, that young man you saw is F/N L/N. He's not a coach or part of the media team. F/N is a talented footballer, and he's recently joined the England Men's national team. I believe he has a lot to offer and you might see him around from time to time. As he requested to watch todays training" The mention of your name and the explanation from Serena piqued the interest of the Lionesses. They exchanged intrigued glances, realizing that you were not just a casual observer but a actual player.

"If his apart of the men's team, why is he watching us and not with Southgate?" Lauren Hemp who handed a drink to Jess park as she spoke up. The question was a thought was on most of the girls minds.

"Good question Lauren" Serena began. "F/N is here because he's new to England and he wanted to observe the training and learn more about the style and strategies of English football. He's keen on acclimating himself to the English game as quickly as possible. Whilst he's officially a part of the men's team, he's interested in learning from our team as well."

Serena's explanation seemed to make sense to the Lionesses. With them and Lauren nodded in understanding. It was clear that you were genuinely eager to immerse yourself in English football. The curiosity about your presence now seemed to be mingled with a sense of mutual respect for your dedication to the game. It was indeed a unique situation to have a male player from the men's team showing genuine interest in observing and learning from the Lionesses. It was a testament to your dedication and willingness to go the extra mile to improve your skills and understanding of football.

As the training session continued, you couldn't help but notice the collective gaze of the Lionesses directed your way. You had been absorbed in watching their drills and skills, trying to absorb as much as you could from the reigning European champions, but you couldn't ignore the fact that you had become the center of attention. Which was starting to make you anxious and paranoid

Whilst you were checking your Instagram notifications, you looked up from your spot of the Lionesses, You took a double take and realized they were watching you with expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you flashed a small, sheepish grin and gave a little wave in acknowledgment of their attention as you slowly sinked into the chair and hoodie

"Aww, so cute." Millie Bright couldn't help but tease with a playful smile. Her comment drew light laughter from some of the other players. "Lets adopt" Rachel Daly would say as she gave Bright a should bump as the duo laughed. It seemed that your friendly wave had endeared you to the Lionesses even more.

Leah Williamson leaned over to Lauren Hemp and whispered, "Well, I have to say, he's certainly not what I expected from a guy joining the men's team. Seems like a good guy." Lauren Hemp nodded in agreement. "Definitely. We should introduce ourselves later and make him feel welcome." Knowing that whenever someone joins a new team or place for the first time it can be overwhelming"

As the training session with the Lionesses concluded, Serena Wiegman decided it was a good time to have a private conversation with one of her most experienced players, Lucy Bronze. The two of them found a quiet corner of the field

"Lucy, I need to talk to you about something important," Serena began, her expression grave. Lucy, ever the professional, sensed the gravity of the situation and nodded for her coach to continue. Serena took a deep breath. "You know the new player, F/N L/N, who you all have been eyeing?" Lucy's eyes lit with recognition. "Yeah, I saw him talking to you earlier. He's a really talented player from what I have seen. What about him?" As said as she crossed her arms

Serena leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "Well, the thing is, his arrival hasn't been entirely smooth. Southgate has been... less than welcoming, let's say." She would say in a displeased tone, Lucy raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? But why? He's a great talent. What's Southgate's problem?"

Serena sighed, her disappointment evident. "I don't know for sure, but it seems that Southgate has a certain way of doing things, and he's resistant to change. He's been dismissive of F/N ever since my recommendation and since F/N arrival, despite his incredible talent and potential."

Lucy's expression hardened as she glanced to where you were sitting before placing her hands on her hips and turning towards Serena. She had a reputation for being outspoken and a supportive teammate. This situation didn't sit well with her. "That's not right. If he's here to help the team, Southgate should at least give him a chance. Is there anything I can do to help?" She would ask with good intent as she suspected Serena was telling her this for a reason

Lucy nodded firmly. "Don't worry Serena, We should have each other's backs that's what makes a team. I'll make sure the team knows about this and that we extend a warm welcome to F/N." Serena smiled, her trust in Lucy reaffirmed. "Thank you, Lucy. I knew I could count on you. Let's make sure that F/N feels like a part of this football family and let's show Southgate how wrong he is. We need to look out for him on and off the pitch. He knows no one in country, he needs some friends. I cant speak for the men's team but I trust you and the girls" Lucy was driven to make sure you are welcomed and had new friends.

After returning to your room and finishing a workout, you realized that your roommate had yet to arrive. It gave you some time to unwind and reflect on the day's events. Your thoughts swirled with excitement about watching the Lionesses' training session and the camaraderie that seemed to be developing between you and the women's team. As you were catching your breath, a sudden knock at the door interrupted your solitude. You quickly made your way to the door, opening it to find Lucy Bronze, Keira Walsh, and Bethany England standing there, wearing friendly smiles.

"Hey there, F/N right?" Lucy greeted you with a warm and welcoming tone. "Mind if we come in for a chat?"

Your surprise at their visit quickly turned into a grin as you stepped aside to allow them entry. "Of course, come on in. It's great to see you all again. What brings you here?" You were sweating bricks

Bethany England was the first to speak, her friendly demeaner shining through. "We thought we'd swing by and officially welcome you to England, We thought it may be a bit daunting coming to a place where you know no one"

Keira Walsh nodded in agreement. "Yeah, We also heard about your conversation with Serena. It's not often we get a male player showing interest in our training sessions and we wanted to say hello."

Lucy chimed in "Plus, we wanted to let you know that we're here for you. If you have any questions, need any advice or just want to hang out, we're your go to squad." She said in a cheeky voice in the end

Your heart swelled with gratitude and appreciation as you looked at the three Lionesses who had taken the time to visit you. "Thank you, that means a lot. I'm really excited to be here, and I'm looking forward to learning and growing learning here. I'd love to get to know you all better and train together sometime." This was the first time you were getting attention not for your popularity or status. In Japan your teammates were stick around you for popularity and when the cameras where gone they didn't go near you. so this was refreshing, so you were eager to make actual friends

Bethany England grinned. "That sounds like a plan. We'll make sure to coordinate some joint training sessions in the future. But for now, let's just hang out and get to know each other better. We were about to head to the cafeteria and eat, You wanna tag along?" You smiled and nodded excitedly "Of course"

"Great, Come on Youngblood" Lucy would say as Keira patted your back and guided you out of the room following Beth and Lucy.

As you all settled around a table in the bustling cafeteria, the Lionesses were quick to initiate a conversation about your background. "So, F/N," Lucy Bronze began, "tell us a bit about yourself. How did you end up here in England?" She said as she took a bite out of her meal

You leaned back in your chair, ready to share your story. "Well, I grew up in Japan and football has been a huge part of my life since I was a kid. I played for Kawasaki Frontale for a since I was 13 and always dreamt of representing my country. But that never happened, they kept rejecting me." You said sadly, the trio couldn't help but feel for you. Playing for England was big for them and if that got rejected constantly it would hurt. You then smiled "And it was Serena Wiegman who saw me playing one day, She was in Japan and saw me during a match and gave me the opportunity to join the England Men's team. She went out of her way for me and I couldn't be more grateful to her." You smile before you take a bite out of your meal

Keira Walsh nodded in understanding. "That's impressive. It takes a lot of determination to leave your home country and start fresh. And for Serena to go out of her way for ya says a lot about what she thinks you. We're glad you're here." You smile at Keira who smiles back. Bethany England added, "And you're going to learn a lot from the coaching staff here. Our training is intense, but it's what has made us successful."

You gave a cheeky smirk. "If the training wasn't intense and didn't push me to my limit then I wouldn't be here" Lucy gave a light laugh at your change of demeanour as Beth looked Keira and gave her a look saying 'Lucy is going to love this guy' To which Keira nodded back "That's the attitude Youngblood" You chuckle, You were glad at the trio looking after you and couldn't but like the new nickname Bronze seemed to have give you.

Bethany England leaned forward, her curiosity showing on her face. "F/N, what did your parents think about you leaving Japan and coming all the way to England? It must be hard being away from them"

The question caught you off guard and you felt a pang of anxiety. You hadn't shared your orphan background with them yet and you weren't sure how to respond. You never like to talk about it or people asking you about them in interviews. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible explanation that wouldn't reveal your painful past.

But just as you were about to stammer out a response, a strong hand landed on your shoulder. You turned to see Millie Bright, a tall and confident giant of a defender, offering a warm smile. She leaned in to speak, introducing herself to you.

"Hi, I'm Millie Bright and this is Rachel Daly. We couldn't help but couldn't this welcoming party" she said with a friendly tone, effectively shifting the focus away from the question about your parents.

Rachel Daly, Millie's Best Friend, extended her hand to you with a friendly grin. "Nice to meet you, F/N." You eagerly shook her hand before shaking Daly's hand. However, Lucy Bronze, who had noticed your hesitation earlier, couldn't help but keep an observant eye on the situation. She had sensed there was more to the story, but out of respect, she chose to let the matter drop, at least for now. She decided to get up and walk around the table towards you, She grinned and playfully ruffled your hair a move that caught you off guard. "Well, F/N, it's been a pleasure getting to know you. Enjoy your time with our lovely Millie here. She's the best at making sure our 'Child' is well taken care of."

Millie Bright, "Yeah Yeah, you three better have been on your best behaviour whilst with F/N. We can't have you being a bad influence on our new 'son' here." She gestured to herself and Daly. You were thrown off by the comment but recovered with chuckle understanding the English banter. "Come on son" She would say dramatically as she throw her tattooed arm over your shoulders and guided you away from the group.

As you walked alongside Millie, you couldn't help but notice the warmth and friendliness that radiated from her. Her easygoing demeaner put you at ease and you quickly felt a sense of comfort in her presence. Millie, with a playful twinkle in her eye, began to strike up a conversation. "So, F/N, tell me a bit more about yourself. What are your hobbies or interests outside of football? I want to learn more about ya"

You welcomed the chance to talk more about yourself and opened up to Millie. "Well, besides football, I enjoy golf ,reading and playing games. It's a great way to unwind and take my mind off things. What about you? Any interesting hobbies or hidden talents?" You say interested in her thoughts

"Oh, I can definitely hold my own in a game of darts, Painting and I make a mean lasagne. You'll have to come over sometime, and me and my other half will cook up a feast for you." You smile at her, surprised at her welcomes "You could bring your partner with you too" She nudged you "Oh no I don't have a partner. That too much hassle for me" You say nervously. It was true, trying to manage a football career and relationship seemed a lot of work, Millie would give you a surprised look, she assumed you would have a partner by your looks "But I'd love that. Thanks, Millie. And it's been great getting to know you and the rest of the team. I was a bit nervous at first, but you've all made me feel so welcome."

Millie patted your back reassuringly, You tried to not be sent to the floor by her strength. "We're like a big, sometimes chaotic, but always supportive family. You'll fit right in, F/N. Plus, you've got a great sense of humour. That makes you alright in my books"

"Ah so this is where the 'son' thing came from" Millie looked at you with a proud face "Oh you see, Young one , You're now officially part of the family. And that means you have no choice but to accept me and Rachel as your 'football moms.' You're stuck with us now." You couldn't help but smile at her. You felt a emotion that was foreign to you. To hear someone call you 'son' even if it was a joke made you emotional but you kept strong

"I wouldn't have it any other way mother dearest" You say to Millie who responded with a cackle as she ruffled your hair "Good Lad" When you reached your room and it was time to say goodbye, Millie's demeaner grew more serious. She took your phone and added her WhatsApp number, ensuring that you had a direct line to her. You was bamboozled at her actions as you stood there confused as she done it

She looked you in the eye, her tone sincere. "F/N, even though we've just met, I want you to know that you can reach out to me anytime if you need anything or if something comes up. I've got your back and that goes for both on and off the pitch." Her protectiveness and genuine concern touched you deeply. You nodded "Thank you, Millie. I really appreciate it. I'm looking forward to being a part of this football family" You say with heart as Millie smirked "Good night my child" She would say in a mock voice. "Good night mother dearest" With a warm smile, you say and watched as she headed back down the hall way.

As you entered your room, You saw a figure standing there. It was your roommate and new teammate. "hello there" You say hoping they heard you. The man turned around at you and looked you up and down. " Hey" You smiled faltered, One he didn't reply with 'General Kenobi' and two he clearly had no interest in you. You walked up and stuck out your hand "My name is F/N L/N. I hope we get to know each other more and get game time together" You say in hopes you misread his emotions. "Nice to meet you, My name is Jordan Sancho" but there was a clear disconnect in his demeaner. It was as if he was putting on a façade of politeness "Well Jordan "I'm looking forward to getting to know you and working together on the team," you said, slightly repeating what you said earlier, hoping to break through the icy atmosphere. Jordan simply nodded in response and the room fell into an awkward silence. It was clear that there was something more going on with him and you couldn't help but wonder what might be causing this behaviour. The awkwardness in your shared room with Jordan seemed to stay as small talk was made sporadically but without much enthusiasm. You couldn't help but feel the tension and it was evident that he had reservations about your presence.

The following morning, it was time for a team meeting with the England Men's team. As you entered the meeting room, many of your new teammates greeted you warmly, and the captain, Harry Kane, offered a friendly handshake and a welcoming smile. However, it was Phil Foden, Kyle Walker, and Jack Grealish who stood out. They not only greeted you but also invited you to sit with them. Their eagerness to welcome you was palpable and it helped to ease some of the tension that had lingered since your arrival.

Phil Foden leaned over with a grin. "Hey, F/N right? we saved you a spot right here." You smiled thankfully as you sat next to the city trio.

"How you finding it?, settling in alright?" Walker would ask making you feel at ease "Its a lot, I wont lie but I'm happy to be here and play for England" you said with determination, Receiving a pat from Walker. "That's the spirit lad". You notice Jack Grealish offered you a warm handshake. Which you shook with a firm grip "Mate, it's great to have you here. Need anything we are your boys. What you say we go get a bevvie later?"

"A what?" You would say confused "A buvvie?" You say. You may have had great English speaking skills but lacked on slang, Foden noticing your confusion laughed "He meant like a beer or any alcoholic drink" You gave a noticeable "Oooooh" Scratching the back of your head in embarrassment "Sorry I'm not fully caught up on the slang here" You felt a pat from Walker "Don't worry lad, we can teach you all you need to know. But you have great English though" He said with surprise "Well I home schooled with a one of the Guardians at the orphanage who also had a accent which is why I sound like I'm from here." The trio nodded but then Jack spoke up "Orphanage?" You stutter, you slipped up. You started to feel the stares from the trio and those overhearing the conversation.

"Ok, everyone sit down" Thankfully Southgate entered the room to start the talk to the group, Making the trio forget and focus on him. As he began his presentation, he took a moment to introduce you to the squad. However, his introduction was laced with bitterness, making it clear that he believed your presence was primarily due to Serena Wiegman's influence. "Here with us, we have F/N," Southgate began, his tone sharp and a touch resentful. "He's joined the squad for this international break, and it's no secret that he's here largely because of Serena's insistence. As a result, he'll be replacing Marcus Rashford for these matches." Is he fucking serious? You thought as you then notice how silent the room was and you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. The weight of being seen as a replacement for a another player who had been and the implication that you owed your presence to someone else that wasn't even Gareth's choice was palpable.

However, Phil Foden, sitting next to you, reached out and patted your shoulder in a gesture of support. He didn't say anything, but his reassuring touch and understanding gaze conveyed that you were not alone in this moment. You glanced and saw that Kyle and Jack were also looking at everyone who were looking at you. Southgate quickly moved on to discuss the details of the upcoming matches. Netherlands, Northern Ireland and Germany. But the tension in the room remained and you couldn't help but feel the weight of expectations and doubts hanging over you just doubled.

Later in training you made it your mission to prove to them that you weren't just here due to Serena's backing but your skill. You impressed Kane, Foden and sterling with your shooting and dribble skills. Kyle and Saka would be paired up with you for 3 v 3 which let you build a friendship, trustfulness and learn how they play.

You received the ball from Saka and was about to lob the ball over Kane as you saw Walker running behind but then you found yourself landing on you upper back as you felt something shoot through your right foot. You knew someone just two footed you but the thought of it happening in training was disgusting to you. You looked up and stood up to see it was Harry Maguire. You pushed the larger man nearly sending him on his ass. "What the fuck was that Maguire! That was reckless as fuck!" The man regained his posture and glared again "I don't care who you are, L/N. you've got to earn your place here. If you can't handle a challenge like that, you won't make it." He said before walking away. Despite Kyle and Saka checking on you and Harry clearly getting a talking down to from Kane you knew what you was gonna do

"Earn my place you say? alright" you mumble to yourself

After the intense exchange with Harry Maguire, you were determined to prove yourself and demonstrate your resilience. He had clearly underestimated your ability and resolve, and you were not about to let his challenge go unanswered.

The first attempt to get past Maguire was a spectacular nutmeg that left him dumbfounded and you calmly slotted the ball into the net. The laughter and applause from your teammates resonated across the field.

For the second attempt, you displayed your dribbling skills as you deftly maneuvered the ball around Maguire, causing him to lose his balance and fall on his ass like a baby. Once again, you found the back of the net with precision and can feel the anger radiating off Maguire.

The third attempt was the most rewarding. As Maguire attempted to shoulder barge you off the ball, you gracefully evaded his challenge, sending him tumbling into the dirt. With remarkable composure, you scored yet again and the team couldn't contain their amusement and admiration for your resilience and skill. Whilst some worried that they would need to step up their game to keep a spot on the first team.

As you were about to move to the next game, you felt a hard push you forward harshly as you heard your teammates around respond with audible woahs. You turned around with a glare and was face to face with Maguire who was fuming. "What's wrong Harry, do I have dirt on my face?" You would say making fun that he had dirt on his face from when you sent him to the ground. Before Maguire could cuss you out, Kane got in-between you two, as you two were pulled away, Kane turned to Maguire as Grealish stood on front of you in a protective manner

"Maguire!, that's enough," Kane said firmly, looking Maguire in the eye. "We're here to work together as a team, and this kind of behaviour isn't helping anyone. If this continues I will make sure you wont play the next game"

As Kane continued to address Maguire, other players began to gather around and it became clear that the incident had divided the team. Some players like Foden, Walker, Saka, Sterling, Pickford were clearly on your side, believing that you had been provoked and had demonstrated your skill in response. Others, Noticeable Manchester United players like Sancho, Shaw and non United players like Henderson were against you, showing support for Maguire.

"ENOUGH" The team was silent as they heard Southgate speak up. "BACK TO TRAINING NOW." He turned to you and walked up to you ignoring Maguire "F/N, I don't know how you train back in Japan but this place is for the most professional of footballers. Act like it. We don't need any more incidents like this." You bite your tongue back, You knew he was trying to goad you into responding but you just looked down and had to swallow your pride. He left without saying anything to Maguire. You couldn't help but feel pissed off that he turned a blind eye to Maguire's actions and choose to blame you for the entire incident but in the back of your head you knew you had to fight for Serena, You career and those who are supporting you. don't lose your head you thought. The mixed emotions of anger and hurt were mixing around in you. Anger due to the treatment from the manager and players who have it out for you and Hurt that you felt like a target to most of the team.

You would feel a hand n your shoulder and turned to see it was Kane "You ok?" He asked and you just shrugged "Been through worst" Kane would frown " I don't know what the gaffers deal is but you were not to blame there. You did what anyone would do. when I saw your name on the call up post I searched you up and you are a fantastic player and you will do great things for England. I don't see why Gareth is treating you like this but I know you will make him and the others acknowledge you once they see you on the pitch" with that he would pat you on the back and leave. You smiled happy knowing that your captain believed in you and supported you it added more fuel to the fire that was building. You couldn't wait to show them what you could do.

Later you would be doing some last minute mess around with some of the team before heading in. You were shooting against Pickford in goal when a idea came to your mind as you saw Pickford away from his line. As you kicked your toes under the ball it would glide up into the sky and float over Pickford who was left standing in awe as the ball landed in the net. Screams of approval and claps came from Jack Grealish, Phil Foden, Kyle Walker, and Declan Rice, who had all witnessed the audacious chip with delight. Kyle clapped you on the back. "That chip was a thing of beauty, mate!". Declan Rice would ruffle your hair "That was mad man, could use you at Arsenal" he would joke around.

"THATS MY BOY" You all would turn to the voice in the distance and see the women's team from afar walking along to the training facility building and saw a wild Millie bright cheering her boy. You would wave to her slightly embarrassed. You could see the faces of the other Lionesses laugh at Millie's antics with the exception of a few who were confused. You were happy that you got to show off and some of your new friends on the men's and women's team saw it. It also reminded you of what Millie said last night about if you need someone to talk too. You wanted to vent to her about the day. Sure you could with the boys and maybe Lucy, But Millie was the one straight up with you and you know you wouldn't be a burden going to her about it. And you didn't want to make Serena stressed out about it when she has to focus on a whole team.

"Looks like you pulled lad" You would hear Jack say in a cheeky tone but confusion would show on your face as you didn't understand what he was saying

Phil Foden, sitting nearby, noticed your confusion and decided to clarify. He leaned in and explained, "It means it looks like you've caught someone's attention romantically, mate."

You shook your head, a slight blush still on your cheeks and responded, "Oh, no, it's not like that. Millie and I are just friends." It was true, you had no feelings like that for Millie

Foden couldn't help but laugh at your quick dismissal of any romantic involvement. "Alright, mate, just friends it is. But Millie sure seems proud of her 'boy' over there." The group laughed as you knew this wasn't going away anytime soon.

After training you would take a shower and change, Heading down a hallway to the cafeteria until you would see Sancho, The man stopped in front of you. He didn't sugercoat his words. "Look, L/N, let's get one thing straight. We're just teammates, and I don't care for you taking Rashford's place." The words hit you like a punch to the gut. The camaraderie you had hoped to build with Sancho, seemed to have hit a major roadblock. It was a stark reminder that not everyone on the team welcomed your presence, and the feeling of isolation and negativity weighed heavily on you. The man would walk past you as you signed before running your hands through your damp hair and walk around a corner.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the approaching figure until it was too late. You accidentally collided with someone, and as they stumbled backward, you reached out instinctively to prevent them from falling. You would lock eyes with the figure. It was Alessia Russio. "Whoa, sorry about that," you quickly apologized, steadying her.

Alessia would smile sheepishly "Its alright, I wasn't looking where i was going, L/N right?" You would smile back "Yes but call me F/N. and you are Russio right?" Her smile got brighter as she would respond "Yes but you can call me Alessia" But then her face turned slight concerned noticing the slight frown on your face, "Is everything okay? You seem a bit off." You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share your recent encounter with Jordan Sancho. But ultimately, you decided to confide in Alessia, who had shown genuine kindness.

"I had a bit of a run-in with a teammate from the men's squad," you admitted. "It's just been a rough day, and some of them aren't very welcoming." She would give you a knowing look. "Yep been there, Don't let them get to you. You're here on merit, and you have the talent to be with the national team. We all saw that lovely chip earlier" You would smile sheepishly as the words comforted you. She was right and you couldn't help but smile brightly and look into her eyes getting a clear look at them. You slowly felt like you were being hypnotised and unknowingly to you so did Alessia

*Wolf whistle* You would both snap out of it and turn to the sound

"What do we have here, then Ella?" You would turn to Mary Earp's alongside Ella Toone. Caught off guard by the duo you would then notice you were both holding each other. In a panic you would both separate and try to recompose yourself. You braced yourself, you had hoped this two United players wouldn't be like the ones from earlier Alessia quickly turned to face the two Manchester United Women's players, a friendly smile on her face. "Hey, Mary, Ella! This is F/N, This is one of the new players for the men's team. F/N, meet Mary and Ella." You smiled and stuck out your hand. "nice to meet you both"

Mary and Ella exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by the situation. Mary was the first to shake your hand "Oh, F/N, you're fitting in quite well with the ladies, I see," Mary teased, her playful tone still very much intact. You tried to fight back the blush on your cheeks and then Ella would shake your hand "You two make a cute pair" Alessia would kick Ella as you looked down embarrassed.

Ella would play off the kick however. "AH Mary I'm falling" She would say falling to Mary who caught her "My hero" Mary would then play also "Fear not my love, i am here to protect you" She said in a mocking. Alessia was bright red "That's it" She then ran after the two down the hallway leaving you behind. You sighed in relief, The teasing made it obvious that you found her attractive and didn't want to embarrass yourself when you only just met them.

"They can be a lot sometimes. Sorry about them," You jumped at the force turning to them who would put a hand on your arm "sorry didn't mean to scare ya" In a apologetic voice. You saw it was Leah Williamson "I'm Leah." She shook your hand "F/N" You responded to her. You felt the same way when you met Kane. You felt nervous meeting the women's captain.

Leah sensed this and then shifted the conversation to the upcoming men's game against the Netherlands, showing a genuine interest in your thoughts. "So, how are you feeling about the men's game against the Netherlands?"

You appreciated her friendly demeaner and openness. "I'm feeling excited and ready. It's a great opportunity, and I'm eager to contribute to the team's performance. I'll give it my all."

Leah nodded in understanding and gave a smile. "That's the spirit. Just so you know. The squad was talking about you last night." A wave of anxiety washed over you" All good things and just know We're all behind you and we'll be cheering you on. Just remember, it's just another game of football. Enjoy it." She would pat you on the shoulder. You couldn't help but feel moved by the words she said. It really felt genuine and she wanted you to succeed. With that she began to walk away before stating "I heard you like golf, we should play sometime"

"I'm down" you would shout to her as she walked down the hall "Good lad!"

You sat there, in the stadium of light. England were beating san Marino 6 - 0 in the 67th minute. The day was filled with preparing and trying to focus. Of course there was media, Asking you how you felt and if you think you were ready for this. Also the online response was mixed. From those who thought you weren't good enough, didn't know you and of course the Rashford situation. But there was an upside, those who gave you a chance watching your clips or the interviews on the England YouTube channel drew a liking towards you an da big one was it showed you watching the Lionesses train and talking to Serena which shocked but drew interest to you, from fans loving the face you were supportive of the women's game and to people it as you trying to learn as much as you could.

Excitement coursed through your veins as you observed your teammates on the field, the crowd, each play and each goal filling you with a sense of pride. The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, with fans cheering for their team and the players demonstrating their skill and determination. Yet, alongside the excitement, there was also a twinge of restlessness. Sitting on the bench, you were eager to contribute, to step onto the field and to make a statement in the match. The desire to prove your worth and show your capabilities was a burning motivation within you. As you closely watched the game unfold, you couldn't help but mentally prepare yourself for the moment when you might be called upon to join the action. The second half played out before you and you remained focused, all the days of studying the tactics and learning from the experienced players around you lead to this

The opportunity to represent England in an international match was a dream come true and you were determined to make the most of it. Your emotions were a mix of excitement, anticipation, and readiness, as you waited for your chance to step onto the pitch and contribute to the team's success.

As the second half of the match against San Marino continued, you couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation. However, as the minutes ticked away, Southgate didn't look at you once. You were waiting for him to tell you to warm up. Anxiety built up as you wanted to burst onto the field and show everyone your worth. You knew that your fans in Japan and around the world were watching, Serena and the Lionesses were too. Why isn't he calling to you. It was the 80th minute and you could even hear the crowd close to you say

"Put the new kid on!"

"Why isn't he putting L/N"

"We want to see what he can do"

The minutes ticked down

81th minute

82th minute

83th minute

84th minute

85th minute

86th minute

87th minute

88th minute

89th minute

90th minute

*Final whistle blows*

It never came

You sat there in disbelieve as when you saw Southgate shook the opposing mangers hands you caught him smirking at you as you sat there hurting.

Part 1 End

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're out for a few drinks with your friends at Josie's. On your walk home you're ambushed by a few men because of a story you've been digging into. Daredevil shows up to save you.

You discover Daredevil's identity in minutes because you've spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at Matt Murdock's mouth over the past year. And you also manage to bring penis-shaped whistles into the conversation.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: Sharing part three of FFTD on tumblr! Trying to see how many I can get up today (there are a total of 74 parts currently on AO3). Find the full list of installments available on tumblr here or in my Masterlist!

“Next time why don’t we find a different bar to drink at?” Marci suggested, eyeing the bottom of her drained glass with a raised brow and narrowed eyes.

“Blasphemy!” Foggy bellowed, playfully slamming a fist onto the table.

You and Karen giggled from your seats across the table from the couple as Marci shot Foggy an exaggerated eye roll. She often managed to bring up visiting a different bar almost every other time you had all met up at Josie’s. But this place had become a weekly spot for the five of you to often gather and blow off steam from your week at work.

Except tonight Matt was unavailable, which had been happening more frequently. Foggy only ever used the excuse that Matt was busy, but you could read between the lines. Matt was most likely on a date with someone stunning and probably just as outspoken as him and vastly more confident than you would ever be. Someone who didn’t fall apart and clam up when he gave them one measly little compliment.

“Well you do realize there are other bars where you don’t have to order your drinks neat because, gasp ,” Marci said, exaggerating a dramatic expression for a moment, “the water lines aren’t filled with questionable bacteria and mold.”

“But Josie’s is where this all began ,” Foggy shot back, his tone impassioned like he usually got on a long-winded spiel. “Where Nelson and Murdock started. I mean, you and I might not be engaged if we hadn’t started this firm because we wouldn’t have worked that Tully case against you.” His focus shifted to Karen as he waved a hand at her. “And then Matt and I wouldn’t have met Karen and taken her under our wing, molding her to be the badass lawyer she is now.” Karen rolled her eyes with a smile before taking a drink from her beer as Foggy shifted to you, saying your name and continuing. “She wouldn’t be here either if Nelson, Murdock, and Page hadn’t been celebrating a win that Monday evening a year ago! And Matt wouldn’t have introduced us to yet another integral member of our friend group!”

You sent him a tight smile, happy to be considered an integral member of the friend group, but upset at being reminded that you were only Matt’s friend. And then in turn you were reminded that he was probably out fucking some gorgeous woman senseless this evening. With an internal groan you took another pull of your beer. You desperately wished to be that woman he was fucking senseless.

“So when are we planning the bachelorette for party again?” Karen asked, her attention on Marci now.

Marci absently toyed with the beautiful engagement ring on her finger, a dreamy smile on her face as the diamond sparkled in the dim light of Josie’s bar. “In two months, and you bitches better be there.”

“We’re your bridesmaids,” you reminded her. “It’s like, literally our duty to be at the bachelorette party that we’re planning.”

“With phallic shaped objects,” Karen added.

Marci giggled as Foggy only rolled his eyes, clearly wishing Matt was here so he could tune out this conversation.

“I can’t believe you found dick-shaped lipstick,” Marci said.

“You can find almost anything in the shape of a dick,” you deadpanned.

“Confetti,” Karen threw out.

“Penis-shaped gummies,” you added.

“Straws.”

“Temporary tattoos,” you listed.

“Balloons.”

“Whistles, which we actually did get,” you told Marci.

“Crowns,” Karen continued.

“Sashes,” you told her. Marci opened her mouth and you quickly cut her off. “And yes, yours has a dick on it.”

Foggy held up a hand, shaking his head and interrupting the conversation. “Okay, can we save the penis talk for when I’m not here?” he asked.

Marci pouted at him while Karen laughed at his discomfort, taking another drink. You shot Foggy an exaggerated sympathetic look.

“Feeling left out?” you asked. “Want me to get you some tit-shaped objects for your party?”

Foggy chuckled, shaking his head. “No, and don’t give Matt that idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely giving Matt that idea now,” you teased back, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're getting a boobie beach ball, Fog."

You’d ended up spending the next couple of hours at Josie’s with Foggy, Marci, and Karen. The night had taken a turn more towards wedding planning since Matt was not around to help bring up anything else. Foggy had looked bored out of his mind, staring at his beer when he wasn’t checking his watch for the time.

Eventually it had gotten late enough that you figured you’d need to head home. You were looking forward to that bit of pizza you had left in your fridge and to being able to sleep in tomorrow morning, so you’d said your goodbyes and headed out of Josie’s, choosing to walk the couple of blocks like you usually did. Though, Matt usually offered to walk you back home when he was out with you all since he didn’t live too far from you.

Unfortunately tonight you would be walking alone.

The night was a little chilly and you tugged your cardigan tighter around yourself, hugging your arms over your body as you made the journey back to your apartment. It was a walk that had become incredibly familiar over the last year. You’d spent almost every Friday night after meeting Matt at Josie’s throwing back at least one beer with the group before heading home. And you’d liked that your life had changed that way.

But you hated that you still thought about Matt as more than a friend. Hated that deep down you were still hoping and waiting for that phone call of him finally asking you on a date. It didn’t help that Karen and Marci shot you sympathetic looks every time someone flirted with him or gave him their number. It had happened so much this past year that you thought Foggy was even starting to notice at this point.

“Hey!” someone called out.

Your heart rate quickened, your eyes darting to where the voice had come from. There were two men standing in the nearby alley looking directly at you. And then you heard one of them call out your name and you felt fear flood your veins like ice. And then you bolted.

You were running down the sidewalk, trying to escape the two men now chasing you, but after the few beers you’d just had and the fact that you weren’t the most athletic person, you weren’t very fast or very graceful. And as you neared the corner of the street, a third man appeared and you realized they were intentionally trying to trap you. The only place to run was down the alley to your right, which clearly was a deadend. When you glanced to your left, you saw one of the men behind you making his way into the street, blocking your path in that direction now, too. You were cornered.

“Figueroa doesn’t like that you’ve been digging into him,” one of the men called out.

You winced, recognizing the name immediately. It was the story Ellison warned you not to chase a year ago. One you’d still been trying to unravel, slowly picking away at.

“He sent us to teach you a lesson,” the man from behind said.

You spun, turning and walking backwards until your back hit the building behind you. And then you were really trapped as all three men advanced on you, your heart pounding thunderously in your chest.

“Nowhere to go now,” the first man taunted.

A figure to your left stepped out of the alley just beside you and you flinched back instinctively, assuming it was another man here to hurt you. But instead he stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the three men. And that’s when you realized it was Daredevil, complete with his red suit and horned helmet. Your eyes widened in shock; in all your time here in Hell’s Kitchen you’d never seen him before.

“And I’m about to send Figueroa a message,” Daredevil growled back. “He doesn’t touch the journalist.”

He flew forward, simultaneously attacking the three men in a barrage of fists and kicks and impressive flips. Blood was spraying through the air in conjunction with the sound of bones breaking and men screaming. Daredevil was brutal in his attack and your wide eyes were glued in shock to the way he moved so gracefully despite the violence he was perpetrating.

Nearly as quick as he’d appeared, the fight was over. The three men were unconscious on the sidewalk and Daredevil’s chest was heaving as he took a moment to recover from the fight. And then he turned, focusing on you.

“You should drop that story you’re working on for now,” he told you, his voice sounding oddly familiar. “It’s not safe for you to investigate this anymore.”

Your heart was still loudly pounding in your ears as your eyes left the sight of the unconscious men and focused on the infamous vigilante. Your eyes were scanning him over, your gaze lingering at his mouth and his jaw. They looked so very familiar…

“How do you know I’m a journalist?” you breathed out, eyes studying his face.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking in his cheeks. “I recognized the name they called out,” he answered quickly. “You work at The Bulletin.”

“How do you know I’m working on a story about Figueroa?” you asked him next.

He swallowed hard, head canting to the side as he studied you. And that’s when it hit you–you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at that mouth, memorizing the exact shape of his plump lips because you’d so often imagined kissing them. And that jawline with that dark stubble–you’d often fought the urge to drag your fingers along it many a drunk night at Josie’s. His voice was slightly off as if he was intentionally pitching it lower, but the frame and build of his body was the same. You’d studied Matt far too closely this past year not to recognize the same way Matt canted his head to the side, too.

Your heart was racing even faster in your chest now and you saw Daredevil’s lips thin into a straight, disapproving line.

“Matt?” you asked hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper.

He blew out a sharp, surprised exhale from his mouth. “How did you–?”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, Daredevil’s voice shifting back to one that was so very obviously Matt’s. “Holy fucking hell–are you serious right now?”

“Your apartment,” he said firmly. “Not here.”

You stared at him in shock for a long moment, mouth gaping like a damn fish as he stood in your living room, red helmet in one hand. He’d climbed in through your fire escape shortly after you’d gotten into your apartment. Your brain was still taking a moment to process everything that had just happened.

Matt was Daredevil.

“So wait,” you began, a hand to your forehead as you tried to understand, “while we were at Josie’s discussing penis whistles just a bit ago, you were out running around as Daredevil ?”

Matt’s head tilted to the side, his dark brows creasing together as he blinked hard a few times back at you. He shook his head a moment later, his sightless gaze landing at your chest as a look of confusion and disbelief washed over his features. “You find out I’m Daredevil and yet somehow you still manage to bring up…penis whistles in the same sentence?” he asked, the corner of his lips beginning to tug upwards.

“Well I mean,” you began, mind still reeling, “poor Foggy was left to listen to bachelorette party discussions because you were out doing all of that.” You waved a hand in his general direction for emphasis. “Which, by the way, he definitely needs tit-shaped decorations for the bachelor party. I'm buying him a boob shaped beach ball." You tilted your head to the side for a moment, vaguely aware of Matt lightly laughing as you added, "Come to think of it I think there's a sash that even says 'one clit that's it' and I think he needs that, too. You can tell him I said ‘you’re welcome’ for them. He’ll get it.”

Matt was smiling now, shaking his head yet again and chuckling to himself as he stared back at you in something akin to amused awe. “You’re…you’re telling me to buy Foggy tit-shaped decorations for his bachelor party about fifteen minutes after discovering this huge secret about me?”

“Well, you’re already attractive and successful, why not be a fucking superhero ninja, too?” you blurted.

Matt burst into a laugh, a hand running through his disheveled brown hair. You groaned and collapsed onto your couch, throwing your face in your hands.

“I’ve reached the point of the evening with drinking where that filter between my brain and mouth,” you grumbled, voice muffled behind your hands, “has entirely disintegrated and that was not meant to be said aloud. I’m also going to blame that on shock from nearly being murdered a bit ago.” Your head darted up from your hands as you looked back up at Matt, who was gazing uncharacteristically fondly down at you with a soft expression on his face. You tried to ignore the way it made your heart flutter in your chest. “Which, thanks for the last minute save, by the way," you continued. "Don’t think I’d manage to take them out with second-hand embarrassment alone.”

“This is by far the most interesting way someone has discovered my secret,” he said, still very amused as he came to sit beside you on the couch.

“Wait, who the hell else knows?” you asked in shock.

“Karen and Foggy,” Matt answered. “They uh, didn’t take it quite as well as you seem to be taking it.”

"It's not like I really know much about all of this to form an opinion," you admitted. "It's shocking but also…" you shrugged a shoulder. "You could be doing worse things I suppose."

"Worse things?" he asked, brows raised. "What would you deem more upsetting than finding out I'm a vigilante?"

"I don't know," you shot back, your brain grasping for examples. "Selling drugs to children? Illegal sex trafficking? Eating dog meat?"

"Okay, well one of those is very clearly not on the same level as the others," Matt pointed out.

"You asked what I deemed worse than being a vigilante," you countered.

He laughed, his body shaking you on the couch along with him at the movement. His eyes creased at the corners as he turned his full attention on you. "And that's what you came up with?" he asked. “Eating dog meat?”

"You put me on the spot!" you shot back.

His laugh died out after a moment and then his expression turned serious. His sightless eyes studied you before he asked, "How'd you know it was me so easily?"

You swallowed hard, hands fidgeting with the stitching in your cardigan. "Not many people know about the story I've been working on. And I…recognized your, uh, mouth."

You could feel his gaze boring a hole in the side of your face and you refused to look at him. Your cheeks were aflame after that admission.

"You recognized my mouth?" he asked in surprise.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, your gaze still intentionally avoiding his. "I plead the fifth," you muttered. You heard him open his mouth, about to speak, but then you quickly cut him off. "Are you hungry?" you blurted, finally looking at him and taking in his confused expression. "Because I had every intention of coming back home and reheating some leftover pizza. You want some?"

"I–yeah," he answered slowly, brows creased together as if he was trying to keep up with what was going on. "Uh, yeah, sure."

You rose from the couch, heading to the kitchen and pulling the pizza box from the fridge. Matt was leaning against your kitchen table, watching you with a bemused look on his face as you closed the fridge door.

"I was going to toss it in the oven to heat it up," you told him. "Better than the microwave. Unless you have some sort of pizza-heating super power I am also unaware of?"

Another smile broke across his face, the lone dimple in his right cheek appearing. You always loved that dimple, it only ever showed up when he was really smiling.

"No, no pizza heating abilities," he answered softly.

"Bummer," you commented, heading to the oven and setting the temperature. You turned back towards him, resting your back along the kitchen counter as you eyed him. "So what can you do? Do you have laser eyes? Can you lift cars? Read minds?" Your eyes immediately widened at that thought. "Please tell me you don't read minds," you added quickly.

"No," he said, still smiling as he shook his head. "I don't read minds. Or have laser eyes or lift cars. I do have heightened senses though."

One of your brows rose curiously. "What's that mean?" you questioned.

"Means I can smell exactly what beer you had at Josie’s tonight," he told you, "and that you had four of them. I can also tell you had lunch at that sushi place you like." Your jaw dropped as he continued. "I can also tell you've been blushing since you said you recognized my mouth a minute ago," he continued, his mouth in question quirking up at the corner in amusement which only made you blush further. "And I can hear your heart racing. I’ve noticed it’s often racing around me."

"I'm a nervous person," you muttered awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest. You did not��want to give him the real reason he probably hears your heart racing around him frequently. "Pretty sure you knew that."

You watched as his head tilted to the side, his eyes scanning along your chest as if he was looking for something.

"What're you doing?" you asked curiously.

"I can tell if someone is lying by the sound of their heart," he answered.

One of your brows raised questioningly at him. "And you think I'm lying about being a nervous person?" you asked him suspiciously.

He shook his head, the smile on his face looking almost sad unless you were imagining it. But why would he be sad?

"No," he answered slowly. "Was just checking something. You're uh, a little harder for me to read because of the nerves. Most people's bodies react a little more predictably and it's pretty straightforward for me to understand. You've always been a little more difficult."

You sighed heavily, turning and placing the rest of the pizza from the box on your pizza pan. "Of course I'm weird even to your abilities. Why wouldn't I be?" you mumbled, opening the oven and throwing the pizza in.

Matt snorted in amusement behind you. You turned back to him at the sound, noticing him grinning back at you as you frowned.

"I tell you I hear heartbeats," Matt points out, "and you think you're the weird one?"

"Fair point," you mused. "But at least you can hide your weirdness. Mine is perpetually on display and usually scaring people away."

"Didn't scare me away," he told you gently, his tone softer than usual. “I like your weirdness.”

Matt was staring back at you with that look again. It was that tender and almost affectionate look he'd had on his face a bit ago when he had first shown up and you'd been rambling on about the boob-shaped beach balls and penis whistles and had your heart momentarily skipping in your chest.

Why was he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, glancing away. If you kept staring at that look on his face you might start foolishly giving yourself false hope for something more with him. And that would just be painful and stupid.

"So what, I'm supposed to drop the story on Figueroa that I've been working on for a year and let him keep trafficking women?" you questioned Matt.

Matt sighed softly at the change in topic, the sound almost too quiet to notice. And then he pulled out one of your kitchen chairs and sat down running a hand over his face. You watched him from your place against the counter.

"Drop it for now," he told you. "I'm looking into it. When I get the proof I need, you'll be the one I give the information to. You can publish it, expose him for what he's doing. It’ll help get him arrested. In the meantime I’ll just…keep an eye on your place when I’m out. Make sure he’s not sending more guys after you."

"Do you…want the notes I've gotten so far?" you asked him curiously.

"Sure," he answered. "Maybe you have something I haven't found yet."

You pushed off the counter, heading past Matt towards your room and grabbing your laptop. You brought it back to the kitchen table and opened it, turning it on. And then a thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t resist the laugh that came out of your mouth.

"What?" he asked, his sightless gaze warm as he stared at you.

"I feel like your oddball sidekick," you joked.

Another large smile broke across his face as he chuckled. You couldn't help the matching smile that spread across your face in return.

"You'd need a name," Matt teasingly pointed out. “And a costume.”

You snorted in amusement, shaking your head as you pulled up your notes on the laptop. “Pretty sure I’m embarrassing enough on my own without a Halloween costume and another ridiculous name for people to call me,” you answered.

“As I said already,” Matt replied, that fond expression returning to his face as he gazed back at you, resting an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “I like your weirdness.”

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