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strang3lov3 · 11 months

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A Learning Process

Extra Soft!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your whole life, everyone told you motherhood would come easy. So far, it has not. You struggle to connect with your baby boy, Francis. You struggle to console him, to breastfeed him, everything. Joel has pretty much taken care of your son by himself in the two months since you gave birth. Today is your first day alone with your baby boy, and it ends in disaster. Does Joel also think you’re a failure of a mother? Takes place in Jackson, sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: emotional, emotional breakdown, talks of giving birth, breastfeeding, dirty diapers, taking a bath with Joel, pet names, vulnerable reader, postpartum depression and anxiety, undefined loving relationship with Joel

A/N: Just thought of this story, thought you could all use some sweet soft Joel :)

Edit: forgot to add this is loosely based on this request from @guiltgoreglory !!!

If you like this story, please leave me a comment or reblog telling me what you think!!🩷🩷

Masterlist

It’s a quiet December morning, the sunlight is just beginning to dance and sparkle on the snow outside. You’re in an old rocking chair Maria gifted you, holding your baby boy close to your chest. He’s quiet for once, usually he’s fussy when you hold him. You’re morose, wondering if it was the right choice to bring him into this world, with you as his mother.

His name is Francis. You gave birth to him two months ago in October.

It was a chilly April day when you realized you were late, not having a period since January. In a panic, you called Joel into your shared bedroom.

Those two words hit him like a ton of bricks. “I’m late,” you whispered, eyes full of worry and tears. Your words were bitter, tasting like the bile on your tongue.

“You’re what?”

“I think I’m pregnant, Joel,”

Joel sat down on the bed with you, his head spinning. He was quiet, too quiet. But not angry like you feared he would be.

Jackson was a great place to raise a child, but Jackson was still a town on Earth, which for the past twenty-odd years, has been overtaken by a brain-controlling fungus. There was no guarantee that having a baby in Jackson would be 100% risk free.

“But we’ll take care of it. I want you to come to the doctor with me tomorrow,” you started. “And we’ll deal with–”

“No,” Joel interrupted. He looked at you with his big brown eyes, so sad and worrisome. “I can’t let you do that. Not safe.”

Abortion is what he was referring to. It’s not that Joel felt abortion was wrong in any sense, he was the last person on Earth who had any right to discuss right and wrong. Abortion was risky, even in the safety of Jackson. And he couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, or worse. He was right, and you knew it. You didn’t need any convincing. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t know that I’m ready to be a mom, Joel,” you breathed shakily. “I can’t do this.”

He held your hand in his own, so big and calloused from years of backbreaking work. “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered. “You didn’t get into this all by yourself.”

It was true. Joel was the one who did this to you, anyway. He was your person, or whatever you could call him. Not really your lover, not officially at least. He was just your guy, your companion in everything. And you slept together. It just was a one time, two time, okay maybe all the time kind of thing.

Contraception wasn’t easy to come by. If you were lucky enough to come by some condoms, they were most definitely expired and probably useless. You’d be better off with the pull out method, which was never that great of a birth control method.

You and Joel would often forgo pulling out, getting too caught up in the heat of the moment. You loved each others’ bodies passionately. And well, your bodies did what human bodies tend to do. They created a baby.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Since giving birth to Francis in October, Joel had taken on the role of sole caretaker to your baby boy. It’s not what you had planned, exactly. It’s kind of just how it happened.

Joel did his best to teach you how to swaddle Francis, but you could never quite get it right. He’d flail his limbs too much and you couldn’t wrap him quick enough. Joel also tried to help you learn to breastfeed, but Francis would never latch to your nipple.

You and Francis didn’t quite connect, the way most new moms do with their babies. You’d seen women around Jackson with their babies, smiling and singing to them. Their babies looked so happy, so at peace with their mamas.

And it made you feel so isolated. You could never console him, never. It seemed like he only ever cried in your arms. You and Francis were like oil and water. Sometimes you wondered if you were even his mother. He wanted just about nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Joel.

Even the pregnancy was difficult. There was no glow to your body, like everyone told you there would be. You felt ugly and swollen, and you were in constant pain. Francis’ favorite activity in utero was to do somersaults, over and over and over, which meant you’d puke your brains out, over and over and over. Joel was patient with you, of course. You were growing his child. Didn’t press you for sex or make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’d just hold your hair back and promise you that everything would be alright, it wouldn’t be like this forever.

Joel, on the other hand, had no problem connecting with his baby boy. Francis and Joel were thick as thieves. Francis was silent in his arms, save for the cute little coos he’d let out while sleeping. Francis didn’t cry when Joel changed his diapers like he did with you. Francis let Joel bottle feed him, but refused to let you.

It broke your heart.

And it broke Joel’s too.

To add insult to injury, your relationship with Joel was dwindling. He was there for you, just distant. And you were distant too. You knew it could happen, lots of couples lose sight of one another after a baby. You just didn’t expect it to feel so lonesome and severe.

You didn’t play games with Ellie like you used to. Didn’t cook together. Didn’t touch each other. Didn’t even go to bed at the same time, because Joel was always with Francis. You’d go to sleep before Joel, silently weeping at all of your shortcomings as a mother and partner, or whatever you were.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You’ll be alright today,” Joel says sweetly as he dresses himself. He speaks to you in a soft and gentle tone, soothing you.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, still rocking Francis. He looks just like Joel. He’s got big brown eyes, just like his daddy. He’s even got the same dimple as Joel on his right cheek.

“I know you are,” he says, pulling on and tying his boots. He’s nervous too, if he’s being honest with himself. He knows motherhood has not been easy on you. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself and Francis, he just knows you’re high strung and anxious. “It’s just a couple hours. Tommy put me on the short shift today.” Everyone contributed to patrol in Jackson, and today is Joel’s first day back since the birth of Francis.

You smile weakly, but wear a brave face. He’s right, it’s just a couple hours. It’ll be fine. Joel kisses your cheek, then bends down to kiss Francis’s soft head. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises.

And then he’s gone.

The silence is unnatural, almost eerie. You feel your anxiety in your fingertips as you mindlessly twiddle your fingers against Francis’ back. The sun is brighter now, and it’s time to get the day started.

Here goes nothing.

“Alright, baby. What do you think, eggs and toast for breakfast?” you whisper to Francis.

Francis just looks at you and coos with his amber eyes, his mouth suckling on his pacifier. He looks so much like his daddy.

“Sounds yummy to me too,” you reply to his lack of an answer. As you shift in your seat and maneuver Francis so that his head is tucked by your neck and you’re supporting his bum, he begins to whine a little. “It’s okay, my angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you. We’re gonna have a good day today, baby.”

You bounce him a little, soothing him. He quiets down. You make your way to the staircase, your sweet boy wrapped in your arms.

The stairs are…daunting. They’re steep, rickety, and old. They’re hard wood, but you were smart and took your socks off to eliminate any possibility of slipping. But still, it’s scary. For a second, you consider sitting and moving down the steps the way a toddler would. But you wave that idea off. Don’t be ridiculous.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You take a step. And then another. Slowly, ever so slowly. Another now. One more.

You don’t know how it happened. You’re suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, your foot twisted and underneath your body, pinned to the hard stairs. Francis is screaming in your ear, still pressed to your chest.

You move your foot out from under you with a wince and before even checking to see if it’s broken, and hold Francis in front of you.

He’s screaming, wailing. His face is fire engine red as he cries. You quickly examine his little body to check for any scrapes or bruises or cuts. Luckily, there are none.

You do your best to soothe the little boy. “It’s okay, angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you,” You tell him over and over that it’s okay, but you don’t know that for sure. Did he hit his head? Did you shake him?

Francis is inconsolable. You look around you for anything to grab to keep him calm, luckily his pacifier is in reach. You place it in his mouth, he spits it out. You do it again. Nothing.

You’ve got this. Just breathe.

“Okay, okay. No paci. That’s fine, baby,”

Francis’ cries never let up. He’ll tire himself out eventually. Right?

With Francis still shrieking in your ear, you check your foot. It’s black and blue, already swelling. You try to sit up a bit, put some pressure on it. The pain shoots through your entire body. You don’t know if it’s twisted, sprained, or broken.

What you do know is that you’re stuck. You’re alone, with no way to call for help. No way to move from the steps. Joel’s short shift might as well be infinite now.

A few minutes pass as you just focus on your breathing.

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you found out you were pregnant. You panicked and hyperventilated as he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you back down to Earth.

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you spent hours vomiting into the toilet, Frankie never letting up on his somersaults. He held your hair back, rubbed circles into the tense flesh of your shoulders.

When you were in your long and arduous labor, screaming in agony and gripping his hand. Breathe.

Breathe. When you couldn’t soothe your son, and you broke down in tears of frustration. Joel took Francis from you and walked into another room to give you a break from his cries.

You just breathe.

Finally, the ear piercing shrieks flying from Francis’ mouth subside after a while. You don’t know how long exactly, maybe an hour. He’s still crying, but it’s a different tone. He’s hungry.

Might as well give it a shot. You can do this.

You lift up your shirt, adjusting Francis so he’s flush with your body. You guide his mouth to one of your breasts, encouraging him to wrap his lips around your nipple.

You can tell he’s trying, just can’t quite figure out how to latch. You do your best to help him, maneuvering his little body and your breast to ease his struggle.

“Come on, Francis. You’ve got this, buddy,” you coo. He seems to be relaxed a little by your voice. He almost latches, but not quite. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

Maybe he’s uncomfortable on this side. You flip him over and offer your other breast. He can’t quite latch there either.

He’s whining, crying. He’s frustrated, you’re frustrated. He’s hungry, you’re hungry.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him softly. “You can do this, baby. Just eat for mama.”

He still won't latch, but you don’t stop trying. Not for hours.

Francis’ hunger pangs have seemed to peter out, now. He’s asleep in your arms, most likely tired himself out from crying so much. You worry if he’ll lose his voice by the end of today.

Your ass is sore, so is your back and your foot. But you savor the peace and quiet despite the pain in your body.

You wonder how many hours it's been. You try to tell by the way the shadows on the floor change with the sun, but you can’t make out much. Maybe the shadows have moved, maybe not. You can’t tell. Time doesn’t even feel real at this point. Today is agonizingly long.

You rest your head against the banister, closing your eyes. Joel told you once to take advantage of your sleeping son.

“Get some sleep,” Joel mumbled to you. It was maybe a week after giving birth to Francis and you were peering into his crib with heavy eyelids, afraid that if you slept he’d disappear. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just,” you struggled to form a sentence. You wanted to make sure your baby boy was alright. You hated leaving him.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel repeated, his gruff voice firm yet sympathetic. “Go to bed.”

Joel helped you up, your body still so tender after Francis’ delivery. You winced at the ache in your muscles. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispered to you.

You were in a trance, being led to your bed by Joel. It was like your feet weren’t even moving, just floating along and walking on nothing. Joel helped you in bed, adjusted the pillows under your head and pulled a blanket up over your shoulders.

He stepped away from the bed and made his way to the door, turning to give you one last look. Your gaze was still fixed on Francis, unwavering.

Joel sighed and walked back to the bed, this time his side. The bed creaked with each of his movements. He flipped you over gently so you couldn’t stare at Francis any longer, your head on his chest.

“Joel,” you protested. “Our baby.”

“Francis is fine,” he mumbled. “You need to sleep. I’ll watch him. Okay, mama? Mom sleeps when baby sleeps. That’s the rule.”

“I can’t sleep, though. I have to watch him,” Your anxiety wouldn’t leave. Joel felt you fight and struggle against watching Francis. You were so restless.

“Don’t sleep then,” Joel said. “Just rest your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

“Just rest my eyes?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give them a break,”

You groaned. “Fine,” you grumbled. You’d give them a five minute break and go back to watching Francis. “Just for a little bit. And then I’m gonna watch him.”

“Alright, honey. You do that. Hush, now. Relax,” Joel commanded you ever so sweetly. “Just close your eyes, mama.”

You did as he said, and he brought his hand to your head, dragging his fingertips through your scalp. His fingers trailed to your neck, then your back. You melted into him, turning into a puddle in his arms.

Within minutes, you were asleep, snoring quietly.

Joel knew how to read people, the right words to say to sway them in the direction he wanted them to go. You were no different than anyone else. Now, he wasn't proud of manipulating you into slumber, but he felt it was justified given the circumstances.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up to a putrid smell, your ass basically numb underneath you.

“No, no,” you groan. You adjust Francis, and he begins screaming when you peek into his diaper. The kid does not like being woken up. “Fuck.” you cry.

It’s a bad one, the mess in his diaper. Francis wails in your ear as you assess the situation. You can’t just leave him in his mess.

You sigh, taking off your shirt. You set it down next to you on the staircase.

Francis screams louder when you take off his diaper and set it on the ground. He hates being changed. “I know, bud. This sucks for me too,” you sympathize with him. Then, using your shirt, you wipe him clean as best as you can. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.

“Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay,”

Francis is relentless. He doesn’t let up. You just hold him, his excrement is on your skin and clothes. You’re gagging as your eyes begin to water.

Your ears are ringing and sore from all the noise. Your back is aching worse than it ever has, worse than when you backpacked across the country with Joel and Ellie. Your arms are full of pins and needles and going numb, you’re afraid you may drop Francis. Your foot is throbbing angrily.

And then the floodgates fly open. Your tears are spilling, hot and fast. You’re gasping for air, hyperventilating. Francis is shaking with each jolt of your lungs and you try to still yourself, but you’re powerless against your body.

You sob loudly, almost as loud as Francis. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your frustration, pain, loneliness, leaving your body and washing over it again in heaving sobs and cries.

“I’m sorry,” you cry to Francis. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is thick and wet.

You try your best to breathe, just like Joel told you. But you can’t. You’re gasping uncontrollably and your nose is full of mucous, blocking you from inhaling and exhaling.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, holding Francis and rocking him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Francis.”

You repeat it like a mantra. You apologize to your little boy over and over and over again, for hours.

“I’m so sorry, Francis. You deserve better, sweet baby,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I was thinking we’d do soup for lunch. Nice and warm, what do you think?” Joel’s voice is faint and muffled through the front door. You perk up slightly at the sound of him and Ellie, but you’re too drained to do anything more.

“Soup sounds good. But I’ll make it. You burnt it last time,” Ellie giggles. Her bubbly voice is music to your tired ears.

“Did not,” Joel says with disdain for Ellies recollection of events. “How do you even burn soup?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one who burned it,”

Ellie and Joel giggle as they make their way through the house, then both of their smiles drop at the sight in front of them.

You’re half naked, covered in feces and your face is puffy with tears. Your foot is black and blue and ugly as you sit and cry, with Francis naked and messy in your arms.

Joel says nothing, just grabs Francis from your arms and checks him. Then he moves to you, checking your body and your face.

“Oh my god,” is all he can get out. “Oh my god.”

You just cry.

“What the fuck happened?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s, then Ellie’s. They’re both so concerned.

So you explain how you fell down the stairs, right after Joel left. You don’t know how it happened. You explain how neither you nor Francis have eaten. “We’ve been here for hours,” you get out between sobs.

“Oh my god,”

Joel’s eyes are glassy, his voice is shaky. He passes Francis to Ellie. “Need your help,” he says to Ellie. “Clean him up. Please.”

She nods, holding out her arms to take Francis. “I’ve got him,” she whispers, before taking him into the kitchen.

Joel helps you up, you yelp at the pain. Your foot aches, so do the rest of your bones. “I know. I know,” Joel mumbles. His heart is broken into a million pieces, he’s in disbelief that this even happened to you.

He helps you into his arms, cradling you as he walks you both up the stairs. You hold onto him tightly, the smell of his clothes and his sweat bring you so much comfort and relief. Your person is here, and he’s gonna make it all better.

Joel takes you into the bathroom and removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them on the floor. You sit on the toilet seat as he removes his clothing. You feel like such a failure of a mother.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, now,” he says softly.

“I can’t shower, Joel. My foot,” you cry.

“I know, honey’. I’ve got you,” his voice is so quiet, so gentle. “Just for a minute. Just let me rinse you, that’s all.”

Joel lifts you up slowly, being extra conscious of your foot, then lifts you into the tub. He pulls the leg of your injured foot over his hip and wraps one of his strong arms around your waist as he uses the other to turn on the warm water.

He removes the showerhead and rinses your body, watching all of the dirt and grime leave your skin. Then he places the showerhead back in its spot and switches the water to come out of the bath spout.

He maneuvers you in his arms to sit down against him in the bath. Your back is pressed to his chest as the warm water begins to fill the bathtub. All that can be heard is the sound of rushing water and your quiet sobbing.

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s okay, now. I’m here. You’re safe,”

“Joel,” you cry, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know. I know,” he murmurs.

He holds you like that as the water fills, your sobs are beginning to die down. Joel leans forward to shut the water off once the tub is full, then grabs a rag and some soap to clean your body.

Only now does it hit you that this is the first he’s seen you fully since giving birth to his child. You look so different now. You curl up, bringing your knees to your chest.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers as he pushes your knees back down. “I only wanna help you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you now.”

He scrubs your body gently, washing away the disaster of a morning you and Francis shared. He can sense your insecurity still. “So beautiful,” he breathes. He’s so delicate with his movements, washing you so tenderly. So full of love and care. “Always been so beautiful, mama.”

You relax into his touch, your head resting on his chest. He’s so warm. So comforting. He feels like home. He tilts your chin up so your eyes can meet his own, so deep and dark. His fingers trace your features, your chin and your lips and your nose. Your eyes well with tears again.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,”

“What for, honey?”

“Today. Francis,”

“Hey, now,” he says. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though,” You shake your head slightly, your bottom lip is wobbling. “I’m such a terrible mom, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Joel’s eyes fill with tears, they begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re not a terrible mom,” he hushes you with a broken voice. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”

Of course, he knows why you think that. He’s been a little overbearing with Francis, not giving you the opportunity to learn to parent the way he should have. “You’re new to this, honey. That’s all,”

You mumble something under your breath, Joel doesn’t hear. All he hears are your quiet whimpers and sniffles as you stare deep into his eyes. He’s never looked so raw before.

Some silence passes, and finally he speaks.

“Sarah was an early walker,” he begins.

Your brows furrow. Joel rarely talks about Sarah, even now.

“Once she began wobblin’ on those little legs of hers, I knew she’d be trouble. She’s the reason Tommy and I built a fence,” Joel recounted. “You know why?”

“Why?” you whispered.

“Well, she was an escape artist,” he says. “I’d be out there, doin’ yardwork or grillin’. She’d be in her sandbox, building little castles and whatnot. I thought she was, at least.” Joel pauses for a second, looking away wistfully.

Joel continues, smiling now. “Anyway. I’d look back to check on her, and poof. She’s gone. And I’d look across the street, and she’s makin’ friends with the Adlers. Workin’ her charm with them into givin’ her cookies and ice cream. She did it all the time,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Constantly. She did it constantly,” Joel replies. “Girl was trouble. Nothin’ but trouble. So Tommy and I built that fence to keep her from escapin’. ‘Course, didn’t stop Mr. and Mrs. Adler from sneakin’ her treats before dinner.” Joel chuckled at the memory. You did too.

“She sounds so sweet, Joel,” you say.

“She was,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s quiet again for a moment, remembering. “I was runnin’ her a bath one night. Right after she learned to walk, you know? And I’m focused on the water, makin’ sure it’s not too hot and not too cold. She’d kick up a fuss if the temperature wasn’t to her liking. Like, exactly. Had to be perfect.”

You smile. Joel is such a wonderful storyteller, you could listen to him talk all day long.

“Didn’t even notice her leave the bathroom. Thought she was right behind me. I just heard her tumble down the stairs, screamin’ and cryin’. Tommy grabbed her, drove us to the hospital,”

You nod quietly.

“So they run tests on her, of course. She’s charmin’ the nurse into giving her suckers and toys. She was fine, thank the lord. No bruises, no scratches. Just fine,”

“That sounds so scary, Joel,” “It was. Terrifying. I cried like a baby the whole night thinkin’ I hurt my little girl,” he says. “But you know what the nurse told me?”

“What’s that?”

“She said that babies are rubber. They’re tough. Resilient. Our little boy is resilient too, you know,”

You look away from him, picking at your fingernails. The guilt is eating you again.

“You’re new to this, mama. Go easy on yourself, for christsake. You just had him two damn months ago,”

You barely reply, just kind of mumble. You don’t know how to respond.

“Hey, look at me,” he tilts your chin and to stare into your eyes. He’s deadly serious. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re doin’ fine, mama. Shit happens.”

You still can’t speak. His words help, but it was still a terrible day. Maybe one day you won’t hurt over it. He understands, not forcing you to say anything.

He just finishes washing your body, then dries you off and wraps you in a towel. He carries you into bed, promising you that he’ll get the town doctor over later to check on your foot. There’s a sandwich waiting for you on your bedside table. Ellie. Such a sweet girl.

Joel leaves you to clean the mess of your clothes in the bathroom and at the stairs, and you eat your sandwich. You feel so much better getting some food in your system.

After finishing your sandwich, you hear tapping at the door. “Can we come in? It’s me and Francis,” Ellie says.

“Yeah, El. Come in,”

Ellie tiptoes in with Francis, his hair is wild and curly. Just like Joel’s. His eyes are big and lost. Ellie looks fatigued. “He didn’t like the bath very much,” she says. “But I did give him a bottle.”

“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble,” you reply. “He can be a little cranky. Thanks for feeding him, El. You’re so good with him.”

“Yeah, I can handle him. We’re best friends,” she says. You can see in her face that she’s exhausted, though. “Right, Frankie?”

You smile softly, holding out your arms. Ellie places him in your hold gently, being extra careful to support his head and neck. She can see the worry on your face. You still feel so unsure of holding him, being responsible for him.

“Guess what?”

You look up at her. “What?” You bounce Francis softly.

“I’m gonna teach him how to say fuck. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she giggles, that signature smirk on her face. Her eyes are so playful and bright. “And I’m gonna teach him the other ones too. Bitch, ass, asshole, shit, dick, cun-”

“Don’t you dare corrupt my son, you little shit,” A deep voice interrupts. It’s Joel, standing at the doorway. “Don’t need two demented kids in this house. You’re more than enough.”

“Hey!” Ellie gasps, feigning offense. Ellie sits down on the bed as Joel walks towards her. “I’ll teach your kid whatever words I want, old man. And I’m not demented,” She punches him in the arm playfully. “You are.”

Joel just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

You meet his gaze, smiling at him quietly. Francis is asleep in your arms, mumbling and cooing softly. He’s so sweet like this.

Joel takes Francis from your arms, places him in his crib. Joel looks at Ellie. “Out,” he says. “Mama needs to sleep.”

Ellie gets up to leave, not before giving you a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around the girl, she’s such a good big sister to your baby boy. She doesn’t often hug you, so it’s a welcome surprise.

Joel meets you on the bed, pulling you close to his body. You rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. “Get some sleep, honey,”

You yawn, melting into his body. “Okay, daddy,”

He feels like home.

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withleeknow · 15 days

Text

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Again, tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

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midnightfictionlibrary · 10 months

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You're the One - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

You’re the One - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Content : best friends to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count : 1.3k

Summary : Two Times Jamie Tartt realized you were the one, and the one time he did something about it.

A/N : A stand alone fic while I work on the next chapter of the Jamie/Roy/Reader love triangle fic. This idea popped into my head after listening to You’re the One by the Black Keys. As always, please like and reblog if you enjoy! <333

1. After the Broken Engagement

The rain pattered softly against the windows, and Jamie sat contentedly on his couch, the blue glow from the television playing over that week’s best football highlights. It was an uneventful week it seemed, but he still insisted on catching up. Just as he’s about to switch the channel, he hears a knock at the door.

Brows furrowed, he stands up and pulls his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. God knows his hands were always cold. When he opens the door, he’s greeted by you. Well, a soaking wet, sobbing, you.

“Fuck, babe, what’s wrong?” He says, immediately concerned, his heart wrenching for you. He doesn’t care that you were soaking wet, he gathers you in his arms as the most heartbreaking cries leave your lips. He didn’t even care that he accidentally called you babe.

“L-Leo…h-he-” you gasp, “in our bed.” You cry, wrenching the ring off of your left hand violently and dropping it on Jamie’s front porch. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces fall into place for Jamie, and he takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him.

“Listen t’me. You…” He pauses, trying to find the right words. You stare at him, comforted immensely by his presence already. His warmth radiates into your own body, making you feel safe. That was how Jamie made you feel, and he knew it, too. “You deserve better than that prick, yeah? Too fuckin’ pretty and smart and kind to be crying over a prick like that.” He says, pulling you in to hold you. And you let him.

The feeling of you against his body, calming already from his presence made Jamie realize you were the one he adored. He didn’t need anybody else. Even if you were engaged to someone that wasn’t him, he was always going to be there for you. Just like he was now. And he didn’t think anything could change that.

Later, he lets you sleep in his bed, promising to go with you to your flat the next day to grab your belongings while that prick Leo was at work. He’s about to leave when your slender hand reaches out to intertwine your fingers together. “Please stay.” You whisper, and Jamie’s heart skips a beat, lying next to you. You rest your head on his chest, still sniffling slightly.

As he kisses the top of your head affectionately, he knows he’s done for. You had burrowed your way into his affections from the moment he met you, three years ago.

2.After The First Match Using Total Football

Jamie was out with the team, the owners, and quite a few friends at Sam’s restaurant as a celebration for their victory that afternoon. But, he still hadn’t seen you. As the team’s social media manager, he knew you were probably editing posts and queuing them up for the next day, but he still wished you were there.

Roy pretended not to notice how Jamie kept glancing around for you.

Keeley pretended she had no idea where you were.

In reality, you were just running a bit behind, but you wanted Jamie to be surprised when he realized you, his best friend, were wearing his number. He had mentioned to you that no one close ever came to his matches sporting his kit, and you had decided to change that.

When you walk into Ola’s, you catch Sam’s eye and wave profusely, running up to hug him, giving him a few pecks on the cheek. “Sam!” You pause. “Oh my gosh, this place is amazing.”

Before Sam can answer you, you feel a tap on the shoulder. You turn around, seeing a flustered and blushing Jamie.

“Wh..what are ya wearin’?” He asks, seeming to choke on his words slightly, and you grin at him brightly, pleased at how surprised and touched he seemed.

“Oh this? Just the number of my favorite Richmond player.” You say, nonchalantly, giggling at the way Jamie’s cheeks tinge pink for a moment.

Jamie doesn’t respond for a moment, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and crushing you into a hug. “Thank you.” He whispers, and when he pulls back you smile tenderly at him, pushing a few strands of hair from his forehead.

“Nothing to it, Tartt. You’ll always be my favorite.” You wink, looping your arm through his. “Now, can a tired social media manager get a drink around here?”

He chuckles, leading you to the bar, and while he watches you order, he can’t help but just stare at you. Roy pretends not to notice again, and Jamie is thankful. He thought it was more than obvious that he adored you, but it didn’t seem like you were picking up on that. He takes a sip of his beer, looking away from you when you turn your attention back to him.

“I’m really proud of you, Jamie.” You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Nah, you ain’t got nothin’ to praise me for. Just playin’ the game like always.” God, he thought if his face got any more heated he’d have to excuse himself for some air. You tsk, poking his side before moving to speak to Keeley and Rebecca. The number 9 on your back burned itself into Jamie’s mind, and he swore that day he fell even more in love. If that was possible.

3.After Amsterdam

It was late, and you flipped a page of your book, putting your cat-themed bookmark in when you realized you’ve reached the end of the chapter. Setting the book down on your coffee table, you move to the kitchen to start preparing your favorite nighttime tea. Your orange cat, Gizmo, purrs loudly at your feet, and you stoop down to give him a few scratches behind his ears.

You’re just finishing preparing your tea, stirring your tiny teaspoon in your mug when you hear a series of frantic knocks at the door. You leave the spoon in your mug, taking a glance through the peephole before you open the door.

“Jamie?” You ask, “Did you just get back from Amsterdam?”

“I saw a windmill.” He says, breathlessly, like he had run to your flat.

“What?”

“I- sorry. S’not the point. Realized I had t’come and tell you that I fuckin’ adore ya, yeah? I can’t take it anymore. I’m losing me mind thinkin’ about ya all the time. ‘M in love with you.”

You stand there, utterly speechless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Here he was, Jamie Tartt, your best friend, admitting that he thought about you all the time.

Jamie steps into your flat, taking your hand. “Please say somethin’.”

“I..I love you, too.” You whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks, almost as if he can’t believe it.

“Ever since you took care of me that night I threw my ring down on your front porch.”

Jamie can’t take it anymore, he cradles your face and kisses you passionately. “Want” he says “to give you a ring of my own” through small sweet kisses to your lips.

Your mug of tea sits forgotten as you pull Jamie close, stumbling clumsily into your bedroom. You both collapse on your bed, him on top of you. “You’re the one, Jamie.” You whisper, and he grins at you before capturing you in a kiss that has your head reeling.

Gizmo meows lightly, curling up on the couch as it starts to rain, his owner relishing in a love with his other favorite human.

The two of you stay in bed until late the next morning, unable to get enough of each other.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt #best friends to lovers #ted lasso fanfic #longing #jamie tartt fanfiction #friends to lovers #pining

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hwaightme · 10 months

Text

Take me back

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x afab!gangster!reader 🏍️ genre: smut, pwp, exes to lovers, fluff, a little angst, romance, just two fools in love 🏍️ summary: you want to convince yourself that you do not need seonghwa, that your rejection is for the best, but when instead of another rose he is the one waiting by your door, you are not so sure. 🏍️ wordcount: 6.9k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick solo edit, language, hwa has grills, head over heels enamoured hwa, mention of contraband/dealing of illegal substances, rejection, knight on a bike courting you, discussion of gang activity, set in strictland, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: why hello there <3 i am trying to get back into writing, and seonghwa + the song 'take me back'… transformed me. always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~

🏍️ perma-taglist: moved to the end of the post!

🏍️ nsfw tags: sub!hwa and soft dom!reader, no protection (wrap before you tap pls), oral (both giving and receiving), hints of scent kink but more for hwa's perfume, dirty talk, intense pet name content (baby, darling, sweetheart, love, pretty boy), praise both ways, riding/cowgirl, reader double orgasm, overstimulation, slight dumbification, creampie, implied cockwarming, cuddling and two people falling in love more and more with each passing second

It did not take much effort to figure out who left the solitary rose on the window sill, between floors three and five - an ironic nod to tradition despite the world moving in a four four time, right on the stairwell that led to your apartment. A white rose sculpted to an ideal by nature and by a cosmetic selection, cut away and left a stilled beauty in full bloom, honoured to wilt in your presence. Picking it up with two fingers, you admired the careful handiwork employed to remove the thorns, because heaven forbid you were to hurt yourself. A smirk pricked at the corner of your lips, but you dared not reveal it - the admirer could be waiting just for this, and you were not feeling particularly merciful tonight. Twisting the rose a couple of times, noting the lack of any tears, breakage in the petals or even as much as a hint of browning due to thoughtless damage, you turned your attention to the stark white sheet of paper, neatly folded in half so as to conceal the contents. Though, who else would dare touch any gifts that were obviously left for you? Certainly not those who knew you, or knew of the admirer who was waiting for a single sign that you would accept the offerings. Opening up the note, you found a new selection of confessions written in poetic lines, ink meticulous, a permanence introduced in a neat and familiar hand, every stroke a cry for you, over you, a projection across the city in an attempt to win your heart. Just like last time, except this time the theme was the moon instead of the sun. The stars, the ocean waters, the air embracing you. If one were to paint a portrait through the words etched onto the pages that you had become a secret collector of, you would become the universe. All-encompassing and all-consuming, having permeated into the heart, soul and mind and turning into reason and motivation, you were the eternal muse. Gaze slowly drifting from the page and onto the dim, dark street outside, you looked out at the corner of the street, right to where it faded into a miniature intersection, leading to a shopping district that was long abandoned and shut down aside from a few underground businesses and repurposed buildings that a regular passer-by would, or should never visit. You would never admit it, but you had grown to expect the silhouette that waited for you, maybe even welcome it. A singular constant in your daily life, one that you hated to admit, but had transformed into a grounding, a tether to something less than madness.

It was not comforting, however. Far from it. The man who was leaning against his motorcycle, side profile distinguishable against the faint lights emanating from the far backdrop was someone who had brought you emotion. And just as the government had prescribed in its comically persistent propaganda, disease was human emotion. Whether one served the nation or was working against it, whether one was a public figure for peace or a private figure for war, the state of feeling was oftentimes a disadvantage. It was, most certainly, the case in your line of work, despite you never directly subjecting yourself to risk - you were not that foolish quite yet. But the dedication of the man in black, blue and silver was forcing you to reconsider. Eroding the boundaries you operated within, knocking on the barriers to find a hollow which he could break. One of these days you knew that Seonghwa was going to be the death of you. Or perhaps the revival. Folding the note tightly shut you pressed it against the rose’s stem, and holding both items between your fingers you began your ascent to the door of your apartment, keys dangling from their ring that was in your other hand.

Soon enough, you heard the rumbling of the engine; that same motorcycle which you had come to see more often than the supplies you managed. As you slid the key into the door, you shut your eyes, imagining Seonghwa’s journey away from your complex. How his glasses, those you had joked about being from a laboratory, would glimmer under the jittery neon of old signs and the fading streetlights. How he would accelerate at the end of the road, making a sharp turn to the right. The grip you had on the note and the rose tightened as you recalled the exhilarating feeling of having your arms wrapped around his sensational waist, feeling the toned muscle underneath his black tank top, snaking your hands, letting them roam his body as he struggled to contain himself and keep on driving. You paid the risk no mind - if anything, this risk was the one you preferred so much more, over any other you had to keep subdued under a brutal thumb. Wondering why your mind was so afflicted this evening, you raised the rose again, detecting nothing suspicious. It was only once you raised the note as close to your face as possible that you rolled your eyes and let a sigh escape you. Of course, the perfume. That damn sweet perfume, with hints of coffee and vanilla, one only he could wear, one that you swore you would never be able to rid yourself off, even if you were to burn the house down and shed your own skin. The memory would remain and you knew that if anywhere, anyone, anyhow would let this perfume enter your system, only Seonghwa would be on your mind. Cursing under your breath, you finally unlocked the apartment and entered, washed over with a sense of dread due to your evident proximity to the handcrafted abyss. It was only a matter of time that this game would end.

Kicking your shoes off your feet and ambling to the living room, you approached the glass that you had positioned at the centre of the tiny dining table, taking out the rose you had previously received and replacing it with the new beauty. Mumbling a goodbye, simply to remind yourself of the fact that you could speak, more than anything, you let the flower disappear in the bin that was across the corridor, in the kitchen. You returned, regarding the white rose again, imprinting its every curve in your mind and hesitantly allowing yourself to compare the softness of the petals to your admirer’s lips, and moved to the cabinet off to the side. A contraband piece, unregulated, from someplace abroad that clearly had more daring, inspiring tastes than your home ever could, which was exactly why you had your loyal employees smuggle it along with the regular supplies to feed the insatiable demand of the sinful city that turned into bills for you. One door opened, another, a few numbers on a keypad pressed and you were in - one of the numerous safes hidden around the flat, the only ones that would stand the test of time, with this one containing the butterflies that plagued Seonghwa, those that he could not help but share with you, fighting pleas that you contained in steel. A cage for the emotions that the man stirred within you, your keeping of the notes supposedly out of sight and out of mind was the last resort for denial. You did not want to witness your demise, and yet, in the night when you were tossing and turning back and forth, illuminated by a hazy blue and grey, your retinas had every note burned into them and your brain would repeat every line back to you over, and over, and over again until you were lulled into a slumber, again, induced by the notion of the one man who you were trying your hardest to avoid. He was behind every corner, physical and spiritual.

He was in the way you cleared away the dishes after eating, the ghost of his torso pressed against your back as he would leave a peppering of kisses over your shoulder, in the crook of your neck and stopping right over the jugular, caressing the sensitive skin with his breath. Seonghwa was in the way you lied down to bed, always occupying the same side, gliding under the sheets that, even though you had washed them, softened them time and time again, you swore still held his echoes - how your body tried to reignite the reminiscence of how his arm would languidly find purchase on your hips or waist, how he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear, the shameless adoration tickling your cheek and colouring it in a faint blush. As you shut the safe with more aggression than anticipated, making the cabinet rattle from the impact, you shut your eyes, the sensation of the memory becoming too strong to handle. Seonghwa’s hands tracing abstract shapes on your stomach, sides, seemingly absent-mindedly trailing upwards to tease a timid gasp out of you, only to follow the curves and contours of your body down until he could have you in ultimate pleasure. And how, polite as ever, he would ask for it. Ask to touch you, beg for it unabashedly, recounting just how good he had been for you, how he would do anything for you, should you command him.

Seonghwa’s blind faith in you, his trust in harmony between outlaws and the timelessness of your union was the very reason you stepped away. With every fibre of what you had remaining of your tainted heart you wished for him to find someone better, someone safer, as far as possible from the rotten criminal hydra of which you were one of the many heads. Part of you always held onto the hope that he would leave the city for good. You knew there were better places out there where he could thrive not as a gang member or a fiend of the roads, but as an artist, a dreamer. You had heard enough stories of lands across the oceans where the sun smiled down on those who walked the grounds there, and how people had choice. Desperately, you wanted Seonghwa to make the right one and leave. But all your senses were far too close to overpowering your rationality that served as the single stop sign for the both of you. The one flicker that would set the gasoline ablaze, and leave you two to burn, unable to turn back. Without bothering to turn on any lights, you felt for your bedroom, stripping off the clothes that screamed both business and dealing, and collapsing onto the covers. Hands tracing the lace of your lingerie, you mused what the man of your dreams and nightmares was up to, across the district, under the same omniscient and omnipresent moon, perhaps thinking of you. His name rolled off your tongue far too easily, too comfortably for it to be forbidden. You knew exactly what would happen should he appear instead of another rose, and this awareness - you feared.

As soon as you stepped into the complex, met with the ancient and occasionally flickering bulb that hung right above the entryway, barely outside of the swinging reach of the rusted metal door, you felt the air had shifted while you were gone. The first sign, however, you had caught onto a lot earlier, during your brisk walk down the street, where you caught sight of a familiar motorcycle parked some ways off to the side, obscured by the smog-dulled trees and coughing shrubbery, and only just peeking out from behind a couple of dumpsters. You had to give it to Seonghwa, the place he chose to hide the vehicle was one of the best in the vicinity, but it was not a surprise - something told you that he had your part of the city mapped out and committed to memory, judging by how easily he navigated every corner, and knew exactly where and when you could catch sight of his presence. Slowly, you stepped towards the stairs, trying to steady your breath, failing to ignore the accelerating pace of your heart. The drumming overtook you, pushing away any sense of control and commitment to rejection, and it was as if you could feel every capillary, every artery and vein being set on fire, oxygen being reduced to nothing, lungs screaming and smoke filling your skull. Leaden legs lifting themselves one step, another until you covered the first flight, making a turn. Forgetting to count, you let your instincts guide you, and even though you knew that you were not going to find them, you were half hoping for another rose and note, a secure arrangement that meant you could fool yourself into not feeling as strongly as you, in reality, did. Suddenly, your suit was too tight over your body, the collar digging into your flesh, the sleeves constricting. You wanted to melt away, sink into the floor, turn into concrete, into the walls or the particles that drifted with the drafts before you were to come face to face with what you were so adamant on denying, with whom you were so adamant on denying. The sturdy soles of your dress shoes resounded on the hard stone stairs, marking your arrival. There was no going back, not now, not ever. As soon as the door to your part of the complex closed, so did the door to a destiny without the man who you could now spot on the next flight of stairs, sat outstretched on the cold angularity, elbows perched on one step higher than his body, impeccably balanced while his legs, bent slightly, were stationed on the flat turning. As you regarded his form through the dark grey, sparse railings, taking in the gravity of his unbelievable presence he did not spare you a single glance, instead choosing to remain downcast, peering off to the side, at the merging of the wall and stairs, or maybe he was caught up in his own thoughts, much like you had been a few too many days and nights.

It was only when you stopped right in front of him, stock still, crossing your arms - be it in defence or in threat, did he look up at you, shattering your heart into an innumerable torrential downpour of pieces. Eyes hidden behind those clear visor glasses were misty, hinting at unspilled melancholia, unexpressed need that only you could tear out of him, a living energy that had always been a sacrifice to your being. At your feet, much like how he was now, even though the pose which he had found himself in was nothing like what he had meant in the notes, in the actions, in the past. Seonghwa pushed himself off the stairs, sitting up straighter, head tilting upwards to not break eye contact. Almost as though if he were to look away, you would evaporate. The buttoned up silver collar of his jacket, concealing a few chains underneath, was gently applying pressure to his neck as he moved without daring to make any excessive movements, including adjusting his clothes. The man determined that he was toeing a far too dangerous line to try his luck with confidence.

After so long, after so many roses, after so many secrets that he had spilled in his poetry he could not continue any longer. Gone were the days when your mirage was enough, a hallucinatory visitation in the middle of his day never did satisfy him, but out of fear of disappointing you, he never went ahead with his urges and the cries of every nerve cell. Distance. A hint of your existence, a glimmer of the lights in your apartment, a dismissive picking up of his gifts from the window sill - those were his only joys as of late, but even that was no longer enough. He wanted you. He needed you. He needed you like a man needed air, needed earth, water, and fire. Seonghwa marked too many days on his calendar, drove too many miles without there being one last hope. So he gave into a risk, and bet his own life on it. As he allowed himself to drown in your ethereal glow, the beautiful, pleading man only just caught onto the words that sliced through the months of silence.

“No rose this time?”

Seonghwa let out a breath he did not know he was holding, and reached out for your legs, pulling you closer to him in a desperate call. Wrapping his strong arms around you, he pressed his forehead into your thighs, only a bite of the lip holding him back from breaking apart. He could not care less if you were going to scold him for crumpling your outfit, or for staining it with tears if they were to spill, for it was worth it. You were real. You were here. You were speaking to him and regarding him. Practically falling onto you and at your feet, Seonghwa wanted to be as close as possible, blend with and into you. Taken aback by the suddenness of the lurch towards you, you could only hold your hands up and let the proximity intoxicate you. Staring down at the top of his head, you had to give up your equilibrium to the man if you were to stay standing. Stay above him. And yet, a stray hand found itself floating through and towards the dark, slicked back locks that your palms remembered far too well. As you followed the lines of each strand, digits grazing the scalp, gently patting the impossibly soft and luscious hair, Seonghwa breathed raggedly beneath you, shaking ever so slightly. For how long had he been keeping it in, you wondered. For how long had he been carrying the weight of feeling with him without letting it escape into public exposure. Gently, you hooked the glasses upwards, letting them rest on the top of his head - a gesture that made him look up once more, hands still clenched around the material of your trousers. A flush of pink across his face, glistening eyes and the beginnings of a waterfall marking his relief threatening to trickle down his cheeks. You noted how his lips parted a couple of times, almost like he was in search to find the right words to say to you, maybe he had even already found them, but none made their way to your auditory, remaining a pantomime. Seonghwa was waiting for everything, and his everything was you.

“Oh come on, Hwa, why are you- up. Let’s get up, yeah?” you motioned with both hands for him to get up, and when he would not follow took a hold of his forearms, tugging until he submitted to the request, more moisture rushing to the surface as he was now right here, level with you on the same ground, in one another’s arms like before, with his nickname turning to the most magical melody when you uttered it, “Hwa, no, don’t cry, baby, I can’t stand to see you hurting.”

Thumbs running under his gorgeous eyes, over the stunning smooth skin and hands stopping to cup his face, you admired him with a full heart, letting go of prior inhibitions. There was no point in trying to ignore what had always been, what you would never be able to escape. You hated how you made him feel this pain. You knew you were the instigator, it was obvious to anyone how you were the one who did not want to follow through with hardships and looked for an easy way out, only finding dead ends and lies in the process. His aroma embraced you in a hypnotising cloud, the same one that never left you. The addictive sweetness that you wanted more, more of until there was nothing remaining. Leaning closer to Seonghwa, you took it in, faces a mere centimetre apart, suspense on a single breath.

“I’m sorry, I could not help it… I-”

“I should be the one who is sorry, baby, don’t say that,” he was too good for this world, you concluded yet again. The longer you knew Seonghwa, the more convinced you became that he was not meant for the city, nor for the life you or he led. You needed to work harder if that could mean buying your and his freedom out of this system.

“Sorry…” he mumbled again, unsteady, inching towards you until his nose brushed against yours. His gloved hands were securely under your suit jacket, toying with the fabric of your white shirt. You nudged him again, reassuring that he was doing everything right, that at least now, he was safe. With you, he was safe.

One of your hands etched the alluring edges of his jawline, travelling down his body and stopping at the jacket. Index finger under the collar, you tugged on the silver material, earning a deeper, expectant sigh from the man. As you snapped the button, pushing the outerwear apart to give you access to his accessories, you felt the metal - warm from the impossible heat oozing from Seonghwa, and slid your digits down the middle of the chest, stopping momentarily at the solar plexus, catching the erratic rhythm of his heart, so intense that you would not be shocked if it were to jump out at any second. You pulled at the black material of his tank top, forcing him to be up right against you, and to stop him from attempting to apologise any more, shifted attention to direct him by his chin. At your mercy, Seonghwa followed. Plush lips parted in anticipation, glossy orbs gaining a darker undertone in the palette contained within, he waited for your final say.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes. Damn, yes. So much. Too much.” he whispered feverishly, fingers digging into your hips as he sensed your intentions.

“In what ways did you miss me, Seonghwa darling?” knowing that he would achieve nothing if he were to close the gap now, your reawakened passion darted between watching how your mouth moved as you spoke, and studying your irises, head clouded by what had been, and what could be.

“In… every way.”

“Oh, baby, you’re going to have to be a lot more detailed than that.” you mumbled against his lips, leaning away just as he was about to instinctively seek you out.

“I… your company… your words…”

“Should I move? So we can talk?” you teased, jokingly trying to detangle yourself, but to no avail as Seonghwa’s hold got only stronger, and you felt the leather of his trousers fully aligned and pressed against yours. He was impatient, seeking any form of friction, and yet was still holding out well.

“No… please Y/N.”

“Then tell me, what did you miss, exactly, so I can help you out?” an intensity behind the question threw Seonghwa off balance, making his head spin. Your newfound mastery of the dual renaissance bled onto the pages of the future, yet to be written, determined by every action.

“Your lips.”

“Mhm,” you leaned closer, planting a pack on his lips when he least expected it. Just enough to make him realise what you had done, but not any more, denying him the satisfaction of falling into you. Upon hearing his frustrated whine - music to your growing desire, you continued, “what else?”

“Your- your tongue.” he stuttered, eyelashes fluttering as he glanced everywhere except at you, all while rocking ever so slightly on the spot.

“Elaborate, sweetheart, or do I need to drag everything out of you?” you tightened your hold on his chin, dragging him back to you.

“No. Goodness… this is embarrassing…”

“Oh, is my poor baby getting shy? Since when? You always made such pretty sounds for me and now can’t tell me what you want. How am I supposed to take that, hm?” Seonghwa’s cheeks transformed before you, traversing every shade of pink before settling on the deepest hue, “will you be good for me, Hwa? Will you tell me what you missed?”

“I,” he paused, reconsidering, weighing his words, “I miss the way you make me lose my breath when you kiss me. I miss how you unravel me, ruin me with your tongue and mouth around my cock. I miss the feeling of you riding me, I love how every part of you and I is riddled in pleasure as I fill you up with cum and how you don’t stop until I am barely present, and then you bring me right back. I miss how you know me. How you- how you taste. I miss you, Y/N,” he shot at lightning speed, stumbling over his words as he revealed the scenes of his long-standing collections of fantasies that echoed from when you had lived heart to heart, body to body.

The depiction set you ablaze more fiercely than before, and any hints of fear were fully replaced by a carnal greed for the man before you. Need was an understatement. You redefined sin with your voiceless urgency, pushing yourself into Seonghwa’s arms fully, feeling a considerably stronger pressure against your hips where he was standing - clearly you were not the only one who was damning the existence of locks and doors that were barring you from direct access to your apartment.

“See, was that so hard? Now, let me show you how much I miss you.”

A rush, an all consuming energy, a passion that you had not known, taken for granted and realised only when you purposefully lost it and gained it back thanks to Seonghwa being the one to not give up on you, on the flame the two of you created. Your lips moved in a seamless tandem as you stumbled forwards, pushing Seonghwa closer and closer to the door. Fortunately, he had a good enough sense of his surroundings to not trip, falling only for you. You hummed into the sensation, heat pooling to your core as you tasted the coolness of his grills. Nipping at his lush lower lip, you beckoned him to deepen the kiss, a request to which he obliged almost immediately, tilting his head for a better angle. Groaning into the intimacy, you fished out your keys, and after a couple of clumsy tries, finally heard the click of the mechanism. With his foot Seonghwa curled around the door, opening it to give the two of you access, and just barely, you managed to catch it back and slam it shut. As soon as the sound reverberated over the two of you, a switch flipped in your lover, and his hands which were previously almost tied to your hips now freely roamed your body, relearning it, tracing every curve like there was nothing better in this world. Like you were the statue of a goddess and he was a devoted sculptor, working on the masterpiece for all of eternity, aware that he would never be able to replicate the true beauty but still remaining fixated on the blessing that was the process.

Shoes left in a messy pile on the doormat - a problem for later, the two of you tripped over one another, choosing to remain in one another’s arms as you finally made it down the corridor and to your bedroom. As you stood by the frame, you ran over Seonghwa’s inner lips with your tongue, seeking access, and relishing in his taste, better than you could have ever recalled even if you made the effort to. Seonghwa tasted of longing, of a faith that was so rare you swore he was a man from long-forgotten myth or fairy tale, and of the slightest hint of strawberry that he loved so much - the first contraband not meant for human ruin that you had arranged transport and distribution for. Tongue grazing the gold that covered his lower teeth you were finally fully aware, trusting the now; you were not dreaming, you were with him, and you need not deny yourself nor him.

You led him deeper into the room, patient as he felt for the bed behind him to obediently take a seat. Taking his glasses off his head, leaving them on top of a dresser, and motioned for him to rid himself of the jacket and gloves, an order that was punctuated by the articles falling with a thud to the floor. Chuckling to yourself as you recalled Seonghwa’s usual concern with neatness and organisation, the action turned to be a confirmation of his yearning for you. Your own jacket now hanging off the back of a chair located in the far corner of the room, you sauntered back to Seonghwa, swinging a leg over his lap and taking a comfortable seat, facing him. His breath hitched as you grinded closer, feeling his clothed arousal against your body. Following the motion with a few more moves of your hips, Seonghwa gasped, letting his head fall forward, forehead hitting the crook of your neck.

“Y/N, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you…”

“How do you need me?” you coaxed every wish out of him, gaining pleasure every time he would pause to contain his urge to hide, to back out of answering you, aware of the consequences if he dared to question or dishonour your demands in this sultry ritual.

“I need your mouth, please love, I cannot stand this.”

“But it is right here,” you pointed at your lips, reddened from the previous contact, a coy smile rendering Seonghwa helpless.

“Do you not feel it? Please Y/N I am begging you I need you to su-”

“Not so fast, pretty boy, I need you to convince me.” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “can you do that for me?”

“Yes, a million times yes. Please.”

“I suppose I’ll be nice and help you with my clothes,” one button, another, it seemed that Seonghwa was counting with you, ravenous. His hands undid the button and zipper of your trousers, pulling at them to ask for you to let him slide them off. In a few practised moves, you were left only in your bra and panties, a lacy white, earning whispers of praise from Seonghwa, a love for just how well the piece he had bought you some time ago looked, and you, by a twist of fate, happened to choose to wear today.

“Will you lie down for me? All the way up,” without further explanation, Seonghwa shimmied backwards until his head practically hit the headboard, eyes remaining on you, widening as you hastily took off your panties, exposing what he had been pleading for. Crawling towards him, you placed a hand on his chest to tap him out of a lustful stupor, “now darling, can you show me how much you missed my taste?” a nod, another, but you did not move, “words, Seonghwa, I need words.”

“Yes, let me taste your pussy, please.”

“Of course, since you asked so nicely.”

Positioning yourself over Seonghwa’s face, you gripped onto the headboard and lowered yourself until a hungry tongue ran over your already soaked folds, making you gasp. With tentative licks he drew tender, slow circles over your clit before dragging his tongue back to taste you fully, moving in and out of your hole, curling into it. He returned his attention to your sensitive bud, rolling right over its tip, earning a rewarding moan which spurred his eagerness to drive you to higher pleasure. Knuckles turning white from your efforts to maintain at least some illusion of balance, your breaths quickened as he continued to run his tongue over your core, accelerating the buildup of your climax with every flick. Attentive, worshipping every part of you, he sucked on your clit, relishing in the taste of your slick that now coated him.

His hands found purchase on your thighs, levelling you and bringing you even closer to him until his nose was pressed against you, and tongue driven deeper into your wet cunt. A parched man, Seonghwa groaned against you as he felt the first signs of your approaching orgasm, with the vibration sending an electrifying jolt straight to your core.

“Ah- Hwa I-”

“You taste so good, thank you, love,” he mumbled from under you, only to return to abusing your heat with his swift tongue, speeding up as he felt your pussy begin to clench, beg for more, and a light trembling start to course through your muscles. Burying his head between your legs and lapping at the nectar from the lustful, voracious pokes into your hole at the very base to intricate sensuality over your clit, Seonghwa drove you over the edge.

Supporting you through your orgasm with his powerful arms, he moaned as you rode it out, drinking your release and revelling in its sweetness. Stars in your vision, you struggled to lower yourself off your lover, a shudder running over your body as he lifted you a little higher, sliding upwards to give himself a better angle. The action snapped you out of a loss, and you found yourself kneeling next to him, smiling in gratitude.

“Such a good boy for me, thank you my love.”

“Always. May I… kiss you?” he inquired meekly, wondering if his present state could potentially deter you.

“Of course,” you leaned in, closing the space, tasting yourself on Seonghwa’s lips, tongue and grills, but even then, nothing could be more perfect. His hand stretched to run over the side of your face, motivating you to come closer. Fingers in your hair, tugging ever so gently left you breathless. Breaking away, you mumbled promises against his lips, hands moving to work on his leather trousers.

Getting the hint, his top, too, was soon found strewn on the floor, leaving him in the accessories that appeared to only highlight his beauty, so meticulously picked and paired that you had to force to take your gaze away. His irresistible tanned body, every rise and fall of his chest highlighted by the shadows that decorated the room. His beguiling, glazed over expression that was trained on you as you planted kiss after kiss on his torso, each making him question if he could ever breathe again.

“I missed you, Hwa, so,” one peck, “so,” another, “much,” ending below his navel, hand hovering over his member, so painfully erect that you almost felt guilty for getting him to eat you out first.

“I missed you ah-” hand coated in precum and your spit, you positioned it at the base of his cock, causing the abrupt cut in his response. With a steady pumping, you addressed Seonghwa, feigning obliviousness.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“I- I- fuck-” squeezing its girth, you rubbed circles over the tip, making him lose his train of thought, or its remnants.

“So?” holding his dick in place, you waited for his response before reacting to his earlier words.

“Y/N I missed you- ah shi-” upon hearing the sought after phrase you lowered your head.

Opening your mouth, you shifted position to take in as much of him as you could, gliding your tongue against the shaft in practised motions and moaning as you felt him twitch with the warmth. The dribble that ran down the still exposed length added to the wantonness of the situation as you left behind any wish to remain cautious with Seonghwa; after all, he had been explicit with his love for ruin. Centering yourself, you relax your jaw further, taking in more until you could sense the tip approaching the back of your throat. You placed one hand on your lover’s pubic bone, warning him to not buck his hips, even though you were perfectly trusting of him remaining obedient. Dragging your head up and back down, it was easier moving to the sounds escaping from Seonghwa’s throat.

Gripping onto the bed sheets, he was abandoning the clarity and resolve with which he had showed up at your door so many times. Rose after rose he had not been sure if it was you he was convincing or himself. But here, amidst the unfathomably divine pleasure, Seonghwa was merely grateful for how trivial it was, how natural it was for you to take him back. His high was fast-approaching, but before he could act on it you were already removing yourself with a lewd pop, fingers between your folds and twisting to massage your overstimulated clit. Unclasping your bra, you noticed Seonghwa’s otherwise unfocused gaze immediately switching to paying close attention to your breasts, cock twitching in anticipation as you repositioned yourself to be on top of him. Teasing the tip of his leaking member by trailing it between your folds, you watched Seonghwa’s face contort in pleasure once more, wholly submitted to you as you guided it inside of your pussy. As you sank down on him, sighing from the way in which he filled you up, pushing against your walls in all the right places, Seonghwa grunted, eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed from the stimulation. It was clear that he was using all the strength he had left to hold himself back from acting rashly - he wanted you, he missed you, and he was not about to let this heaven go.

You started to ride him, hands on either side of his body as you lifted your hips only to drive them back down, sheathing his member inside your cunt. Conscious of the fact that he should let you take the full lead, Seonghwa took to searching for anything better to hold than the sheets, crumpled into oblivion and leaving little in terms of comfort. Grounding him as you rocked your hips forward and back, you found his arms, gliding upwards until your fingers intertwined. Seonghwa’s eyes snapped open and he stared at you open-mouthed, in disbelief at your initiative for what he had clearly remembered you labelling as ‘too close for comfort’. Instead of abandoning the gesture, you tightened your hold, your own moans amplifying and joining his breathlessness as the knot in your core grew tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“Is this- what- you cannot live without, Hwa?”

“Fuck- yes, yes, yes-” words spilled out of him while you picked up speed, spurred on by the nudge of his hips that signified he was close. When he was not submerging himself into pure darkness, he could only manage to register the rhythmic motion of your breasts and an

“Can’t stop thinking of this pussy even when your cock is stuffed inside, huh?”

“Love this pussy- please, Y/N…”

“Love to be fucked dumb by me?”

“Yes, please I- I am so close Y/N…” his wavering voice and feeble pants cried for affection, which you readily provided even though you had no plans of slowing down.

“I know, baby. Fill me up, fill me up with your cum. You can do it darling-”

Seonghwa did not need any more encouragement. With a final groan, suppressed only by a snapping of his jaw to turn the sound into a prolonged hiss, his hips bucked uncontrollably into you, painting your pulsing walls with ropes of white, the awaited release rendering any speech into indecipherable babble. But you still had your high to chase, and restarted your movements, grinding your hips over his throbbing member to build up your climax while Seonghwa held onto you, whining from the excessive stimulation.

“Such a good boy for me, letting me cum over your cock.”

“I- this is too much I-”

“Are you feeling okay, baby?”

“Don’t, please do not stop- I want to make you- ah, cum,” he answered, each word uneven as you raised yourself repeatedly until, with one final movement and the stroke of the tip against your most sensitive spot, you collapsed on top of your lover, a shiver running over you as your pussy clenched around his dick, milking him of the last of his release.

Rolling over to the side, but not quite wishing to move, you remained in one another’s arms, sweat glistening in the night light, adoration ablaze in every feature. Sliding out his softening member from your warmth, a shy smile adorned his lips as a mixture of slick and cum followed, spilling onto your gorgeous thighs. He tapped you on the shoulder, helping you up so that your faces would be level with one another, and pressed his forehead to yours. He focused on your proximity, pulling you closer, closer until there was no space left. He never wanted to let you go. Never again. If you so wished, you could walk away, but he was sure that his heart would remain with you.

If you wanted to, you could throw it away, burn it, cut it into pieces, but it would still be yours. As he saw his future being written in your pupils, he planted a loving kiss on your lips, for it to be returned with just as much feeling. No longer did you wish to hide it away from him. Your emotion, your expression and vision were his. It was clear to you that there was no one else in this universe who could be trusted more than him. If he so wished, you would let him leave you in the cold. If he decided you need not create, you would agree. If innovation was not in his plans, you would follow. In love was sacrifice, in love was offering, in love was future, in love were you and him. It was as simple as the unfurling of a pearl white rose, as clear as ink on white paper.

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vhagarlovebot · 1 year

Text

THE WAY I FEEL INSIDE.

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: you’ve been in love with aemond targaryen ever since your second year at boarding school, the only problem is that he doesn’t know it and you’ve never been good at lying to him.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, pining, hurt/comfort, love confessions, mentions of alcohol, swearing, basically two idiots in love. it is a little bit long.

note: hello, lovely reader ! i just want to say a few things before you start reading. this was one of my first works here on this app but in a different blog way back when i used to write for the marauders. this was actually written thinking about remus lupin and i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

THE GREAT HALL IS A MESS in the morning and does not help with the migraine you woke up with, therefore you can’t focus on an essay that’s due today. it does not help that your friends are laughing and talking with each other either, it’s not like you’re good at paying attention to one thing when there’s a lot going on right next to you, so your attention shifts away to them not really listening to what they’re saying.

you’re still with your hands on your head looking directly at the book you have in front, trying to sort out the mess, when cregan’s voice startles you.

“you alright, love?” he asks from his seat in front of you, the hint of a smirk on his face.

“jus’ trying to finish this essay.” you say softly, closing the book and rubbing your tired eyes with the palm of your hand.

“i thought you finished it last night.” baela says, turning her head, body facing cregan. “you need help?”

“not really,” you give her a tired smile. “m’just tired, i didn’t sleep well last night.”

whatever baela says you can’t hear it because from the corner of your eyes you see aemond’s tall body getting closer to the table and sitting next to you. twenty minutes ago he was sitting at that same spot but left without saying a word, causing everyone to worry.

“here,” aemond gives you something, looking down you see a white pill in his open palm. “s’going to make you feel better.”

you don’t say anything, you just stare at those bright blue eyes and blushed cheeks. and he stares back, not paying attention to anyone but you.

you didn’t think aemond could do anything else to show how much he cares about you, but you were proved wrong. something as simple as this has your heart beating fast and tears filling your eyes, and you’re extra aware that he can hear the thump thump thump of your heart as much as you can see the frown that has taken over his face.

and you’re also aware your friends are watching, so you take a deep breath and the pill still sitting on his hand.

“always taking care of me, aem, thank you.” you mumble, laying your head on his shoulder.

you walk slowly through the halls, head in the clouds.

you were able to finish the essay on time, the migraine long gone, and the only reason you managed to do it was thanks to aemond because if he hadn’t gone to the infirmary then you’d still be sitting in the great hall eating your brains out.

at the thought of your best friend a smile makes its way on your face.

ever since you have known aemond he’s always been extra careful with you, extra attentive, extra caring. and you’re pretty sure it started during second year in boarding school when your parents sent you a letter saying they would not be home for christmas, which meant you had nowhere to go and no other option but to stay at the school alone. aemond was sitting close to you that day and saw the way you tried to hide your sadness with a small smile but weren’t able to keep the tears from falling, and when you left in such a hurry that you didn’t notice you had dropped the letter on your way out, that’s exactly when he decided to persuade his friends to stay. he didn’t mind lying or spending christmas at the school, he just wanted to see the pretty girl smile again.

you met the targaryens on christmas day your second year at boarding school when they were some of the few students who stayed too, and it was one of the best thing that ever happened in your life.

you fell in love with aemond targaryen on christmas day your second year at boarding school, though at that time you didn’t know and refused to accept it until fifth year.

you two fell into a routine in which you were a walking mess and he was right there next you ready to help you, or be a mess with you. always making sure you eat all your meals after he saw how on fourth year you stopped going to breakfast choosing to go straight to classes and how you always stayed at the library until there was no one left, so you were free to go to your dorm without worried glances from your friends. that was until you came down from the girls dormitories one morning, knowing everyone was at the great hall, everyone except aemond who was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs with an apple and a juice box in his right hand, and a shy smile on his face. always making sure you understood everything your professors said. always waiting for you after one particular class you two did not share once he witnessed some girls being mean to you. and you were always happy to lie next to him when he was feeling grouchy and scared, giving him comforting words and tracing the scar on his face, making him hide under his pillow with blushed cheeks; he looked after you and you looked after him, that’s your friendship. you always tried to convince yourself it was just a friend worrying for a friend, when in fact you were head over heels in love with the boy.

there have been a few occasions where all you wanted to do was tell him how much you love him; a lot more than a best friend should love her best friend. but every time you decided to finally do it, still afraid you would ruin the friendship but unable to hide how much you were feeling, something that would leave you with scattered pieces of your heart in your hands happened. because with each passing year while the feeling inside of you grew, and it grew and it grew, aemond showed you he didn’t feel the same way. and you knew he never did it on purpose, how could he if he didn’t know you were in love with him while he snogged different girls, running to talk to you about it and breaking your heart. you didn’t think you’d hate lying so much, but every time he sought advice from you, you hated every word that came out of your mouth, you hated the forced smile on your face, you hated how your eyes welled up with tears when he told you alys rivers stopped him after classes to tell him how handsome he looked that day, batting her eyelashes then coyly hiding behind her books. you hate how your chest physically aches when there is a party in the common hall because it means you’d have to see him flirt with a different girl all night. and that’s exactly why you stopped going to parties, giving a different excuse every time someone asked.

so you convinced yourself that everything you could ever have from aemond is his everlasting friendship. and that is better than not having aemond at all.

your walk comes to a stop when you see your friends sitting in the grass at the rugby pitch, in the distance cregan is giving his team a talk before the game, looking rather annoyed.

“cregan’s going to kill you if you don’t take this game seriously.” you say looking at your raven-haired friend, tossing your bag and sitting next to helaena. at this, jace throws you a half-eaten chocolate before taking his things and jogging to his friend.

“where were you?” baela asks, titling her head.

“professor gerardys wanted help with something, i said yes for a few extra points.” you shrug, bringing the chocolate to your mouth while looking around. instant regret crosses your features at the sight of your best friend sitting a few meters away with a bunch of people, his arm around alys river’s shoulders.

luke follows your gaze. “it looks like she finally took the courage to ask him out.”

“she asked him out!?” your voice comes out a little too loud for your liking and you really don’t like the look of pity that comes into your girl friends eyes. “well, it was about damn time.” you chuckle, though your friends know the reality behind those words.

“you coming tonight?” helaena asks, changing the subject and rubbing your arms, but looking straight ahead to baela, who is making fun of something luke said. “i think it’ll make you feel better,” her smile is pleading. “y´know you need it, forget the books for one night.”

you look at aemond one more time. “i think i deserve it.”

you are laughing as baela explains to two boys how jace was the one who helped win the match. “no, no! you don’t understand how important it is that jace did that,” she exclaims. “if he had gone to the left, then we wouldn’t be here.” the silver-haired shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink.

“i think they get it, baels.” you roll your eyes, rubbing shoulders with her. “don’t you, boys?” they nod eagerly, hiding their faces behind the cups filled with liquor.

your conversation is interrupted by someone leaning against the wall next to you. “hey, you.” aemond speaks after a moment of silence. “i didn’t think you’d be coming.”

“if you want i can go back to my dorm.” you mumble, trying to avoid his gaze. you know you shouldn’t be so cold with him, after all he’s done nothing to have you reacting this way, at least not something he’s aware of.

“that’s not what i said.” you’re not looking at him but you can sense the frown on his face. “i’m happy you’re here, i can’t remember when was the last time we party together.”

“well, i’m here now.” you clear your throat. “were you with alys rivers today?” you definitely shouldn’t have asked, you don’t even want to talk about it. you would rather hear about how jace is the best player on his team than to hear about how the older girl is stealing your best friend’s heart when you wish you were her. you want your heart to stop hurting and your mind to stop creating scenarios in which it is you who’s feeling the warm emanating from his body, the owner of his laugh… his heart.

“you saw us?” he doesn’t sound surprised.

“s’not like you two were being quiet.” you shrug, taking a sip of your beer.

“we all saw you.” baela explains, interrupting the conversation in your favor. “are you two like… together?” she asks what’s been going through your mind all day but were too afraid to ask.

aemond goes silent and all the blood leaves your face. that’s it, this is the final confirmation you needed to let aemond go—not like he was yours to lose—and you don’t want to hear it. your heart has been crushed so many times through the years you don’t think you could handle it one more time.

you straighten your shoulders and smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “if you’ll excuse me.” you try to fight the feeling that has settled in your belly, pushing away the pain in your chest, but it gets harder every second. you would think time would make it easier.

you try to hide the sound of your heart breaking by walking away, but aemond is having none of it. he grabs your wrist and you’re forced to stay right where you are. but you’re afraid. you fear that the longer you spend with aemond, the more emotionally unstable you become, eventually exposing yourself and your true feelings.

baela excuses herself, leaving you and your best friend alone, though the common hall is full, it feels like it is just the two of you.

“are you feeling alright?” he asks, confused. “you want me to go to the infirmary again? i’m sure they will ha—”

“jus’ stop it!” you cut him off, pushing him away.

he whispers your name. “i’m just trying to—”

“i didn’t ask you.”

“well, ouch.” aemond takes a step back, looking at you like you have two heads coming out of your body. “i know you didn’t ask me, but i want to.”

“m’not your fucking problem.” you mutter bitterly to yourself, but he hears it.

“did i do something to upset you?” he asks, genuinely worried. you can see the gears moving inside his head, like he’s really trying to remember what did he do.

you know you’re acting this way guided by your feelings and aemond has nothing, but everything actually, to do with it.

you take a deep breath. “i’m sorry, i’m not feeling well today.” you shake your head, taking two careful steps towards him. “you did nothing. i just need to lay down, i’ll see you in the morning.” you assure him with a smile.

but again, he’s grabbing your wrist before you can walk away. “i can go up with you.”

“you should worry about your girlfriend.” you nod, looking over his shoulder at alys rivers, who’s not even trying to hide the scowl on her face.

he doesn’t even look. “but you need me.”

he doesn’t deny it.

aemond doesn’t deny she’s his girlfriend.

“i don’t need you.” you get out of his grip and he doesn’t stop you.

once you are out of sight, you let all the tears fall.

you don’t know what time it is, but you still hear the music echoing. sighing, you roll on your back ready to go back to sleep when you hear what woke you up again. you can barely hear the thud coming from outside the dorm and the first thing that comes into your mind is that one of the girls is trying to open the door but is too drunk to do it, so you get out of bed.

there is, indeed, someone drunk behind the door. but this person has silver hair and blue eyes that, you are sure, look into your soul.

you suddenly remember you cried yourself to sleep and if he weren’t too drunk he’d notice how red your eyes are.

“what are you doing here, aemond?” you ask, helping him to his feet and inside your dorm.

“why do you hate me so much?” he drags the words, and you can smell the whisky every time he opens his mouth.

“i don’t hate you, silly.” you couldn’t help but laugh, carrying him to your bed. “maybe i do hate you a little bit right now. how much did you drink?”

“don’t know, lost the count.” he smiles while looking at you. “would you lay down with me?”

“okay, jus’ let me take off your shoes.” he keeps staring at you while you help him get rid of his jacket and shoes, he even smiles every time you make eye contact.

once you’re lying on your bed again, aemond turns to you. “why were you crying?” it doesn’t surprise you, really, he’s always been extra observant.

“i had a bad migraine.” you shrug, avoiding his gaze. but his slender fingers on your chin make you look directly at him. you try to steady your heart, pounding in your chest so hard you know he can hear it.

“yea’ right.” aemond mocks you. “after that pill i gave you this morning there’s no way you still had it.”

“maybe it wasn’t as effective as you thought.”

“would you stop for a second?” he grimaces, bringing his hands to his temple. “i can’t think straight and you already have my mind going in circles.”

“what does that mean?”

he sighs, caressing your cheek. “you don’t even notice.”

“notice what?” you ask, confused. he’s drunk and talking nonsense, and having him so close to you isn’t helping.

“that i’m—” he whispers, not breaking eye contact, air tick between the two of you. a part of you hopes his next words are the ones you were dying to hear for so long. you also hope you’re not dreaming when you see him lower his gaze to your lips. you’re extra aware of the proximity, you feel his breath on your face, combination of alcohol, cigarettes and just aemond. he parts his lips and you instantly close your eyes. “m’going to be sick.”

“what?” you open your eyes only to miss his warmth.

aemond rushes to the bathroom, face pale. you know he’s throwing up before you even get out of bed, and it doesn’t take long for you to be by his side.

aemond whines when you try to get closer, a wet cloth in hand. “don´t.”

“i’ll always hold your hand, aem.” you whisper, reminding him of the words he’s said to you a bunch of times. when you get closer again he doesn’t say anything and just lets you do your thing. “this is goin’ to make you feel better.” you say quietly, filling a glass of water and kneeling beside him.

aemond groans, resting against the wall behind him. you do the same. “you know,” he turns his head to you. “you are really, really pretty.”

your cheeks go red immediately and you know aemond notices that too, so you try to look somewhere else but his hands on your jaw don’t let you. and so you find yourself looking straight into his blue eyes, full of something you can’t figure it out. but he stares at you for a long time, or maybe it's just seconds, but you feel like he spends hours smiling at you with his eyes slightly closed, like you’re going to vanish if he stops and leave him there on the bathroom floor feeling pathetic.

“and you are really, really drunk.” your voice is barely a whisper, still looking at him.

“you don’t believe me? you don’t believe me.” he shakes his head, the smile growing. “you’re so oblivious.”

“m’not!” you complain, pulling his hand away.

you really don’t know what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t need to know that. he also does not need to know you’re feeling those familiar butterflies in your belly, the ones that appeared the first time he held your hand, leaving your entire body tingling.

“i should kiss you right now to see how oblivious you are after.” aemond says casually, as if he didn’t just say what you think he did.

“wh—what?” this time your eyes are fix on the bathroom floor; the tiles are more interesting than his eyes. oh but you know if you look at him again you’ll be completely lost. you know he’s drunk and saying things he doesn’t really feel because he doesn’t feel that way about you, right? suddenly, your eyes are on him again. “don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“but i mean it.” his eyes dart to your lips. when he looks up again, he realizes he’s been caught. “do you want to kiss me, sweet girl?” aemond moves closer, his face inches away from yours. of course you want to kiss him, you’ve been dreaming of it for years, and even in those dreams, it didn’t feel this surreal.

“why don’t you ask me again when you’re sober?” you shake your head, a smile making its way on your face. “and your breath stinks, by the way.”

aemond laughs, resting his head on your shoulder. your heart skips a beat because he doesn’t say anything, and when you are going to speak again not knowing exactly what to say but wanting to hear something from him, anything that could tell you how he really feels, aegon appears in the doorway.

“hey, lover boy, it’s time to go.” he kneels in front of you and his brother just groans, hiding behind your hair and inhaling your perfume.

“you smell nice.” the smile on his face is one of drunkenness.

and when you witness how aemond can barely stand, your heart breaks into tiny pieces. maybe aemond was just drunk, maybe he just wanted to kiss you because you were the only girl with him. you weren’t aemond’s first choice; you were his last.

you wake up feeling a little optimistic. you don’t know if aemond really meant what he said, but you are ready to face whatever his words may be, even if those words break your heart.

none of your friends are in the common hall when you go downstairs and, in all honesty, you don’t want to look for them, there's only one person in your head and you’re going to find him before all bravery leaves your body.

you are smiling widely when you step into the great hall, familiar faces sitting at the table but not the one you’re looking for. your smile falters when you get closer to your friends, all of them laughing and talking about the party last night. maybe he’s still asleep, maybe you’ll grab some food and bring it to him. maybe you could do that if he wasn’t sitting next to alys rivers at her table.

tears fill your eyes as you hear helaena’s voice calling your name, but all your attention is on aemond and the smile adorning his face. all you can hear before running out of there it’s his laugh. of course he wasn’t thinking straight, what were you thinking? he’s so charming and handsome, always helping others, always smelling good, always flirting with pretty girls in the hallways, always enjoying his popularity. he’s tall, agile and strong, smart; of course he needs a girl that can match with him, his needs. and you’re not that girl. you’re not popular, most of the time you are running late to classes, asking help from others, you don’t do sports and it shows, it’s a miracle if a boy flirts with you and if a boy does it, most of the time it’s because him or his friends want you to introduce them to your girlfriends. you are not that pretty either, you have bags under your eyes, you barely do make up and your hair is a disaster. what could aemond targaryen possibly like about you?

you barely make it to the stairs leading to your dorm when a hand grabs your wrist, heavy breathing behind you. “wait!”

“sorry, i forgot something,” you say quickly, wiping your tears with your free hand. “i’ll be back in a minute.”

he lets you go and you run to the stairs, before his words stop you. “i was really drunk las’ night, wasn’t i?”

“yes.” you say with a bitter laugh.

“shit— i think i threw up in your bathroom.” he laughs, and you hear his footsteps getting closer. “sorry ‘bout that.”

“it’s okay.” you smile even though he can’t see your face. “i need to grab this thing before class, you know how profess—“

“i’m sober now.”

your heart stops beating, everything around you stops. did you hear him right? you don’t dare to move, you can’t.

what could aemond targaryen possibly like about you?

“but i saw you with al—”

“she’s barely a friend.” he explains. “i don’t know if what you said last night was because you didn’t know how to reject me,” he starts saying, moving closer and closer to you. “but i’m here anyway. i can’t hide what i feel inside me anymore.” and that’s when you turn around.

he’s a few feet away, fidgeting with his hands and looking at you with that same something you saw last night.

“i’ve loved you since the first time i saw you. when—”

“when we met on second year.” you interrupt him, cocking your head to the side. of course you remember, because the letter you got from your parents that year was the reason your whole friendship started. you just can’t believe what you are hearing. now the tears streaming down your face have a different reason, one you did not think was possible.

he smiles sheepishly at you. “no—that was not the first time i saw you.” he scratches the back of his neck, meeting your gaze. “i saw you the first day of school, on the train. you were sitting next to baela and i remember thinking ‘god, i’ve never seen such a beautiful girl before’” he takes one step forward. “i remember thinking i was seeing an angel.” he chuckles, his face red and eyes glistening. “i’m seeing one right now.”

you can’t see due to the cascade coming from your eyes, you try to wipe it, only for them to be replaced with more tears. you didn’t think you could smile this big, to feel this happy, to feel this loved.

“i remember seeing you in classes, in the hallways… always so pretty.” he takes another step, this time only looking at your eyes, not fidgeting with his hands, not uncertainty in his words. “i was a silly, silly boy back then and didn’t know how to talk to you, so when on second year you got that letter,” he looks shy, his eyes meeting the floor. “i took it and convinced the boys to persuade our parents to stay. i wanted to stay with you, i wanted to see you smile again and—when i saw the smile you gave me, it was all worth it.”

you rush to him, face wet and blushed, and a heart beating so fast you think it’s going to explode. locking your arms around his neck, you softly press your lips to his in a kiss full of unspoken words, full of passion and love and tenderness. you are both crying and it’s wet, but oh so perfect.

“you love me?” you ask, smiling with teeth. you have never been so happy before, you have never felt so safe in someone’s arms as you feel in aemond’s; you have never felt so in love with aemond targaryen as you feel right now.

“i am hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you.” aemond murmurs, lips curled in a grin, arms around your waist making you feel those butterflies you’ve experienced through the years once more.

“and i am hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you, aemond targaryen.” you say softly, caressing his cheek. a new set of tears already falling down your face. “always have been.”

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#modern!aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x you

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thelastofhyde · 5 months

Text

prologue. rome.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. like all epic love stories, this one starts with a meet-(un)cute. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. i’m pretty sure there’s no warnings this chapter. word count. 845. hyde’s input. & so it begins! my goal is to try post a chapter every other friday, but it may be weekly if i write + edit on time. likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 next chapter - series masterlist

Under the buzz of a dying light, you assess the damage.

Tousled hair, smudged mascara, bags under your eyes. Chapped lips, wrinkled clothing, a missing earring. Nail indentations, dry hands, a bruise on your knee.

You'd call yourself a mess, had you not been travelling at full-speed in the air, trapped inside an overgrown Pringles can that grew wings, for the past who-knows-how-many hours.

With a snoring seat-neighbour, a kid kicking at the back of you and the embarrassing sting of tears in your eyes, you'd not known peace until the plane had landed on solid ground. And, even then, the nightmare had picked right back up where it had left off, shapeshifting into a mile long customs queue and the overwhelming dread of watching the conveyor belt spin round and round with not a single sign of your suitcase.

It took a whole hour and speaking to an airport staff member later for them to find your case, right down the other end of the arrivals hall, sitting amongst luggage from a destination you'd certainly not arrived from.

But none of that matters, not now. At least you tell yourself that as you splash some cold water on your face. Looking back in the mirror, you try out a smile. It doesn't look genuine, but it's been a little harder to do recently, and so you give yourself credit for managing to at least have it meet your eyes.

There's a series of disgruntled, irritated faces that greet you as you exit the bathroom. You walk past them, head down, trying to count the beat in your footsteps and feel the roll of your suitcase's wheels.

Finding the signs that point to the arrival gate, you keep a low profile, as if anyone would know you here. Why would anybody know you here? Still, the need to stay hidden, out of sight, it intensifies, even as you take in the welcoming sign above sliding doors.

Buongiorno, benvenuto in Italia!

An overwhelming wave of loneliness hits you as you take your first step past the sliding doors, the usual hustle and bustle of an arrival's lounge greeting you. Couples embracing in reunion, families excitedly catching up on all that they've missed, strangers meeting for the first time, men in suits holding up signs with names and-

A different kind of wave hits you, physically, and suddenly you're on all fours, the sound of your knees smacking harshly into the marble floor taunting you with yet another bruise that'll be making a cameo in every picture you’ll take.

The world continues to pass you by, even as you juggle turmoil and pain. It’s a feat you’re trying to grow used to, but, for now, all you can manage is to not feel your stomach knot. You straighten your back, hands off the floor and your weight resting back against your knees. Pull a deep breath in, ignoring the tremble in your lower lip. In a moment of pure desperation, you wonder what more awaits you on this holiday from hell.

An awful flight, a lost-luggage scare, several bruises and now a public humiliation. What’s next?

You’re plucked up from where you sit, strong hands taking a gentle grip of your forearm. A simple tug and you obey the stranger’s signal, shifting to stand up straight. Turning on your heel to face your rescuer, you’re met with the back of a head, dark locks adorning it as the man reaches back down to grasp at your suitcase’s handle.

The man’s face is revealed slowly, undeliberately, as he rises to level once more, steadying your case back onto its wheels. Handsome, you notice the etching of laugh lines around his eyes and the peppering of patchy, yet fitting, facial hair along his jaw. A pair of headphones, big and chunky and sporting a wire, rest on the back of his neck and the strap of a backpack rests over his right shoulder.

You notice you’re staring a little too late, when there’s already a frown line splitting the skin of his forehead. Clear your throat, take back control of your suitcase and your senses.

Raised with manners, you rather clumsily thrust out your hand for the man to shake. “Thank you for your help, I appreciate it. So much. I'm-"

"You're in the way."

There’s no time to respond, not properly, as the man side-steps you with a grunt, his shoulder catching yours as he passes by. He doesn’t stop to apologise, simply readjusting the sliding strap of his bag and continuing his stride out into the sea of awaiting people.

Involuntarily, frozen where you stand, your eyes follow him as he comes to a stop in front of a uniformed man, a printed sign in his hand.

Signore Miller.

As you scan the crowd for your own name, spotting a casually dressed older gentleman carrying it upon scribbled cardboard, you repeat that name, over and over.

Miller, Miller, Miller.

Whoever the rude man may be, you pray for all those who cross his path on his trip.

#joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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lilywastaken · 1 year

Note

First of all I hope this is the request section second of all love your writings you’ve done so far <3 now to my request, I’ve been seeing way to many edits about dream in mr beast Antartica video. What if fem/reader went along with them and slept with in dream,sapnap, jimmy tent. It would be a dream x reader, friends to lovers or already a couple your choice :). Can’t wait to read more from you <3

⇝ARTIC COLD.

CC! DreamWasTaken x FEM!Reader.

SUMMARY: Spending 50 hours in Antarctica wasn't on your list of things to do this month, but neither was sharing a sleeping bag with your crush.

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of blood, illness (Dream's ill the whole time ☠️.), a lot of swearing!

A/N: My first request!! Thank you so much for it! <3 I chose the friends to lovers route with it, and kind of got carried away cause I love this idea (as you'll see)!! I'm actually really proud of this one, it might be my favourite piece of writing yet LMAO. Requests are still open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you all for the support! <33

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

MASTERLIST.

Also on ao3!

You were used to travelling at this point.

Living with some of the biggest content creators of the year and creating content yourself meant that you were always being invited to places, whether it be conventions or get-togethers with internet friends.

And although you were well acquainted with Karl and knew who he worked for, you had never expected to be invited to be part of one of Mr Beast's survival challenges alongside your roommates and his crew, and you would've been crazy to even imagine you'd be invited to travel to Antarctica of all places.

After living for half a year in one of the warmer states in the U.S., you didn't know how you were meant to survive below 0 degrees when all you had to wear were tank tops and the occasional long sleeved shirt.

Which meant you were stuck borrowing your roommates' big chunky jackets and sweaters that they had brought alongside them for the trip.

It wasn't as if you weren't used to borrowing clothes from them, hell, you were pretty sure most of your closet consisted of Dream's clothes that were too small to fit him anymore.

But that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"You look like a penguin."

George snorted as soon as you stumbled out of the jet's tiny bathroom, sporting one of the many jackets you were required to wear before exiting the aircraft and stepping onto Antarctica.

"Go fuck yourself." You sneered back, zipping your coat up to your chin and shoving your hands into the pockets, somehow already feeling the chill from the outside despite not having landed yet. "I'm afraid I won't be able to look as stylish as you wish me to during our stay in fucking Antarctica."

"I think you look stylish enough." Clay teased cheekily as he walked up from behind you, large hands landing on your shoulders to manoeuvre you out of his way, causing you to roll your eyes long enough to cause a headache at the cockiness he was exhibiting simply because you had chosen to wear his clothes instead of anyone else's.

"You're just saying that because it's your jacket she's wearing." Nolan commented as Karl helped him zip up the last of the many coats he was wearing, a teasing tone in his voice.

"And she looks good in it, what's the issue?" Dream didn't seem to want to back down from their back and forth, as usually happened with those. When Nolan didn't respond, the blond turned his head around and shot you a grin along with a thumbs up, his silent way of boasting after one of his so-called wins.

"You're such an idiot." You muttered under your breath as Sapnap handed you one of the many scarves that were littered across the floor, and you for one were glad that you had something to cover your face, not wanting anyone to notice the warmth that had risen to your cheeks after your small interaction with Dream.

Despite you living with him for almost a full year, he had somehow never gotten the memo about your true feelings towards him, unlike both Sapnap and George and half of the goddamn internet, who were full-on convinced that you were head over heels for the previously faceless YouTuber, and to be fair, they weren't far off.

He'd been the first one to reach out after lurking around in your streams, the first one to invite you into their server and make an effort to include you into the ongoing lore, to add you to streams with his internet friends and therefore introduce you to the people who you now considered to be your best friends.

It was inevitable, really. After countless hours spent listening to each other's voices through your speakers and being one of the first people to see his face despite his initial fear of rejection, how could you not fall in love with him? He was perfect, from the way his nose crinkled when he smiled to the countless moles adorning his body, he was perfect.

It was stupid, really, how hard you'd fallen for someone who had started out as a simple stranger on the internet who happened to also play Minecraft to one of the people you loved the most.

And you were going to make sure that he'd never know how much you truly loved him, the chances of your confession ruining the friendship you both had built too high to even consider.

"Why are you guys just standing around, we're about to land!" Jimmy came out of the cockpit, clapping his hands together and ushering everyone towards their luggage in an effort to get you to get ready quicker. "Come on! I don't want any of you catching frostbite and dying on me!"

"Wait, that's possible!?"

Despite all the layers of clothing Dream was currently sporting, he somehow managed to feel your hand wrap around his elbow, shuffling closer to his taller build as you readied to exit the aircraft.

"You okay?" He pulled his ski mask down below his lips so he could send you a reassuring smile, his juniper eyes obscured by the ski goggles that sat snuggly on his face.

"Yep. Totally okay. Totally not freaking out because we're about to spend 50 hours in the coldest place on earth. Totally fine, Clay." Your words came out of your mouth almost at the speed of light as your gloved hands fumbled with the scarf around your neck, receiving a laugh from the blond in response.

"Calm down. I doubt Jimmy will actually let us die, okay?" He moved your hands away from your face and fixed your problem himself, the smile on his lips only growing as his fingers brushed against your warming cheeks, a huge contrast to the cold air swirling outside.

"And if you do, just make sure to tell everyone to like and subscribe, okay?" A small 'oof!' left you as Chandler slammed his hands on your shoulders from behind, getting a slightly angered glare from Dream and a few giggles from the others at his action.

"Fuck you, man." You smiled, the sweet yet very brief encouragement you'd received lifting your spirits almost immediately.

But they were swiftly dampened as the doors opened, and holy fucking shit, you'd underestimated how cold it was going to be.

The sun was shining onto your small group, but not a single trace of warmth was felt on your skin, and oh god what you'd give to be back home curled underneath your bed covers holding Patches in your arms.

Jimmy didn't spare a single second to start the challenge, already heading over to the spot he'd claimed would be perfect for the makeshift camp that would be your home for the next two days.

Luckily, you'd been tasked with carrying one of the lighter pieces of luggage, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't almost busted a lung laughing whenever you saw one of the boys slip or trip and fall flat on their faces, but you did stop every time Dream stopped to cough, knowing he had caught a chill right before boarding the plane and the freezing temperatures you were being forced to travel through would likely do him no good.

After surviving a surprise blizzard and almost slipping a few times, you finally reached the spot Jimmy had marked in his mental map. You were almost ready to collapse into the soft looking snow, but of course, you were forced to put up the tents you'd be staying in, which proved even more difficult than propping up a normal tent in the woods, thanks to the never ending wind and slippy snow.

But as soon as you were allowed into the safety of the main tent, you curled into a ball in the corner and fought with your gloves to turn on your phone, which barely worked due to the cold.

"What the fuck are you trying to do with that?" Sapnap groaned as he fell to the ground in front of you, spying at the device in your hands as if he were some sort of prehistoric man and this was his first contact with fire. "You're an actual imbecile if you think there's going to be even a sliver of reception here."

You stuck your tongue out to him and moved to kick his side with your snow boots, snickering in victory as he finally moved away from you, leaving an empty spot at your side as Jimmy started to take out the strange contraptions that were required to make food in such extreme weather, but you were too tired to listen in to his explanation.

"Made you something." You visibly cringed at the sound of Dream's groggy voice before he came into view, ski mask and goggles abandoned so you could see clearly how red and runny his nose was, gloves off so he could hand you the warm packet of food he claimed to have made.

"Didn't know you were a Rudolph cosplayer.", You commented on his appearance with a sly smile, almost dropping the food as you felt him curl into your side, head falling onto your shoulder with a shaky moan of pain, clearly not amused by your attempt at a joke. "You okay?"

"No. Not okay." He whined, his warm breath hitting your neck from where his head was situated and causing goosebumps to form, your body still not used to this much proximity with him. "I feel like shit. Like… worse than shit."

You'd normally roll your eyes at such a statement, but you knew now that he was telling the truth, you'd seen the blood he coughed up the day before during your stay in Chile, and you knew that a cold could quickly turn into something way worse given the time.

You were ready to offer him help with whatever he needed, but you were cut off before you could even begin as you saw his mouth open wide from the corner of your eye.

"Wh-"

"Feed me." He attempted to say without closing his mouth, soft eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes with a pleasing look. "C'mon. Hungry."

You tried to ignore the head creeping up your neck as you reached into the bag with the plastic spoon to scoop up some of the now lukewarm food out and into his mouth, watching as he closed his mouth around the spoon and gulped, moaning softly at the taste.

"Holy shit that might actually be the best thing I've ever tasted." He opened his mouth again, waiting for you to shovel a bit more food into his mouth.

"Oh, so what you said about my pesto was a lie?" You said, pouting in mock sadness as you repeated your action, shoving the spoon into his mouth a bit too hard and making him choke, but before you could apologise, he shook his head, answering your previous accusation.

"Okay, second best. Your cooking skills put this delicious cold goop to shame." He joked between a few chews, nudging you slightly with his shoulder. "You know that."

"Ah, so you're comparing my food to this?" You raised the bag in question and shook it a bit to further your point, trying your best to not burst out laughing at how panicked he looked as he tried to explain himself; a frown etching onto his face as you finally broke and let out a soft giggle.

"You're making fun of me." He finally seemed to realise as you nodded in response, about to shove some snow in your face if it weren't for the spoon that was shoved into his mouth and the puppy eyes you shot in his direction.

"Truce?"

The gulp he made was enough of a response for you.

Once the spoon you had used for Dream was well disposed of (you didn't want to risk getting ill yourself), you started eating some of the food yourself, Dream's head still snugly resting on your shoulder as he watched your every movement, making small talk every now and then and joining in on the conversations the others were having.

"Okay, it's like… almost midnight." Jimmy commented as he stared down at his watch, everyone staring back at him with the same bewildered expression, since the sun was still shining down onto your small camp. "We gotta get to bed."

"But it's still sunny outside!" Karl whined, pulling back the entrance slap to stare outside for a split moment, everyone immediately shouting at him for letting the cold in.

"And it's going to stay like that! Did the American school system fail you this badly!? Haven't you lot learnt about Antarctica? The sun is always up here!" George exclaimed in frustration, already zipping up his jacket, urging everyone else to abandon their food and do the same.

"Exactly! So let's get into our tents and try to get some rest, okay?" Jimmy encouraged, trying his best to keep everyone's morale up, picking up his sleeping bag and waiting for everyone to be ready before opening the tent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You heard Sapnap curse as he followed his group into the tent with their sleeping bags, your own pressed to your chest for extra warmth until you reached the tent you'd be staying in, quickly making yourself at home on the right side.

"Dibs!" You didn't even try to hide the amusement in your voice as you slammed your bag and belongings onto the plastic ground, immediately starting to zip down the giant coat you'd been wearing.

"Yeah, yeah." Jimmy rolled his eyes with a smile as he and Nolan claimed the left side, leaving Dream standing at the entrance in confusion, staring at the empty spot beside your sleeping bag as if it was an abomination of nature.

His brain hadn't seemed to comprehend that he'd be sleeping next to you when you confessed you'd feel safer sleeping in the same tent as him, he had simply assumed you'd be sleeping next to Nolan or Jimmy, not him.

"You okay, dude? You're letting in all the cold." Your voice snapped him out of the daze he had been in, rapidly nodding instead of answering since he really didn't trust his voice to work right then.

Once the tent was zipped up tight, he awkwardly shuffled towards you, watching intently as you pushed your jackets off, which left you in the tight shirt all of you wore beneath the heaps of coats.

His hands shook as he undid his sleeping bag, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of how close to you he was going to be in a few minutes.

And he didn't know why this was affecting him so much, he'd been cuddled up into your side less than an hour ago, and he wouldn't be able to count the times you'd crawled into his bed back home after a nightmare or if you were being too lazy to make the few steps that it took from his room to yours. He'd had you in his arms, hell, he'd felt the warm skin of your waist beneath his open palms that one time he helped you decorate the Christmas tree, so why was this different?

Maybe he was deluded.

That's probably right, his cold had gotten so bad that it was affecting his senses, which meant he was now super fucking awkward around you and wanted nothing more than to hide his face in the crook of your neck and feel once again your warm skin bene-

What?

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

He froze in his tracks as he stopped his train of thought from going any further, his face heating up as he reviewed the thoughts about you that seemed to have infiltrated his mind.

Well…. it wasn't like he hadn't ever thought about you like that, it was sort of inevitable. You were one of his closest friends, (maybe his closest, but don't tell George that.) and yeah, maybe once in a while he had thought about kissing you, about threading his fingers through your hair and tracing every feature on your pretty face while you laid in his arms.

And… and maybe he had told himself that all those times you had come to him at night for comfort or had stayed in his arms while watching a movie, were nothing but platonic, that you would probably do the same with Sapnap or George (despite the absolute fucking jealousy he felt brewing inside of him at the thought of you lying in their arms instead of his.) and the moments you spent talking about everything and anything at the same time weren't reminiscent to all of his past relationships, because this wasn't a relationship! He was your best friend! Not some creep that was in love with the girl who trusted him the most! Nope! No way.

He nodded to himself in confirmation as he finally finished setting up his sleeping bag, flopping down onto it with an angered huff, ignoring the amused look you sent in his direction.

"You're going to sleep like that?" You questioned, poking his side teasingly, causing him to yelp and move away from your touch as if it was poison as quickly as he could, snapping his head down to look at his outfit.

His cheeks went even redder (if humanly possible) as he realised he had been this close to falling asleep in full Antarctica tactical gear, quickly shoving all of his layers off so he was in the tight shirt your two other tent-mates were also wearing.

"You're so stupid." You snorted at him with a fond smile, turning around on top of your makeshift bed to pick up your phone and some earphones you'd been smart enough to bring. "Downloaded some anime Karl recommended, you want to watch an episode before we sleep?" You offered, making sure your voice was low enough that it didn't disturb Jimmy or Nolan, who were busy talking to the cameraman; lifting an earbud in one hand and waving it around enticingly.

"Y-Yeah, why not?" He smiled back at you, awkwardly shuffling towards you and keeping his distance because he was your friend who respected your boundaries and definitely did not like you.

He sputtered out a whine as you rolled your eyes and pulled his sleeping bag flush against yours, forcing him to sit right next to you, arm to arm, leg to leg and foot to foot. He raised a shaking hand to pop in the earbud you handed to him and tried his best to focus on the screen and not on how fucking warm your skin felt against his, how cute you sounded when you let out a short snort or a low giggle, how pretty you looked from the side with the glow of your phone reflecting your features.

Fuck.

You, for one, were actually enjoying the show at hand (despite only having one earbud, but that didn't matter.), and not focusing on how close Dream was to you, something you were learning to do after all the times you'd spent curled into his side at his bed back home.

You hadn't really thought about how the sleeping arrangements would work back on the plane, you were more concerned about the plastic device Jimmy had shoved into your hand and tried his best to explain how it was supposed to help you use the restroom.

But now that you were given the time to breathe, you finally realised how close you'd be to him, the thought enough to make you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream into it like a schoolgirl, just like every time you ended up in his arms.

Before the episode could finish, the cameraman left after filming a bit of Jimmy and Nolan, the latter escorting him out and turning back around, his gaze flicking down to your sleeping bag.

"Ah, shit, your bag's ripped."

"What?" You let your phone fall onto your lap and leaned over your legs to grab at the end of what would've been your bed if it weren't for the giant gash that had split the bottom in half, exposing your socks to the outside. "Fuck! Jimmy!"

The man in question popped his head up from where he was lying down, surveying the damage before biting the inside of his cheek in thought, scratching his chin.

"Uh… I don't think we've got any spares. Are… Are you okay with sharing or something? I mean, you know Karl, he'll probably be up all night so you can probably take his or share…?"

Dream didn't want to admit how horrible the thought of you leaving his tent to share with Karl was and how disgusting he felt as the jealousy grew in a pit of his stomach as he kept on thinking about it.

"Uh-" You looked down at the threads hanging out of the tear, shrugging your shoulders as you silently agreed. "I mean… as long as Karl's okay with it…? I don't mind."

"Great! Here, let me hel-"

"You can just share with me."

Dream's groggy voice cut off Jimmy's enthusiastic one, causing all of the tent to snap their head into his direction, as if you had forgotten he was there.

"That's fine, right?"

"Yeah!" You cried out a bit too eager, quickly coughing and changing your tone of voice to a more mellow one. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Oookay! That's actually better. A lot of people huddle close for heat here so let's see if you help Dream with that cold of his, eh?" Jimmy nodded, slipping his sleep mask back down his face and lying down, leaving you and Dream wide awake and staring at each other, Nolan having slipped into his bag during your awkward conversation.

"Here." Dream got up and tried his best to pull the sleeping bag open to make more space, waiting patiently for you to unzip your snow boots and put on some fuzzy socks you'd manage to snag in Chile before taking the plane.

"Thanks," You mumbled quietly, awkwardly moving to a side of the bag so Dream would be able to fit in next to you. "For holding it open. And uhm, for offering. I really didn't want to leave the tent, plus, with Karl, Sapnap and George I doubt I'd get any sleep."

Dream snorted in affirmation, aware of how dangerous they were when put together, and he couldn't even imagine how powerful they'd be when contained in such a small space. It was his turn to throw off his boots (not even bothering to unzip them first), and quickly shove himself into the bag next to you in hopes of keeping the warmth his feet had previously been in.

After a bit of shifting and moving limbs, you finally got into a comfortable position, your body draped over his side to preserve warmth with an arm wrapped around you waist with the other tracing random shapes into the arm that was sprawled across his chest, something he subconsciously did every time you were in his arms in such a position.

"This is nice." He mumbled, half joking, half serious.

"Mhm." You hummed, not trusting yourself enough to form proper sentences, carefully resting your head onto his shoulder and tickling his cheek with your hair.

A few moments passed in the same position, Dream's warm hand rubbing circles onto your waist in an attempt to soothe your nerves, knowing how stressed you probably felt without having to ask. You almost melted in his touch as he moved his head to rub his nose into your hair, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"It's impossible to sleep." He finally broke the silence with the muttered sentence, making you giggle and hide your face further into his shoulder.

"Don't you have an eye mask?" You mumbled from your spot, voice muffled by his shirt, feeling him shift beneath you until his hands left you to pull what you assumed was the eye mask down to his face.

"Forgot about it." He grumbled, warm hands finding their spot back onto your body and continuing their ministrations on your skin, lulling you quickly to sleep, feeling as if your head had been stuffed with cotton, tired enough to ignore everything around you, especially the quiet confession that came from Dream's lips and the soft kiss that was pressed to your forehead, leaving it to be a secret of the night.

You were woken up rather abruptly, the tent opening and Karl's high pitched laugh coming in along with the cold air, making everyone in the tent groan in discomfort and move beneath the covers to preserve the warmth, including you two, who during the night seemed to have moved into a different position, your face pressed right into Dream's chest with his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands cupping the pudge of your thighs as they wrapped around his waist, thumb rubbing in circles like he had done last night with your waist, quickly soothing you back to sleep.

"I'm going to kill you, Karl!" Nolan shouted from his bag as the boy rolled into the tent, Sapnap following close behind with a disposable camera, not trusting his phone enough in such a weather.

"You got it?"

"Yep."

Sapnap made sure the flash was off, not wanting either of you to fully wake up and ruin the moment, before snapping a few pictures of Dream and you cuddled beneath the top layer of his sleeping bag, keeping their giggles and snickers to a low before leaving the tent with a nice reminder of what had happened beneath you.

"Told you it was smart to bring a knife." Sapnap pointed to your discarded sleeping bag with a grin before fully exiting the tent, not without letting in a gust of cold wind.

That seemed to finally snap you out of your sleep, groaning softly as you wriggled in Dream's arms, stopping in your tracks as he let out an incoherent grumble and brought you closer into his arms, as if you were a simple teddy bear and not his best friend who had totally overstepped a line by actually fucking wrapping her legs around his waist as if he were your boyfriend!

"Clay." You whispered as you faced him, moving a hand to push a few of his curls out of the way of his closed eyes and observe the freckles splattered across his skin like stars in the night sky, your finger tracing the short invisible lines between all of them. "Wake up…"

"Hmng…" His hold on you tightened for a moment before returning back to normal, his way of pleading for you to give up and slip back into his arms.

"Claaayy~" you said a bit louder, pressing your finger into the tip of his nose in hopes of getting him to wake faster. "Come on, we've still got a whole day left."

"Do you think I'm actually well enough to do something?" He finally spoke, and you almost jumped at how much worse his voice sounded than last night, but that was a given due to the cold and the mix between his already muzzy voice and the deep tone his morning voice normally took. "Just stay here with me for a while…"

"But I'm well enough to do something, Clay." You mumbled, letting your arm fall by your side and attempting once again to escape his grip, smiling softly as he didn't fight this time and let you slip out easily.

You didn't make any further effort to wake him up again, giving him the luxury of sleeping in a bit longer and getting yourself ready to leave the tent, despite how warm his hold had been and how you truly wanted nothing more than to slip right into his hold and wrap your arms around him.

But you fought the urge to, exiting the warmth of your tent and rushing towards where Karl and George were building a snowman (although it wasn't much of a snowman due to Karl slipping and falling onto it every few minutes.), and offering to assist them.

Ignoring the cold and the fact you didn't have anything to decorate the so-called snowmen with, you actually had fun with them, having said goodbye to Nolan and Jimmy before they left to "claim a mountain" a few hours ago; and you were now left with four snowmen without features, so they really couldn't be called snowmen at all.

"I think it looks pretty good!" Karl hummed as he finished rolling one of the bigger parts of his snowman.

"It's just three balls of snow on top of each other, Karl." George deadpanned as he moved his goggles to see the abominations you three had made.

"I think it looks a bit like you." You stuck your tongue out at George, who returned the gesture before the both of you realised how cold it was to be doing it and quickly returned your tongues back into your mouths.

After making some food and welcoming Jimmy and Nolan back, you spent some time with Dream outside (despite how much your body was screaming at you to get somewhere warm.), and threw a few snowballs at each other, last night's events never discussed or mentioned during your conversations.

You finally realised how much time you had spent outside when Chandler announced the plane would be here in almost two hours, the fact you'd spent almost a day in the freezing snow enough to frighten you into getting frostbite.

"If my fingers fall off I want you to have them, Dream." You confessed to him as you both worked on taking down your tent, giddiness filling you at the loud laugh he let out, nodding his head with a smile beneath his ski mask.

"Yes ma'am, I'll make sure to cherish them until I die." He teased back, shoving whatever remained of the tent into a bag and wrapping some of the rope around it, letting you admire for a moment how strong he truly was before Sapnap called you over to help him with the rubbish.

You didn't have much time to talk as Jimmy hurried you all back to where you had started, where the plane was waiting in all its glory, and holy shit you couldn't wait to be back inside.

You almost tripped on the stairs from how desperate you were to get inside if it weren't for Dream's hands holding you up from behind, knowing how excited you were to get back into the warm safety of the aircraft.

You collapsed into one of the window seats with a loud dramatic exhale, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the leather chairs and the exaggerated smell of the air freshener that was wafting along the main cabin.

"Fucking finally, right?" Dream laughed after shoving both your luggage into the upper compartments, knowing you'd probably be too exhausted to do it yourself after barely catching any sleep in the last 24 hours, and falling into the empty seat next to you.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…" you turned to look at him dramatically, his heart beating rapidly at your serious expression and words until you spoke. "I actually miss Florida."

He breathed out a sigh of relief along with a laugh, nodding his head in agreement as he moved his hand to wrap around yours, heart fluttering as you didn't even stop him from doing so.

"I can't wait to wear some shorts and a tank top and still be hot." You mumbled with a smile, turning your head to a side to make eye contact with him. "Although it'll probably be a bit too cold for that."

"Yeah, you never know with Floridan winters." He snorted, interlacing your fingers with his and moving to look out the window. "As long as I'm out of this coat, I'll be fine."

It was your turn to laugh, nodding your head in affirmation, and shifting on the seat to rest your head on his shoulder, much like he had done when you had first entered the tent.

Silence filled your little corner of the plane until he finally spoke, turning to you completely and making you lose the balance you previously had.

"You uh… did you hear what I said? Last… uh, last last night?"

You cocked your head to a side like a confused puppy would, shaking your head, a no.

"Uh… well… Shit I'm really going to regret this." He breathed out as a laugh, raising his free hand to pull off his ski mask and ruffle up his curls. "I… I kind of, well… kissed your forehead. And said I- I love you."

Your brain short circuited at his words, blankly staring into his eyes as if your body had stopped just so your mind could make any sense of what he was saying.

"In a non-platonic way."

"In a non-platonic way." You parroted, blinking like a fool as you watched him panic underneath your gaze.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Silence once again filled your little corner, both of your hands still intertwined and both your gazes locked together, Dream's whole body ready to give out if you didn't give him an answer soon.

"Please say somet-"

"I love you too." Your confession cut him off, his mouth hanging open with unsaid words ready to come out, looking something akin to a fish out of water gasping for air.

"O-Oh!" He breathed out, his body finally catching up to his brain as he nodded at your confession, cheeks pink from both embarrassment and illness. "Holy shit."

"Holy shit." You echoed once again, although this time you ended it with a small breathless giggle, raising your free hand to cup his cheek, stubble pricking your palm and cold skin meeting warm.

"I really want to kiss you right now." He confessed, half closed eyes searching for your gaze as his hand came up to cover yours over his cheek. "But I don't want to get you sick."

You smiled at his pout, shrugging your shoulders as you nodded down towards your fingers. "There's no way I'm not getting sick after that, Clay. It's fine. I want to kiss you too."

He nodded faster than the speed of light as you started to pull him down, pressing your lips to his for a moment that felt like eternity, and oh god, it was better than you imagined. It felt as if fireworks were going off in your head, sending shivers down your spine and lighting every nerve within you on fire, his breath against your lips as he pulled back from them almost burning your skin from how much you wanted to press them back onto his.

"Holy shit."

And by the sounds of it, you hadn't been the only one affected ridiculously by the kiss.

"Can we do that more often?" Dream basically vibrated in his seat at the prospect of being able to repeat that experience, his smile only growing when you nodded your head, a matching one pulling at your lips.

"Yes. Yes please."

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hellfire--cult · 5 months

Text

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 13

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, billy x reader, nervousness, allusions to homophobia, hurt

wc: 6.4k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I took a little break because november was a pretty messy month for me. I had complete writer's block, and I am slowly coming back to writing.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 13

“Am I interrupting?”

Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look at Robin who walked right into your office with a smirk to her face. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at your phone with a shake of your head, the male on the other side laughing.

“You know what Buckley, you are.” Eddie said and you saw his smile spreading as he also earned another roll of your eyes.

“Eddie is just showing me what else needs replacing in my car.”

“Cause you took it to Rick’s all this time, and everything in it is garbage–”

“Don’t insult my car Munson.” You glared at the phone this time and he raised one hand up in defense.

It’s been two weeks since you talked with Eddie… And since then, you two have grown close… Very close. How you didn’t talk to Eddie before? You had no idea. When you all get together at the bar or at someone’s house, you two always end up in your own world. You assumed that you were both trying to catch up on eachother, learning about one another still, and you were surprised each day by how easy and normal it was to talk to him.

“To me, it sounds like you are replacing me.” Robin pouted as she walked over to you to come into frame and glare at Eddie through the camera and the man only smirked at her with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Aw, you’re scared I’m going to steal your best friend status Buckley?”

“That’s never happening.” You said in a deadpan expression which made Eddie pull an offended frown on his eyebrows.

“Seriously? I give you friendly discounts at my shop!” He yelled at you and you couldn’t help but snort at how he tried to sound hurt from it, but it only came out as a comical act.

“You can’t buy my friendship Munson, and even if you handed me a billion dollars, Robin will always be first.” At your words, Robin blew a raspberry towards the phone, throwing a fart sound at Eddie. Robin’s arms wrapped around your waist and she rested her head on your shoulder while looking at Eddie, a grin to her face.

“You wish this was you, huh.” For some reason, those words Robin let out of her mouth gave you a feeling of embarrassment? They just simply made your belly twist in a way that wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Eddie on the other side shook his head, yet he felt his jaw clenching slightly, which he dismissed immediately.

“Sure. Anyways, I gotta go, the new brake discs are coming in next week. We really need to put those in at least before you cause an accident.” You rolled your eyes at him and before you could say anything against that, “No comebacks. I am surprised you didn’t die yet.”

“I drive safely.” You retorted, almost offended, but Robin was amused and let out a snort out of her mouth. Your head snapped to look at her with a death glare and she backed away from you with her hands up in the air in defense.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Talk to you later.”

“Sure– Oh, about the payment–”

“Next month is okay.” You sighed at his words and you shook your head at him.

“I can do a check.” It was his turn to snort.

“No, it’s fine, seriously Peach.” Eddie sucked in his right cheek as he looked at you and his brows twitched slightly when you sent a smile his way. It was still new, this friendship you two have, and it seems he is still a little weirded out that you smile at him so easily. Not that he is any different.

“Alright, if you insist, I will take advantage of your kindness.” You heard a commotion behind him as he squatted slightly as if ducking and he just yelled at someone before turning back at you.

“I gotta go before these fuckers do something– FUCKING CHRIST, GARETH–!” And then the call ended. You were left laughing at the whole ordeal, putting the phone down to go back to your laptop, only to feel a presence behind you and you remembered your best friend came into the room a few minutes ago. You turned your chair to look at her, and Robin had her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you.

“Well, I see you’re slowly changing me.” Robin has always been known for over exaggerating things, and this was one of them. You rolled your eyes and turned again to type on your computer.

“I am not Robs.” You defended yourself but it was true you and Eddie had become very close, but it wasn’t as nearly as how you and Robin are.

“You talk to him everyday, be it because of a TikTok or a Reel, or just simply messaging.” Robin walked towards you and leaned her butt against the edge to rest there as she looked down at you.

“We just… We clicked. Putting the past behind us.”

“Which still sounds fucking crazy to me. To everyone really– I mean, you two really hated each other.” And you didn’t need a reminder of that.

“It was very pitiful. We were hurting each other when we could have helped one another. I hurt him and he hurt me, and all for nothing.” Robin nodded at you, and she agreed with you on that. You had told her about what you and Eddie talked about, and you even bared to her how guilty you felt about so many things you said to him.

Robin explained that everyone’s stories are private, so you didn’t really blame her for not telling you stuff about Eddie’s life, just like she didn’t tell Eddie anything about you.

“I know… I am glad though. You two seem to be enjoying one another’s company so… that’s good.” Robin said sincerely and you smiled up at her. “And what about Billy? How do you think everything will go once they meet?”

“Well, I think they will hit it off instantly.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. Eddie and Billy had different yet alike personalities in some sense. Aloof, cheeky, yet attentive if needed. It would be the first time you were going to introduce Eddie to him, and Billy only knows Eddie as the friend who sends you memes all the time.

He doesn’t even know his name is Eddie. You will introduce them tomorrow night.

And you were hoping everything turns out okay.

Things with Billy have been…

Normal.

Ever since meeting your friends, your boyfriend has been a little bit weirder than usual. You wanted to have an all together with his friends and yours, so that the two groups would collide and meet, but all you received from your boyfriend was a talk on how his friends are known figures, and they cannot be seen going out at all.

That felt weird in some sense because you distinctly remember them saying something about going out to a club whenever they get a chance to do so. They didn’t look like the type of people that would avoid the public eye, but rather, seek it. Always seeking it.

Today, you and your boyfriend would go to Robin and Steve’s home, get some drinks, spend time with your friends, but sometimes now you just want to be alone with them. Your boyfriend, even if at the beginning was not very friendly with your group, he now seems to want to be included at every gathering.

You didn’t want to be a bitch about it, cause maybe he does like talking to Argyle a lot. But, they can just message each other to get together by themselves, right? No need for Billy to always be on an outing with you, yet, he sticks with you like a leech.

You wonder how tonight everything will go with Eddie. Hopefully, he is the one that makes your boyfriend finally have some fun inside the group. You’re pretty sure they will get along nicely… hopefully.

You were in the bathroom, throwing the curtain to the side in order to open it as steam floods the entire tiled room. You step out of the tub after turning off the scorching water, just how you like it. Hot showers always help with your nerves, they never miss it. You sigh in contentment only to be struck with the fact that you didn’t bring a towel inside.

You groaned as your body started shivering slightly as the air hit your wet skin. You didn’t want to yell so much in respect for your neighbors, so you leaned and opened the door, opening your mouth to call out to your boyfriend, only to stop when you heard his muffled voice behind the bedroom door.

“I told you I don’t want to do it!”

Silence.

“I don’t want to be part of something I don’t see right.”

Silence again. What is he talking about?

“I know it’s for publicity, I know, and I don’t care what the voting polls in social media say, I won’t stand for something I don’t believe is right.”

Polls? Social media?

“Okay, okay, fine. Fine. I will say I stand by it.”

You were blinking, trying to understand what your boyfriend was talking about just now. A publicity stunt? Agree to what? A belief of his? You heard footsteps and immediately closed the door of the bathroom as quietly as possible and you felt your heart beating loudly in your chest. You jumped in your place when he knocked on the door.

“Baby? You okay in there?” Fuck, he can’t know you were eavesdropping.

“Y-Yeah! I was calling you to get me a towel but you weren’t listening to me Billy! I am freezing over here!” You tried to put on that whiny voice he loves when you get a little bit angry at him. You heard him chuckle but wince at your tone.

“Shit honey, I’m sorry. I’ll get it for you!” You heard his steps walk away from the bathroom and you let out the air you were holding in.

Something’s not right.

Something is definitely not right.

You don’t know what it is, but there is just this feeling in your gut that something will happen, that something is not what it seems, that there is this idea in your head you are afraid that is true but you don’t want to believe it. Not from him. Not when you started to feel more and more for him each day.

Only to be starting to wash away the more and more you learn from him.

“Billy!” You yelled again and the door opened completely, revealing a smirking Billy Hargrove on the other side while holding a white towel in hand.

“You want it?” He aimed to hand it to you, but as soon as you were going to catch it, he snatched it away with his teeth showing. “Come get it.”

And that’s how you end up chasing your stupid boyfriend through the whole apartment, completely naked while he runs around, laughing in delight, towel in hand.

You didn’t want to believe it.

So when you finally get to dry yourself off, and get some clothes on for tonight is when your nerves start settling in, harder than before. Something in your gut was turning, uncomfortably, nervously, knowing that something was not right, that something was going to happen, that something had been happening all this time that you decided to simply look away from.

You looked at him, at your splendid boyfriend and you still don’t know how he chose someone like you. How he decided it was you the one he was going to risk his fame for. He was choosing a red button-up shirt today, his hair in a small ponytail in the back. You don’t know how you two came to be.

And yet, you still haven’t told him your story. You haven’t told him a few parts of yourself you didn’t feel ready to tell him, but will that time ever come? Why is it so hard to open up to him?

“You ready to go?” Billy asked you as he walked towards you after checking himself in the mirror one last time. You smiled up at him and gave him a nod.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“You finally made it, Jesus.” Robin greeted you as she opened the door for you, and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s comment. You were late, yes… but it was because Billy took his sweet time always getting ready. You scolded him a few times for it, but he always tells you he has to keep his skincare routine intact.

“What a greeting.” You heard Billy mutter under his voice as you two walked into the house, music already invading your ears and the chattering of your friends, making your nerves go away a little, only for confusion and disappointment to fill your gut. You turned your head as Robin came back from closing the door behind you both.

“Where’s Eddie?” You asked, and your boyfriend’s head snapped to you and then back at Robin.

“I think he is running late! What, already missing your NEW best friend?” Robin answered with a huff, and you could only giggle at her jealousy, not noticing the storm that was brewing inside your boyfriend’s chest.

“Quit that Robs.”

“Who’s Eddie?”

Robin looked at your boyfriend for a second with a confused frown on her face and then back at you. For some reason, there was a turn in your stomach because you realized you never told Billy about Eddie. He just knew there was a friend missing from the group he still hadn’t met yet.

“Um, the last friend you don’t know.” You looked at him and his blue orbs were not very helpful. You couldn’t quite read his eyes as they looked at you, but a twitch in the eyebrow told you he was thinking.

“Why did she call him your best friend?” And Robin was looking panicked between you and your boyfriend, and you simply smiled at Billy, shaking your head.

“It’s Robin being dramatic.”

“Why did she call him that? I mean–” And you could see the moment Billy’s head clicked, an eyebrow raised up. “Is he the one you’ve been talking to for the past few weeks?”

“Okay, you say we talked, we mostly sent memes to one another.” You tried to defend yourself, but against what? You didn’t do anything wrong. So why do you feel the need to explain yourself?

“Right.” You could see the change in mood in Billy’s body language. This night was already turning in a way that you didn’t expect, or you wanted to avoid. Robin shot you a look with a worried frown and you turned to go into the living room where everyone else was.

“Billy! My man!” You could hear Argyle yell and god fucking bless Argyle. You saw how he rushed towards you both as Robin walked towards Nancy and whispered into her ear. You knew she was going to tell Nancy about what just happened at the front door with Billy. There is an uneasiness in your throat as Argyle hands you a beer and Billy another.

“Hi, Argyle.” Billy spoke and you took a sip out of your beer as you felt Billy’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You raised an eyebrow at that, looking at him. Why did he trap you with him? You wanted to go say hi to Steve and Jonathan, but you guessed you could do that in a few minutes.

“I have so much to tell you Billy man, I tried that shampoo and conditioner you recommended and it left my hair perfectly smooth, but curly man!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Argyle’s commentary and Billy followed through, shaking his head at your friend.

“I told you to get that brand but for straight hair. Not curly.” You looked at Argyle’s hair and sure enough, there were some waves at the end of his long hair. Billy smiled but there was a hint of something hidden behind it as he talked to Argyle once more, “Who is this Eddie guy?”

“Ah, my brochacho, we met way back in California, and then I followed him here.” Argyle replied with a genuine smile and Billy for some reason let out a sigh of relief, making you frown in confusion.

“Oh, that’s nice. You two are close then.”

“Yeah, very!” You felt the tightness on your waist loosen up, and Billy shot a smile your way, kissing the top of your head. You blinked in confusion and you stepped away to finally go greet Steve and Jonathan who were looking at you with worried faces.

“What was that all about?” Steve asked and you shook your head, taking a long sip out of your beer. There was a pit in your stomach, a nervousness you couldn’t quite describe, a sense of deja vu of some sort.

“I have no clue, but…” You didn’t want to worry your friends with these things going on inside your head. They would question your boyfriend and you don’t want that but at the same time, you want to tell someone about these feelings you’ve been having lately, or the realization of these feelings.

It’s not like you didn’t notice the drastic changes in Billy over the past months, and it all started when he met your friends, but it got better… Yet, you couldn’t help but notice certain aspects and your feelings started swaying from side to side. A sense of dread, of being afraid to know the truth.

“But?” Jonathan asked and you opened your mouth to then close it once again when the doorbell rang, making your head turn to the direction of the door. You were feeling your heart in your throat, and excitement grew in your stomach.

Nancy was the one who walked to get the door this time, and you looked over at Argyle and Billy talking excitedly. You saw how Argyle was gesturing as he talked, and you saw how your boyfriend laughed at his commentary. Maybe he and Eddie will get along. You were worrying about nothing.

And then Nancy stepped aside to let Eddie walk in.

You felt some heat coming up on your cheeks, across your body, but you shook it off as the beer kicking in your system. Your eyes scanned his outfit now. Dark jeans, ripped in some parts, a tight Slayer T-Shirt with a jean vest on top. His hair was in a low bun like always, and the stubble was neatly done.

You wondered what cologne he was using today.

Your mind was snapped back in reality when Eddie approached you, putting the six-pack on the table. He had a warm smile on his face as he flicked your forehead with his middle finger. You winced at the sudden pain, rubbing your skin while glaring up at him.

“What was that for!?” You whined at him and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“For making me watch the stupidest movie ever.”

“Did you just call ‘When Harry Met Sally’ stupid!?” You couldn’t help but be slightly upset by that. It was one of your favorites, and you also liked watching Eddie’s movie suggestion, ‘Armageddon’.

“I am not a fan of those kinds of movies sweetheart.” He was looking at you as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but there was a sly smile in his lips, tugging up, making you smile at him.

“You’re a lying piece of shit. You liked the movie.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, but you knew he liked it. He was just messing with you to get a rise out of you.

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are! You loved that cheesy crap, admit it.” You poked his side, which made him chuckle, moving away from you.

“This is still too weird.” You heard Jonathan talk and you lifted your head to ask what he meant only for your waist to suddenly be grabbed, fingers digging into the skin making you wince just slightly. You turned your head to see Billy looking at Eddie with a grin on his face.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” The voice your boyfriend let out was not friendly. It was strained as if it pained him talking right now. Eddie glanced at you for just a second, and you cleared your throat as your nerves tried to get the best of you.

“Right, Billy, this is Eddie.” Eddie gave your boyfriend a forced smile, and you could feel the tension in the air as the light blue eyes clashed with the brown ones.

“Yeah. You’re Argyle’s boyfriend, right?”

Oh. Oh god. It’s happening again. Eddie’s eyebrow twitched and gave you a questioning look and he could see the confused frown on your face. He looked at his friend and sighed, knowing that Argyle probably made it sound that way. Just like he did last year with you and you mistook it all as well.

“Fucking christ– No. He is just my friend.”

“Oh?” Billy’s eye twitched as he kept looking at Eddie, and you could feel him tugging you closer to him as he kept looking at the dark-haired man. “Then you aren’t dating?”

“No. I am straight.”

And for some reason, you felt the whole air shift. Eddie’s face suddenly fell into a confused frown, and then into an annoyed one instantly, as Billy’s gaze hardened.

“Right. He is the friend you’ve been messaging all the time?”

Billy’s eyes now landed on you and you looked at him to only have a sinking feeling in your stomach. You felt your throat closing up at his gaze, and you knew. You simply knew what was going on in his mind. Eddie was looking back and forth in between you and Billy, and he could see how your boyfriend’s jaw clenched.

“I– um–”

“Billy! You promised to help me with the drinks!” You heard Argyle yell from the kitchen and Billy groaned as he closed his eyes in annoyance. You felt a slight grip on your waist again and then he let go of you, almost unwillingly, giving Eddie one last look before he left. You were staring at his retreating back as he headed to the kitchen, with a confused frown on your face.

“He’s… charming.” Eddie said with not an ounce of likeness in his tone, almost in disgust. He had a bad feeling in his stomach, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. He didn’t want to alarm you in any way, but you looked already confused and nervous. He didn’t want to add more wood to the fire.

“I– I need a smoke.” You stated and immediately rushed out to the backyard, fumbling with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your purse. What was going on? Why did Billy’s demeanor change so suddenly? You never told him it was Eddie the one you were messaging, but did it really matter?

You put the cigarette in your mouth, and now you were fumbling to get the lighter out, but you couldn’t find it. Billy doesn’t like it when you smoke, but he smokes as well. You don’t understand that train of thought, but you don't care right now. A flame appeared in front of you from a red lighter and you knew who it was without even looking at him. You leaned forward and lit the cigarette, taking a long puff.

“You look nervous.” Eddie lit his own stick, mimicking the long puff like you did, and you both let out the smoke out of your lungs.

“I just… don’t understand why he is being… this possessive?”

“Well, he might be overwhelmed by how much more of a man I am.” He joked and you snorted, shaking your head at him. He gave you a small grin and took another puff of his cigarette. “You also look pretty today, people tend to become protective when their partner shines.”

You were taken aback by his response. Did you hear him right?

“Oh Munson thinks I am pretty.” You joked, taking another swig of your stick, turning to look at him, but he wasn’t laughing as he looked to the distance.

“No denying there.”

Thump.

He was just being friendly. Steve complimented you before, Nancy did too, so it should be fine. He was just being a nice friend, telling you that you look nice tonight, that is all. So why do you feel your hands sweating?

“Uh–”

“Are you not going to say I look pretty too? C’mon, I even put a red shirt on today, not a black one.” He chuckled to lose the tension but inside, Eddie was a little nervous. The compliment slipped out of his tongue with ease, too much ease. You giggled, the tension going away, and shook your head at him.

“The red and the black go hand in hand with you, it’s not new.”

“What do you want me to wear? A pink shirt? A baby blue crop top?” You exploded with laughter at the image that came to your head, making him face you with a smile to his face.

“With the care bears at the front!” At that, he too let out a laugh. It was easy being with Eddie, carefree, natural even. You were still amazed by that fact, and cannot even remember how you two disliked each other before.

You both smoked your cigarettes, sharing jokes with one another, laughing, making the nervousness in your belly leave to a faraway place.

“It’s crazy to think I almost beat the shit out of you out here and now we are laughing together.” You put the cigarette out in the small ashtray that was on the garden table and Eddie followed suit with a chuckle.

“You? Beating the shit out of me? Are you sure about that Peach?” He stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest as he inspected you with a squint of his eyes. You copied his stance, and his eyes diverted for a second to your cleavage and went back up to your eyes.

“You think I can’t?” He barked out a laugh at that.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to, I could pin you to the floor using only one hand.”

And oh, that didn’t cause the reaction you thought it would. It was friendly, it was him telling you he is stronger than you… Yet your stomach did a flip at the thought. He could definitely pin you down, and you know that because of his height and the arms that are big and filled with tattoos.

He looked at you when you didn’t answer him back, and he noticed the look your face had as if processing a thought, and he felt a shockwave run down his spine. His thoughts were cut off when he sensed a pair of eyes looking his way, and he raised his head up to see Billy glaring at him as he leaned over the doorframe of the sliding doors with his arms crossed over his chest.

You blinked and quickly turned around to see your boyfriend with a stern look on his face. Now you realize how fast your heart was beating into your chest, and now you felt the nervousness creep up on you again as you stared at Billy’s piercing gaze.

“Billy–”

“Can I talk to you for a second? Privately?”

You slowly nodded at that, giving Eddie one look telling him sorry you’re leaving, and turned to go with Billy. He didn’t grab you or hold your hand, simply turned away, guiding you toward the kitchen. You could sense your friend’s eyes following you as you walked into the kitchen, Billy closing the door behind you.

“Um… is everything okay?”

“You think everything is fucking okay?”

You were stunned at his aggressiveness, never had heard him this way before. You didn’t know what could have possibly happened tonight, but you might have just a slight idea of what and why.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You fucked him, didn’t you?”

And your mouth fell agape at that. Did you hear him right?

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“For fuck sake, you fucked him, didn’t you?”

So you did hear right. Was he talking about Eddie? Why would he come up with that conclusion? What made him believe such a thing between you two?

“I was hoping I heard wrong William, what the fuck are you talking about?” Billy only scoffed with a fake smile on his lips as he leaned against the counter.

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I know you fucked him. That is not just a friend, calling you 'sweetheart'? Giggling together like middle schoolers?”

Was he serious right now? You were feeling your heart breaking, thrumming in your chest in an aggressive manner, and you wanted to run away, you did, but you had to face him. You had to talk to him, once and for all.

“He is my friend! I act that way with Steve, Jonathan!”

“Yeah, well, they’re gay! I don’t care about them!” You could hear the anger in his voice, the way the vein in his forehead was popping out. Your throat was trying to close as a lump was beginning to form, but you weren’t going to back down from this.

“What about Argyle!? He is straight and my friend!” You yelled back at him and he ran a hand through his hair as his nostrils started flaring up from anger.

“I don’t buy for a second he is straight. He is all over me, all the time.”

And the reality of it all hits you like a brick to the face. You remained quiet for a second, feeling your past months with him slip away from your fingers. The image you had of him had been tainted for a while, but this completely smeared the picture.

“And is there a problem if he is?”

And that made Billy look at you, defying you to keep going, almost warning you to shut up, but no… not with this. You liked Billy. You really did.

“What are you saying–”

“You do know that I’m bisexual, right?”

And silence fell in the kitchen. And you saw it. You saw how his eyes turned from anger to complete confusion, to then frown as he looked at you. It was your turn now to scoff, tears filling your eyes as you started pacing around the kitchen, trying to gather your thoughts.

“You…” He couldn’t even speak, and you didn’t want him to. He shouldn’t speak now.

“I thought I was fucking wrong, I seriously didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend… that my boyfriend is–” You cannot even say the word. You can’t. You choked on your own sob as you covered your mouth with your hand. Billy’s face softened and he walked towards you, trying to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Baby–”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You swung his hand away with the back of yours and you stepped away, your face displaying the rage that your heart wanted to let out. “Let me ask you a fucking question, Billy. Are you for or against same-sex couples adopting?”

And he realized it. You saw how his face turned into an angry one again, his eyes squinting at you as he remembered earlier today.

“You eavesdropped.”

“You bet the fuck I did. And you, Billy Hargrove, are a homophobic asshole.”

Silence.

It was like a knife. Those words coming out of your mouth were stabbing you more than they stabbed him. You should have realized it when some of the dark jokes he and his friends did involved… you can’t even think about it. How could he? Why?

“Just because I do not share the same ideals, doesn’t make me homophobic. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to even talk to your friends for fuck sake!” He defended himself but what was the point? There wasn’t any, your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it really couldn’t. You could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, shaking your head at him, taking a step back from him.

“I want you to leave.” Your words came out like venom, and he frowned at you, shaking his head.

“If I leave, you are coming with me, we need to talk this out–”

“There is nothing to talk about! Fucking leave!” Your voice was loud, his voice was loud, and everything was static around you, your vision clouding as he came close to you once more, trying to get hold of your hands.

“Baby, baby, come on, don’t be like that… We’ll go home and we’ll talk about this–” His voice sounded desperate now, and your tears were still running down your cheeks, your mind shutting him out completely as you shook your head again, desperate for him to leave. You didn’t want him near you. You were disgusted, completely disgusted.

“N-No!” Billy’s face crumbled into a stern look once more and he quickly got hold of your bicep in a tight grip, snapping you back into reality as he glared down at you.

“I am not leaving you alone here, with him. So if I leave, you are coming with me.” You tried to yank your arm away from his grip but he kept his hand tight on your arm, and you were feeling his digits digging more and more onto your skin, making your fear grow at each second.

“Let go of me Billy!” You tried again only to be pulled against him and you felt as if your heart were in your throat, his touch completely burning you, wanting it away from you. He wasn’t physical, never, and this is the first time he ever touched you in this way.

“Please sweets, listen to me!” He was desperate for you, trying to get you to talk to him but you shook your head again and as he tried to move you once more, he felt the back of his shirt be yanked harshly, making him let go of your arm as he stumbled backward.

“What the actual fuck do you think you are doing?”

Your eyes widened as you saw a broad back stepping before you, and the smell of wooden cologne immediately invaded your nostrils. You rubbed onto your arm as you straightened up to take a step to the side to see Billy looking at Eddie with a glare in his eyes.

“This doesn’t concern you. It involves me, and my girlfriend.”

“From what I heard it seems she doesn’t hold that title anymore.” Eddie was almost snarling at Billy, completely blocking him from you in a defensive stance. Billy’s eyes caught yours, shaking his head.

“You– You’re still my girl, right?”

You felt the lump in your throat again, memories of the good times you spent with him flashing in front of your eyes. Memories that made you want to go around Eddie to get to him and hug him and kiss him. But then you saw your friends, looking at the scene at the doorway. Your friends. The ones who wouldn’t hurt you, and if they did, never intentionally.

And even if your heart breaks, even if your body trembles with need of him, with the need of his lips, with the need of his eyes on you…

You slowly shook your head at him.

“Bye Billy.”

The room fell silent, and you could see Billy’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at you. What the both of you had was genuine, and it was growing to something even more beautiful, but this is not something you can accept from him. Ever. No matter if he tells you he can change because an ideal never changes that easily.

But his saddened frown turned into a sour one, rage filling his features as his gaze turned to Eddie and then back at you.

“You didn’t answer my first question, but I guess it was true then? You remain friends with guys you fuck darling?”

Your heart shattered at his coldness, at him insulting you this way, almost as if he were calling you ‘slut’ in a very indirect way. A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at him with shock filled eyes.

And it all happened too quickly. Suddenly Billy was face to face with Eddie, as the dark haired man gripped the front of his shirt while he glared down at your now ex-boyfriend. Ex. Another ex.

“Get the fuck out or I will ruin your only source of income pretty boy.” Eddie growled at Billy and pushed him away roughly, making Billy tumble slightly, almost hitting the counter behind him.

His eyes searched for yours one last time, and you could see the hurt in them, reflecting your own. You didn’t doubt his caring for you, not even a second. It was genuine, all of it, but you cannot forgive him for what he did, and does for publicity. You looked away from him and you heard him sigh, followed by steps that were going towards the doorway where all your friends moved away from so he could go through.

“I’ll get my manager to pick my things up from your house. He’ll return yours.”

More steps. More. The front door opening. And then, a slam.

And you broke down.

You were hurt, disgusted, in pain, feeling helpless because of this situation that couldn’t be fixed now. Never. No matter if you have feelings for him, if you will miss the days and nights spent with him. Tears ran down your cheeks as you sobbed into your hands, two arms wrapping around you as a lavender scent filled your nostrils.

Robin was cooing at you, rubbing your head, holding you like a baby to her chest. Your hands gripped her shirt as you cried onto it. Yes… Even if you are hurting you would never choose someone that hates your friends for their orientation.

You wouldn’t choose them over Robin who is holding you tenderly and has held you this way many times before. You will hurt. You will cry. You will need time alone and space to gather and piece yourself back together again.

But they will all help you through it. Even Eddie who is behind Robin with a frown in his face, Steve next to him with the same look but his hand was on Eddie’s shoulder, pressing on it.

It will be okay.

End of Chapter 13

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loveshotzz · 2 years

Text

Saturday Night’s Main Event. - One Shot

Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

Friends to lovers

Summary: Saturday nights were always reserved for you and Eddie. Sharing his love for WWF he won’t let you watch Saturday Nights Main Event with anyone else. After half a bottle of whisky and a wild match between Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage Eddie’s convinced he can do what they do. When he tries to prove it to you things get out of hand and feelings are revealed.

Author’s Note: This is purely self indulgent with my own love for the campy-ness of WWE, Still pretty new at writing fan fiction so comments, likes, and reblogs are always welcome! My requests are open and if i feel like i can do it I totally will. I’ll be writing part 7 of my series after this. Master list (light editing don’t mind my typos 🙈)

Warnings: This is long and this is diiirrrrtyyy. smutty smut smut with feels and fluff. Minors DO NOT ENTER!

Tag List: @emotionaldreamer @tayhar811 @eddiethesexy

Saturday nights were always reserved for you and Eddie.

Once he found out that you also had a deep love for WWF he wouldn’t let you watch The Main Event with anyone else. That’s how Saturday nights had become your favorite night of the week. Hellfire on Thursday’s always a close second, those were the nights you got your best friend to yourself. Those were the nights that made you realize how hopelessly in love you were with with the metal head. You’d never admit it out loud, hell you hardly could admit it to yourself. Eddie brought a comfort to you, a comfort you never wanted to lose. Love was messy and cruel and you knew, you just knew the hardships in life would break you two. That’s what happened to your parents so why wouldn’t it happen to you? Eddie’s at home life was just another testimony to add to your list of evidence. You were more then content with this little bubble you had built around you two, confident in your ability to hide your real feelings just sitting under the surface.

You blame Hulk Hogan and Jim Beam for tonight.

You two were always so high energy when you were together, especially on these nights. It was so easy for you to lose yourself in the matches with him, feeding off each other. There was never any embarrassment when you’d both be screaming at the TV or jumping from you seat when a finishing move blew your mind.

Eddie and you are Squeezed together on his love seat practically vibrating with excitement as The Warriors intro music starts playing. You try to ignore the heat of his thigh pressed tightly against yours. Cursing yourself for picking shorts today, something about his denim touching your bare skin was sending you into a silent frenzy.

“Alright kids, I’m heading out.” Wayne’s gruff voice breaks both your attentions from the TV. He can’t help but smirk at the excitement thats written all over your faces, happy his nephew had someone to spend what he knows are lonely nights with. Wayne could see clear as day the way you stared at his nephew but he was letting Eddie figure that out on his own.

“I promise I won’t let y/n burn the house down.” Eddie grins slinging an arm over you in what you thought was just a casual gesture, but as you feel his muscles start to constrict around your neck you don’t realize your in an arm chokehold till your eyes are face to face with the crotch of his black jeans.

“Eddie! Let me go asshole!” You immediately start fighting against his grasp needing to get out of this position immediately. Was the universe working against you tonight?

When you finally break free you give Eddie a shove before turning around to see his Uncle was already half way out the door chuckling to himself at the sight in front of him.

“It’s not her I’m worried about. it you she’s probably the only reason this place is still standing.” He teases lightly. “Be good.”

“Yeah, yeah get to work old man.” Eddie’s tone is exasperated but the playful glint in his eyes gives him away. You loved catching moments like this. The soft side of Eddie you would get on these nights is what made you realize the depth of your feelings for him, especially once he started to get soft on you.

When Wayne shuts the front door Eddie’s up almost immediately when he sees a commercial break, lightly jogging to his room. It’s not unlike him to surprise you with some kind of booze he had stashed under his bed, always whatever he could manage to swipe from the corner store. It was never the fact he was drinking he was trying to hide from his uncle it was the having to explain where he got it.

When he comes back there’s a shit eating grin spread across his face as he shakes the small handle of brown liquid, as he gets closer you realize its a bottle of Jim Beam.

“Jesus Christ Eddie, Jim Beam? I was expecting beer.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie takes his place next to you on the couch and you swear his legs are spread even wider as he leans back into his seat.

“It’s a special occasion sweetheart, it’s The Main Event before Wrestle Mania. I was scoping this out for days just for this.” Eddie’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’d expect anything else.

All you can think about is the fact that he just called you sweetheart. The pet names were new, you’d noticed he started casually sprinkling them in a few weeks ago. Princess, sweetheart, and now pretty girl. He dropped that one during the last campaign and if it wasn’t for the looks on the rest of the boys faces when the endearment left his lips you’d do your best to think nothing of it. But it was the only thing you thought about for the last two days.

“My mistake Munson, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” You tease snatching the bottle from his hand before twisting off the cap taking a swig, its warm going down your throat and when you meet Eddie’s eyes you don’t know if its the shot that’s making your insides turn to mush or the look he’s giving you.

“Just throwin’ em back huh?” Eddie grins grabbing the bottle from your hands, and you feel his calloused finger tips brush against yours. The light touch making your body react and you don’t understand what’s happening to your self control tonight.

“It’s the Main Event before Wrestlemania.” You counter back arching an eyebrow using his own logic against him.

“Touché, you got me there.” He winks before mimicking your previous actions, you can’t help but laugh at the sour face he makes after the bottle leaves his lips.

“God that is AWFUL!” He keeps smacking his mouth in hopes the bad taste will somehow leave his taste buds.

“It’ll get better as we keep going.” You giggle reaching out for his arm in reassurance. He tenses under your sudden touch, his big brown eyes look at your hand before making their way to your green ones. You can’t place what you see dancing behind his pupils when he licks his lips and they tug into a small smirk.

“Promise?” You swear he’s looking up at you from underneath his lashes. Was Eddie flirting with you?

The sound of Randy Savage’s intro music saves you from having to figure that out, your eyes darting back to the TV screen.

“Quit being a baby.” You finally settle on snatching the bottle from his ringed fingers again tipping it back, welcoming the harsh burn.

The excited energy from before finally returns to Eddie’s living room when Hulk Hogan makes his way into the ring, the show demanding the attention from both of you. You spend most of the match completely enthralled, passing the small handle back and fourth between each other. You don’t notice with the match having you both on the edge of your seat, also had you drink almost half the bottle. You definitely don’t notice how Eddie grips your knee every time there’s a close count out.

When Hulk Hogan finally gets Randy Savage to tap out Eddie’s grip on your knee is released as he stands up to whoop loudly, raising his fist in the air. His actions make his Iron Maiden shirt ride up slightly giving you a small glimpse of the happy trail on his stomach. The universe was definitely testing you tonight.

“What a fuckin’ match!” Eddie’s ecstatic when he turns around to look at you. His doe eyes are glossy and slightly blood shot, a result of the cheap liquor.

“Yeah, that was wild! The way that he picked him up and slammed him down like it was nothing?!” You can’t help but match his happiness when you finally gather the words to speak, Eddie and the whiskey making your brain fuzzy.

“You think I could do that? Like pick someone up like that?” He’s flexing his arm squeezing the muscle on his shoulder to try and gauge his physical abilities that way. You didn’t mean to laugh at him but you couldn’t stop it from bubbling out of your chest.

His brown eyes snap to you on the couch head thrown back gripping your stomach to try and regain control of yourself. Maybe if tears weren’t welling up in the corner of your eyes you would have noticed him position himself in front of you. It wasn’t until you felt the heat of his breath fan across your face that you opened your eyes enough to see him towering over you. His hands resting on either side of your hips on the couch caging you in.

“Are you laughing at me?” While the smirk on his face was menacing the look in his eyes show you slight nervousness. Almost enough to make you feel like maybe being this close has the same effect on him. You finally let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Why I would never! It’s completely believable for you to have the same athletic abilities as the WWF superstars Eddie.” Sarcasm is dripping from your words and his eyes narrow at you. The gesture makes your thighs press together.

You can feel his hands slowly make their way from the couch cushion before the heat of them are against your thighs. The squeeze he gives them is so gentle that your almost don’t know if it’s your imagination.

“You’re gonna regret those words pretty girl.”

Fuck. Pretty girl? Again?

Before you can react his grip tightens at the dip of your knees, and your being lifted off the couch. You knew Eddie was strong always having to watch him and Garett interrupt band practices with their impromptu play fights after taunting each other all day, but you didn’t think he was pick you up like a rag doll strong. The new knowledge goes straight between your legs.

You can’t help but squeal when you feel weight less for a second as he gives you a gentle toss up hooking his arms under your knees causing your legs to dangle on either side of his shoulders. His eyes are level with your stomach, the bottoms your breasts brush lightly against his forehead as your lean forward for balance, your fingers gripping into his waves for dear life.

“This isn’t TV Eddie, you need to put me down!” You try to sound serious but the uncontrollable laughter leaving your mouth doesn’t exactly sell it for you.

“Eddie The Banished has over zealous newcomer right where he wants her.” Eddie’s doing his best announcer voice as you feel his legs start to move you two towards the direction of his room. “It looks like yet again y/n’s mouth wrote a check her ass can’t cash.”

“I’m gonna beat your ass for real Eddie if you don’t put me down.” You tug at his hair a little harder to try and get his attention. When his eyes meet yours from between your legs you’re not prepared for the view from this angle, your body’s natural response to push your thighs together is stopped by his iron clad grip. You see something you couldn’t put your finger on flash over his face when he feels the movements of your legs and your cursing yourself for not having better control.

You don’t realize your falling until your back hits his mattress hard, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Eddie’s laughing from between your legs, arms still loosely wrapped around just above your knees, his warm cheek is pressed against the smooth skin of your thigh. Your heart swelling at the pure joy that’s radiating off of him in this moment. You wanted to bottle it up and keep it for yourself for a rainy day.

“You almost killed us Munson, are you happy with yourself?” The smile on your own face threatening to break you in half.

He doesn’t move from his position after his laughter subsides, his grip on your legs tightening slightly before he responds.

“You know the maid didn’t clean my room today.” Referring to the combat boot he tripped on there’s a light tint of pink on his cheeks and your fingers twitch wanting to reach out.

That’s when you see the opportunity you couldn’t resist having positioned himself perfectly to use your favorite finishing move on him. His eyes go wide when he sees your thighs start to close in on his neck. He try’s to catch them before he can be trapped in but he’s too late.

“In a turn of events Eddie The Banished has been pinned by so called over zealous newcomer will he do the self respectful thing and tap out?” Mocking his announcers voice you tighten the muscles around his neck.

Of course Eddie doesn’t give in doing his best to try and break free, thrashing his head wildly against you. You’re too busy laughing at him that you don’t realize how close his movements have positioned his face to where you had only dreamed about him touching. The place he effects you the most. It’s when his nose accidentally runs the length of your covered folds that you notice, a load moan falling from your lips.

The silence that falls between you two is deafening and you wish you could somehow disappear into his mattress. When you go to release your hold on him his hands grip tighter to your thighs keeping them where they are, his nose runs along your length again this time with more pressure then before.

“Eddie.” Your voice is shaky when is comes out still trying to figure out if this was really happening or not, but then he does it again and your body shudders making you realize this isn’t a dream.

“Sweetheart, are you making a mess of your shorts for me?” Hearing Eddie talking to you like this sends another wave of arousal to your core.

“Open your eyes princess.” So lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realized you closed them.

When you finally open your eyes and look down the sight makes you bite down on your bottom lip another loud moan begging to come out. He’s rested between your plush thighs, the heat of his blown out stare makes you want to squirm, his tongue darts out licking along his bottom lip just inches away from your fluttering core. You can see his hips rutting lightly into his mattress needing the friction. He looks needy.

His fingers dig deeply into your warm skin “I said is this mess all over your shorts for me?”

Eddie’s dominant tone adds to the mess that’s building inside your panties, A fantasy of yours after you saw the handcuffs in his room. You’re mad that you’ve deprived yourself of the sight in front of you for so long, you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on.

“Yes, Eddie.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yes what?” He’s not happy with your simple answers having thought about this moment himself for years. He runs his tongue flat along the wet spot on your shorts causing you to throw your head back and your hips push forward chasing him.

“Yes, I’m soaking through my shorts for you Eddie. I’m always wet when I’m around you.” You finally confess looking back down at him your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“That must’ve been really painful not being able to do anything about it huh?” He’s gentle with how he speaks but you can hear the condescending tone laced underneath it, he was getting off on how desperate you were for him. Still you can’t help it when you nod.

His finger tips trace down the length of the outside of your thighs until they hit the black denim of your shorts. They slide underneath the material squeezing tightly at the doughy flesh of your ass, groaning when he’s met with the lace trim of your panties.

“Lets get these off hm?”

Still only nodding, your voice leaving you Eddie makes quick work of the 4 metal buttons of your high waisted shorts his fingers curling around the top of them he pauses his eyes meeting yours.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You can tell me no and I’ll stop right now.”

Of course Eddie’s still making sure your comfortable, even seconds away from getting your pants off. You were a fucking goner.

“Are you sure you want to do this Eddie? I don’t think I can go back to normal after this.” You finally say wishing you could read his mind.

“I thought it was obvious.” He’s smiling so hard you can see the dimples in his cheeks “I’ve had a crush on you ever since you and your mom moved into the trailer park three years ago. If we do this, your gonna have to move away to get rid of me.”

“What if it doesn’t work out and we ruin everything? I can’t lose you Eddie.” All the reasons you’ve fought this for so long come rushing back to you now that the haze of lust has temporarily subsided.

Eddie pushes himself up, sliding his body against yours until you are both eye level with each other, still nestled between your legs. Propping himself up with one arm, his fingers reach out to brush the stray hairs from your worried face.

“I’ll always be here for you, even if life somehow fucks us up. I’ll never be able to stay away. Not for long.” the look in his eyes is so sincere that it almost brings tears to yours. “I love you.” He says the last part so quiet that you almost don’t hear it.

“I love you too Eddie, I always have.” Your confession comes out in a whisper and you can’t help but take his face in your hands crashing your lips into his. Finally giving into all of those years you fought against it. He doesn’t hesitate moving his lips against yours, his tongue begging for entrance licking at your bottom lip. Quickly granting him access you both moan into the kiss as it deepens. Both of you taking advantage of this opportunity to explore every inch of each other’s mouths trying to memorize exactly how it feels, Neither one of you wanting to forget any detail about this moment.

When you finally break away to catch your breath he makes quick work of the slope of your neck dragging with his wet lips across your skin, licking and biting at the soft flesh addicted to the sounds he elicits from you.

Your hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt, tugging gently silently begging for him to take it off. He sucks hard onto the sensitive spot behind your ear before pushing him self up on his knees. You watch with baited breath as his fingers curve under the hem up his shirt slowly dragging it up and over his wild curls. The view is even better then you could have ever imagined. His chest was smooth till it hit the happy trail you had gotten a glimpse of earlier and wanted to follow it, the demon head tattoo you had only ever seen the one time he flashed it to you at Hellfire was clear as day now. His pick necklace hanging above the dip of his neck. Pushing yourself up slightly you don’t stop yourself from reaching out this time, running your finger tips over the toned muscles of his abdomen watching them flex under your touch. Your nails drag through the rough hairs of his happy trail and it makes him suck his bottom lip between his teeth closing his eyes at the sensation.

“You’re so handsome Eddie.” You can’t help yourself as you eyes hungrily take in all the newly exposed parts of him.

When his eyes open there’s a look of adoration that dances inside them, he reaches out to cup your cheek in his hand, the cool of his rings biting into your hot skin.

“It’s your turn now pretty girl” His smile is gentle when his hand leaves you to join the other at the bottom of your shirt pulling it up. Eddie takes in an audible breath when he sees the black lace bra, he knows that it must match the lace he felt wrapped around your ass.

“Lace set y/n? Are you sure your plan wasn’t to seduce me tonight?” He can’t help but arch an eyebrow at you his grin turning lopsided.

Red takes over your neck and cheeks, you wouldn’t dare tell him that you made sure to wear a matching set anytime you knew you’d be alone with him. Despite your personal protests, you never wanted to not be prepared in case it ever happened. And now sitting here in front of him, you don’t regret your choices at all.

“Last time I checked you’re the one who wanted ‘wrestle’” you give him air quotes dodging his question.

Chuckling to himself Eddie shakes his head at you, his bangs falling messily in his face.

“Shut up, I’m trying to get you naked.” He teases pulling you against his chest, Taking advantage you start peppering your own open mouth kisses along the nape of his neck. His fingers tips brush against your back as he makes work of your bra clasps. Once he has them unhooked they ghost up your spine before gliding up to your straps, he takes his time pulling them down the curve of your shoulder. Bending down as he plants a soft kisses where the straps rested. His hair tickling the side of your cheek, you can feel how hard he is under his jeans.

“Let me see you.” His voice is low next to your ear and it makes you shiver.

You push yourself away from him leaving just enough space between you two for him to get a clear view as your bra falls away from you. Suddenly feeling vulnerable in nothing but your unbuttoned shorts, you’ve never been this exposed to Eddie. You can’t help but feel self conscious under his gaze as he greedily takes you in.

“Fuck - Sweetheart.” He lets out a loud breath through his nose. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Fucking perfect.”

Eddie’s words overwhelm you.

“Eddie, please just touch me. I need you.” Your voice shakes when you reach out for his hands bringing them to your breasts, your nipples hardening instantly under his touch.

His eyes close tightly when he feels how your body reacts to him a low growl leaving his chest. When his eyes open they are completely black and you can feel yourself dripping down your thigh, pressing them together desperate for some relief. Your words causing a shift in his demeanor.

“You need me huh baby?” His voice comes out like a purr as he bends down to capture one of your pert nipples in his mouth.

“Shit- Eddie!” You gasp as his tongue swirls around the hard bud before taking it between his teeth, your hands are buried in his hair holding him closer. When he’s finally satisfied with both he lets the one he’s working on fall from his mouth with a loud pop. His big doe eyes are almost unrecognizable when they meet yours, he looks like he’s ready to devour you and you can’t help the shudder that runs deep through your body. His hard on looks painful pressed against the zipper of his jeans and all you want to do is help him. Reaching out you cup the swollen bulge with one of your small hands, making him close his eyes at contact. He’s rock hard. A surge of confidence fills you knowing that you were the reason for how fucked out he was right now.

“Who’s got you so hard baby?” Its your turn to indulge in his torture.

He doesn’t give you any time to answer, grabbing your hips harshly twisting you around. With your back against his chest you can feel just how labored his breathing his. With out warning he ruts himself into your ass so hard you have to grab ahold of his bed frame in front of you to keep your balance a needy moan falling from your lips. You wanted him so bad.

His fingers dig into your sides begging to bruise your soft flesh pulling you flush against him, his lips trace down the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver.

“You know who’s got me this hard. Those fucking shorts had me readjusting all night.” His right had leaves its place on your hip and finds it way into your pants pushing past your underwear his fingers trace up your soaking entrance, his middle finger dipping lightly into your hole and you can’t help but flutter around him.

“Fuck, she wants me so bad she’s trying to suck me in pretty girl.” You can feel the proud smirk against your skin. “And she’s so fucking wet.”

You were starting to get impatient with how slow he was going, your body almost in pain with how turned on you were. Reaching behind, you do your best to undo the button of his jeans, when you succeed you shove desperately trying to get to what you want so badly. His hands are quick to leave their spot from teasing your entrance to grab your wrists, his grip is tight.

“Don’t just grab at me, use your words.” His tone I commanding and it adds to your desperation.

“I need you to fuck me Eddie. Please just fuck me.” The last part comes out as a whine and if you weren’t so lost in him you’d want to slap yourself for sounding so needy.

“Good girl, was that so hard?” You can feel the cockiness radiating off of him as you hear the jingles of his chains still giving you what you want shimmying out his pants. The weight of his dick hits the small of your back pre cum wetting your skin at contact. Your grip on his bed frame tightens a whimper leaving your mouth as you push yourself back against him needing more.

“Needy aren’t you?” He’s taunting as he nips at the skin of your shoulder blades, his hands making quick work of your shorts before he’s leaning back. “I just wanted to see these panties first pretty girl. You wear these for me?” All you can do is whimper pressing your thighs together tightly trying to relive some of the pressure against your swollen clit.

His fingers knead the fat of your ass cheek before spanking lightly testing the waters.

“I asked you a question. Did you wear these for me?” His lips are against your ear again and your feel him finally start to push the lace down your hips.

“Yes.” You bite your lip ready to confess to him what you swore you wouldn’t. “I wear them every time we hang out...just” You can’t finish your answer when you feel two of his fingers dip into you without warning. Your head falls back against his shoulder a loud moan echoing through his room as you feel yourself griping tightly at the slow motion of his fingers. He pushes them even deeper and you can feel the metal of his rings at your entrance, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream. He was so deep.

“Just what? Just in case you let me fuck you sweet heart? That’s so fucking cute.” He chuckles darkly in your ear removing his fingers from their place inside of you to draw figure eights on your swollen nub and your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Your grab of his hands stopping his motions tired of his teasing, you waited too long for this.

Twisting around you push with enough force to knock him on his back, the view of his hard on is even more intimidating from this angle. Eddie’s shocked expression immediately turns hungry when he sees you kick of your panties completely, he can see how wet you are from here. Its almost a reflex when he reaches out to wrap his fingers around himself for relief. A hiss leaving his mouth, sensitive to his own touch but his eyes never leave yours.

Crawling up him you let the tip of his cock run down the length of you before you rest yourself perching at his tip and it makes him throw his head back with his bottom lip tugged tight between his teeth a mental image he never wants to forget.

“Looks like I’m the one who pinned you Eddie The banished.” His eyes snap up at your words and before he can protest you take him in, completely bottom out.

“Jesus-fuck” Eddie screams, his fingers grabbing harshly to your waist, there’s a light sting of pain at his size but when you feel him twitch inside you it sends another wave of arousal through you coating him even more as you start to rock your hips. You hands are spread across his chest and you have a perfect view of his fucked out expression, his mouth is slightly open, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and his eyelids heavy with lust.

“You feel so good Eddie. So big. So full.” Your hands leave his chest so you can move faster, his tip hitting your sweet spot and you’ve waited long enough to cum.

“You gonna cum princess?” His tone sounds sweet when he asks you and all you can do is nod feeing your self getting dangerously close to falling off the cliff you’d be climbing.

In the blink of an eye your high is ripped away from you, Eddie grabbing your hips firmly pulling himself out of you. Flipping you over Eddie rests himself between your spread legs his hard cock resting against your entrance. His pink mushroom tip hits your clit with every breath he takes and it makes you rock hips against him desperate to find your orgasm again.

“Over zealous new comer yet again gets herself into trouble with her smart mouth. Eddie The banished is in for the pin.”

Your eyes widen at realization of this words and just like you did to him he doesn’t give you anytime to answer before he’s bottoming out inside of you. Your scream is silent as he some how feels even bigger from this angle. Feeling generous Eddie gives you a minute before he pushes himself back up on his knees, hooking his arms under your thighs lifting your bottom half up with him. You are completely at his mercy from this position and you can feel your walls tighten around him again in anticipation.

“Will she do the respectable thing and tap out?” He arches and eye brow at you slowly twirling his hips and it feels so good.

Meeting Eddies’s eyes you push your hips up into him taking him deeper and it makes his eyes roll in the back of his head. “I’m not fucking tapping out, so why don’t you fuck me?”

You swear you hear him growl at your words, his grip tightening around your thighs as he begins thrusting into you hard and deliberate your tits hitting your chin with every stroke.

“Such a dirty fuckin’ mouth pretty girl. I’m gonna make you cum harder then you ever have and then you’ll learn to challenge me.” One of his hands reaches between your legs, his fingers find your clit and it makes your head fall back a low moan falling form your lips as his thrusts continue to hit that sweet spot inside of you once again.

Between his fingers working your swollen nub and the deep strokes of his cock you could feel the coil start to tighten in your stomach again. The only word you knew was his name, it’s the only thing that left your mouth as he continued never slowing down.

“Look at me, I wanna see your eyes when you cum, I can tell your close baby. Cover me, tell everyone who’s making you feel this good. Fuck all I’ve ever wanted was to see you cum.” Eddie’s words are dunk with lust as he watches your green eyes open and meet his. Your walls are sucking him in as you can feel yourself start to fall apart at his words.

“Fuck Eddie, I’m cumming.” You gasp as his tip hits at a slightly different angle, your mouth falls open as you watch his dark eyes hungrily devour you as your orgasm washes over you. The feeling of you coming undone around him makes Eddie’s orgasm dangerously close behind you, his thrusts getting sloppier as your walls continue to flutter around him.

“Shit- I’m gonna cum.” You can feel his grip loosen around your thighs to get ready to pull out and you clamp your legs around his arms so he can’t move still milking him, his eyes go wide at your actions

“I said I’m gonna cum, Shit-fuck I can’t stop.” His words come out as a whine as his eyes close tight his cock twitching inside of you before he’s painting your walls with himself. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of this feeling, thankful for birth control. Eddie’s body finally collapses on top of you still not daring to pull himself out, you both lay there for a second catching your breaths, with your arms wrapped around him you enjoy the feeling of being connected. Something about it makes you feel complete, like there was a piece of you that he held and you didn’t know how bad you needed it until now.

When Eddie finally breaks away from you he’s propping himself up on his forearms so he’s eye level with you, there’s a shit eating grin on his face and you know he’s about to ruin this moment.

“So I definitely won that match.”

You roll your eyes so hard you think they might get stuck in the back of your head.

“It was a no contest match sorry.” Your snort pushing him away but he doesn’t budge.

“Well, good thing your spending the night. I’m demanding a rematch, this is the beginning of a long feud pretty girl, I hope your ready.” Eddie’s still grinning as he bends down to capture your lips. The feeling of Eddie still inside of you and the love he was trying to convey to you in the way his lips moved against yours, you’re glad you didn’t have to fight it anymore because honestly it’s even better then you could of ever dreamed

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x alt!reader #eddie #joseph quinn #eddie x y/n #eddie imagine

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gravedigginbbydoll · 9 months

Text

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey! So this is our first chapter from the perspective of reader! The use of Bug is just as a nickname I find cute. Also pls remember reblogs are appreciated !

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

Chapter 2

Bug’s POV

When the semester started, you thought everything was flowing well. Your job as a Resident Assistant was rewarding though stressful, your professors were generally pretty easy going, and you had signed up for the easiest class to take in order to complete your art credit.

At least, you thought you had.

You had come into the classroom on the first day, only to find empty seats, panic overcoming your senses.

You had quickly emailed the professor, hoping maybe she’d respond soon.

She hadn’t replied until that Friday.

You had opened the email on the desk computer while still at work, trying to complete small tasks and homework while the dorm lobby was quiet. Just reading the first few sentences, you felt your stomach drop to the floor.

The class had been dissolved, not enough students signing up for the History of Women in Art course. You felt panic bubble up in you as you scrambled to email your advisor, forwarding them the email and asking for a meeting to discuss further what to do. You refrained from including a rant about misogyny and how feminine influences were often undermined and ignored, although you felt an itch to do so.

You really didn’t care about it at the moment, truth be told, but were more so worried about graduating soon. You had planned to finish your art elective and put your nose to the grind on your major, working hard to finish within the next year.

You couldn’t start those advanced courses, however, without this last art elective course.

You sighed with relief as your advisor emailed you back quickly, asking you to meet with her on Monday so you could discuss alternative options and classes. You got back to doing your homework and helping residents, humming as you went.

Hopefully, you’d be back on track soon.

“I’m afraid all the other courses are filled up,” She stated, her expression apologetic, her hands folded in front of her like a prayer.

You felt your mouth go dry.

Full?

You could kiss early graduation and your money goodbye. How were you supposed to graduate on time and have your loans forgiven if you couldn’t even do this one measly course?

“There’s gotta be something,” You offered weakly, your palms clammy as you tried to wipe your hands on your jean covered thighs.

She pursed her lips, brows pinched in thought as she sighed. “Well there is one course. It’s got a few spaces empty. But it’s a music course and requires an instrument. It is for beginners though. You’d be at a disadvantage but…”

You perked up, your heart pounding. You were notoriously bad at instruments. You had attempted to take up orchestra in middle school, only to find out that you had zero patience to practice and stick with the skill. Plus, cellos were heavy.

But, you were desperate.

A determined look fell over your face as you nodded.

“Where do I sign up?”

You had signed up for the course, your advisor vouching for you to the professor, who seemed a bit concerned at you coming in two weeks late but had decided to trust you. You rented a guitar from the local music store, The Ghost Note, and picked the cheapest option.

The first day you had come into class you could feel your nerves tingling. You had gotten in, but now you just had to pass. You wouldn’t be too stressed if Professor Howard hadn’t told you about the in person tests they took, which essentially consisted of doing a short set of chords and proving that you could read the sheet music.

You sat down, opening your guitar case and pulling the huge and foreign feeling instrument into your lap. You had settled in when a tumble of limbs and hair rushed into the seat next to you. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, seeing a tall and lean man with unruly curls pulled back into a loose bun throw off a worn out black backpack. He was quite a character, dressed in black ripped jeans, worn out combat boots on his feet, and a faded out Misfits band tour shirt, while a distressed and patched up black jean jacket lay over it. He wore a lot of chains and silver jewelry, his nails painted black in contrast. He seemed to settle into his seat, pulling out his guitar from a case customized in stickers just as much as his jacket, the white paint against the darker and well worn wood catching your attention.

THIS MACHINE SLAYS Dragons, it read in sloppy handwriting, the last word not all in capitals like its predecessors, indicating that whoever had hand painted it had miscalculated how much space they had. You felt a smile tug at your lips. It was clearly a fantasy play on Woody Guthrie’s famous anti-fascist guitar. It was amusing and almost endearing that this very tall and intimidating alternative musician had referenced an old folk singer in the nerdiest way.

You found your mouth opening before you could stop yourself.

“A Guthrie fan, huh?,” You joked, catching his attention.

He looked at you, and you felt your throat tighten and your face burn with heat. Oh. He was attractive. He had full brows set in a slight pinched expression over big doe brown eyes, and pink full lips, slight scruff on his face like he had just forgotten recently to shave. His eyes were scanning you, almost like he was trying to figure you out. You swallowed, your mouth drier than the desert. He opened his mouth to speak right as your professor came up to the front of the class, catching the mystery boy’s attention again.

You sighed in relief, fidgeting in your chair to get comfortable with the large instrument once again and try to calm the fire alight in your chest. Maybe this class wouldn’t be too bad.

You took it back. You hated this class. About 15 minutes in, you felt your fingers begin to cramp and the heat traveled from the back of your neck to the very tips of your ears. The cute man seated next to you had his nose scrunched up and lips pulled down in a frown at every dissonant chord you strummed. You couldn’t help but feel bitter, his fingers gliding over the neck of the guitar as if it was second nature.

What the hell.

By the end of the class, you felt like your hand was rusted metal, all creaky and stiff. You kept flexing your fingers and wincing.

You noticed Professor Howard getting ready to leave and leaped up, walking over to ask about tutoring. You clearly would need help and as much as it killed you to ask for help to learn how to just strum a few strings, you couldn’t risk failing.

“Hey…So I am so grateful you let me in this class, Mr. Howard. I know it’s late and all, what with me being behind two weeks. But I have to be honest, I am not… the most musically inclined. I just was wondering if you have any tutoring, or offer some help outside of class?,” You asked politely, trying to hide your nervous fidgeting.

Mr. Howard furrowed his bushy brown brows, wearing his confusion as clear as day on his face. “Tutoring? For beginning guitar?,” He questioned, his tone suggesting that it was almost as ridiculous as suggesting that male media arts majors stop praising films like Citizen Kane as ‘gospel’. (You’d seen it yourself, once suggesting to a casual date your freshman year that it wasn’t your favorite movie, only to be met with a 30 minute rant about your taste in ‘films’ and how you were ‘uncultured’.)

You felt the embarrassment sink in as you laughed a little, your hands making big gestures as you spoke, a nervous habit. “Yeah, I know. I just struggle with the chords and placing my fingers, and I really want to be successful in this course-”

Mr. Howard cut you off with a gently raised hand and an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I don’t do tutoring. At least not for this course. You are welcome to rent out the space to practice on your own time. Otherwise I suggest maybe approaching a classmate for help,” He offered gently.

Panic settled into your skin, you swallowed as your throat felt tight. You hated talking to strangers and didn’t know a soul in this class. You tried to smile, feeling it falter, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Fuck.

“Please, Mr. Howard, I don’t know anyone in this course and I can’t risk failing-”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he sighed, clearly wanting to help. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Munson would be more than happy to help. He teaches private lessons at The Ghost Note and my niece takes them. He’s probably the best student I’ve had in this class,” He gestured toward the classroom and you turned. It was the mystery man who sat next to you cringing at your playing the entire class, slowly packing away his things. The moment your eyes landed on him, it was like someone hit the gas in his brain, as he shrugged on his bag quickly and briskly walked towards the door.

You nodded and thanked Mr. Howard for his help, backing up slowly to grab your things and race out of there. You grabbed everything, racing out the door, seeing him briskly trying to exit the building. You felt the flutter of nerves as you raced to catch up, your guitar case repeatedly hitting your thighs and definitely leaving a bruise, but you didn’t have time to concern yourself with it.

“Hey! Wait!,” You shouted, the noise echoing in the hallways of the building.

He winced at the noise, but stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to face you.

You stopped in front of him, your guitar case dropped helplessly to the floor as you were hunched over, getting out the words before you could catch your breath.

“Look, I know I play like shit and my guitar is a very shitty rental, but I need to take this class in order to graduate early, because it’s my last non-major course, and all the other art electives are filled up. Professor Howard said you’re like the most talented student in the class and that his niece has you private tutor her at the music store, and I really really need an A in this class. So…Can you help me? Please?,” You breathlessly spilled out, huffing from having to chase after him, your hands on your knees.

You looked up at him, seeing his clearly irritated expression, his mouth in that frown again. Your eyes begin to sting again as panic overwhelms you and your thoughts race, your hands shaking at your sides.

Well, you're going to fail. You’ll fail, be unable to graduate next year, lose the loan forgiveness, and have to pay for everything out of pocket and maybe even drop out. Long gone are your hopes of being an independent adult and -

He looked down at you, his expression hard at first before softening as he saw you. He seemed to explore your face before biting his lip, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alright. I’ll help you.”

You exchanged numbers and details with the strangely attractive musician, him typing his name in your phone as Eddie with a little skull and crossbones emoji. You simply wrote Bug with a goofy caterpillar emoji on his very cracked and old smartphone. When he looked at you confused as he glanced at the contact, given that it wasn’t the name you’d told him, you shrugged.

“It’s a nickname I’ve had since I was a kid. Short for lovebug, I guess. That or because I am actually deathly afraid of insects and everyone thinks that it’s hilarious,” You joked, smiling shyly.

He nodded, a slight smirk on his face as he nodded and pocketed his phone. “Well, I gotta head out, but I’ll text you my schedule so we can find a time to practice and work on your fingering.”

You felt your skin grow hot before you remembered that fingering was a term for guitarists talking about moving your fingers while playing chords. You could imagine that your facial expression was something of both horror and embarrassment because Eddie laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his toothy smile revealed the dimples on either side of his mouth.

He walked backward out the doors, giving you a mock salute, the boyish grin still on his face. “Later, Bug.”

You had texted Eddie back and forth a few times, learning that he messaged like an old man. Periods, correct punctuation and full sentences. It would be painful if it wasn’t so amusing.

You had settled on meeting up on Friday afternoons after your shift at your second job, The Recycling Bin, a reused book store. Eddie sent you the apartment complex address and number, letting you know he’d meet you outside the building.

You showed up after work, probably still smelling like old pages and dust, struggling to wrangle the guitar out of the backseat of your tiny car, waddling over to the building he was leaning against the outside of. He had one foot against the brick wall, and a hand rolled cigarette in between his fingers, leaning his head back against the brick to blow the smoke into the air. You felt your chest get tight, your thighs shaking a bit as you walked over. You hated the smell, but couldn’t deny the way that his head fell back, exposing his neck, didn’t make you feel some… things.

He pushed off the wall, looking over toward you and smiling, throwing his cigarette down to put it out with the toe of his boot before walking over. He was dressed in an oversized black sweatshirt with the Hawkins University logo on it despite the mild weather, the elbows hand patched with green flannel to match the dark green letters across his chest. He had his hair down this time, allowing you to see the long curls.

“Hey Bug,” He smiled at you, before glancing down at the guitar case in your hand as if it offended him. His nose scrunched up in a way that reminded you of a toddler grossed out by his vegetables. “You brought that piece of scrap wood?”

You frowned a bit, glaring up at him. “I’ll have you know, Munson, that I rented this from your workplace. So blame your coworkers.”

He nodded, smiling boyishly before taking the case from you, leading the way up the stairs to his apartment. “I actually do,” He joked. “I bet Rick let you rent this thing, he’s always stoned at work.”

You recalled that the man who serviced you did seem a bit dopey, his eyes slightly tinged red. You had kinda written it off as him being tired. You should’ve known better.

When he reached his door, he rummaged in his pocket, fishing out a key and unlocking it. He stepped inside, opening the door wider for you to enter. “Come on in, Bug,” He smiled, allowing you to enter the small apartment, your eyes exploring his space. “Shoes off, please,” He politely chided, toeing off his own combat boots. You did the same, taking off your sneakers to leave you in your socks and placed them neatly by his haphazardly taken off shoes. You looked over toward him, seeing that he was headed with your guitar to the couch, but something else caught your eye. The big scary alternative man who smoked and wore torn and patched up clothes had on black socks covered in red D20 dice, the die of choice for tabletop roleplaying game enthusiasts. You knew this because your friend had briefly been interested in Dungeons and Dragons, talking to you about the game when she had been trying to convince you to join her party. You felt a smile creep on your face as Eddie looked at you confused from the worn out gray fabric couch, his brows furrowed.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?”

You grinned mischievously, walking over toward the couch, and taking a seat.

Eddie gave you a look that read ‘okay, you’re weird’, shaking his head and strumming the guitar while humming, turning the pegs to adjust the sound.

“So…You’re a big fantasy and TTRPG nerd, huh?,” You asked innocently, laughing when Eddie’s head shot up, his cheeks dusted a dark pink.

“What?”

You pointed down at his socks which were slightly hidden since he was sitting cross legged on the couch. “There’s D20’s on them. And your guitar says ‘slays dragons’.”

Eddie huffed, a slight hardness coming over his face, walls coming up. You frowned, not meaning to make him feel self conscious, just wanting to lightly tease him because you thought it was cute. “So what,” he grumbled, paying attention to tuning your guitar once again.

You shook your head, smiling softly, trying to fight the embarrassment you felt at the mistake while wiping off clammy hands on your dark jeans. “No, it’s just… It’s…cute. Like, you don’t try to hide it, even though your clothes read like you’re trying to be big and scary, I guess?” You shrug, feeling nerves swirl in your stomach. “Sorry, that doesn’t make much sense. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Eddie softly glanced up from his tuning of your guitar, eyes no longer hard but now a soft expression before he glanced back down, messing with the pegs once again. “ S’okay,” He softly mumbled, his cheeks now a soft pink.

You allowed your eyes to travel the apartment as he finished tuning the guitar, his humming providing a soft background to your silence. There was a TV on a dark wooden stand in the middle, and a big progress pride flag behind it. A coffee table sat in front of you and Eddie, on it a few card decks and it seemed like board games underneath. There was a corkboard on the wall by you, covered in polaroids and photographs of Eddie and some other people. Occasionally you spotted places you recognized from town.

On the right side of the corkboard was a white dry erase board that seemed to work as a weekly calendar covered in doodles and two different types of handwriting. You could just barely make out some of the phrases, like ‘Band Rehearsal’ and ‘Basketball Practice’. Some of the board seemed to state what chores were done that week, explaining why the apartment was probably the neatest you’d seen in a while.

“I think I got it,” Eddie stated, interrupting your light exploration of the apartment.

“Awesome,” You nodded, grabbing the guitar from him as he stood, turning toward the hallway.

“Gimme a sec,” He called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back with Guthrie.”

You grinned, amused by the fact that he named his guitar, and after an old folk singer at that.

Eddie came back into the room, sitting down with his guitar in his lap, smiling softly towards you. “Alright kid, let’s get crackin’...”

You had spent about an hour and a half just going over four chords. Your fingers were sore, your hands cramping. You sighed as you finished going over the G chord for the 20th time. Eddie was a much stricter teacher than you expected. He made you repeatedly go through the fingering over and over before even starting to strum, making you start over if you messed up. But it was paying off. You had ended the lesson by being able to go through four chords and barely mess up, only faltering a bit.

You placed the guitar back in the case, sinking into the couch as Eddie chuckled and came back from the kitchen with a glass of water, handing it to you. You gladly took it, thanking him and taking a sip.

“You did good, Bug. Definite improvement from class,” He joked, flopping down on the couch next to you as you set down the drink.

“Yeah, well, I had no idea my guitar was out of tune. Thanks for your help, by the way,” You smiled softly at him.

You both sat for a minute in silence, unsure of what to say, when Eddie’s stomach growled loudly for what you swore felt like a whole minute, causing you both to burst out in fits of laughter, you falling over toward Eddie as he doubled over. His laughter was contagious and caused you to giggle even more, your sides becoming sore as your eyes filled with tears. Eventually, you two caught your breath and you sighed, smiling over at him.

“Wanna go get some dinner? It’s on me.”

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men

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brights-place · 3 months

Note

Hi! Could you do NSFW headcanons of Riff please?

Riff NSFW Headcannons୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Pairings: Barb X Reader Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, SFW A/N: RIFF IS EVERYTHING! I AM AN RIFF SIMP AND LOVER HE'S SO YVEHRaB PLUS THE FACT HIS VA IS PAVITR IN ATSV IS EVEN BETTER!

- I FUCKING LOVE RIFF! UGH HE IS SO FINE! Him and Clay are so EVRUIAIBHJES - Is an dom in bed but dosen't mind when you tie him up every now and then he just likes to be more dominant - Gentle Dom! but sometimes might be an Rough Dom! if he's annoyed which is rarely - Praise this man HELL DEGRADE HIM AND HE'LL BE AN MESS!! Do it All the time. - Tell him how good he’s doing, how sweet he is, how good he makes you feel, how beautiful he looks. -He’ll blush and duck his head, but he thrives onz your words as he hides his head in your shoulder moaning loudly - Hands on your ass, or thighs whenever he can be able to touch them - He’ll whine when you grab his jaw and make him look at you. - Dig your nails onto him and he'll be an mess - Make him repeat your praise back to you, make him say that he’s so pretty, that he’s such a good boy, make him say he’s yours and yours alone.

- What are his turn on’s? Biting, Kissing and marking, Bondadge, BDSM, and light touches on his skin

- What are his turn offs? talking about your ex regularly, Cheating, bad breath, blood play

- favorite positions are the slider, the lean in, the rocket, Reverse cowgirl, Missionary, Cowgirl and doggy - He's very vocal so you have to kiss him to shut him up as he rutts into you which is pulsing on his dick - When he has to masturbate if your not there he’s rougher with himself he’s full of desperation with how much he’s thinking about you, and he wants to take you right in his bed loving the idea of being naked around you when you’re not with him - He keeps thrusting hard while he’s cumming, grinding his hips against yours, milking every last drop of his orgasm

- He Cums a lot, like my god does it make for a great cream pie and he'd definitely just want to cum inside you whenever you let him

- His cum is like an thick milk white coat that he loves to see on your stomach, leave your holes, or on your face he dosent care he just loves to see it in you - His length is of 16 cm (6.3 in) and a girth of 12.2 cm (4.8 in) flaccid but when erected it would be an 16.51 cm(6.5in) when hard and the girth would stay the same

- If you ask him to man handle you or hurt you in the process of the doing the devils tango he would do it - He loves having control when you are doing so he likes stopping his movements on purpose just to hear you whine and beg for him to go back to railing you

- HE WOULD SUCK YOU OFF/ EAT YOU OUT IF YOU EVEN FIRST START YOUR SENTENCE “Hey Riff Can you- Ngh~!” He already started to eat you out/ suck you off in an second “Fuck You taste good” riff said his tongue lapping around your tip/folds

- Literally loves teasing you any chance he gets but would wanna be reassured every once in a while to make sure he’s not hurting you too bad and would make sure you feel alright and good

- Wouldn't mind fucking you in public places in secret for fun as he covers your mouth as he's balls deep into you - Makeout sessions backstages or some more STEAMY stuff going on before an concert - Sticks his tongue out drooling as he bends you over his tail smacking the floor many times happily as you are doing the devils tango backstage

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

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withleeknow · 3 months

Text

wishful thinking. (04)

chapter four: spring daffodils

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; a creepy dude but nothing happens, err this chapter is pretty mild? idk, not very edited (i apologize, i just live like this lol) word count: 3.5k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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It was bittersweet You were like a dream And I was your girl on the passenger seat Right next to you We were unstoppable We thought we had it all

I’d Do It Again - Violette Wautier

The first thing you feel when you wake up is Minho’s arms, wrapped tightly around you. Your face in the crook of his neck, your legs tangled up together. It’s as though this is your millionth morning waking up with him.

He’s still fast asleep, soft puffs of air escaping his lips. So peaceful, so ethereal with the light from outside your window shining on his side profile.

He looks like an angel, absolutely unreal, that you can’t help but admire him. How the playful sunshine kisses his sculpted nose, caresses his cheeks, its particles of light lingering on his pink and pouty lips. Every feature, every single detail of his face, beautiful. Sharp, stunning, flawless. The universe really took its time with him.

You'd say that this is a pretty objective opinion. Ask anyone and they would concur. You don’t think you could ever get tired of looking at Minho.

There’s a sudden urge that grows in you - the selfish need to be the sun itself. You want to be the sun, to be the reason why there’s warmth and light in his life, to give him nothing but good things, nothing less than what he deserves.

Your axis shifts. It’s overwhelming just how much you want to be good for him.

Minho is supposed to be your friend.

You don’t think you’re supposed to feel this way about your friend.

The beautiful boy next to you stirs, and you instantly shut your eyes. You wait as he stretches a bit, then he holds you tighter, closer, the proximity making tears well up behind your closed eyelids. It’s so nice just being in his arms like this. So wonderful and so right.

You feel loved, even if it may not be the kind of love that you’ve been searching for.

A gentle hand strokes your hair, and just that simple action is enough to make you melt, a tightness tugging at your heartstrings all of a sudden.

If Minho was a season, he would be spring. Beautiful and heavenly spring. Some may argue that it can’t possibly be the case because people often view him as callous and mean, and you hate it every time anyone speaks about him that way. They don’t know him like you do, and he’s been nothing but warm and kind to you for as long as you’ve known him.

To be more precise, Minho would be the onset of spring, when the brutal and lonely winter eventually has to make way for the beginning of a new season. It’s a subtle transition, a gentle inauguration of warmth where the earth welcomes life into its open arms again. When daylight starts to last longer and snow begins to melt in between cobblestone cracks. When buds on trees start growing into their luscious green coat and flowers slowly burst through their roof of soil to bring forth colors for spring. Everything is soft and delicate, easy to overlook if you don’t pay close attention.

That’s what Minho is to you - a new beginning. Calming, welcoming, steady.

You want to snuggle further into the heat of his body but you’re afraid it might blow your cover, so you keep on staying still. He’s close, closer than you two have ever been when you aren't having sex, but it’s not enough. If it was possible, you would wrap you and him up in your own little bubble where the concept of time is foreign and you could stay here forever. You wouldn’t have to go back to your boring routine and deal with the stresses that you’ve been carrying all your life.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. You want more. It’s a fleeting thought, but the imprint it leaves behind isn’t ephemeral at all.

A simple life with Minho and the spring. That doesn’t sound too bad.

Min: wyd tomorrow afternoon? You: i have to go buy paint after class. Why? Min: can i come with :( You: u wanna go look at paint with me for 2 hrs? Min: no lol Min: i cleared my whole afternoon because kim seungmin asked me to go suit shopping with him for his sister’s wedding but he’s ditching me, so i have no idea what to do Min: you’re my last option You: thanks. i’m v flattered You: hyunjin refused to entertain you? Min: don’t like him You: 🙄 You: chan? changbin? jisung? jeongin? lix? there’s no way they’re ALL busy Min: i didn’t ask. don’t like them either You: so i’m not your LAST option then Min: no. but you’re the only one i’d rather hang out with You: you’re weird Min: so tomorrow? You: the store is a bit far away though Min: i can take you. i’ll borrow chan’s car

You assume that Minho would pick you up right after your class finishes since he told you that he was free all day, but you still end up having to wait for him while wandering aimlessly around campus, the messages that you sent him sitting in your phone delivered but not read.

He appears about twenty minutes later than you thought he would, rolling up in Chan’s new car that he just got a couple months ago. You get into the vehicle with an unimpressed look on your face, clicking the seatbelt into place before you turn to him in the driver's seat.

“Punctual,” you comment pointedly.

“Sorry. I went to that cafe you like but there was a line.”

“Oh,” you say, your earlier annoyance waning quickly when you notice the cup holders between the two of you. “Why did you go all the way there just for shitty matcha lattes? We could’ve just gone to the campus cafe for that.”

Minho grabs a paper bag from the backseat before he places it neatly in your lap like a little present. "But the campus cafe doesn’t have those overpriced croissants that you’re always raving about."

You stare at the baked good in your lap - an almond croissant filled with cream cheese and strawberries. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you say. “But thank you.”

Minho looks at you. “You forgot to eat lunch again, didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because you’re looking at that thing like you’re deeply in love with it.”

You roll your eyes before plucking a cream cheese-covered strawberry from the bag and taking a bite, dramatically throwing your head back as you sigh in exasperation, “I might be deeply in love with you right now.”

When you finish the strawberry, you turn to look at Minho, only to find him already staring at you with his sharp eyes. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then brings a hand up to brush away a dot of cream cheese off the corner of your mouth. You half expect him to put the finger in his mouth like hot fictional characters tend to do, and yet, your cheeks still catch fire when Minho meets your expectation.

He catches sight of your flush but doesn’t throw you a teasing comment or anything of the likes. Instead, he just chuckles - a bit endeared if you can say so yourself - and starts the car.

Minho is gracious enough to let you choose the music for the drive and in turn, you offer him the last piece of your cherished croissant (everyone knows the last bite is the best bite), plopping the pastry into his mouth while he keeps his hands on the wheel, only for him to complain that it has too much cream.

When you get to the art supply store, Minho picks up a basket by the door. The store isn’t that big, but they have the best selection out of all the other places you’ve been. Hyunjin keeps telling you to come to the store that he frequents - the one that sells those fancy watercolors that you don’t really need - but you’ve been going here for ages. You used to live nearby so it was more convenient, but this is still your go-to spot even after you moved closer to campus. The sense of familiarity associated with this quaint store isn’t something you’re quite ready to let go of yet.

You peruse the aisles alongside Minho, who dutifully carries the basket for all of your things without you even asking. He doesn’t really try to make conversation while you study the colors, which is a little uncharacteristic but you don’t think much about it. He just quietly watches you, and you like how even the silence is comfortable between the two of you.

After a while, he asks, “Do you have a theme in mind?”

You do, but you think it’s a little silly to say out loud so you don’t. Although you know Minho would never make you feel small or diminish your ideas, it’s not something that you’re really keen on sharing at the moment.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s not fully fleshed out yet. I know what colors I want to go for though.”

You meticulously pick out the acrylics you want for your painting, mostly dark and dull tones. You have a vision of what you want to achieve on the canvas, and you spend a decent chunk of time deciding on your blues, grays and russets.

A somber scene, anyone can tell.

For the finishing touch, you pick up two tubes of yellow paint, trying to decide between Golden Poppy or Spring Daffodil. Either one is a stark contrast to the melancholic feel you were going for before.

Turning to face Minho, you raise your hands. “Which one?”

He stares at the acrylics for a minute in silence. “They’re yellow,” he concludes.

“Duh. But which shade do you like better?”

“They look exactly the same.”

You purse your lips, then hold your hands closer to his face as if it’ll help. "No, look. This one is slightly lighter but muted. This one is more vibrant but the shade is deeper."

Minho hums as if in thought. You wonder if he actually sees the differences, but he probably doesn’t. Hyunjin is usually the only person in your friend group whom you can talk to about these things since he’s the only other art major of the bunch.

“Is yellow supposed to be happy?”

Hope, is what you want to say. You want it to end on a lighter, brighter note. Happy feels too unattainable even if it’s only ideals and colors on canvas.

But maybe sometimes being hopeful is the same as being happy. Maybe for some, that’s all you can really ask for.

In spite of it all, isn’t hope the only thing that persists?

“Sure,” you say, “yellow is happy.”

After a brief moment, Minho plucks the tube in your left hand and puts it in the basket. Spring Daffodil it is.

It’s kind of a nice thought, isn’t it? That Minho had a helping hand in your work. That there’s a little bit of him in your art.

You go to the cash register with a basket full of goodies, only to realize that you don’t actually have anything on you.

“Ah, crap,” you mutter, turning to Minho. “My wallet is in my bag. In the car.”

“I’ll get it,” Minho says, handing you the basket. “Be right back.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll just check something out over there.”

And then he’s off, the bell by the door ringing to announce his temporary departure. You wander over to a shelf in the corner where they store their brushes. There’s a filbert brush that you’ve been eyeing for a while.

You go over the selection, debating whether or not you should replace some of the brushes you have at home. Most of them are worn out; they’ve been with you for ages now.

You don’t notice the second chime of the bell, too immersed in studying the bristles, envisioning the strokes they would create on canvas.

You don’t pay attention to a voice talking to you either. That is, until a shoulder nudges yours and you find yourself looking up at an unfamiliar face.

Taking a step away from the stranger, you say, “Can I help you?”

The man doesn’t look like he’s your age, but he doesn’t look that much older either. Probably just by a few years. “I was just saying that filbert’s a good choice,” he chuckles.

“Oh, yeah.” You give him a small smile. “It’s a good brush.”

“Great for blending. It really makes the strokes stand out, y’know.”

“Mhmm. So I’ve heard.”

Glancing at the contents of your basket, he asks, “Are you working on a project?”

“Just something for a class.”

He hums in acknowledgment, to which you give him a nod in return. The conversation is short and awkward, as one can probably expect when they try to make small talk with a stranger over something as random as a paintbrush.

And especially when the recipient of said small talk is you, who’s been described on multiple occasions as “unapproachable” and “intimidating”.

That, and the fact that you suffer from a major case of resting bitch face and you’re not really keen on talking to strangers when you it’s not absolutely necessary.

You move to the next aisle, going back to look at the selection of colors from which you’ve already taken your pick earlier with Minho. You don’t need a second look, but it just feels a little weird to still be standing in the same corner with the man.

You think that it would be the end of your interaction, but then he moves along with you. He follows you as you walk, before soon obliterating any space between your body as he strides next to you, your arms brushing one another.

“I’ve actually noticed you in here a few times,” he says.

“Sorry?”

“I’ve seen you before.” This time, he tells you with a smile. “I just never worked up the courage to talk to you until today.”

It’s not a bad smile, nothing Joker-esque but the way he says it with practically no space at all between the two of you makes you a little squeamish.

You wonder what’s taking Minho so long.

“Oh,” you say, not really sure how else to respond, trying to shuffle away from him but there’s not much room to accommodate the both of you. “That’s... uhm, actually, could you-”

He gets the hint, but it’s not like you were trying to hide the discomfort on your face. He takes a couple of small steps back, which doesn’t really count as stepping out of your personal space but it’s a little better than before.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not coming on too strongly. You’re just... I think you’re really pretty,” he says with a small laugh, the kind that would be charming if real life was a romcom and you two were the main characters. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Thank you... uhm, I’m... flattered but I’m here with my boyfriend today.”

You can tell that the mention of a significant other throws him off, because he doesn’t exactly do a very good job at concealing his surprise.

“You usually go alone, though.”

Oh...?

Right. Definitely not a romcom.

You can’t help the slight frown that tugs on your brows upon hearing those words. If you were somewhat irritated before by a random stranger who can’t really take a hint, then that feeling is rapidly melting away to make space for a sense of unease that crawls up the back of your neck like a rogue spider.

You can normally handle mildly persistent guys who keep insisting on chatting you up, but you’ve never actually had someone drop a creepy line on you before.

In a place that you’ve frequented for years now.

You’re suddenly wildly grateful that Minho demanded to tag along today.

“My boyfriend is just getting some stuff from the car,” you settle on telling the man. “He’ll be right back.”

“Maybe I can keep you company while you wait.”

“Thank you but that’s not necessary.”

“Not even for a few minutes?”

“You really don’t have to do that. My boyfriend will be back any-”

Then you’re being pulled to the side, the abruptness of the moment briefly disorienting you that you almost lose your balance if not for the arm around your shoulder keeping you steady.

You glance up with widened eyes, though they soften after a couple seconds as relief washes over you. Minho leans down to kiss you before you can say anything; the only sound that escapes you is a surprised Oh! which he muffles with his lips.

“Sorry I took so long, baby,” he says once he pulls away. “My mom called to ask if we’re still coming over this weekend. You’re still up for Sunday, right?”

“Hmm?” You try to ignore the tingle in your lips and the spike in your heart rate, but you quickly blame it on the suddenness of his actions. “Yeah... yeah, Sunday’s good.”

Minho smiles softly, his hand squeezing your shoulder comfortingly pressing another kiss to your cheek - for further emphasis, you suppose - before he turns his attention elsewhere.

His expression changes completely. Instead of a cute smile, his mouth is pressed into a hard line, his gaze a cold glare. “Can we help you?”

The man doesn’t instantly back off like you thought he would - Minho can be quite scary when he wants to be - but glances between you and Minho like he’s assessing the situation.

The kiss, the arm around your shoulder, the deadly look in Minho’s eyes, plus your friend has been working out more often lately and it shows.

The unwanted stranger eventually raises a conceding hand. “Nope, all good. Sorry for bothering you,” he says, plastering that smile on his face again. “Have a good day.”

Minho takes the basket from your hand and steers you away. He keeps a hand on your back while you pay and collect your supplies at the counter. Basket duty turns into carrying the bag of acrylics for you even after you insist on doing it yourself.

Once you’re in the car, you turn to him with a grateful smile. “Thanks for the save.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “I’m sorry though. I was getting your bag and Hyunjin called screaming about something. I didn’t know you were stuck with a weirdo. What did he say?”

“I’ve never seen him before but he said he’s seen me around. He kept trying to talk me even after I said I had a boyfriend. And get this, he knows that I usually come here alone. I don’t know, I’m a little grossed out.”

Minho frowns. When he says your name, it’s full of concern. “He knows that you usually go alone? That’s creepy.”

“I know!” Leaning against the headrest, you sigh, “Ugh, this is where I always go to get my supplies.”

“Why don’t you just go to the place that Hyunjin goes? It’s close to campus.”

“But everything’s so overpriced there. Besides, they have the best selection here. It’s my go-to.’

He goes quiet then, and speaks up after a moment of contemplation. “Tell me whenever you need to go. I’ll come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” There must be incredulousness written all over your face, but his expression returns to neutral, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You know all of your friends are quite protective, but still.

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

“It’s not like you’re free all the time.”

Minho hums, acknowledging your point because it’s true. He has a life of his own and shit that he has to deal with; he can’t be around to babysit you 24/7. Not that you even need him to anyway. “If I can’t go then I’ll make sure Hyunjin goes with you. Or Jisung. Any one of the guys.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” You look at Minho, to which he just stares back. “I know I said today was weird but I’m not that helpless.”

“I know you’re not helpless.” He holds your gaze, briefly wondering if he has offended you somehow. “If you won’t do it for your sake, will you at least do it for mine? I don’t want you to be in a bad situation when I can help make it better for you.”

The tone he uses to deliver his words doesn’t really leave you any room to argue. You would probably just kinda look like an asshole to brush him off when all he genuinely wants is to ensure that you’re safe.

Eventually, you only purse your lips and nod, which seems to appease Minho for now. Of course you’re thankful that you have good people by your side. If the roles were reversed and this happened to any of your friends, you would be all up in arms for them too.

But way beyond that appreciation is something that you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s similar to the feeling you got the first morning you woke up next to him. A fluttering sensation in your chest, warmly touched by how much he cares, how much he’s willing to do for you.

It’s simply absurd to you that anyone would think Minho is cold.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom (italicized = can’t tag)

series taglist: @eyesforlino @armystay89 @nuronhe @becomingmina @astro-doll-the-star @hyuneyeon @jisunglyricist @yoontaethings @thisisnotjacinta @cupidcures @wyzminho

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riacte · 5 months

Text

Space Opera AU dashboard simulator 2 (but there's plot if you squint) (probably worse than its predecessor)

🚀 renthepilot

HAPPY BITRHDAY TO ME!! I TURN 7!!! :D :D :D <3 <3 <3 RD

❤️ falsewell

Happy 7th birthday Ren! :)

🚀 renthepilot

Thank u FalsE!!!!!! :DDDDDD >.< RD

🍵 cinnamontea Follow

... Why is my 17yo ET1blr mutual talking to a 7yo on Sunblr. I came here for analysis posts but apparently she's babysitting her cousin or perhaps a strangely intelligent dog??

❤️ falsewell

I mean, I would be worried if a 7yo was piloting the glider I race in 🤨

🍵 cinnamontea Follow

WDYM THAT GUY IS YOUR RACE PARTNER? OMFG I AM SO SORRY

🍀 et1vision Follow

Chat do you remember when we found RK and QoH's Sunblr accounts from when they weren't famous and were just two kids in illegal races. Because it was hysterical. Hands up if you thought falsewell was someone's canon url and not QoH herself.

🪓 handoftheking

That interaction was pretty cute to be honest. Ren's still 7 the last I checked.

🪸 hoes4redking Follow

[deep sigh] littlewood at the scene of the crime as always

#WHYYYYYYY is he chronically online #he needs to be stopped and locked up #i bet he scrolls through the treebark tag every day #he knows Too Much #do you think he brings up sunblr during dinner #and etho and bigb look at him like hes insane

7,207 notes

🔥 yaoihell Follow

save me queen of hearts

🔥 yaoihell Follow

queen of hearts

🔥 yaoihell Follow

queen of hearts save me

🏐 apollos-dodgeball 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀 Follow

Congratulations on the prophecy!

[Beep boop, this is a gimmick blog!]

🔥 yaoihell Follow

what the actual fuck.

🌼 fast-and-bifurious Follow

i think i hauve the plague

47,981 notes

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

hi babes the demons in my head won so new fic!!

i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me, pa-pa paparazzi

pairing: the red king x blue stalker (they/them) (exterra 1 rpf)

summary: why are you as a bounty hunter so intent on hunting ren down? what do you want to do with him? pin him against a wall and kiss him until he's breathless and melting like putty in your hands?

word count: 10.1k

tags: enemies to lovers, angst, hurt no comfort, whump, ust, no actual smut, making out, blood, slight knifeplay, submissive rk, open ending

Keep reading

🏹 queenofheartsfanclub Follow

Listen, I don't do RPF, I can handle Treebark (because I have eyes), but this is crossing a line. Especially after the accusations by RK. I think his evidence is pretty compelling.

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

dead dove do not eat. i am aware this is a fucked up dynamic but it's fictional. it's not like the real blue stalker has a toxic codependent attraction to the guy they're assigned to kill (btw i mained qoh so i completely understand where you're coming from)

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

oh.

🏹 queenofheartsfanclub Follow

hey

so do you wanna kiss before the haters get to you?

🫐 toxicblueberry Follow

of course. can we get married

#love can be found on the battlefield in more ways than one #fave post #annoying treebark fans fuck off!!!!!!

1109 notes

🌹 fyeahroseduo Follow

Coming out as a falsedog shipper is harder than coming out as gay

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

TEN YEARS????

Time is not real

🌃 nightpatrols Follow

I had vivid flashbacks. I feel faint. This post caused so much drama omfg. I need a treebark equivalent on my desk by 8am sharp next morning

🪓 handoftheking

Coming out as a Treebark shipper is harder than coming out as bi

🌃 nightpatrols Follow

WHAT THE FUFHUBFBFUOUOFFUCK

#HES IN OUR WALLS #HE STARTED THE SHIP #this is gonna sweep the next unhinged moment poll #??!?1!?!???!?!?! #HATE THIS LUMIAN GLOWY ASS #btw for non et1 mutuals: this man is literally bi #yeah hes really gay for his pilot. yeah we all know #theyre always holding hands and shit #edit: DID HE REBLOG THIS AT 7:30AM #IDK HOW PLANETZONES CONVERSATION WORKS #*conversion #listen i failed school 2 years in a row ok 😭

19,626 notes

🎵 daily-music Follow

Music video of the day is: R8cer Boi by Avril Lavigne!

🎵 daily-music Follow

who the fuck is renn dog

🎵 daily-music Follow

who has little wood

🎵 daily-music Follow

why are y'alls twink racers larping as royals from medieval era planet earth

🎵 daily-music Follow

sorry for calling the queen of hearts a twink. im sorry women

#im so done with yalls bullshit #who are these people #why do they show up in my tags

898 notes

#space opera au #i feel delirious. i think i hauve a stomachache #dashboard simulator #treebark #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #long post #unreality

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ncteez · 1 year

Text

sycophant (p.s)

If anyone were to ask you about the executive of your department, you’d say he’s too stoic, strict, and a pain in your ass. The handsome face and sleek suits don’t make up for the way he runs the department, honestly, they don’t. Strangely enough, he offers a solution to you on a silver platter during a mandatory company Christmas party and you can’t help but love the idea of taking your frustrations out on the very person who causes them.

or the one where your boss is scary and intimidating but really really wants to be slapped around behind closed doors.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.

WORDCOUNT― 12.9k

PAIRING― park seonghwa x afab reader

CONTENT― submissive seonghwa, dom reader (she’s never done it before tho so cut her some slack), office setting but no mentions of the actual job bc this is a fantasy not a fucking nightmare, kind of enemies to lovers but not really (it’s just a boss/employee dynamic)

OTHER CHARACTERS― hongjoong as the company designer, yunho as the accountant, wooyoung as an intern, mingi as the guy who has drama with his date at the christmas party

NOTE― shout out to park seonghwa for being a fucking MENACE. bigger shoutout to @domjaehyun for helping me edit this fic and dealing with my shit involving said menace

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― oral (fem receiving), hair pulling and face guiding, breath play, cock warming, riding, unprotected sex, begging, choking, it’s pretty tame to be considered a sub/dom type thing but you’ll understand if you read it lmao, dirty talk, degradation(ish), praise(ish), edging, nipple play, he has a lot of cum to donate to her lmao

He is just a man. Just a man that oversees the entire department, just a man that orders pizza as a form of encouragement when his employees are physically rotting before him from the hours worked, just a man that drinks five coffees a day and appears to get paid for doing nothing but wandering the building and maintaining that everyone fears his judgment.

“Just a man?” you scoff, side-eyeing your friend as you pick your lunch apart, not bothering to check the time because you’ve already worked fifty hours this week, and surely you have another day to get through before you can think straight. You get paid a salary so, you can take as long as you fucking want to pick apart this stale sandwich.

“You don’t know him,”

“That’s a fair point, but I’m just saying, everyone hates their boss,” She laughs in pity, minimizing your complaining and shrugging at you. “You’re not special and the world isn’t out to get you.”

You glare at her before swiping your cup of watered-down iced coffee up and taking a large sip.

“Okay, so maybe the world isn’t out to get me,” you counter, “but Seonghwa sure the fuck is.”

“Oh? You’ve yet to tell me what he’s personally done to you. You doted on him when he hired you, what’s changed other than him doing his actual job?”

You glare harder, hating that you get picked apart on the clock by him, and now you’re being picked apart off the clock by your very best friend.

“Do you have a notepad? I’ve got an entire list.”

She perks up at the frustrated face you’re giving to her, nodding her head with a mischievous hunger for the drama that she, thankfully, doesn’t have to involve herself in.

“You know how during interviews, you get asked what your strengths and weaknesses are?” You ask with a frustrated voice, sipping your coffee again.

She nods enthusiastically.

“Well– when I said my weakness is taking on too much responsibility, y’know, to impress him– I didn’t expect him to put me in charge of the biggest project of the year.”

She laughs at you.

“What?!” you grouch, “I’m not even close to being done with my list!”

“I don’t think he would give you that project if he didn’t think you could do it. You don’t give yourself enough credit, you should be thanking him. Do you not want to move up the corporate ladder?”

You lean back on your chair with a creaking sound, crossing your arms and grimacing at her for defending your boss.

“Anyway, he always comes over and points out my mistakes. He uses this soft voice that I know is fake as hell because he doesn’t do that with anyone else. When he leaves his comfy fucking office, there’s like an eighty percent chance he’s coming to grill me for something–”

“Define ‘grilling’,” your friend counters, picking you apart in an uncomfortable way. She’s supposed to be your best friend, not Seonghwa’s parrot.

“Like, he just comes up with a grocery list of things that I need to fix–”

“Because you made mistakes and it’s an important project,” your friend points out. “So, what? You want him to let you fuck it up?”

You take a moment to decide if she’s right or wrong. The issue is that she doesn’t know him or how condescending he sounds when he points out the mistakes.

“I am more than capable of taking care of it on my own,” You lie, because some of the mistakes he’s pointed out really could have caused you to lose your job.

“Whatever you say, go on. That’s two points against him for you, I still just think he’s doing his job though,”

You ignore her, continuing down the list of bullshit he’s done to you.

“He glares at me,” you grouch further, “He’s nice to everyone but me, and he walks around like his asshole is made of gold.”

Your friend snorts, shaking her head at your anger. The reality that she sees is that you’re thinking too hard, you’re trying too hard to dislike him.

“Noted,” She nods her head at you, signaling that she’s grown tired of your complaining and refusal to take into account that this is just what a boss does. They glare, they point out mistakes, they’re fake toward everyone. “Onto other matters, what else is going on at work?”

You sigh, finally turning your attention back to your very sad lunch.

“There’s a fucking mandatory Christmas party, it’s also required that we dress up for it.” You grimace, appearing to be a rain cloud within this restaurant.

“Is alcohol involved, and perhaps, a plus one?”

You look at her with curiosity, “Why, you wanna be my date?”

“Only if there’s alcohol. I’d like to see the man with the golden asshole, mostly so I can understand how he’s turned my best friend into a stick in the mud.”

“There’s alcohol; if there weren’t, you know I’d be bringing some anyway.”

There’s a moment of silent agreement as the two of you nod to each other.

“I’ll respond to the invite and add your name as my plus one,” you smile, knowing that as long as she’s with you, the party can’t feel like much of a drag, “remember, it’s a formal party, so don’t dress like we are going to the club–”

You stop yourself.

“Actually, we should totally dress like we are going to the club.”

The two of you have mischievous little smiles on your faces as you finish your lunch, ignoring the fact that you’ve been at this restaurant for at least two hours by now.

The Christmas party venue is embarrassingly extravagant. A blatant show of wealth on the company’s part as you and your best friend drive to the entrance.

“They fucking hired valets?” You grimace, looking at your friend with a roll of your eye.

“Hey, maybe they’ll pay for our ride home too because I know for a fact that we are about to be the drunk bitches at a corporate party.”

You ignore her comments, not intentionally because you’re definitely gonna at least be buzzed, but because you’re being ushered out of the car and suddenly this outfit feels too much.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have literally dressed like we are going to the club,” You complain, feeling the cold December air smack right against your exposed thighs and the fabric keyhole design sitting against your chest.

“Stop being insecure, let’s go find the bar,” she ushers you much like the valet did, checking in with your names and receiving three free drink tickets each in a small envelope.

“Ah, so only the first three are free?” She looks disappointed.

“They’ve gotta pay my wages too, you know, stop complaining. Besides, you act like we don’t have our purses stuffed with airplane bottles.” You respond, wandering through the hall until finding the space where your entire company appears to already be warm and mingling among one another.

Internally, you groan. Externally, you’re smiling and waving at each person who looks your way. You feel small and trashy compared to these people but your outfit, fortunately, isn’t out of line at all. It appears that many women both within the company and some appearing to be dates went a similar route that you took with your attire. Formal is likely meant to be modest but extravagant, yet here you are fitting in with forty other women who went for showing their cleavage and thighs.

“Looks like everyone else had the same idea,” your friend mutters to you quietly, eyes scanning over the room and noticing how attractive some of these people are. “Who is that guy?”

You look at her and follow her line of vision before snorting.

“That’s Yunho,” You laugh at her interest, but you get it. “Accounting.”

She gets this evil little look on her face as she turns to you.

“What’s the starting pay for an accountant in this company?”

You shrug because you wouldn’t know, it’s still an unspoken rule to not speak of your pay to your co-workers.

��That one over there is Hongjoong, coolest dude you’ll ever meet–” you nod your head towards the man with a feisty little suit, bow tie crooked as all hell with his messy dyed hair. You can tell he’s already had well over his three free drinks because he’s sitting next to Wooyoung and appears to be having a great time.

“Oh, they hire people like that here?”

You look at your friend confused and then motion towards yourself.

“Well, they hired me, so– yeah? Plus, he’s one of our designers, you know, the artsy type.”

“And the guy he’s with?”

“Wooyoung, intern.”

You really don’t feel like introducing every single goddamn person in this building.

“What about her?” Your friend looks at the bar and points out a woman that’s practically hanging on someone else.

“I don’t know her, she’s probably just someone’s plus o–” you pause, noting that the very man she’s hanging all over is none other than your boss. “Is that fucking Seonghwa?”

Your friend is instantly interested, grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the bar as she whisper-shouts at you.

“That’s him?!” She questions, looking at you with wide eyes. “You never said he was fucking hot!”

“He’s not!” You argue, stopping at the bar and doing your best not to study his plus one. You can imagine that the woman is his girlfriend or something because Seonghwa truly does appear to be young. You still think he probably got this job because one of his parents threatened someone for it. No way in hell is he married yet.

“Are you fucking blind?” Your friend is having a great time, apparently, as she shamelessly stares at your boss. “Look at him!”

You, for some reason, listen to her. You do look at him. Never could you have imagined him wearing a suit sleeker than what he wears every day at the office, yet here he is. This time, his hair isn’t in a fixed position like normal either. The slick suit paired with the intentionally messy hairstyle does kind of make you think he might be kinda hot. Maybe you need a few drinks in you before you admit that though, mostly because it looks like your boss is trying too hard to fit in with his rowdy and laid-back employees.

By the time you order your drink and have it in hand, you’re avoiding Seonghwa again. Or, well, you’re trying to, but it appears that he has a different plan in mind. He leaves the girl hanging all over him to come up to you and your friend in a huff.

“Ah, welcome!” He greets you, looking you up and down in a way that anyone probably would after seeing you every day of the week in pantsuits and business casual dresses. “You look great! Is this your plus one?”

“Ramona!” Your friend introduces herself and you turn to look at her with confusion.

“Ramona?”

Seonghwa looks between the two of you and then at the man at the bar. Without even thinking, he leans between both of you to order himself a drink and then leans back as if he didn’t just enter your personal space and smell fucking heavenly.

Despite your friend giving a fake name for some reason, you decide to ask her about it later as you stand awkwardly with more skin showing to Seonghwa than you’d prefer he see. Sure, he said you look great, but he’s probably said that to every person here already.

“Ramona, y/n,” he says, grabbing his freshly made drink from the bar, “I need to go tell someone to get their date under control, so if you’ll excuse me,”

This is the first time you’ve seen Seonghwa look the way he does and act this casually despite still being semi-formal in tone.

With another roll of your eye at him the moment he turns his back, you watch him walk directly toward Mingi. You snicker. So, the woman is Mingi’s date and she appears to have found more of an interest in Seonghwa. That’s gonna be some fun drama to hear about on Monday. Anyway, back to your friend with the gaping mouth as she watches him walk away.

“If I, for one, had that man giving me orders, I wouldn’t be calling you to complain,”

“Oh? Ramona? Is that how you feel?” You glare for a moment but still smile a bit at her.

“I never give out my real name at clubs, especially not when they’re serving whiskey this strong–you already knew that though,”

You nod and turn to place both hands on her shoulders.

“Reminder that this is a corporate Christmas party,” you warn, “you can hit someone up, but do not fucking embarrass me.”

Her eyes are glued to something else before she trails her eyes back at you and smiles through a hefty sip of her drink with a nod.

“I’m not gonna be the one embarrassing anyone tonight, look at that,” she says, nodding into a corner.

Your eyes go to that very spot and see none other than Mingi scolding his date and her appearing to apologize profusely before pointing to Seonghwa and doing some hand motions that appear to be, well, sexual. You watch Mingi walk away from her with a huff, heading straight for the bar with a solemn look on his face.

“Act normal,” your friend instructs, raising her brows and already having a great time.

Mingi comes directly to you. Given, the two of you have often talked shit about Seonghwa and other co-workers together in the break room after closing hours when you’re stuck working over.

“Ridiculous,” Mingi grouches, pushing you gently to the side to get himself a drink.

“What happened?” You turn to lean over the counter with him, leaving your friend behind the two of you as you prod for the drama.

“I brought my friend who is in town for Christmas thinking we could like, catch up, but it looks like she’s more interested in embarrassing me by trying to fuck our boss–”

You snort and clap him on the shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better, the party is a drag for me too.”

“Oh yeah? Why?” he turns to you as he grabs his drink, noting your outfit but forcing himself to keep his eyes away from your body.

You don’t even have an answer to his question but you smile at him and motion to the entire room.

“Fair.” He looks at you, and then scans the room for his date. “I’d better get back and make sure she’s not trying to get into his pants again,”

He appears to be defeated but you hope that glass in his hand can make up for the mishap.

How can a Christmas party with such strong drinks still end up being a fucking bore? You find yourself two hours into the party and sitting at a table with your friend, both of you scrolling through your phones as a bad song on the speakers is replaced with an even worse song.

“Do you wanna leave?” you ask, noting that the two of you have already chugged the airplane bottles in your bags after finishing the final free drink, yet the buzz is fucking dragging.

“Yep,” your friend admits, already locking her phone and standing up.

As you stand with her, the buzz hits you twice as hard and you’re immediately sitting back down.

“Woah, okay, maybe not,” you laugh, watching your best friend stumble back into her own seat with a laugh of her own.

“I’m like, I’m actually very drunk,” you giggle warmly, not realizing that the snacks offered do very little to soak up the alcohol in your stomach.

“Does this song suddenly sound really good to you?” She looks at you, bobbing her head.

“Yeah, actually–” You pause, looking at the section of the room where people are wobbling around and dancing with each other. “Kinda wanna dance.”

She nods with a smile, trying to stand up again as if she’s sober and clumsily grabbing your hand. The two of you make it to the dance floor in a blur, dancing the entire walk over to where the music becomes deafeningly loud and the bass appears to run through your veins. God, music sounds so fucking good when you’re drunk.

It’s almost like you are at a club, dancing, sweating, sighing out just to catch your breath as you move around with your friend in front of you, next to you, and sometimes behind you. You forget that all of the people surrounding you are those who see you hunched over a spreadsheet for sometimes twelve hours a day. You forget that they’re anything other than normal people who are desperately releasing their stress through alcohol at a party thrown by the very reason for the stress.

For a moment as you dance, you try to focus on those around you. The silence from everyone on the dance floor is mesmerizing as you glance at each face and realize their exhaustion matches your own, but they’re feeling the music in a way that is releasing. Never would you have imagined seeing Hongjoong drunk off of his ass, hanging an arm around a laughing Wooyoung’s shoulder as they attempt a dance move that you swear you’ve seen somewhere. Even Mingi appears to be less solemn now, towering over several dancing bodies and probably doing dome pop-lock-and-drop-it type move because he seems like the type to do it.

And then, the moment is ruined when your eyes land on Seonghwa, far behind the dance floor and leaning against the bar with his stupid messy hair and his stupid mean eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t be on the floor dancing and having a good time. Of course, he’s standing there judging the people he manages. Or rather, judging you. He’s glaring at you as you glare back at him before rolling your eyes and trying to get back into the groove of the now-changing song.

“This is way more fun than I thought it would be,” your friend admits, shimmying her body back and forth in front of you. “Which one of these dudes happens to be single?” She laughs, but you can tell it was only a half joke.

“Yunho,” You go through a short list in your head, “Mingi is, but he and his date appear to be getting along again.”

She nods, taking notes in her head.

“What about Seonghwa?” She laughs at your silence.

“Probably. With the way he’s a fucking asshole and all–”

Your friend claps and immediately stops dancing.

“Great! I’m gonna go talk to him!”

Instantly you freeze, feeling frustrated at her attempts.

“Do not, I repeat, do not embarrass me.”

She waves you off as she backs herself off of the floor and winks at you. You immediately follow, trying to reach out and drag her back into your care to save yourself from having to deal with the same shit Mingi had to deal with.

“Ramona!” You shout her fake name as a warning, but it’s ignored as she closes in on Seonghwa and clumsily stands beside him as she starts talking.

You look at her, then at Seonghwa, and realize he was still watching you before he drags his eyes away and gives her one of the most insincere smiles you’ve ever seen.

After a good ten minutes of letting her shoot her shot against your warning, you decide to make your way over to either save your best friend or save your job by getting her away from him.

“Ramona, you should have some water,” you comment as you walk up and blatantly ignore your boss.

“Taken care of,” She smiles and wiggles her brows, swirling her cup of water in your face. “I don’t see why you think Seonghwa is so–”

You cut her off immediately, glancing at Seonghwa and the way his face falls into curiosity at her unfinished sentence.

“I think we should be heading out! Don’t mind her,” You wave him off, trying to pull her from the bar and as far away from your boss as you possibly can.

By the time you get outside of the room, preparing to drag her all the way down this hallway and out outside to call a ride for the two of you, you’re glaring at her. The music is still loud, and your ears are ringing a bit from the frustration.

“Why the fuck would you say anything like that in front of him?” You argue, watching her realize that she really was out of line.

“I wasn’t even thinking, god, I’m so sorry,” She says, already preparing to fall to her knees in an apology.

“You do realize he’s probably going to ask me what you meant, right? How am I supposed to explain that? You are not ever coming with me to a company event again.”

She pleads with her eyes, genuinely appearing sorry before her gaze shifts and she’s staring directly behind you.

“You can’t just try to fuck my boss and then throw me out to the wolves like that!”

“Hey, wait,” she tries to stop you, wanting to save whatever facade you have left in front of your boss.

“He’s going to think I talk shit about him!”

“You think I don’t know that my team talks shit about me?” A voice rings out from behind you, breaking whatever happy drunken state you had left and causing you to freeze on the spot.

You don’t turn around as your eyes fall to your quite possible ex-best-friend as the realization hits you. You’re already lying down in the hole that’s been dug for you.

“Just an hour ago I heard Mingi tell his date that I’m not as nice as I seem.”

His voice sounds a little defeated as you finally try to force yourself to turn to him. Mostly because, if anything, if he knows that the majority of you talk shit, he can’t single you out, can he?

Except, he kind of is. You can’t imagine he would approach Mingi about it like he is to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you turn to face him, expecting a specific emotion to be on his face but feeling shocked that he looks fucking smug about it.

“I’m not going to pretend that everyone likes me, but I hope you’re all aware of the fact that I can’t be your friend in the office. I've got a boss too, and he’s not exactly fond of the way things have been going lately.”

You know that. You are more than aware that every employee has a boss, and every boss has a boss, and every boss’s boss has a boss. You happen to be almost at the bottom of that chain though, and it is hard at times to imagine someone like Seonghwa feeling the same stress that he makes you feel.

“This party was meant for us to unwind, even me. Why do you think the CEOs aren’t here?” He laughs, wondering if you’re too drunk for him to be this forward with you. “I paid for this party with my money, they don’t even know we are having it right now.”

Interesting.

“So, I think you should stay.” He finishes, looking at you as if he has all the confidence in the world knowing that the majority of the people at this party dislike him.

“I also think we should stay,” Your friend pipes in from behind you, poking her head out from your shoulder.

Without even answering, Seonghwa turns to wave the two of you back to the party with a smile that is…more sincere than you’ve ever seen. Maybe he isn’t so bad. Before your friend can usher you past him though, he’s tapping your shoulder and giving you a concerned look.

“Can I actually speak with you alone?” He asks, his face appears more genuine than you’ve ever seen it before.

Your friend turns to look at you, motioning for you to come with her but you look back at Seonghwa and shrug before following him down the hall and outside.

What you were expecting when you stepped out of those doors with your boss was a more in-depth review of how you’re acting. You thought he would break that somewhat genuine persona now that there’s no one around to listen, and he would give you a harsh warning to not defame his character at a party that he paid for.

No, no, no. It appears he has a different motive. One that threw you for a loop. One that made you wonder if you were on a hidden camera show, one that caused interest to replace disdain. You were not expecting him to stumble through his words at you, nor were you expecting him to admit that he’s nervous to be bringing it up at all. Seeing your boss break character was something to remember, but you forgot all about it the moment he laid out his proposal.

To put it bluntly, your boss wants to fuck, or rather, your boss wants you to fuck him. Never mind how you got to this point, and never mind the fact that he’s brought you back inside and given you at least eight glasses of water and two plates of snacks to sober you up with so he can present his offer again when you’re more aware of his words. Never mind the fact that your best friend just left with Yunho, and never fucking mind the fact that you’re more than willing to go home with him and pretend that Monday isn’t going to be awkward.

“Feel better?” Seonghwa asks, having not left your side since he spoke with you outside in the cold air.

It’s a strange kind of feeling, actually. After seeing two people shoot their shot at him, you find him by your side, not leaving you even for a moment. His stance appears to be that of an animal warding others from his prey and it’s kind of something you can’t think too hard about.

If you remind yourself that he’s your boss, you want to leave. If you think about how just this morning you wanted to see him tumble down the stairs of your office building, you almost laugh and agree with the image, but– if you don’t think about those things, you look at him and see a very attractive man with the need to be, what was it he said? Put in his place?

An insane image on its own. Your boss taking you outside just to propose a hookup, asking you bluntly to put him in his place? Telling you that you’re free to decline and that nothing would change at work, but that he thinks you’d be able to fulfill his desire of the night, especially with the way you look at him in such a frustrating way. He really came onto you like this, and with the way you accepted, it’s no wonder he’s so fucking confident.

“Much better,” you respond, looking toward the door and watching the way people start to leave. “You really know how to sober a person up,”

“Is that one of your famous insults toward me?” Seonghwa laughs, shifting his posture and leaning against you a bit, close enough to where you can hear him whisper, “You can be meaner about it, you know?”

You can tell, even with his close proximity to you, that he’s trying to appear to be in a simple conversation with his staff. To anyone else, it wouldn’t appear strange or weird to find you standing next to your boss. Several times tonight, even those who hate him as much as you do were found next to him, speaking as if they aren’t going to talk shit Monday morning in the break room before he shows up two hours late.

“So, you’re really into that sort of thing?” You look at him, his gaze equally as evil as it usually is, except this time you realize the thoughts behind that gaze. All day, every day during the week, he looks at you like this. Never have you seen him do it to someone else. You thought it was because he hated you and wanted to make your working life a living hell.

“I am, and I do not usually offer myself to someone I work with,” he leans away, processing the fact that he’s actually never proposed this with a person at his office. Better yet, a person who is under his management. It’s dangerous, and it’s probably stupid, but since the moment he hired you he’s wanted you.

His interest in you only grew the more you’d roll your eyes at him, the more he’d catch your hushed insults about him, the more you’d groan after he would leave your space thinking he was out of earshot.

“Oh yeah?” You ask for confirmation, “why are you approaching me with it then?”

He looks at you with a smirk and you watch as his eyes trail down your body for a few moments before meeting your eye again.

“You’re my type,” he admits, “and I don’t come across my type often.”

“Do you often single out your type and make them feel as if they’re not capable?” You counter, testing the waters.

“Yes.”

As strange as it felt leaving your car behind (despite that kind of being a given whether you went home or not), getting into Seonghwa’s car felt far weirder to you. The sleek paint job matches the suits he cycles through day by day. Having your shoes on makes you feel like you’re dirtying up his floorboards, and you feel like if you move too much the car will eject you out of itself based on how not-rich you appear to be.

“You’re sure you want this?” Seonghwa buckles himself in, placing a hand on the steering wheel and looking straight at the keyhole shape on your top. “I can drive you home if you decide you don’t want to.”

Seeing him blatantly checking you out like this is a new sort of experience. Those eyes are doing the same thing that you’ve grown to hate except now you’re excited to feel them on you. The stoic boss who intimidates others through a single look alone is now sitting next to you in his car, broken out of his work-day demeanor and staring at you as if you don’t work for him at all.

“I’d just end up inviting you inside,” you admit, your eyes now trailing down his body and stopping between his legs.

His smile is mischievous when he realizes that you’re checking him out too, and he trails his eyes down his own body to see what you’re looking at. He shifts a bit to spread his legs further before looking back at you.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, intentionally twitching in his pants before reaching his hand over to your cheek. “there’s nothing you can’t do when you look at me like that.”

You’re taken aback by how blatant and blunt he is. From asking you at all to now knowing he doesn’t have to think too hard about it. You wonder if you’ll still hate him after tonight. There was very little small talk at all, he really went straight to the point of fucking the moment he got you alone.

“Maybe you’ll take my word for it next time I’m trying to work and you interrupt me then?” You playfully argue, feeling him pull his hand back and place it on his keys to start the car.

“Oh no,” he coos, now turning to look behind him to back out. “I might trust you to fuck me, but you’re not going to get the chance to submit this project without me looking at every word, number, and punctuation mark.”

You nod, feeling warm at the way he somehow slips dirty talk into business casual talk. You say nothing as he backs the car out and begins to slowly drive out and away from all of the familiar faces waiting for their ride and cars to be delivered to them. Instead, you find yourself watching him navigate his car. So used to seeing him stalk around the office, even more used to seeing him type against your keyboard to fix your mistakes– he’s much more attractive when he’s not under the morgue lighting of the office. Much more attractive sitting in that seat next to you, eyes focused on the road rather than looking at you.

“You’re staring,” he breaks the silence, glancing over to you as he reaches a red light. “I’m gonna need you to hate me for a little longer before you decide you like me,”

You look away from him this time, shaking your head.

The red light illuminates your face through the windshield as he now shamelessly looks at you again, knowing that once the light illuminates a different color on your cheeks, he can look away and contain himself.

“I’m staring too,” he admits, willing the red light to last for a bit longer so that he can see the way you react. “You don’t seem familiar with being brought home with a man,”

You turn to look at him again, this time offended that he appears to believe you don’t get fucked on the regular. Well, he’s not entirely wrong and most of the time you’re just being fucked at your job with deadlines and stress.

“I am very familiar with a man driving me home, just not familiar with you being that man,”

Seonghwa nods, the green light now shining against your cheeks and forcing him to look away.

“Not something many people could get used to, I imagine,” Seonghwa pauses, going in loops in his head over how you intend to navigate the night with him. “Then again, it’s not every day that a woman gets to put her boss in his place.”

Your mouth falls open at his words and how casually he says it, you’re constantly being hit with the reality of why you’re in this car.

“I’ve never done this before, you know?” You admit, feeling a bit nervous over the fact that the man who dominates the office wants you to dominate him.

“I’ll talk you through it, don’t worry,” he explains, twitching in his pants at the idea of him asking you to do something and then you actually doing it. “Have you ever made a man cry before?”

“Not in the way you’re expecting,” you laugh, trying to joke your way through the unfamiliar territory with him.

“I’m expecting a lot from you,” he smiles, eyes still on the road. “Besides, I’ve been told that I look good when I cry and beg.”

Jesus fucking christ.

You’re truly far too sober right now as you step through the door of his pretty house, the marble floors sparkle when he flips the light switch, and the echo in the room of your shoes tapping against the floor is drastically different from the laminate floors of your apartment. His walls are pristine, not a crooked painting in sight, his curtains look more comfortable than the blankets you cuddle up with at home, and fuck, the way he fits right in. His house matches him so well, it’s almost laughable.

“Yeah, I can see it,” you say, looking around the spacious room before slipping your shoes off and trying to avoid the way he’s looking at you.

“See what?” He asks, amused at the way you’re reacting to his home.

“This is definitely your house, and you definitely paid for that party.”

He chuckles, walking around a counter space and running his fingers through his hair before leaning forward against it.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk about myself right now,” he opens his eyes again and there’s that glaring look again. “I’d prefer it if we get straight to the point.”

You swallow hard, walking up to the other side of the counter and looking at him. You’re officially as nervous as you possibly could be in this situation.

“I will only direct you when you aren’t sure of what to do,” he smiles, wanting so badly to live out the fantasy that he often finds himself falling into when he looks at you. “Look around, find the room you want to fuck me in.”

God, he’s so fucking blunt about it. Almost demanding despite admitting to wanting to be demanded himself. Not only is it weirdly sexy when he says it, but it still instills a huge amount of anxiety in your body over the fact that you’re going to have to analyze a room for sex and then trot back out here and tell him which one.

You take a few moments to contain yourself before you nod awkwardly and start walking around his spacious and silent home.

“Can you like, play some music or something?” You turn to ask, and he nods.

As you’re walking down a hallway, you can imagine yourself getting lost in this house. The music softly comes from every corner of every room as you begin your search as well. You’re thankful that no room in his home has to remain silent with the sound system that must have cost a fortune. It calms you as you stop at a door and open it.

“No,” you immediately say, stepping back and ignoring the fact that Seonghwa has a fucking hot tub in his bathroom.

You continue up a set of stairs and look around for a moment. You feel like you’re taking too long as you begin to peek into each of the rooms on this level. How the fuck are you expected to pick a room when the only room you’ve ever been fucked in is a bedroom or a living room? Seonghwa is so fucking weird.

Finally, with all of the bedrooms appearing to be fit for a king that wants to be sexually dominated, you settle on the one that has the window facing the moon. So, you make your way back downstairs, feeling your brain count down your demise the closer you get to him.

“The room with the really big windows,” you immediately say in a nonchalant way when you get back to him, feeling small.

“Oh yeah? Why?” He asks, stepping away from the counter he had been patiently waiting for you at.

You expected that he wanted you to name the room, but you didn’t exactly prepare a reason as to why you wanted to fuck him in the specific room.

“Um,” you pause, shocked at his question. “The moon looks nice I guess?”

He hums.

“You’re expected to be looking at me, babe, not the moon.”

Babe?! Never has he called you by anything other than your name until now, it’s making your heart jump.

“Ah, well,” you shift your weight to your other leg and shrug, “Do you have any suggestions then?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, walking up to you and ushering you backward.

“From this moment forward, I am suggesting nothing but how to touch me,” he says as he begins to undo each button on his shirt. “take me to the room.” He adds, slipping his shirt out of his pants and reaching for his belt.

You’re still stumbling backward as you watch him undress. He really jumps right into it then?

Your eyes are stuck as your pupils begin to widen at the image of him walking you backward. No longer does he feel like your boss, this is someone else, this is someone you want. He appears so ready, willing, and determined at this moment too, so you try to match energy.

Confidence coming back far too quickly to realize, you turn and lead him to the room you’ve chosen and for some odd reason, it feels easy to eye-fuck him each time you look back at him on your way to the room. Still, you don’t know how to go about this or how to fuck him the way he wants you to but god damn are you willing to try.

He stands before you inside of the chosen room, an untucked shirt that is also unbuttoned, buckle hanging open from the loops of his pants, eyes equally as blown as yours as he licks against his lips and awaits your instruction.

“Do whatever you want,” he encourages you, dipping his head down to where he’s a mere inch from your face. “Kiss me, hurt me, fuck me, whatever you want.”

You’re not sure if you will ever be able to get used to Seonghwa saying things like these, especially when they’re directed at you. It’s so fucking intimidating and entirely too arousing for you to comprehend within this short span of a single night.

Looking at him, he must be able to see the shock on your face at his words, and he softens his gaze a bit with a smile.

“Relax, don’t think of me as your boss right now–”

You pause again because the only reason you’re doing this is because he’s your boss and he just offered himself to you in the midst of a company party that he paid for.

“I’d prefer if I did think of you as my boss,”

“I won’t be bossing you around though,” he counters before the realization hits him. “Oh, so you are on the same page?” he smirks when you look down at the floor.

You nod before taking in a sharp breath and pulling him by his open collar, leading him to the floor just before reaching the bed. A little shocked still at how easy it is when you just do it, you do your best to stay calm and push back that nervous energy growing inside of you.

He chuckles a bit at the harsh pull against his collar before falling to his knees at the spot you lead him to and he looks up at you and on instinct as he reaches between his legs, ready to pull himself out of his pants like he’s so used to doing when a woman has him in this position.

Looking down at him, you think you like him at this angle, and there’s that confidence again. You’re sick of this push and pull of your nervousness so you really try this time to let go and just– fucking do what you very clearly want to do.

You step beside him and place yourself on the edge of the bed beside him and he watches you do it, turning his body so that he’s now sitting on the floor in front of you. Again, you try not to think when you awkwardly reach under your skirt and slip your panties down your legs, keeping them together so that he can’t see beneath the fabric.

He tilts his head as he watches the panties slide down your legs before reaching both hands out to your knees.

“I would have done that for you,” he comments, looking at the way your panties drop to the floor between the two of you and preventing himself from snatching them up to keep for his own personal reasons.

You’re starting to catch on. He did tell you what he’s into and so far, the only thing you’ve done was bring him to this room and sit him on the floor. Given, through those two actions your attraction towards him has surpassed what you’ve ever felt towards another man willing to get his cock out.

“What else would you do for me?” You ask, tilting your head and testing the waters.

“Anything,” he responds, attempting to move your legs open in front of him, “anything you want, just tell me.”

His voice is soft at that moment and it has you feeling a way that is somehow more unexpected than anything else. This is your chance to take out your frustrations through pleasure and it’s not like you’ve never done this before at least.

Without a word, you gently reach to his hair, watching him sigh at the contact of your gentle fingers running through the strands, and then you grip his hair from the back and pull him forward. You spread your legs as you do it, skirt easily rolling up your thighs.

The fucking moan he lets out when you do that is pornographic, and it’s like he knows exactly what to do when he’s got his face so close to your heat. He’s already got his tongue out when you guide it straight to your clit, pressing his head closer to you to apply more pressure.

You watch as his hands slip from your legs and go somewhere unseen, but you’re very aware of where they end up when you hear him unzip his pants.

“Don’t touch yourself,” You attempt to demand, pulling his head back and looking at his face. “We've only just started.”

He’s already gone, you can tell by the look in his eye that something inside of him switched the moment you grabbed him and pulled him between your legs. He doesn’t nod, he doesn’t say anything as he looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess. It’s insane, really, seeing him like this. Having such a rich and intimidating man looking at you like this could become addicting if you think too hard about it.

His hands come back to your legs after that, attempting to grip you as you grant him access to your clit again. He whines against your clit while you use him and you feel like you have so much power over him right now. You could say that you’re enjoying it a bit too much, enough to confidently start rolling your hips against his tongue, and strangely enough to pull his head back yet again and make him watch your pussy pulse at the loss of pleasure.

Seonghwa tries to lean forward again immediately upon seeing it, wanting to grant your aching heat his tongue once again but you hold him back, spreading your legs more to the point that your skirt acts as an annoyance by this point and he still doesn’t look away.

“I didn’t expect you to be so needy.” You comment, still rolling your hips just out of reach from his mouth. “You’re really just going to listen to everything I say?”

His eyes roll up to meet yours with a nod, his lips glistening and his eyes shining from the moon.

“Yes.”

You laugh at the power being given to you.

“Seonghwa, I genuinely cannot believe you piss people off just to have something to jerk off to later–”

You let go of his hair by this point, allowing him to immediately attach his lips back to your clit, this time though, his tongue frantically splits you open as he trails his mouth down. He appears to be a man who wants nothing more than to pleasure the woman in front of him as his tongue tastes each fold with intent. He groans all the while before reaching his hand up and spreading your pussy with two fingers just to pull back and look directly at the hole he’s so badly wanted to fuck.

“I only do that to you,” he finally admits with a sigh, leaning in to lick around your clenching hole and rolling his eyes to look up at you.

“Do you like it when I insult you?” You laugh, jolting at the use of his tongue and trying your damnedest not to react too much to it. Goddamn, does he know how to work the muscle though.

“Yes,” he pulls back with a breath, licking his lips and closing his eyes with a face of pleasure, “you’re so fucking sexy when you do.”

You think back to all the times you’ve insulted him but you can’t recall a time where you think you’ve actually been caught doing it.

“Have you been listening to the things I say about you?”

He smirks from between your legs with a nod before flicking his tongue at you.

Again, never could you have imagined your boss calling you babe or even saying that you’re sexy, but he’s right there with his tongue out between your legs, and he’s definitely said both of those things to you already.

“You can do better than that,” you try to insult him as goes back to lick up the wet that drips out of you like a hungry animal, closing your legs around his head as if to threaten that he will have to stop.

Seonghwa knows he can do better than this, then again, he knows you can be more mean than this too. He wants to make you feel good, yes, but he wants you to hate that it’s him who can do it. He wants you to go all out, slap him, pull his hair, sit on his face, choke him, make him cry.

He moans out from between your legs at all of the things he’s willing to let you do, this time tucking his tongue inside of you as deep as it can go. You said he can do better, and luckily for you, he hadn’t been using the full length of his tongue just yet.

“Can’t believe you’re already so wet for me,” he compliments you as he pulls back to breathe for a moment, “put your hands back in my hair, pull it–stop letting me breathe.”

Your mouth falls open at his words because honestly, you’ve only just recovered from feeling his tongue pry you open, but you don’t protest. He did say he was going to tell you how to touch him, but you didn’t quite expect it to be this way.

Despite him technically instructing you, much like he would at the office, this task is much easier to run with on your own as you slip your fingers back into his hair and pull a bit harder than you did originally. When he attempts to move his mouth back to your clit, you hold his head in place and look down at him. Your breath is caught in your throat at the way he smiles at the grip in his hair, and god, he looks so fucking good with his tongue buried in a pussy that you genuinely can’t help to grab his hair with your other hand as well.

He groans at that, stiffening his tongue and allowing you to hold his head in place as you roll your hips against it, essentially treating his mouth as if it were a stationary toy stuck against your bedroom wall.

Seonghwa knew you’d be good at this, even if you need a little encouragement. The best part is that you’re not letting up and that you’re losing yourself to the pleasure between your legs. He’s running out of breath, his nose bumping against your clit each time you grind forward against his face– the mixture of your slick and his saliva ultimately plugging his airways and allowing his face to start going red.

Your eyes are closed by now as you throw your head back and grip his hair harder. Only when you’re close to climax do you pull a hand back from his hair and start rubbing your own clit. When you open your eyes to see him again, you note the color of his cheeks are a deep red but god, you’re so close. If you could just–

His grip against your legs gets tight as your body releases the tension, his tongue still tasting the walls inside of you as you gush out a wave of hot slick for him to swallow up with pleasure, and he does, despite having no air to breathe. When you release his hair as you release, you can feel him shift– keeping his tongue inside of you for a few moments before shoving your hand away and moving his tongue to your clit. Stroking against you so quickly with the flicks of his tongue, you can feel his fingers scooping up the rest of the mess coming out of you before you finally relax and fall back against the bed.

Well, fuck.

Without a second to lose, despite being out of breath yourself, you’re reeling from the post-orgasm brain and he looks so fucking good right now, mouth coated in your juices that you hesitate very little when you speak.

“Lay down on the bed.”

Instantly he does, lying himself down, his cock pressing so heavily against his pants that you feel bad that he hasn’t been able to get any pleasure yet.

“Let me see you touch yourself.”

Seonghwa smirks as he sees the confidence grow inside of you. This is exactly what he wants from you. He wants you to watch him, he wants you to be just out of reach, teasing him and mocking him for wanting you as badly as he does. Most of all, he wants to see your eyes go dark at his ability to suffer for you.

He looks down at himself and the way his cock strains against one of the nicer pairs of pants he owns, and then he looks at you and licks his lips just to taste you again.

You watch his entire body shiver the moment he places his palm against his bulge, grabbing and adjusting himself over his pants before his eyes squeeze shut before falling to you.

“Go on,” you instruct, lifting your top off of you and finally ridding yourself of the skirt that sits around your waist.

He wastes no time as he watches you undress, each expanse of new skin he sees causes his hand to press harder against himself. You can hear the drag of the fabric against his palm too, offering him a pleasure that is likely more painful than anything, but he’s still moaning like he loves it.

You study the way his hand moves and you take note of when his body tenses and he releases a sweet sigh of pleasure. You want to know how he likes it specifically so you don’t give it to him.

When you’re fully undressed and no longer feeling awkward, considering you just came against his tongue, you sit between his legs and lean back, spreading your legs to give him something more to look at.

The sound of fabric rubbing against him becomes more intense at that point, and his eyes stay only on your pussy as he does it. He lifts his head, straining his neck to get a better view of it.

“Don’t let me come too fast,” he groans, knowing for a fact that he could come right here, right now if you tell him to.

“You’ll come when I say you can,” you smile, almost mesmerized by the way his hips press up and into his palm with a choked-out sob.

“And you say you’ve never done this before?” he lets out a small laugh before rolling his eyes back at the way your pussy pulses before him.

You can see him try to not lose himself completely in order to encourage you and tell you what to do if you need it.

“I watch porn, you know,” you say, trailing your fingers down to your chest and running them over your aroused nipples.

Seonghwa watches you like a wild animal, his mind reeling with what you must look like watching porn and fucking yourself. He’s jealous of your fingers and of any man that’s ever gotten between your legs. His length is aching by this point as his body lets out yet another shiver.

You watch for a few moments longer before noticing that he genuinely appears to be working himself up to orgasm like this. You shift forward and grab his wrist, stopping his hand from granting himself the pressure he appears to need so badly. He watches you, hips chasing his hand as you move it up and place it directly at your core.

“That’s enough for you,” you say, watching his brows knit together and then fall to relief when you gasp at the way he flicks your clit in a rough, frantic type of way.

He listens too well, especially when you lean back on your arms and thrust your hips up toward him. You’re right there, spread out between his legs, displaying yourself in such a shameless way that he can’t help but slide his fingers down and instantly into you.

Your body jolts a bit at that, but the way his fingers slide against your walls has you looking directly into his eyes with the blown pupils he now decides that he’s obsessed with. His cock is in front of you, and when you press forward a bit with your hips, you can see his wrist rub against himself and he groans each time he does it.

His fingers still appear to focus on you though, with the way you feel him searching for the spot inside of you each time he curls his fingers up. Finally, you moan for him and he moans immediately after in response to it.

His cock is making an attempt to stand at attention but is still restricted by his pants, you can see the pre-cum soaking him almost entirely by this point and you fucking love it. You scoot further up, holding his wrist and keeping his hand in place as you sit against his thighs this time, bumping his bulge yourself when you pull his fingers out of you and place them against his lips.

“Lick,” you demand, watching his tongue wrap around the tip of one of his fingers as he sucks it into his mouth.

Honestly, the way he’s still giving you that same lusty glare as before, it’s got you nearly falling apart at the loss of his fingers even though it was entirely your fault. He acts like he loves it too, humming around his fingers before letting them fall from his lips as you grind up again against the bottom half of his length.

You don’t have a lot of patience at this moment, unfortunately. Again, this is new for you and you can’t imagine waiting much longer to at least see his cock, if anything to see him tear up at a new sensation that isn’t his pants.

You break eye contact and move forward, sitting directly against his bulge and letting out a sigh of how fucking hard it is under you before sliding back harshly and frantically pulling yourself up to rid him of his pants.

He’s a bit shocked at how fast you move, and a bit disappointed that you’re already preparing to jump his bones without at least an hour of foreplay and edging, but he’s already melted for you and will do anything you want. He even chuckles a bit when you stare directly at his raging cock before you after taking off his pants. Part of him thinks you might even take it into your mouth with the way you’re looking at it. He twitches his cock at you, a crooked smile appearing across his face before he’s getting the air knocked out of him.

You sit directly on it, sliding against his length while holding your breath and essentially nuzzling it between your glistening folds. He can feel your hole pulse against the underside of his cock and it’s making him fucking feral for you.

His mouth is open in a silent moan, hands gripping your waist and toes curling at the heat surrounding him before he’s finally opening his eyes to look at you.

“You mentioned someone telling you that you look pretty when you beg, why haven’t you begged for me yet?” You ask, appearing to be completely composed, perched with his length being coated by your slick between your legs.

“Because you’re giving me everything I want.”

You take a moment to think. Damn.

As quickly as you grant him the pleasure, you take it away as you slide off of his length and hover over him instead, pushing his opened shirt to the side and roughly pinching his nipples. You’re not sure if he’s into this, but he said you could do anything, so.

“I will do nothing but this until you beg, then,”

You watch his eyes roll at the feeling of your soft fingers attempting to abuse his chest and he could probably go insane for you at this moment. He’s been played with this way before, but never do women focus on his nipples like this, they prefer he play with theirs.

He writhes at the sensations and you wonder if having the nubs played with shoots a pleasure through his body much like it does yours. He appears to be slightly lost in his thoughts while you do it too, you can feel his pre-cum practically pouring out when he writhes and the head hits your thigh.

Seonghwa looks kind of beautiful like this. Little beads of sweat form on his forehead as he tries to contain his body at nothing more than harsh pinches and rubs against his nipples. You continue to watch him fall apart, almost amazed that such a sensation can have him looking like he’s already got his cock buried into someone, you finally let yourself sit again.

“Still not going to prove to me how pretty you look when you beg?” You ask, rolling your hips and once again burying his cock between your lips.

He groans, knowing full well that he can cum from nipple stimulation alone, but now you’re sitting on him again and it’s like, damn.

“Choke me,” he grunts, trying to press his cock through your folds in a sharp thrust upwards.

“Hm?” you coo, lifting slightly so he loses the sensation again.

“Choke me,” he asks again, and then again.

“You’re asking, not begging,”

His hips continue to chase the warmth of your bare pussy just out of reach as he smirks at your words. You’re right, and he is so, so willing to beg you at this moment.

“Please, choke me if you’re going to sit on my cock like this–” he pauses, “I want you to choke me and sit harder, please.”

Satisfied though not entirely sold considering he looks pretty with or without begging, you do sit down again, this time harder and trying not to sigh out at the way he nods frantically with a moan. Experimentally, you place your hand around his neck and lean forward, licking his bottom lip.

You see him shiver again at the feeling of your soft hands around his neck. His hips now stay in place as his hands reach for your hips and make an attempt to hold you down against him, almost as if he’s trying to suffocate his own length with your lips.

“Tighter,” he groans, now moving his hips in short thrusts into the tight heat the two of your bodies have managed to create.

You listen, though you’ve never really choked another person before, you figure he would tell you if you’re doing it wrong. Squeezing tighter, wondering if you should use both hands to do this, you groan at the feeling of the head of his cock bumping your clit as he moves beneath you.

He doesn’t appear to be straining at all, and perhaps you’re doing it incorrectly. You figure you are when he releases a hand from your hip and envelops your own, pressing your hand harder against his throat as a crooked smile plays at his lips.

“Like this,” he winces, flexing his abdomen and tightening his core at the feeling of his breath being restricted. “I can come like this–” he chokes out, releasing his tightened muscles and allowing himself to spiral into a pool of pleasure at how wet you’ve gotten for him. The slide of his cock is so easy, it’s so smooth and slippery on him that he barely has to move now.

“You’re not going to, though,” you smile, trying to tighten your grip more against his neck and watching the way his plush lips fall slack.

It must appear silly. You’re just sitting on him completely bare, and him mostly bare. There’s barely any movement between the two of you and he still seems to be having a hell of a time as you hold his throat and talk to him. You can feel his body tense and release every few seconds, and his adam's apple bobs under your palm every few seconds as he somehow keeps his composure through this.

Momentarily, you do bring another hand up to his neck, this time sliding yourself up his length before pressing back again. He can’t even groan at this point but you can see him try. His pulse quickens under your fingers and you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut and tenses his body against you.

Seonghwa knows he’s in for it, because he’s most definitely about to come and he can’t even tell you that. He’s usually great at preventing it, but with you so focused on keeping his breathing restricted while lazily grinding yourself down on him? Maybe he doesn’t want to listen this time.

You note his lips curl up and you instantly release his throat, his face only going slightly more pink than it was before you grabbed him by the throat and his hand instantly tries to force your hands back against his pulse.

“No, keep going, i’m gonna–”

You pull back immediately and watch him even out his breathing before groaning in frustration at you. Now, he’s looking at you like he will beg and to be fair, they were right. He does somehow look more pretty like this, with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

You pay no mind to it despite burning the image into your brain and pulling yourself back before, without warning (again), you grab his length and sink down until your ass meets his thighs. He is already out of air again, feeling your pussy adjust to him and clench around him, essentially jerking him off better than he does himself.

Struggling yourself not to wince at how full you suddenly feel, you try to focus on the way he whines when you place your hand back around his throat. He’s twitching inside of you and trying to fuck into you as soon as you do it, but he is unable to as you squeeze tighter around his neck as a warning. You are far more comfortable doing it now.

“Do not fuck me,” you warn, seeing his hand slide across the comforter and clutch it until his knuckles are while.

He groans more when you clench around him, teasing his aching cock with the inability to fuck you the way he so desperately wants to. He tries to buck up just a little bit this time.

“Seonghwa, do not fuck me,” you repeat, tightening your walls around him once again and listening to the sob he lets out in response.

His mouth falls slack and his eyebrows knit together, the beads of sweat on his forehead dampening his messy hair as you cockwarm him until, hopefully, he cries.

Seonghwa does as you say though, stilling his hips as he finally opens his eyes in a daze and looks at you. His hands release the comforter at this point, shooting to your hips as he looks down at snugly you’ve managed to tuck him inside of you.

“You like being fucked like you’re hated?” You ask, slightly releasing the tight grip around his neck and chuckling at the way you can see him try to control himself.

If you truly hated him though, you wouldn’t be doing this to him, but also– you imagine that if you were going to fuck someone like you hate them, you’d make them suffer much like this. Taking away their ability to fuck you despite the fact that they’re already inside of you.

“You don’t hate me,” he counters smugly but still with a shaking and pathetic sounding voice, “not with the way you’re drenching my cock like you own it.”

You grip tighter at his neck and clench your pussy around him again, this time digging your ass against his tights and attempting to push him deeper into you.

“I do own it,”

“Yes, fuck, there you go–” he hisses out with a seething bite to his voice, now unable to stop himself from fucking his hips up and into you.

You squeeze his neck once again as a warning, and you even try to press his hips down against the mattress to keep him from doing so, but his strength appears to overpower your own and it’s becoming hard to stop him anyway. Because you want it, and you want him so bad at this moment to absolutely fucking ruin you until you’re the one begging. You removed your hands from his throat and move them to both sides of his face, forcing him to look directly as you as he fucks up at an uncontrollable pace.

There, you watch him fall apart beneath you until you finally see those tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. His pupils grow and shrink with each second, and the sound of his hips hitting your thighs almost creates a mantra in your head that you never could forget..but, you stop him.

“Do not fuck me, Seonghwa,” you warn for the last time and he fucking whimpers as he falls slack against the bed.

“I want to fuck you,” he groans, chewing against his bottom lip and letting those tears roll down his cheek, “let me make you feel good, please,”

“No.” You say, leaning down just an inch from his face before slipping yourself off of him and resuming the lazy grinds you’d granted him before. “Are you going to ask me to come in me, too?” you chuckle, watching him fall apart.

“God, please, yes–” he thinks hard about the image of his seed spilling out of you, the image so arousing that he feels the heat in his abdomen grow regardless of not being inside of you anymore.

“We’ll see,” you continue, sliding up his length before finally slipping him back into you. This time, you moan, and this time, you’re unable to stop yourself from moving your hips as you reach for his hand and place it against your clit.

All of this teasing is supposed to be for him, but you’re fucking suffering too. You’re actually a little shocked that you remained composed until now.

“Make me come again and we’ll talk,”

He’s eager to do just that, his bedroom eyes scanning your bouncing body as he somehow knows how to both rub your pussy and prevent himself from releasing into you at the same time. He does start to struggle when you start to clench from orgasm around him though, and he moans louder than you do when he sees you fall apart on top of him.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says angrily, wanting nothing more than to be the one dominating you at this moment, edging you, making you beg– “You look so good when you’re fucking yourself on me,” he continues through your orgasm, “keep making those pretty sounds, let me hear you.”

You do, riding him and feeling his fingers on you all the way up until his thighs are dripping with your wet and he’s left melting under you with arousal. He thinks he’d let you use him again and again if he can watch you do that again.

“You want to come in me?” You finally say, out of breath.

It’s like music to his ears as he nods frantically, his cock feeling neglected despite having been actively fucked.

“Then do it,” You say, sitting on him and refusing to move as your arousal continues to drip onto him.

He tries to move his hips but you mock him for it.

“No, come like this. If you want me so bad, if you want to come so bad, do it.”

Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate at all. You can see his eyes cross and roll to the back of his head just as you say that to him and for some reason, you feel a little bad about it. He’s so willing to come like this, so willing to let you leave this room as the satisfied one, so willing to control himself. Before you can grant him anything else though, his hands are on your waist and you realize that he’s literally already coming.

His silence alone should have told you that, with the way his cock is twitching and spilling into you non-stop since you said those words. Never have you seen a man come on command like that, and fuck, Seonghwa, what the fuck?

You rush to lean forward, leaning down as his cock stands idle inside of you as it continues to release, all the way until your tongue is flicking his nipple and his body jolts. You feel him fuck up this time, prolonging his orgasm as you kiss against his chest and leave a bruise or two against each nub until he’s managed to empty himself entirely into you.

Just as you think it’s over, he appears to have an uprise in energy as he flips you back and lets you fall against the bed, his head instantly sinking between your legs to lick his mess up before it spills out of you. Every last drop is what he wants, just so you can see that he can and will always be willing to do disgusting things for your pleasure.

By the time he’s done, he pulls back and looks at you with one of the most fucked out smiles you’ve ever seen on another person.

Though he already used his tongue to clean you up, he went the extra mile and left the room to grab supplies to further clean the two of you up, and only falters when your face appears to be back to normal. He’s unsure of where to go from here, considering you’re still part of his team and it’s unfortunate that there’s still the reality of everything to face.

“Do you want to stay?” He asks, the opened shirt that was never removed hanging from his shoulders as his own gaze falls into something soft and less hungry.

You don’t know how to answer, because, like, is it wrong to want to stay?

“You were so talkative while you were riding my dick, babe,” he chuckles, wondering if you can be as dominant in post-sex conversation as you are when you’re actively fucking.

“Would you feel better if I make all of the decisions now? Like what you’re used to me doing?”

You nod silently, wincing at the soreness between your legs despite doing more cock-warming than fucking.

“You’re spending the night, and I’ll have something for you to eat in the morning,” He wiggles his brows only for a second, now wondering if this will be a regular thing or not. “Actual food, I mean, but– y’know,”

He pauses to look at you as he speaks.

“I’m not against doing this with you again, just so you know.”

The smile that stretches across your face is relieving to him, especially when you nod and meet his eye without hesitation.

“Sorry if it wasn’t that good, I’ve really never done this before–” You go to apologize but he stops you.

“You did better than you think you did, if anything, you could be rougher,” he admits with a warm chuckle, running his hands through his fucked up hair. “I knew you were my type.”

You can’t help but contrast who Seonghwa is now versus who he was to you yesterday. Monday is going to be interesting. Which–wait.

“What’s going to happen on Monday?” You ask, feeling a bit of doubt about this whole arrangement.

“Right, about that,” He ticks his tongue before leaning back and lounging against the headboard. “Obviously we can’t let anyone find out. We both would be risking our jobs over this–”

Brain still half-horny, you wiggle your own brows at him and he looks at you curiously with a mischievous smile of his own.

“No,” he warns, holding his hands up and shaking his head. “We can’t sneak around at work. If anyone found out that I want you to, quite literally, gag me and slap me around–”

“Right, you wouldn’t be able to intimidate them anymore,”

You can’t help but feel special at this moment in this big room with the huge windows and moon shining in.

“Would you be against me at least, y’know, being inappropriate when it’s just us?”

Seonghwa studies you for a moment as he thinks to himself.

“Like I said before, there’s nothing you can’t do when you look at me like that.”

#seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez smut #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez fic #seonghwa fic #ateez headcanons #seonghwa headcanons #seonghwa x reader #ateez au #seonghwa oneshot

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Text

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. drinking alcohol and getting drunk/tipsy is mentioned. this is the first part of the spicy stuff. 18+ warnings under cut.

word count: 3.0k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

18+ warnings: explanations of sexual fantasies/daydreams. minho and reader are extremely horny for each other. making out and some slight heavy petting. stripping/strip tease. softdom!minho. subby!femreader. slight teasing from minho. the beginnings of mutual masterbation. minho is pretty demanding but in a sweet way (don't get me wrong tho, his commands are hot as hell). pet names (sweetheart, pretty, darling).

a/n: I've got about 3 parts left to write of this (the next two parts are already done and edited), and I've decided to put this on a 2-day posting schedule. so I will post the remaining parts every two days. I'm doing this because 1.) I really want you guys to read the next few parts lmao- I ADORE all of your reactions to everything, and 2.) I want to move on to bigger and better things and I'm not the type of writer that can work on multiple creative projects at once. 💀 hope you guys enjoy this part, and let me know your thoughts in the comments/reblogs/asks!! 💞

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He kissed you like it was something he couldn’t live without. As if he was suffocating and you were his only supply of oxygen.

His lips felt plush in all of the right ways - just like how you imagined them - his practiced pace signifying his experience with such torturing displays of affection.

He kissed you as if you weren’t optional. Made you forget everything that had happened and everything that stood before and between the two of you. Suddenly, you were forgetting all of the past hurts, all of the past struggles. As his mouth moved against yours in that perfect, ethereal kind of way.

When he pulled away, he took the breath right out of you - grasping a tight hold over the thing and yanking it right out of your very being.

You were but a mere puddle of loose limbs and flesh underneath him, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. And as you ran a few absent fingers over your mouth, you noticed the puffiness there. The way he’d made you delightfully kiss-swollen.

“I hope that wasn’t-” He began, much to your demise, to question your pleasure over the fact that he just passionately made out with you.

You silenced him with a few extra kisses for good measure, sliding away from the line of his mouth reluctantly, the seductive pull of his warm tongue. “That was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more.”

He rose a dark, manicured eyebrow your way, eyes shining with that distinct light of happiness and lust. “Oh? So you’ve thought about me in your dreams then?”

Feeling the sudden creep of a flush travel up the length of your neck, before pooling in either of your cheeks, you bit down hard on your bottom lip, reveling in the way that it was still puffed from his arduous torment. “I thought about you late at night for a very long time.”

The hand that had been resting at your hip for so long gripped a little harder, bunching the silken fabric of your dress between nimble fingers. Minho pressed into you, the knee that was still between either of your legs hiking up a little further. Almost reaching that sensitive, warm spot of yours, but not quite. He bent forward, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, teeth coming down on the lobe and biting gently.

“And what kind of thoughts did you have all alone in your bedroom, hmm?” He mused in a low, guttural voice that you had never heard from him. Then again, you had never been in such a precarious position with him before. So everything was new. A tiny gasp fled from your lips upon the contact that his mouth made with the side of your neck, as he trailed feather-light kisses down your exposed flesh.

You were still donning your matching shawl, but at that moment, you wished for nothing more but for him to completely rip it off of your body in a desperate attempt to get at you. “I-I'd often fantasize about how you’d treat me… so delicate and loving, like how you always did when I had a visit at the clinic, like how I watched you treat all of the animals you took care of…”

Voice trailing off at the feel of his teeth nipping into the skin of your clavicle, you all but shuddered against him. The front of him was pressed so close to you, you could practically feel the growing bulge in his pants.

He laved his tongue over the spot that he had bitten down on, kissing the slight sting away, before continuing, “Go on, darling…”

The pet name was entirely something new. And if he didn’t have a firm hold over your entire being right then, you were sure that you’d have fallen right to the ground in shock.

Because Lee Minho…

Calling you darling-

And the worst part about it was that you knew it was only the beginning.

“I’d touch myself, late at night, after a long work day… envisioning that it was you doing such sinful things to me,” you muttered between clenched teeth, as his lips continued to trace a burning path down the part of your chest that was exposed from your shawl. “I’d imagine that it was you- fingers deep inside of me, lips sucking me dry, hands grabbing onto me, hips thrusting into mine so flawlessly.”

This time, it was Minho who jerked against you. He backed away just slightly from your neck, offering you a dimly lit smirk. “I swear- you will truly be the death of me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart,

Sweetheart.

It all sounded so wonderful coming from him - like an ancient, foreign prayer fallen from the lips of a beautiful, innocent angel. Expect the position the two of you were in - and the way his mouth trailed over your skin - was anything but innocent.

You reached out, tracing a careful index finger down the center of his chest. Touching the one thing you had been focusing on all night long. Finally coming in contact with that bare flesh, that had been exposed for so many hours. “And what about you?” You questioned, peering up into his dark, blown-out pupils. They were darting across your face. Almost like, he had to capture this exact moment in his memory forever, lest he forgets it in his old age. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Fuck- every single minute of every single day, pretty,” that caused your tracing of his chest to halt, as your heart tripped over itself in surprise. In the back of your mind, you felt the hands that had been resting on either of your hips for so long migrate behind you, fingers grabbing palmfuls of your ass. “I thought about you as soon as I woke up, all day when I was at work, and especially- when I was home alone at the end of the day.”

Your nails raked down his exposed pecs, playing with the tiny silver zipper that was almost completely at his waist. “Really?” You flashed him a soft grin, as you leaned up and pressed a few kisses against the corner of his mouth. “What did you imagine in such moments?”

He turned his head then, pressing his lips against yours in a full kiss that soon turned breathless, his tongue slipping past your teeth and tasting you ardently. “I envisioned you in so many different filthy ways- beneath me, mouth hanging open as you screamed out my name in ecstasy, perfect fucking tits bouncing with every movement, legs coming around me every time I pounded into you so good.”

You clutched at his forearms then, moaning into his mouth and melting into all of the kisses and caresses that felt straight from heaven. “Please, Minho-”

Minho grabbed at your ass a little firmer at the words that spilled from you.

Because finally-

Finally, you were calling him by his name.

And it felt fucking good.

So good, that you almost felt addicted to it. You liked the way it curled around in your mind, falling from your mouth and sweetening your tongue all at once.

“If you do that again, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He mumbled against your mouth, breathing in your scent and screwing his eyes shut in anguish.

“And what if I don’t want you to stop?”

Your confession came out hushed, something only meant to be kept between the two of you.

And all at once, you watched the emotions shift rather effortlessly in him - going from barely restrained passion to an outburst of ravenous hunger. His hands were clutching onto you harder and then he was hoisting you up into the air before you could even comprehend what was happening. Heart beating painfully inside your chest, you clutched at his neck and held on tight. Not a word was passed between the two of you as he moved with swift legs.

In but a few mere blinks, he had you in what you assumed was his bedroom. It was decorated simply, just like the rest of his house was. Then he was practically throwing you onto the bed, staring down at your barely clad form from the edge of the mattress.

“Take off the shawl. I want to see you.” He demanded in a steely voice. The one he had used earlier that night when he had been frustrated with everything during the party.

But he wasn’t frustrated now, and you came to realize that the steeliness had always been from... arousal.

When Lee Minho was fucked over with want, he turned cold and spoke with chilled venom in his words.

And that realization just made the pool of wetness between your thighs gather at a faster rate than ever before.

Without a word of protest, you stripped yourself of the shawl, showing off the rest of you that had been covered up all night. Revealing the way that the neckline of your mini dress scooped so low, it showed more than half of your tits.

“Fuck,” he grunted out, running a frantic hand through his hair. He couldn’t take his eyes off of your chest, staring twin holes into the way your dress teased at the full exposure of your bosom. “I’m suddenly so glad that you never took that off- the guys would’ve surely gone crazy over you before I had any fucking chance.”

“That’s why I wore it in the first place,” you moved the thin shawl away, throwing it across the bed as your focus never strayed from his face. From the way that he fully took you in, eyes ravenous with so much love and lust. You felt your chest rise and fall with your short breaths, air constricting between your lungs as you tried to breathe through the arousal that was clawing up your throat in the form of an unchecked moan. “And besides, I never would’ve let any of them touch me even if I had taken it off during the party… I only wanted you to see this part of me. Only you get a taste of my most-sacred parts.”

Minho tilted his head to the side then, bearing his teeth in an ominous grin.

It seemed like a wicked thought crossed his mind.

A shrewd and cruel one, but if the cruelty entailed him using you as his very own plaything, you were more than willing to give in to his cruelty.

The look of him- standing there, lording over you at the edge of the bed, so close, yet so far all at once, forced a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

“Dress off, now.”

Just by the tonal shift, you could tell that his patience was wearing thin. He had been suppressing his desires for so very long, that he evidently couldn’t handle wasting another minute of not doing anything about his… predicament. It was as clear as day by the front of him, and the view of the hardening tent in the middle of his black trousers caused your stomach to flip over in a twirl of summersaults.

You shucked your dress off in one fluid movement, laying back on one of the downy pillows in nothing but your lingerie set, which was designed in a simple nude lace. Minho audibly swallowed, examining you with those fire-lit eyes, a set jaw, and pursed, puffy lips.

“Is this good enough for you?” You asked, fingers rising to twirl a lock of your hair between your fingers. Your legs were splayed out in a straight line before you, not giving away anything before he made his next move. Taunting him, in the best way you knew possible. By not revealing yourself.

Without another word, Minho was slinking away from the bed. Your eyes tracked his form, as he took a seat in the nearby armchair. It was placed off to the right of the bed, close enough that you were only a few steps away. The moonlight that shone through the curtained window cast across his form, painting his shoulders and cheekbones in a ghostly kind of glow.

He leaned back in the plush cushions, folding his arms across his chest and leveling you with that sly smirk of his that you had never seen before. Not once, had he ever used it on you during your visits to the clinic. And not once, did it ever appear when he was dealing with others.

But all at once, it seemed so familiar to you.

Like you had lived your entire life acknowledging it,

Recognizing it,

And becoming roused by it.

“Show me.”

His words didn’t come out as demanding as before. Rather, they were grave and wavering. But they left an even bigger impact than the former.

Because in using such a soft, saccharine tone on you, he was demonstrating how he already knew you.

Knew you so well, like the back of his hand.

And how you absolutely melted whenever he’d speak to you in such a way-

Whether it had been at the clinic, during a visit,

Or when the two of you were on a late-night phone call before Nyx had passed,

Even when you guys had chatted together in the front office the night you had rushed over in a bumbling panic.

So no, he didn’t have to use strong words on you. Didn’t have to speak to you harshly, or demand anything.

Because you were already his.

From the very beginning, you had always been his.

The exact day the two of you met, all those years ago, during your first visit to the clinic, the two of you had known - whether subconsciously or consciously.

That there would be no one else.

So he regarded you with that same gentleness, eyes softening your way and limbs fluid as he sat there. He canted his head to the side, awaiting your next move.

He didn’t press, he didn’t rush, he didn’t do… anything. Just stayed silent, wondering how you would react to his words.

You felt the warmth of a flush creeping up the length of your neck, and you captured your bottom lip between your teeth as you tried to make sense of what he had just said. “W-What?” You didn’t mean to stutter. No, you meant to seem strong and in control. But then he was talking to you so smoothly, studying you with those deep brown eyes so lovingly, and you were a goner. A fumbling, stuttering goner.

“You said you like to touch yourself to the thought of me, so show me,” he said, raising an eyebrow your way from your obliviousness. But then the words hit the forefront of your mind, and it felt like your cheeks were on fire from how furiously you blushed. The heat pooling in the pit of your stomach shot down the middle of your body, swirling in your core and lighting the blood in your veins in a frantic kind of way. “Show me what you do to yourself when you’re all alone… show me how you touch yourself, while you have me infecting your mind.”

“I-I can’t.” You suddenly blurted out, heart pounding in your chest, as the butterflies danced a wild routine in the very depths of your soul.

That same smirk was pulling at the corners of his lips again, at your embarrassed state. “And why is that, darling?”

“B-Because…” Your voice trailed off, as your fingers played with a loose piece of string that you found in the bed’s thick duvet comforter. “I… the things I did, during those times, are hardly appropriate.”

Minho’s maniacal laugh, which was high-pitched and unruly, forced your eyes to shoot up at him. His irises were a little darker than before, but he still had that delicate look on his face. As if Everything you were saying sounded pleasant to him and this was all just a fun game to him.

“What’s so funny?” A cold sweat broke out across your brow, as you watched him regard you with mirth. You found yourself frowning at the outward display of humor.

Minho’s eyes raked down the length of your then, catching on the way that your bosom rose up and down with your hasty breaths. His lips parted slightly like he wanted nothing more but to come over to the bed and have a feel of them for himself. But then he was focusing back on your stare, offering you that easy, swoon-worthy smile of his. “I just find it hilarious, how you’re worried about propriety when you’re literally sitting there half-naked and I’m sitting here with a raging boner.”

At the mention of his hardness, you swallowed down a groan of agony. Because truly, you wanted nothing more but to see him - touch him, in so many different places. But he still had on those damn cargo pants and that damn shirt with the zipper on it. The thing was pulled so low that his stiff pecs peeked out every time he moved.

A beat of silence encased the room,

Trapping the tenseness between you,

Wrapping around the two of you and squeezing the very life out of your body.

And just like that, you found your hands moving on their own. Involuntarily, without any more arguing. Without any more talking. Without any more coaxing from him.

Because none of it was needed.

All he needed to do was speak - let the remarks flow from those beautiful, perfectly-sculpted lips, and you were heeding to his every demand.

Hell, if Minho asked you to kill for him, you’d probably do it.

If it meant having him flash you that easy smile, with those brilliant, pearly-white teeth,

If it meant having his chestnut-brown irises catch on your form every time you so little as breathed,

If it meant having those big, veiny arms holding you down, hands adoring you so wonderfully,

Then fuck yeah- you sure would kill for him.

To be continued...

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