#she’s also THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE AND MY BEST FRIEND FOREVER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpjaes · 2 months

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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment.

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum.

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis.

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club.

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go.

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time.

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup.

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum.

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time.

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least.

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city.

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here.

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home.

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days.

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear.

You’re going to the booming “after life”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains.

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink.

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place.

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think.

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you.

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual.

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering.

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast.

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile.

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think.

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night?

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway.

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you.

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it?

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely.

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through.

God, it’s more beautiful inside.

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head.

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time.

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of.

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest.

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows.

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission.

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work.

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club.

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her.

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be.

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food.

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home.

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that.

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory.

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go.

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass.

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest.

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step.

And suddenly, your body freezes.

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of.

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach.

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?”

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound.

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up.

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there.

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take.

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun.

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring.

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine.

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache.

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep.

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you.

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though.

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person.

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers.

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself.

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend.

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright.

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around.

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile.

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan.

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.”

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work.

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.”

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him.

“So, it’s Friday.”

He bounces on his feet.

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.”

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?”

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.”

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun.

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.”

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance.

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.”

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong.

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless.

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls.

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something.

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up.

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club.

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist.

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.��

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye.

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling.

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile.

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness.

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face.

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes.

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?”

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you.

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.”

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly.

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground.

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.”

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying.

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone.

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?”

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar.

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink.

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar.

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man.

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat.

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him.

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?”

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head.

“Red death, please. Two of them.”

The man nods with a knowing smile.

“I saw that you came here with someone.”

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him.

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence.

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.”

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge.

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else.

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other.

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment.

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again.

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts.

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie.

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it.

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger.

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long.

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you.

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry.

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost.

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!”

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you.

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach.

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people.

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.”

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now.

“Okay, lets get you to-”

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd.

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom.

And it’s still suffocating in here.

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now.

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing.

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you.

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?”

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you.

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing.

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly.

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again.

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face.

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out.

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.”

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.”

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh.

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening.

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them.

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful.

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone.

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you.

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it.

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you.

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll.

And, well, you do get home safe.

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame?

Fuck no.

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again.

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist.

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course.

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers.

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose.

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out.

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you.

And, well. The night is a blur.

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again.

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it.

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again.

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity.

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point.

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness.

And you search.

And search.

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point.

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you.

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off.

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it.

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point.

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club.

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp.

Or human trafficking.

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own.

Still, you nod to the bouncer.

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?”

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face.

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste.

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy.

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours.

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow.

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting.

Again.

A third meeting.

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?”

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him.

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears.

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?”

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times.

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine.

Pretending you’re not interested.

Wondering why it is that you are, actually.

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?”

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention.

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply.

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?”

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender.

What was his name again?

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no.

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away.

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers.

You should find Jungwon and cling to him.

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run.

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.”

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon.

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present.

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club.

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color.

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors.

Blue, red, green–

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit.

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow.

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think.

Was it not a dream?

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh.

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room.

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them.

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse?

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind?

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like this time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you.

He’s definitely looking for you.

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back.

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?”

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation.

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before.

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room.

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you.

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more.

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?”

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.”

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall.

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.”

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all.

“Come now, dear.”

Reluctantly, you follow her.

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be.

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence.

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat.

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is.

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought you I had you, too.”

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.”

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.”

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability.

Again, red.

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands.

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale.

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?”

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak.

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed.

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?”

Exhale.

“Me.”

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch.

Well, goddamn.

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up.

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.”

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even.

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place.

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain.

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him.

God, he’s so charming.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep.

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here.

“Where were you?” He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door.

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies.

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.”

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys.

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it.

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not.

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?”

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend.

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red.

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it.

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him.

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.”

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side.

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk.

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something.

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales?

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world.

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile.

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim.

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay.

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more.

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door.

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him.

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel.

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to.

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway.

Month after month after month. For years and years.

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days.

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies.

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.”

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns.

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.”

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone.

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.”

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen.

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift.

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever.

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake.

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him.

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you.

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here.

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room.

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door.

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him.

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here?

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows.

You feel comfortable, safe.

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives.

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway.

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways.

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget.

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close.

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them.

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back.

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall.

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.”

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door.

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running.

“Do you want to go home?”

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes.

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?”

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist.

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens.

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest.

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now.

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach.

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you.

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made.

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right?

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.”

Oh.

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands.

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.”

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you.

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again.

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours.

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you.

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.”

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly.

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it.

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth.

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep.

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away.

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins.

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.”

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever.

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth.

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.”

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits.

“Now, listen.”

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be.

“Do you hear it?”

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth.

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste.

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon.

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying.

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect.

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least.

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you.

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips.

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears.

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true.

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there.

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath.

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you.

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you.

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that.

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now.

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do.

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own.

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you.

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too.

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him.

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked.

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way.

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood.

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters.

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You.

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him.

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–”

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you.

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it.

Needing you to stay alive.

Insane.

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble.

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either.

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst.

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now.

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs.

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin.

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.”

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?”

Of course you fucking feel it.

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold.

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts.

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants.

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world.

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt.

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are.

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold.

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again.

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?”

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat.

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic?

God, but it feels so, so fucking good.

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah.

So he is.

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead.

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end.

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him?

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him.

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it.

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point.

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up.

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him.

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release.

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed.

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality?

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories.

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying.

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there.

Here it is.

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you.

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it?

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice.

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin.

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long.

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening.

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this.

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.”

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?”

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead.

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.”

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you.

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself.

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.”

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.”

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing.

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek.

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover.

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive.

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing.

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy?

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?”

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive.

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you.

He’s never lied.

You just refused to listen.

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you.

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all.

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to.

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself.

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.”

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.”

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again.

But he didn’t.

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you?

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him.

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

1K notes · View notes

en-dazedafterdark · 8 months

Text

PAIRINGS: established relationship!jake x reader

GENRE: smut, fluff?

SYNOPSIS: In which you help your boyfriend relieve his stress after his schedule

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), bath tub sex, shower sex, mentions of multiple rounds, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, creampie

WORD COUNT: 4k

A/N: wish this was me </3

The interviewer was asking him a question - something about how preparations for their world tour are going - and he nodded, smiling as if he was paying attention to her. He was answering the questions she was asking, but that was all; his mind wasn't on the interview. The last few weeks of preparation for this tour had been stressful and he'd had a hell of a time keeping up his happy, energetic, cheerful persona.

The only thing on his mind at the moment was going back home to his gorgeous girlfriend. His schedule had kept them apart for way too long and it was all he could do to not just run from the interview, jump in a car, and get the hell home so he could be with her.

"So, Jake," the interviewer asked. "Is there anything you would like to say before we go?"

Jake looked up. They were done? Finally. It had felt like forever, and now he could finally get some rest. "Uh," he said. "Yeah. I guess. Um, I wanna thank everyone who has supported us. And to all our fans, I'm looking forward to seeing you all again."

And to his girlfriend, he thought. I'm gonna give you the best fucking night of your life.

The interviewer smiled and gave the closing remarks, and the cameras were turned off.

The time passed by in a blur, he was so desperate to get home that even his group mates could sense his energy.

"Dude, chill," said Jay. "You're acting like you haven't seen her in years."

"It feels like it," Jake muttered.

"Oh, leave him alone, guys," said Sunghoon. "I'd act the same if my girl was waiting at home."

Jake gave his friend a grateful smile, and they both laughed as Jay and Heeseung made exaggerated gagging sounds.

Mercifully, there was little to no traffic, and they were back home within the hour.

"I'm gonna go see my girlfriend," Jake announced, ignoring his groupmates' good-natured teasing.

"Don't you want to eat first?" Jay asked, opening the fridge and poking around inside.

"I'll order in. See you guys tomorrow," Jake called, already heading towards the door.

The apartment complex wasn't far from the company building, and soon Jake was pushing open the door and stepping into his shared home.

He was met with an immediate wave of exhaustion, and he sighed heavily. It had been a long day.

"Y/N?" he called. There was no answer, but the door to their bedroom was closed.

Jake walked over to the door and opened it, smiling softly. You were sleeping, curled up on top of the sheets, the light from the lamp on the bedside table illuminating your soft skin.

"Jake..." you murmured, not even opening your eyes.

Jake couldn't help the smile that came over his face. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I'd know your footsteps anywhere," you replied sleepily.

Jake laughed. "Of course you would.”

You sat up and stretched, blinking owlishly as your eyes adjusted to the light. "Hey, babe. Did everything go well today?"

"Mmhmm," Jake hummed, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful. But it's better now."

"Mm, I'll bet," Jake teased, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. “I had a long day and I still need to wash up and eat something. Would you like to join me, or are you too tired?"

"I'm never too tired for you," you replied. "Let me go run you a bath."

Jake let out a contented sigh, watching as you slipped off his lap and padded into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind you.

Jake was exhausted, but he was also incredibly stressed. His schedule had been packed full the past week, and he'd barely had time to sleep. He'd been trying to be strong and keep up his cheery demeanor, but it was wearing him down, and he was getting more and more frustrated and tired as the days went by.

And you could tell.

You knew Jake better than anyone, and you could see the strain in his shoulders, the tightness in his voice. You could see how hard he was working, and you wanted to make sure he knew how much you appreciated it.

You turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, waiting until the bath was filled with steaming hot water before adding a generous amount of the lavender-scented bubble bath. The scent filled the air and you breathed deeply, inhaling the calming aroma.

The water was just right, and you shut it off, smiling. You turned around, planning to call for Jake, only to see him standing in the doorway, a towel around his waist and his eyes closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Babe?" you said, concerned.

Jake opened his eyes, looking over at you. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Just spacing out a little."

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "Your bath is ready. Come on, get in."

Jake followed your instructions, sighing as he sank into the water. He was tired, but he wasn't relaxed yet.

"Are you alright?" you asked, kneeling beside the tub and stroking his hair.

"Yeah," Jake mumbled, closing his eyes again. "Just tired."

"I know," you whispered, gently cupping his face in your hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jake said, leaning into your touch.

"Still," you said. "You've been working so hard. And you're so stressed."

"I'm alright," Jake insisted, smiling at you. "Don't worry."

You weren't convinced, and you knew that if you didn't help him relax, he'd never be able to get a good night's sleep.

You leaned in and kissed him gently, your hands resting on his chest. He responded immediately, kissing you back and pulling you closer.

You smiled against his lips, feeling the tension melt away from him as he wrapped his arms around you and deepened the kiss.

"Mmm," he murmured, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours. "Join me.”

"Hmm?"

"Join me," he repeated, smiling.

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Please. I wanna hold you."

You couldn't say no to that.

You stood up, and Jake's eyes followed your movements as you stripped off your clothes. His gaze was hungry, and you felt a tingle run down your spine as you slipped out of your pants and panties. You felt a bit shy as you removed the last piece of your clothing, his eyes washing over every bit of your exposed skin.

"Come here," he murmured, and you stepped into the tub.

The water was hot, and the bubbles were thick, covering your body as you settled into his lap. Jake's hands ran down your back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You sighed, and he smiled.

"That feel good, baby?" he murmured, kissing the side of your neck.

"Yeah," you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access.

His hands continued to explore your body, his fingers skimming over your breasts and down your sides. His touch was light, and you squirmed, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Jake murmured, his voice husky.

"Shut up," you mumbled, blushing.

"I mean it," he insisted. "I've never seen a more gorgeous woman."

"Stop it," you whined, embarrassed.

"Never," Jake whispered, his voice low and gravelly. "Not when you're like this."

He leaned in and kissed you, his hands squeezing your ass. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The feeling of his body against yours, his hands on your skin, his tongue in your mouth, his fingers squeezing your ass - it was too much. You felt your arousal pooling between your legs, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for friction.

“Jakey… let me wash you off."

Jake groaned. "You're killing me, baby."

"Please," you said, kissing his jaw. "You've had a long day."

"Fine," Jake relented, his eyes dark with desire. He turned around, somewhat awkwardly in the small bath tub.

You picked up the bar of soap, lathering it up and running your hands over his back, massaging his sore muscles. He moaned, the sound sending another shiver of desire through you.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured. "That feels so good."

You continued to massage his back, taking your time and making sure you got every part of him. When you were satisfied, you moved onto his chest, and then his stomach, working your way down his body.

His erection was standing tall and proud, and you couldn't resist.

You reached out, taking him in your hand and stroking him gently.

Jake let out a gasp. "Oh, fuck, Y/N..."

"Shh," you murmured, leaning forward and kissing his shoulder. "Just relax."

You stroked him slowly, your grip firm. He moaned, his hips thrusting forward into your hand.

"That's it," you whispered. "Just let go."

"I...I can't," he panted, his hips moving in time with your movements.

"Yes, you can," you cooed, speeding up your pace.

He was so close, and you could tell he was on the edge. You kept stroking him, and he threw his head back, a groan escaping his lips as he came, his seed splashing into the water.

You held him in your hand, feeling him pulse. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, and you could feel him trembling.

"Fuck," he mumbled.

You smiled, letting go of his softening member and wrapping your arms around him.

"You okay, baby?" you whispered, nuzzling his neck.

"More than okay," he murmured. "Thank you, Y/N."

"You're welcome," you replied, kissing his temple.

He stayed like that for a few moments, his breath tickling your skin, his body relaxed against yours. Finally, he sat up, looking at you.

"Now it's your turn," he said, his eyes full of mischief.

You giggled. "Jake, I'm fine."

"No, no," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "I insist. Let me take care of you."

He took the soap, lathering it up in his hands and then placing them on your breasts, massaging the suds into your skin. You gasped, the sensation sending tingles of pleasure through you.

He took his time, massaging your breasts and teasing your nipples. His touch was gentle but insistent, and you could feel your arousal growing.

"Jake..." you murmured, closing your eyes and enjoying his ministrations.

"Feel good?" he whispered, his voice husky.

"Mmm," was all you could manage.

His hands traveled down your body, caressing your skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He slipped one hand between your legs, his fingers brushing against your folds.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily.

"That's it," he murmured, his fingers moving against you, circling your clit. Your chest was heaving and if it had been any other time you would’ve been embarrassed at the way your hips were desperately moving against his hand, but at this point all you could think about was him.

"Fuck, Jake, please," you whimpered, your body aching for him. You felt warm all over, heat rising from your legs and spreading to the rest of your body.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he purred, his fingers teasing your entrance.

"I need you," you moaned, unable to contain yourself any longer. "Please, Jake, I need you inside me."

Jake groaned at the sound of you whining his name, and his hands stilled. You opened your eyes, and he was staring at you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispered, and you felt a wave of heat wash over you.

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and dominating, and you couldn't help but moan.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing him. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your lips, and looked down at you, his gaze full of hunger and desire.

“Come closer baby. Straddle me," he growled, his voice low and gravelly.

You did as he said, straddling his hips and positioning yourself above him.

He reached down, his hands gripping your ass, and pulled you down, sheathing himself inside of you.

You cried out, the sudden sensation of him filling you sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He groaned, his grip on you tightening as he began to move his hips, fucking you slowly.

You were a whimpering mess, the feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, driving you insane. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, as you tried to keep up with his pace.

“Jake Jake Jake Jake..." you moaned, the sound of his name on your lips a symphony to his ears.

He was relentless, his movements fast and powerful, his hips thrusting upward as he fucked you hard and deep. His mind had gone blank as soon as he had felt your walls grip his cock, the only thing on his mind was making you fall apart.

"Look at me, baby," he murmured, and you looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of hunger and passion, and you felt your orgasm approaching, the intensity of his gaze sending you over the edge.

"Fuck," he gasped, feeling you clench around him.

He continued to thrust into you, his pace unrelenting. You were barely coherent, the sensations too much for you to handle. Your legs were shaking, your toes curled, and you were moaning his name.

"Jake, fuck, Jake..."

"Come for me, baby," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening. “Come around my cock."

You did as he said, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast. Your body trembled and shook, waves of pleasure washing over you.

He continued to fuck you, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. His fingers dug into your skin, and you felt him stiffen, his release coming seconds after yours.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he muttered, his cock twitching inside of you.

The two of you were still for a moment, basking in the afterglow, before Jake pulled out of you, his softening member sliding from inside you.

"Are you alright, babe?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you breathed, your body still tingling.

He smiled, the expression on his face almost boyish. "Good. You're incredible, you know that?"

"You're not so bad yourself," you teased, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too," you whispered, cuddling against him.

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies. Finally, Jake spoke up.

"We should get out. We're going to prune. And we should probably wash up some more. We’re sitting in cum water now.”

“Gross! I don't wanna get up," you whined, snuggling closer to him.

"Come on, baby," he said, giving you a gentle squeeze. "Let's get out and shower. And then we can cuddle in bed."

"Fine," you sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him.

You stood up, the water cascading down your body, and stepped out of the tub. Jake followed suit, and you watched as the water dripped off of his chiseled body.

"What are you looking at?" he teased, noticing the way you were ogling him.

"Nothing," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

He grinned, stepping closer and kissing your cheek. "Don't worry, I'll let you stare all you want later. Right now, we need to wash up."

"Okay," you mumbled, feeling silly.

Jake turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before ushering you in. You sighed, the hot water hitting your skin and relaxing your muscles.

"Feel good?" he asked, his hands resting on your hips.

"Yeah," you murmured, leaning back against him.

He smiled, and reached for the body wash, squirting some into his hands and beginning to massage it into your skin.

"Hmmm," you hummed, enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

"Like that, huh?" he whispered, his voice low.

"Yeah," you replied, the sensation of his hands on your body making you shiver.

His hands slid from your shoulder to your back, slowly reaching to the front and cupping your breasts.

"Mmmm," you moaned, closing your eyes and letting him work his magic.

"Feels good?" he murmured, his breath hot on your ear.

"So good," you breathed, your body beginning to heat up again. “I don’t think you want to just shower right now.”

"No," he whispered, his hands moving lower, ghosting over your belly. "I want to fuck you again. Right here. In the shower."

You moaned, the thought of his hands on you, his cock inside of you, his mouth on your skin making your head spin.

“Can I taste you baby?”

His voice was thick with desire, and you could feel the tension between you.

You nodded, your words failing you, and he wasted no time. He pushed you up against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touched. You couldn't get enough of him, the feeling of his skin against yours intoxicating.

He kissed his way down your body, his lips ghosting over your sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hands cupped your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading them.

"Oh, god," you moaned, the sensation making your head spin.

"Like that, baby?" he murmured, his mouth trailing lower, leaving a path of kisses down your stomach.

"Yes," you breathed, your head falling back as his hands traveled lower, his fingers teasing your folds.

"You're so wet," he whispered, his voice husky. "So ready for me."

"Please," you begged, desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, to make you come.

"Patience, baby," he purred, his fingers continuing to tease you, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You were a whimpering mess, the anticipation nearly unbearable. His mouth found your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"Jake, please," you moaned, your body trembling with need.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he said, his tongue darting out to lick a trail up your thigh.

"I want you to eat me out," you breathed, the words leaving your lips in a rush. "I want your tongue inside me."

"As you wish, princess," he murmured, his voice low and sexy.

His mouth found your pussy immediately, his tongue lapping at your folds. The sensation was intense, and you cried out, the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive flesh almost too much.

He explored your most intimate parts, his tongue dancing over your clit and making you see stars. You were a writhing mess, the feeling of his mouth on you pushing you to the edge.

"Jake, fuck, Jake..." you moaned, your hands desperately trying to grasp at the wet tile behind you.

He increased the pressure, his tongue circling your clit and his fingers teasing your entrance.

You were lost in the pleasure, your body overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Please," you begged, your body aching for release. "Please, Jake."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. He gave your clit a hard flick with his tongue, sending you hurtling over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Oh, god," you whimpered, your body trembling as the aftershocks rippled through you.

But Jake didn’t stop. His tongue continued to lap at you, his fingers pushing into you, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you. You were barely able to stand, your legs shaking and threatening to give out.

"Jake, please, I can't take it," you panted, your voice barely a whisper.

"One more," he demanded, his tone commanding. "You can do it baby. Give me one more."

You couldn't deny him, and you knew your body was already responding, the pleasure building again. His mouth worked its magic, his tongue finding all the right spots, his fingers curling inside of you. You were helpless against the onslaught, and before long, you were coming again, the intensity taking your breath away.

"Fuck," you cried, your body shuddering as you came.

He slowed his movements, his tongue languidly licking you, easing you down from your high. When you finally caught your breath, he looked up at you, his face glistening with your arousal.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice rough and husky. You could barely hold yourself up, but you managed a nod.

"Good," he purred, getting to his feet. He kissed you, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you. You moaned, the taste of yourself on his tongue turning you on.

"God, you're so fucking hot," he groaned, his erection pressing against your leg.

"I want you," you breathed, your voice trembling.

"Then have me," he murmured, his hands cupping your ass and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock brushing against your entrance.

He pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours. He entered you in one swift motion, the feeling of him stretching you making you gasp.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips thrusting into you, burying himself deep inside of you. “Pussy so good, you were made for me weren’t you? So perfect. All mine."

"Yes," you cried, the sensation of him filling you driving you wild. "All yours."

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his hips pounding into you. You clung to him, your nails raking down his back, urging him on.

He was relentless, his hips pistoning into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You were lost in the pleasure, your mind foggy, only the sensation of his body against yours and his cock inside of you registering.

You were moaning incoherently, the feeling of him fucking you taking over. He buried his face in your neck, his lips and teeth teasing your skin. You were on the edge, the pleasure building, the pressure increasing.

"I'm close," you whimpered, the words leaving your lips involuntarily.

"Me, too," he grunted, his hips slamming into you, his pace quickening.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. You felt him stiffen, his cock twitching inside of you as he came.

You were right behind him, the sensation of him coming inside of you sending you over the edge.

You came together, your bodies shuddering, the pleasure taking over. You were a panting, moaning, trembling mess, and the world faded away, the only thing that existed was the two of you and the intense pleasure.

"Holy shit," you finally breathed, when you had finally come down from your high.

"Yeah," Jake murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You leaned against him, your body still shaking, unable to move.

He held you for a few moments, before carefully setting you down. Your legs were weak, but you managed to stand.

"I think we need another shower," he chuckled, gesturing to the mess the two of you had made.

"I don't think I can handle another round," you said, the thought of him fucking you again making your legs weak.

“Oh we’re not done, baby. I want you in my bed. All night long. But first, we have to actually shower. Then maybe dinner and drinks. And then more fun. You game?"

You nodded, the thought of spending the night with him making you giddy.

"Good. Now let's wash up and get out of here. I'm starving." And a loud grumble echoed throughout the bathroom, which could only be Jake's stomach.

You laughed, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Sounds like a plan."

"Perfect. Because there's so much more I want to do to you," he purred, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Then let's get started," you whispered, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

It would take an hour and three more orgasms for the two of you to leave the bathroom. And that was only the beginning.

#enhypen smut #jake smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enhypen imagines #sim jaeyun #jake hard hours #jake hard thoughts

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perlelune · 2 months

Text

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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lost-and-ephemeral · 3 months

Text

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

1K notes · View notes

sorrowfulmuse · 8 months

Note

Can I request a OPLA sanji x fem!reader fluffy story please? If you don’t like writing for Sanji, I’d also be fine with OPLA Luffy or OPLA Buggy.

Please and thank you. :)

♡ :: "opla!sanji x fem!reader." short imagine!

mentions/warnings:: nothing, just two pirates being in love although others had misunderstandings about your relationship but.. watch out for typos and whatnot, i am writing this at 4am TT also this will be a simple imagine as i’m rusty and didn’t know what prompt i should’ve used. 😭

p.s im sorry it took me so long!!! i got caught with a few things and almost finished it last night

✧ soft secret kisses being shared, longing touches and love affirmations being whispered into each others ears. sanji was floating on cloud9 every time he was near y/n, no other person could amount to her. not even a Goddess could compare to her beauty and light. she was everything to him, his universe.

sanji relished in her presence every time he was near her, his heart drumming to every kiss she left on his lips and ‘i love yous’. she was his own personal paradise. she hung the stars for him and he worshiped her for it.

although, in love and happy.. they never stated in their relationship to others, were they both single? were they long time friends? ex lovers perhaps? sanji being a flirt again? people had only guessed and assumed they both spoken for by other people. today, was very different that from that spotlight cause well,

"my love, you have to keep your eyes closed!" sanji laughed as he tried his best to guide to this ‘gift’ he kept talking about for weeks. "oh cmon handsome! can’t i just take a little peak?" y/n.. trying to use her charms against him was to no avail, sanji wasn’t going to give up and continued to lead her to his gift. "i wanna see your reaction so no peaks!"

y/n's palms were sweating, when questioned? she could only blame it on the summers heat. she was nervous, nervous about what sanji could possibly gift her. were they running away from the culinary life? the overbearing thoughts had consumed her in the worst ways possible until,

"okay, we’re here." he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her back. she almost didn’t want the blindfold off soon as the bright lights were hard to adjust to. "why.." now she was left speechless, a little hidden spot on a island, sanji had decorated the nature around them with beautiful colorful lanterns, bouquets filled with many sweets of her favorite candies and flowers. petals laid on the ground, kissed by more roses after roses.

"sanji.. what is this?" it was unusual for him to be this quiet.

turning to find him down on knee with a small box in his one palm while the other still held hers. "my y/n, we’ve hip to hip since the moment we were both stuck on that rock with zeff. we stuck with each other as we discovered the same passion for food, owing our own restaurant together and many more.. but i want something more than that. no, i need more. i want you and i.. to be happy and healthy forever."

tears flooded against y/n's eyes, "i know it’s just a ring but it’ll symbolize something in the future, anything you want! i just.. i.." now sanji was close to tears himself. "y/n.. will you be my wife?" without a word, the girl before him tackled him to the ground crying her heart out. "of course i will sanji!" they both laid there, crying and kissing each other. "oh! i thought you’ll never ask!" y/n giggled, (she knew) throughout the night they celebrated their engagement, celebrating to spending eternity together.

#vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji #opla x reader #opla x y/n #opla scenarios #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #op sanji #sanji icons #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji fluff #sanji angst #opla!sanji x reader #one piece #one piece live action

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supernovafics · 6 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

summary: in which a moment at a party that led to a drunken kiss and a heartfelt admission pushes you and your best friend away from each other. after nearly a week of silence, it’s still hard to find the right words to say to steve and to find the right way to mend what feels as if it has been permanently broken. until you’re drunk at a bar and he is the one to come and get you.

warnings: bestfriend!steve, explicit language, underage alcohol consumption, angst with a happy ending<33

author’s note: this was sitting in the drafts for a veryvery long time and i’ve finally decided to let it see the light of day🫶🏾 (full “folklore” album series masterlist here)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bar was comforting in a weird kind of way.

It was pretty dark and empty for the most part, which partly made sense since it was ten o’clock on a random Wednesday night. You didn’t mind the music softly playing and the stool you were sitting on actually felt comfortable, or maybe it was the alcohol making you believe that.

Somehow even with the number of drinks you’d had in the past hour, it still didn’t manage to effectively push your thoughts far away from Steve and what happened at Robin’s birthday party.

You couldn’t not think about the kiss with him, which you had abruptly and drunkenly initiated; it was a kiss that felt simultaneously wrong and right. And his words that followed the kiss played on what felt like an endless loop in your mind too.

“I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted us, for practically forever. Ever since that moment our mom’s forced us to meet at that county fair thing when we were ten, I think I knew it was you.”

It was hard to think about what you did in response to that, but still the quick, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” you managed to stutter out before basically running away from him played on equal loop in your head.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since that Saturday night, with you returning back to your college that was two hours away from Hawkins early the next morning. And you were unsure if it was you leading this dance or if both of you were equally avoiding each other because the phone calls that would happen practically daily were reduced to nothing. It had barely been a week, but it was long enough for everything in your life to feel shifted; to feel a little emptier.

“You look like you need to talk to someone,” The bartender, a woman who you were certain couldn’t be older than thirty, said as she slid you the latest drink you’d ordered.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You trailed off with a small sigh before taking a sip from the cold glass. “I did something stupid this past weekend and I regret it, but I also think it might have been the right thing to do.” You were unsure if you were referring to the kissing Steve part or the running away from him part. “I don’t know, I just wish that entire night hadn’t happened, actually.”

You knew that it wasn’t solely your inebriation that made your words seem as if they didn’t make any sense, because everything going through your head was so damn confusing even when you were completely sober. None of it, the emotions you were feeling or the situation itself, fully made sense to you and you forced yourself to not think about any of it by solely consuming yourself with your schoolwork for the last few days. And when doing that was no longer enough to silence your thoughts, you decided to come to this bar.

It was dumb and probably only making things worse, you knew that, but it also felt so much easier.

“Okay,” The woman said. “Can I have a lot more context?”

You were unsure why you had the immediate urge to tell her everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps because it was just always so easy for anyone to pour their heart out to a stranger.

“My friend— my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were ten— me and him were at a party. It was actually our other friend’s birthday and she just turned eighteen, so of course, we had to make it a huge thing for her, and we did it at Steve’s house; my best friend, that’s his name. Anyway, it’s about two hours into the party and we’re all pretty drunk. Me and Steve are in his backyard sitting on one of his old patio chairs, and then I don’t know why, I blame it on my drunkenness and how close we were in that moment, but I kissed him. I pulled away almost immediately, but then he said that he has wanted this, wanted us, to happen for so long, and I didn’t know what to say to any of that. So, I just mumbled out a stupid “I’m sorry,” and then left.”

You had barely taken a breath as you spoke, spitting out what happened that night in one rushed go. Finally saying all of it out loud— recounting the story in pretty much its entirety— made you feel a little better. Everything was still a complete mess, but you felt like you could breathe the tiniest bit easier.

“Why did you leave?”

A part of you expected her to ask that question, and at this point, you should’ve had an answer to it that felt certain, but you didn’t.

“It just… It felt like the right thing to do, I think.”

The thought of anything more happening with Steve hadn’t ever crossed your mind, at least not consciously, and even now you still refused to think more about it. Because it wasn't just about Steve. You didn’t want anything more with anyone; you didn’t want feelings, a relationship, any of it.

It wasn’t that you hated love or the thought of it, it was more so that you had been burned because of it so many times that you refused to fall into it so easily again. Falling for boys that you thought actually liked you only to be proven wrong and left heartbroken.

“I get it,” The bartender ultimately said, her voice soft. “You guys have been friends for practically forever and if you started dating and then broke up it would probably change everything between you two.”

We would never break up.

The thought hit you so abruptly that it actually managed to surprise you.

The woman looked at you, confused. “Okay… So, then what’s the problem?”

“What?”

“You said that you and him would never break up, so what’s the problem?”

You hadn’t realized you said the thought out loud, and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about accidentally saying it because all you could think about was how completely true it was. You and Steve would work so well together, you pretty much already did. You knew the ins and outs of each other; everything little that was annoying but also so endearing. It was what you loved about him— as a friend and as more.

But still, it was so fucking hard to admit that out loud, and you wanted to forget about the entire realization.

“I– I don’t know,” You finally answered before folding your arms against the countertop and then putting your head down. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that that action would be enough to will away the tears that you could now feel threatening to spill out.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and i ended up here. pouring out my heart to a stranger.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey, you okay?”

The voice was soft and immediately comforting and oh so familiar. It was enough to put a smile on your face, but your head was starting to pound so you couldn’t bear to do anything but groan.

You lifted your head and mumbled out a soft, “Steve?”

You only vaguely remembered the bartender, whose name you eventually learned was Chelsea, asking for a phone number of someone that could pick you up. And although you should’ve given her your roommate’s number, you instead gave her Steve’s.

“I never thought I’d be the one picking you up from a bar,” Steve said as he sat down next to you. “I always thought it would be the other way around.”

“Y’know what they say about college, it changes people,” You told him with a nonchalant shrug. The two of you hadn’t talked in days, but it still felt like second nature to fall back into the joking cadence you had with him. “I’m a total badass now.”

Steve laughed a bit and looked at you amusingly. “Mhm, yeah, sure you are.”

You weren’t as drunk anymore but you were entering the early stages of a hangover that would be a bitch, and you already knew that there was no way you’d be going to your eleven o’clock Statistics class.

“I can’t believe you drove two hours to pick me up,” You said as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car after you paid your pricey tab and goodbyes were said to Chelsea.

Steve offered you a small smile. “What else are best friends for?”

You couldn’t help but look away from him as you mumbled out a soft, “I didn’t know we were still that.”

“We’ll always be that.”

There was so much certainty in his voice that it actually managed to soothe something inside of you. Only for a second, though, because then you were back in your head again.

The drive back to your dorm was quiet with only the soft sounds of the radio to fill the silence. It was a short ride, only about ten minutes, and the entire time you could only focus on your dull headache and what you wanted to say to Steve because you knew that you had to say something. Although you didn’t want to, that night needed to finally be talked about.

When he was parked in front of your building, you still didn’t know exactly what to say, but you decided to start with something. “Listen, about Robin’s party–”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just pretend it never happened,” Steve interrupted you. He pushed a hand through his hair and then met your gaze. “It was really dumb of me to say all of that stuff, and I partially blame it on all the drinks we had— definitely way too many. We’re just friends, I know that. And your life is here now, for the most part, and mine is back in Hawkins, so yeah…” He trailed off with a small shrug.

You suddenly felt nauseous and you knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He was saying everything that you fully thought you wanted to hear— what happened at the party should’ve never happened, you two were just friends— so why did it feel so wrong?

Things became quiet and Steve was looking at you expectantly, and you were unsure how long you’d been silent for.

“Um, yeah, exactly,” You finally said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Before you opened the passenger door to leave his car, you reached over and pulled Steve in for a hug. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” He said as his arms circled around you.

For some reason, there was a huge part of you that wanted to say “I’m sorry” in that moment, but you didn’t entirely know why, so instead you said nothing and simply got out of his car.

You headed to the entrance of your dorm building and then turned around, giving Steve a final wave before he drove away.

It was then— as he headed down the street and after a few moments his car became completely out of your view— that you wished you’d been honest; with yourself and with him.

Because it was in that moment of you yearning for him to turn around mixed with you sincerely wanting to go after him that essentially sealed it for you.

Steve was different and he always would be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt slightly lucky that you only had two classes on Thursdays because when you woke up after sleeping through your Statistics class, you knew that you wouldn’t be going to your Psychology class that started at three. And the reasoning actually had nothing to do with your hangover.

Aside from the slight headache, you woke up with your mind feeling completely clear for the first time in a long time. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you wanted to do, and before that feeling could go away, or you could convince yourself to push it away, you were in your car an hour before your class was supposed to start and driving to Hawkins. You were pretty much running off of impulse and hope.

The weather was terrible and you hated driving in the rain, but it didn’t matter to you right then because you needed to see Steve.

You had two long hours of driving in terrible rain to figure out what exactly you wanted to say to him, yet you still couldn’t form a coherent set of sentences in your head. But, similar to the rain, that didn’t stop you from ringing his doorbell.

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been smart to bring an umbrella because it was still pouring and from the short walk from your car to his front door, your clothes managed to become effectively soaked, but it didn’t bother you.

“Hey,” He said when he opened the door, it was easy to tell that he was surprised to see you. “Did you drive all the way here?”

You quickly nodded at his question. “Yes.”

“You hate driving in rain.”

“Yeah, but I… I just really wanted to talk to you, and didn’t wanna do it over the phone.”

“Come inside,” Steve said, pushing the door open wider so that you could step in.

You almost followed him but then stopped. “No, wait… I kinda just wanna say this here.”

Steve looked at you confused, but ultimately nodded. “Okay.” He then stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him; his clothes immediately got wet. “It feels wrong that you’re the only one getting hit by the rain.”

You laughed a bit. “Thank you. That’s very considerate.”

Things got quiet for a second and you suddenly felt nervous, but you pushed that feeling to the side.

“I know you said that we don’t need to talk about the party and we should pretend that it never happened. And although that’s exactly what I’d been doing for the past few days, I don’t wanna do that anymore.” It actually didn’t feel too hard to let all of this out; verbalizing exactly what had been going on in your head. In a way, it felt like a relief. “I think I kissed you that night because deep down I know that it’s you too. And that it’s always been you… Which is actually so scary to think about because we’ve known each other for so long and you’re the one person in my life that has been the biggest constant. You’ve seen every part of my very horrific love life and I don’t want us to end up like any of the stupid relationships I had before, and I think that’s why I ran away that night, which I do really regret.” You pulled your eyes away from his for a second. “But, what we have is different, and I want to try. I want us to try.”

You let out a long breath. “Okay, that’s it.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few moments, and it was then that you realized how loud the rain was, and somehow it was actually a bit calming to hear the sounds of the heavy drops hitting the ground.

You searched his eyes to see if you could decipher what he was thinking, but before you could get a clear read on anything, he was closing the small bit of distance between you both and reaching up to cup your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you.

The abruptness of the action slightly startled you, but you were completely okay with this nonverbal response to you pouring your heart out. You were kissing him back almost immediately and suddenly the sound of the rain was gone and instead all you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The kiss felt perfectly new but also so insanely familiar; even though this was the first time this was happening sober. And so many things were running through your mind, but it was also effectively blank and you knew you wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried.

Most of all, though, everything happening right then— the way your hands fisted themselves in his rain soaked t-shirt to pull him impossibly closer to you, and how his thumb stroked your cheek so tenderly— it all felt so certain and sure and right; there wasn’t an ounce of doubt lingering in the air around you both or lacing its way within the kiss.

When you pulled away to catch your breath and smiled up at him, a smile that Steve immediately matched with an elated grin of his own, it slightly killed you that all of this hadn't happened sooner.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington

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puck-bunnies · 3 months

Text

behind closed doors

umich!luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, praising, choking, not proof read

word count: 2.3k

me and luke were never much of friends, never even talked much. at least, that’s what everyone thought. no one ever knows what happens behind closed doors.

i have not used this app in forever, meaning i haven’t written a fic in quite a long time so this is me trying to get back into writing. sorry if this is not great and a little rushed, i just haven’t written anything in like five months. anyways, try to enjoy this fic and ill try to write more as soon as i can.

i sit in the living room of my best friends boyfriends house, she sits beside me as all of ethan’s roommates take up every other seat. the lightning vs islanders game plays on the tv, having all of our eyes glued to it.

the boys are in a constant state of yelling, wether is celebrating, yelling at how stupid the refs are, or booing the other team. i’m not as invested as usual, my teams aren’t playing, but ill never miss an opportunity to a hockey game.

my mind also focuses on the close proximity as luke sits beside me, our thighs lightly rubbing against each other ever so softly. the warm summer weather left me wearing shorts and a tank top, causing luke’s hand to glide across my bare skin as he secretly places his hand on my thigh.

i never intended on sneaking around with luke, it all just happened one day, the house was empty and quiet. we got to talking, venturing from subjects like our classes, plans for our future, and somehow turning into our sex life.

he learned that i’ve never really gotten quite what i need, never feeling that spark with any guy that i’ve been with. them never wanting to try anything i’ve wanted to, i’ve never been fully satisfied.

he continued to tell me how he has slept around quite a bit. nearly almost always leaving the rink with some new blonde puck bunny stuck to his arm. he didn’t wear it as a trophy, or say that he regretted any of it, all just saying it’s apart of his past. his history he can’t and won’t change.

one thing led to another, his hands roaming my body as my lips bit down on his. my hands squeezing the mattress tightly with every moan escaping my lips.

we didn’t even stop there, whenever we could find a time to be alone, we were tangled in each others arms.

here we are now, not even able to keep our hands to ourselves in sight of one another. i try to shake his hand off, not wanting any of the surrounding eyes to see his intimate gesture. he doesn’t move, squeezing my skin harder. i softly pierce my bottom lip with my teeth, try to calm my nerves. i can feel heat bubbling up to my face, painting my cheeks with a faint blush.

my eyes peer over to him, giving him a pleading look to start behaving. he doesn’t budge, giving me a side smirk before returning his eyes on the game.

rutger groans loudly as the 2nd period finishes, “fuck the lightning.” he swears as they’re pulling a 4-1 lead. he chugs back the rest of his beer, throwing the can on the ground in some grown man temper tantrum.

the ads run during the commercial break, leaving the rest of us to disregard the television for the time being. my heart starts to quicken, without their distraction of the game they’re eyes could fall upon luke’s hand on me.

my mind tries to work fast, but the only thing i can think of doing is grabbing the blanket next to me and covering myself with it, concealing us from the wandering eyes. luke’s lips curl into a smirk, proud of me not forcing him off, knowing that i want it. that i want him.

his hand becomes bolder, rubbing up and down my inner thigh. i bite my bottom lip again, trying to stabilize myself from this new feeling. his fingers become more adventurous, going to the hem of my shorts.

“fuck.” i softly mumble to myself, luke’s soft chuckle tells me that he hears my light groans. his fingers don’t stop there, rubbing up to the bottom of my shirt, toying with the cotton material.

the pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive skin, right across the bottom of my stomach. fire engulfs my stomach, my breath hitches as he rubs softly back and forth, tickling my skin.

the game comes back for the final period, my eyes keep trained on the hockey game, but my mind can only focus on his touch as it drives me insane.

he feels my stomach hitch with my breath, he knows i want him so badly, he knows what he does to me. i squeeze my thighs together, trying to cause some type of sensation in my growing wetness.

i can’t take his teasing fingers anymore, “meet me in my room.” i whisper to him. rising from the couch and walking away from the crowded living room. i head for the direction of the bathroom, making them hear my footsteps as i lead their ears to the door closing. i stay outside the bathroom, tiptoeing to my room in an unsteady waiting of luke.

the door finally opens, luke quickly closing the door silently behind him. a deep breath is all i can hear from him, turning around to look at me patiently sitting on the foot of my bed. he takes a seat beside me, quickly gripping my hips and pulling me onto his lap.

“it’s been awhile since we’ve been alone,” my fingers rake up the back of his head, through his soft brown hair, my finger swirling around a curly lock. “too long.” a soft sigh parts from his lips as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp.

he keeps his hands on my hips, roughly gripping at my denim shorts. “i missed your hands all over me. you can’t tease me out there and not expect me to want more.”

our bodies come closer, our lips so close together, our hearts syncing their beats. i can barely hold myself back from making up that final inch. “tell me how badly you want me.”

“i want you..” he shyly gives into my need. it’s not enough for me, i feed off of hearing how badly he wants me, his hands rubbing up and down my body, the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside me.

“oh yeah…” my lips attach to his neck, softly kissing down from his jaw.

finally he gives in, “i want to feel you against me, your lips on mine, every inch of your beautiful body baby.”

a devilish smirk spreads on my face, “mmm, is that right?” i mumble against his neck, softly sinking my teeth into his sensitive skin, sucking the spot to soothe it after.

“oh god yes.” luke practically moans out. his hands become adventurous, slowly going down to hold my ass in his hands, gripping at my clothed skin. they make their way down farther, gripping at my exposed thighs while my kisses go back up his jaw.

i crave for his taste, forcefully pressing my lips against his in a hungry state. my tongue quickly sliding into his mouth, hands combing through his messy curls, pushing him closer into me. he guides my hips back and forth on him, i can feel him hardening underneath me.

breaking the kiss to catch my breath, i drop my head onto his shoulders as i feel his hands press against my pussy. my hips still grind on him, but instead of just on his hard cock, it’s on his fingers. “mmm, you want me that bad?” he chuckles, i nod against his shoulder.

he undoes my shorts, exposing the top of my pink lacy panties, his fingers drag down them, going farther into my pants. they settle on my wetness, my hips stop rocking, focusing on the closer touch. “god you’re soaked.”

my lip sticks to my teeth in a harsh lip bite, my walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled by him. his fingers work slow and teasingly, rubbing circles around my clothed clit, watching me squirm on top of him. my back slightly arches, legs slowly opening wider for him to have better access to my aching pussy. “needy, are we?”

i softly whimper, my hips start to grind again, craving more attention from his teasingly slow hands. his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside, touching my wetness with his bare fingers, feeling my folds and them dripping for him. my head lifts off his shoulder, taking a glance down at his hand stuffed down my pants, looking back deep into his eyes.

i take a deep breath out, without a single warning he thrusts a finger in my pussy. making me loudly squeal with surprise. he quickly covers my mouth, stopping his finger in me. “you have to be quiet princess, you don’t want us getting caught, now do you?” he asks. i shake my head no, he hums at my obedience. “good girl.” his voice is in a whisper, softly praising me.

he begins to move his finger once again, letting me adjust to the new sensation before adding another, stretching me out for him. curling his fingers up to my g-spot. finally trusting me enough not to scream, he moves his hand off of my face, settling it down on my hip to keep me steady.

my hands grasp at his curly locks, trying to compose myself. as he adds another finger i bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the wanting moans from escaping my lips. a smirk spreads across luke’s face, watching what he can do to me with just his hands. i curse under my breath, dropping my head down to keep my brain straight, the pleasure slowly becoming less bearable.

his fingers quicken, hand comes off my hip and to my chin, lifting my head to force me to stare back into his eyes. “look at me while i’m finger fucking you baby.” my teeth puncture my bottom lip harder, my chest heaving with all the moans i keep to myself. i slip up and let on me out, hard hands hit my throat, softly squeezing. “i thought i told you to keep quiet?”

his grip loosens to allow me to take a breath, closing back up as soon as my chest rises. another finger slips in my cunt, my legs start to squirm, toes curling and hands squeezing his hair. his fingers losen from my throat, falling down to the straps of my tank top. he pulls one strap off each shoulder, one at a time. hooking two fingers at the neckline and pulling down, my tits falling out from my lack of wearing a bra.

he wastes no time before gripping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. i clench around his fingers, my senses overloading with pleasure. he lowers his head, kitty licking my other nipple. i softly moan, not loud enough for luke to get me in trouble again, but enough for him to know the things he’s doing to me.

my stomach clenches, the feeling i know very well as my head starts to feel light. “i’m so close.” i whimper out. luke doesn’t let up, switching to my other breast, sucking on the nipple before softly biting the skin.

my whole body clenches as i feel my climax, luke’s quick fingers curling inside me quickly. it all comes raining down, my pussy clenching around him as i coat his fingers with myself. he backs up, letting me heave and fall down on his chest to catch my breath.

i quietly curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to recover from my high. i life my head back up to look luke in the eyes. he removes his fingers from my folds, fingers coated with my cum. he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. my breath catches in my throat again, god damn he makes me want more.

“you’re such a good girl Y/N.” he pops his fingers out of his mouth, “i wish i could fuck you silly right now. but i want to keep all those precious moans to myself, when we can be completely alone.”

before i can even react to his words he puts his lips back onto mine, slipping his tongue in my mouth to let me taste myself. his fingers plant back onto my hips, helping me up to my feet so he can get out from underneath me.

“you go get yourself cleaned up and meet me back in the living room. i pray we weren’t gone too long for anyone to notice.” he whispers, fixing my hair from the sweat that beads on my forehead.

i nod to his words, giving him one last little kiss before he silently slips out of my bedroom. my try to regain my normal breathing patterns, my brain still fuzzy from my previous orgasm.

i obey luke’s wishes, tiptoeing to the bathroom to clean myself off. splashing water into my face to try to remove my blushing red cheeks. i walk back out to the bathroom, seeing everyone engrossed in the final minutes of the third period. i thankfully sigh, slipping back between the guys to sit back down beside luke. he offers me a light smirk, we both then back to the television, watching the game unfold.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #luke hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes one shot #puck-bunnies

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (series) Joelxf!reader Part 1

Word Count: 5.3K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank

Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel. You have been warned. There is swearing, there is smut, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning. (That is if there is interest in my story!)

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

"Please don't make me do this."

You shoot Maria a dark look as she drags you to her wardrobe, ignoring your plea.

"C'mon, it'll be fun! Plus I need your help picking out what to wear."

She opens the gleaming wood doors with a flourish and indicates with her head for you to look. You give her a once over with her luminous dark skin, hair in tight braids and roll your eyes.

Like it matters what she wears.

Maria is stunning. Arresting. Whatever other adjectives you need to describe someone who is not only beautiful but kind, brave, opinionated, strong... and occasionally manipulative.

How else can you explain why an hour later you're seated in her car on the way to the cheapest Italian restaurant in town for a double date?

"Tommy is so cute," Maria giggles, actually giggles. "I bet his brother is too."

"Mhmmm." You stare out the window with a frown, watching the rainstorm outside. The dress you're wearing feels itchy and you wish you were back at home with a book.

But you've agreed to this: a blind date with Tommy's brother.

You haven't been on a date since Paul. Paul with the light eyes and delicate fingers. Paul who promised to love you forever and then taken off to Manhattan, leaving you with rent you couldn't cover by yourself and a heartbreak so devastating it took Maria living with you for a full two weeks to get back to the land of the living.

Six months later her basement suite is where you currently call home, a place you often find yourself laying in bed at night wondering what the fuck had happened to your life plans. Maria had always been your most successful friend, running her own business, owning this huge house all on her own. She plans on flipping it once the renovations are done.

And when she'd known you couldn't pay your rent alone she hadn't even asked you how she could help. You'd woken up from a long depression nap amidst the breakup one morning to find your belongings packed and labeled and Maria telling you that you were moving in with her.

Moving into her basement wasn't exactly how you'd imagined your life at this age. But then again you didn't expect to be single and working at your same low paying job then either. She won't accept rent money either.

She's a fucking saint.

So of course you had to say yes to this favor. Of course you had to pull on your uncomfortable dress and look your best because she’s your closest friend and because she never asks you for anything.

Maria and Tommy met during renovations at Maria's place. She told you it was an instant connection, a jolt that went through her the minute he'd come through the door to give an estimate. Tommy and Maria's relationship is new, only a few weeks. But you've never seen your friend like this, all bright and cheery and giggly. She's normally more subdued, more of a quiet observer.

Love does strange things to people you suppose.

You know it did to you not so long ago. But yours didn't have the happy ending you're sure your friends’ will.

The truth is despite your own heartbreak you are delighted for Maria. Genuine joy flows from you when she tells you about Tommy and his dark eyes and his sweet shy way of talking.

Maria backs the car into the spot, humming nervously under her breath. You scan the large windows of the restaurant hoping to catch a glimpse of Tommy. You've seen a few photos on Val's phone, but those can be deceiving.

You cell rings shrilly in your purse and you retrieve it just as Maria puts the car into park.

"Hey, just gimme a sec, I'm just getting dinner with Maria," you say as you answer the phone, glancing over at your friend. "Sorry it's my mom calling. I just need a minute if that's okay?"

"Of course," Maria says nodding solemnly. I'll meet you inside."

She hands you the car keys before running a nervous hand through her braids and heading for the restaurant. You watch her leave, holding in a smirk at her obvious nerves.

"Hi bug," your mom's throaty voice sounds out through the earpiece when you put it back to your ear. "Thought you'd want an update."

"I did yeah, thanks for calling. Did they say anything?"

Anything your mother was going to say is immediately washed out by the most obnoxious sound of "Back in Black" playing at high volume.

"The fuck - "

Your eyes go to the silver and blue truck that's pulled up next to yours in the crowded parking lot.

A man with a short beard and tousled brown locks sits behind the wheel putting the vehicle into park. The music is still blasting though, and it's no wonder you can hear him; his window is half down.

Your mom is still saying something but you can't hear her. You try plugging the ear facing the driver and pressing the phone more harshly against your temple but it's no good.

Irritation is going like lightning through your body at the actions of the asshole next to you. Another quick glance tells you he's just sitting there, his one arm slung over the wheel as he stares into space.

"Mom just a sec," you interrupt before rolling down your window and calling out to him.

"Hey!"

The man in the truck doesn't turn his head in your direction until you call out another sharp 'hey'. As he glances at you his brows lift in question.

"Turn down the fucking music! This isn't a concert."

Thinking back, you could have gone about that in a much kinder way.

You could have politely explained you were on an important call. You could have asked him nicely to turn it down. But you're so anxious about the importance of this phone call, that your manners leave you.

The man is looking at you as if he can't believe your vitriol. His dark eyes are soulful as he stares at you, unblinking. The music is still pumping in his truck, perfectly matching the tempo of your rapidly rising pulse.

"Are you deaf or just an asshole?" you shout, your hand still holding the phone to your chest, praying your mom can't hear you verbally lambasting the man next to you.

The man looks like he wants to say something back at you. A tic in his jaw flexing. He parts his mouth before clamping it shut and glaring openly at you. He jerks the key out of the ignition, the music immediately silencing.

"... in the hospital," your mother is saying.

Immediately your attention is back on her and what she's saying. You only notice the man has exited the truck when you hear the slam of its door and the heavy sound of his footsteps diminishing towards the restaurant. You're too fixated on what your mom is saying, or rather, isn't saying.

"Do they know if . . . " you trail off, not sure if you want to know the answer.

"Not yet."

The two of you lapse into a gentle silence that your mother is first to break. "Did you say you were having dinner with Maria?"

"Uh yeah," you say, still processing the information. "Blind date kinda thing."

"Good for you," she says warmly. "Go on then, bug. I don't want to keep you. Give her my love."

"I don't really want to go inside,” you admit. “Rather just stay in the car all night.”

"Enough of that," your mother chides gently. "I didn't raise a coward. Now go on. We'll chat later, I love you."

You respond similarly and place the phone back into your purse. You take a few steadying breaths, glancing at yourself in her rear view mirror and then pulling yourself from the car.

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

The restaurant is dimly lit with gentle cliché Italian music playing in the background. You and Maria have been coming here since college; it's a familiar haunt so it's no wonder that she set the date here. It's some of the worst Italian food in town but also the cheapest.

You come to the table to see just the two of them sitting across from one another and you feel your heart leap and sinks all at once. Did the brother not show up? Are you off the hook?

Or worse, did he see you and leave?

Maria smiles at you, her hand still in Tommy's. She nods her head at the chair beside her. "Come sit."

You do, looking nervously over at Tommy and introducing yourself. Tommy reminds you so much of a puppy dog in the best possible way; all smiles and eager energy as he greets you. He's lithe with broad shoulders he covers in a jean jacket over a white t-shirt. His face is clean shaven and his dark hair fans into his equally dark eyes. He's sweet looking, boyish and nervous.

"My brother's just making a phone call," he explains when he notices you glance at the empty seat beside him. "He'll be right back."

Relief mingled with trepidation goes through you. The waitress comes over with everyone's drinks, leaving a beer in the empty space on the table for Tommy's brother and a berry-colored glass of something in front of you.

"I got you the sangria," Maria shrugs.

"Sounds good, thanks."

You take a sip, feeling nervous as the flavor coats your tongue. The restaurant is busy tonight, not really a shock for a Friday night. You glance around, your eyes darting to Maria and Tommy before you adopt an authoritative tone.

"So Tommy, what are your intentions with Maria?"

Tommy's eyes blow wide in surprise, blinking and stammering.

“I, I uh –“

"You're so mean," Maria says as you both burst into giggles. "You're fine, honey. She's joking."

At Tommy's stricken expression, Maria pats his hand affectionately. Relief instantly floods his face.

"Couldn't resist," you say, shooting a glance at a still recovering Tommy. "If it helps, she's crazy about you,"

Tommy's face breaks into a wide grin that he shoots at Maria. "Is that so?"

Maria looks flustered, opening up her menu and pretending she doesn't hear him.

"Let's order I'm starved."

You nod, looking down at your menu with a smile. You know that tonight is going to be awkward, as any blind date with another couple would be. But you like seeing Maria smiling, you like hearing her laugh as Tommy murmurs something to her about the garlic bread. Maria has been through a lot, she deserves this. You resolve to do whatever you can to make this night go well.

"Ah, there he is," Tommy says shooting a smile at someone behind you. "This is my brother, Joel."

You look up from the menu at the figure who slides into the chair opposite you. You're ready to be as charming as needed to get through this dinner but the smile immediately dies on your face.

It's the man from the truck.

He's broad shouldered, wearing a dark green button down rolled at the sleeves. It's tight across the arms, emphasizing the width of his chest. He and his brother don't look much alike to you aside from the coloring. Joel's face is pleasant if not serious-looking with big, sad eyes. He's attractive enough, a bit older than you and seems rugged with his beard and tousled locks, threaded with bits of grey.

He seems to be doing the same mental gymnastics because he goes from looking confused to angry within a microsecond of seeing you.

So much for a pleasant evening.

Normally you would have wanted to know more about him than the vague description you'd received from Maria on the ride over, but right now you want the earth to swallow you whole. You just screamed at this guy, called him an asshole in the parking lot less than ten minutes ago. Now you have to sit here and pretend to be polite.

His eyes move swiftly to Maria who looks at him nervously.

“The infamous girlfriend,” Joel says with a small smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The even more infamous brother,” Maria says warmly shaking his proffered hand.

“That’d be me,” Joel says with a soft chuckle. You wonder if perhaps you overestimated how rude you’d been. Joel seems perfectly nice right now, smiling at Maria and Tommy and apologizing for taking so long on the phone. Maria introduces you to him in a tone that sounds almost proud.

The smile that Joel has been wearing immediately slides from his face and you clear your throat nervously, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Uh, hi. Nice to meet you."

He gives you a sharp nod by way of reply.He doesn't look at you for long. More a cursory glance at your face before he picks up his beer and takes a swig before turning to ask Tommy something about the job site.

Great.

You crane your neck, leaning back in your chair hoping to see your waitress in the rapidly filling restaurant. You want this evening to speed up and be over. Maybe you can order an appetizer and dash out. But you can see your waitress deep in conversation with another table of eight and know you'll be waiting a bit. You hold in a sigh as you look back at Joel Miller.

He's started peeling the label from his beer in tiny scratches. It's obvious to you that he's just as disappointed as you are that you're his date for the evening. Even if you two hadn't experienced the altercation outside you doubt he would have been your type: too serious, too hard.

Paul had been the opposite: open and funny and immediately putting you at ease.

Stop thinking about him.

You take another sip of your drink, deciding that while Joel is a shit blind date he's actually perfect for practicing on for any future dates. Ones that you may have with men who are a helluva lot more pleasant than he is.

Maria and Tommy are looking at their menus, obviously trying not to watch the two of you interact. But you can see Maria's eyes darting to you out the corner. You know that she’s silently willing you to make an effort with Joel.

"So Maria says you guys work for a construction company?" You look from Joel to Tommy.

"We own a construction company," Joel corrects, his dark eyes still glued to the label of the beer bottle he's picking at with a short fingernail.

Off to a great start.

Tommy joins in, noting his brothers' reluctance to keep the conversation going.

"Joel takes care of the carpentry and the invoicing. I'm more drywall and marketing," Tommy smiles wide and friendly at you. "We have a few other guys on the team that do the rest."

You already like Tommy. He's sweet and soft and judging by the way he's still holding Maria's hand across the table, he's very interested in her.

"Must be nice to be your own bosses," you offer, hoping that if you're complimentary that Joel won't tell them about your incident outside.

"Way better than the old subcontractor we had to work for before." Tommy takes a sip of beer, shaking his head. "That guy was such a dick."

Joel flashes Tommy a nod of agreement before looking distracted. You wonder if it's you doing it to him or the phone call he took right before this. When it's clear Joel won't be asking you anything, Tommy speaks up.

"And what do you do again?"

"I work at a humane society here in Austin," you say between sips of your drink. "The job doesn't pay great but I love animals."

You trail off noting that Tommy looks frustrated with himself. "Shit, that's right. Maria said that."

"Don't beat yourself up," you laugh. "It's not exactly the most memorable job on the planet."

Joel makes a little scoffing noise of agreement. As if his job is so much more enthralling.

You hold in a biting comment as the waitress approaches your table and this time you see her name tag reads Felicia. She's a pretty girl with bright red hair who clearly has interest in the man across from you.

"Bruschetta for the table?" Tommy asks with a glance in everyone's direction. You all nod because who would say no to bruschetta?

Felicia's eyes linger on Joel even as she takes everyone else's orders for dinner.

Good. She can go home with him for all you care. If anything she'd be doing you a favor.

The silence is back when she's gone and you can't miss the strained look passing between Maria and Tommy. You don't blame them; this entire experience feels tense and uncomfortable. Maria is subtly nudging you in the ankle with her boot, flicking her eyes from you to Joel and back again. The meaning is clear: make an effort.

Only for Maria would you suffer through this dinner. Only for Maria would you try to engage the stone-faced man across from you. You take a deep breath before forcing a smile in Joel's direction

"So, Joel, what do you do for fun?"

Joel looks as if he's getting the same amount of non-verbal grief from his brother because he straightens a bit, looking at you from under thick lashes.

"I hunt."

You cringe. Not even inwardly, you full-out wince at that. Hunting has always been one of those things you've never seen the point to in modern society. Sure, when food had to be hunted or families starved it made sense. But nowadays? It seemed barbaric.

And knowing what you do for a job, you're shocked at the lack of tact. Hobbies were a dime a dozen and that's the one he brings up?

Asshole.

He seems to notice your recalcitrance because that same cool appraisal is back on his face.

"And what do you enjoy?"

You don't miss the sarcasm in his tone betraying that he really doesn't give a fuck, but decide to answer him sincerely regardless.

"I read. I hike, I paint, I watch zombie movies."

Joel winces at that. "Can't stand 'em."

What a shock. Something else you don't have in common.

You almost feel like this entire date was devised just to make Tommy and Maria feel less guilty about being so in love and your feel a stab of resentment. Tommy seems to notice the tension building because he jumps in a little too eagerly.

"Joel plays guitar. He's really good."

"And you sing," Maria adds, nudging you again before looking at Joel and Tommy. "Her voice is so beautiful."

Both you and Joel answer almost simultaneously. "Not anymore."

Your eyes flick to one another in surprise before the meals are brought to the table by the far too peppy Felicia.

"Careful," she tells Joel with a purr. "Your plate is very hot."

"Thanks," Joel says flashing her a quick smile. You note the dimple in his right cheek when he does.

"What kind of animals come through your job?" Tommy asks, spearing a piece of chicken.

"The usual, cats, dogs, small animals like hamsters, ferrets," you list these off with ease. "With some of the other sites in we house sheep and horses."

"That would've been our dream job as kids, huh Joel?" Tommy says with a faraway smile. "Being surrounded by animals, helping 'em."

Joel gives an agreeing grunt by way of a reply, chewing his dinner with a frown. It's so obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here.

"It's not all dreamy," you answer, pretending Joel isn't even there. "I work at the main office so I barely get to see the animals. Most of the time I'm grant writing because we're so underfunded."

You frown, thinking about the difficulty of going into work knowing that you can't save every poor animal that crosses your path.

"Plus after the flooding last month the office is trashed, but there was this grant for office restoration." You talk excitedly, knowing exactly what you'll do with the money.

"Guaranteed that even if she gets the grant for the office reno's she'll put it all to the kennels they need," Maria says to Tommy but she's looking at you fondly. "That's why I love her."

You feel shy under the twin gazes of Tommy and Maria and you want to turn to Joel and scream: "See! I'm not as horrible at you thought! I'm not just a bitch who screams at people in parking lots!" but you have I'm feeling even if you did that he wouldn't believe you enough to care.

"Well, when you do get the grant, I know a great contractor," Maria says with a wink in Tommy's direction. Tommy blushes slightly in response, offering a quick nod.

"I'll definitely keep you in mind," you say to Tommy, stabbing your pasta with your fork. "Everything is so expensive to build; maybe you'll give me the 'Maria's best friend' discount."

Tommy and Maria laugh but Joel remains stone-faced.

"What about you guys?" You address them both but its Tommy you look at. "I don't know much about what you do aside from restorations like Maria's place."

"We have a few bids in this month," Tommy says through a mouthful of his chicken. "Really hoping for this one build at a military site, but the lead on it is kind of a nightmare. We worked with her once before. Needs to have constant meetings about every little thing right, Joel?"

Tommy looks over at his older brother.

"It's a good gig," Joel nods, sliding a piece of bread through the marinara sauce on his plate. "Kathleen's usually a dog with a bone, but pretty harmless overall."

He goes back to his meal, eating quickly. Tommy looks dumbfounded by his brothers behaviour.

Fuck this guy.

Yeah, you were rude to him in the parking lot. But that was just between the two of you. Now he's making it horrible for an entire table of people who are just trying their best to have a pleasant evening.

There's a faint buzzing and you watch Joel fumble for his phone, an old blackberry. He reads whose calling and excuses himself. You all watch as he leaves, heading for the exit.

"You sure he's not a drug dealer on the side?" You joke. "Last time I saw a guy react like that to a phone call he was selling weed outta his mom's basement."

Maria shoots you a grin.

"It's Sarah," Tommy replies with a glance after his brother. "It's the first time Joel's left her with a sitter that's not me."

Sarah? A sitter? Wait, Joel has a kid? That miserable jerk found someone to willingly procreate with? You don't remember that part of the information Maria gave you in the car.

"He's pretty protective of her," Tommy continues. "He's worried she may be a lot of work with new people."

With Joel as her father, you're hardly shocked. You imagine a little girl with serious dark eyes and a bad attitude.

"Has he been divorced a long time?" Maria asks, and you realize she knows very little about Joel as well.

"Almost four years, but apart longer."

You nod and the three of you eat quietly, listening to the sound of bland Italian elevator music in the background. Joel reappears a short time later, sliding into his seat as Tommy looks over.

"Sarah okay?"

"She's fine," Joel nods, his voice low and rumbling. "She just couldn't find toad."

"She has a toad?"

Joel's eyes slope over to you in irritation. "It's a stuffed animal."

"Oh."

"The sitter's a moron," Joel says to Tommy with a dark look. "Got her all hopped up on sugar."

"Connie isn't a moron, Joel," Tommy defends. "She takes care of her own mother practically full time."

You and Maria exchange a look as the brothers disagree.

"I shouldn't have left her alone with them." Joel is getting more agitated by the second; he's not even hearing what his brother is saying. "They have that old dog of theirs."

"She's fine, Joel."

"I shouldn't have come," Joel mutters as he pulls some cash from his wallet and drops it on the table beside Tommy's plate. "This was such a bad idea. Such a waste of time. I gotta go."

You say nothing, but the blood is rising in your cheeks as you stare down at your plate. You want to believe that Joel is leaving solely because of his kid, but a large part of you knows she's just a convenient excuse to cut the evening short.

"I'll see you later" Joel grumbles to Tommy before he's left the table without a backwards glance or a goodbye to you.

As he strides off you want to laugh. This entire evening has been a joke from start to finish. Tommy is shooting Maria a sheepish look of silent apology. Obviously the evening hasn't gone how anyone anticipated it would.

"I'm so sorry," Maria starts but you cut her off.

"It's fine, just exhausted from work. Mind if I just take off?"

"Of course," Maria looks inconsolable. "Just take the car, Tommy will drop me off later."

You nod, holding out a twenty to her that she won't accept. You pocket it after a brief goodbye to Tommy you head to the entrance of the restaurant. You only exit when you're sure that Joel's truck is gone from the parking lot.

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

You pull up to the house, thankful the rain has stopped. Maria's place is on a quiet, suburban street with identical lawns and mailboxes. She doesn't do much with the exterior of the home, but it's a nice navy blue color with bright white shutters. It feels especially welcoming after your horrible dinner.

You can't stop thinking about Joel. His miserable face and the way he practically ran out of the restaurant. You kick a rock angrily on your way up the sidewalk as you move towards the house.

"You look like Bill after Bush got elected."

Your eyes dart up to house next to Maria's. The neighbor Frank is standing there on the front porch holding a cigarette elegantly between his fingers

His home is a similar in shape and color to Maria's, but that's where it ends. Where Maria's house is plain, this house is immaculately kept with bright flowers under the windows. The door is a lacquered black and a simple green wreath hangs in its upper center. It feels sophisticated and welcoming all at once.

Frank gives you another sharp look, a smirk quirking his lips.

The first day you'd arrived at Maria's, your eyes puffy and dressed in three-day-old sweats, he'd sent over a basket of goodies with a note that simply said: straight men ain't shit, your neighbors Frank and Bill. You'd liked him straightaway ever since. He's funny and charming and never seems to be in a bad mood.

Maria has nothing but good things to say about him. Best neighbor she's ever had, according to her. You often find them on either side of the fence that separates their lawns, gossiping about things in the neighborhood. Frank always seems happy, always seems upbeat.

But right now you don't feel like being happy. You want to climb into bed and be sad.

"Just a bad night," you frown, pulling your purse further up your shoulder and moving towards your place.

"Where I come from, bad days usually call for a drink."

You've never been a drinker. You occasionally have beer with fish and chips in the summer. Hot chocolate with a splash of rum at Christmas. Sangria at dinner with a bad blind date. But you've been to Frank's before and you know that whatever they have will taste amazing.

Frank's eyes are playful as he watches you pause. You shuffle back in his direction, a wry smile on your face before you glance at his door nervously.

"Is Bill around?"

Dumb question. Bill is always around. Always frowning, always building something and muttering about elaborate anti-government theories you don't always follow but smile politely at. Bill makes you nervous, but then again, he makes everyone nervous.

"Basement," Frank smiles beckoning you with a wave forward. "If he comes upstairs I'll handle him."

You don't need much more invitation than that. You bound up the stairs to his place, placing your bag at the entryway and following him into the kitchen.

While the outside of Frank and Bill's place is beautiful, the inside is breathtaking. The color of the walls is a soft green, the wood stair railing boasts intricate details of florals and the piece de resistance is the gleaming black baby grand piano that sits in the living room.

You think about pressing one of the ivory keys as you walk by but stop yourself. Everything in this home is so beautiful, so wonderfully cared for that the thought of moving any if it, even a fraction seems cruel.

"Does Bill ever play for anyone?"

"He does." Frank is in the kitchen bringing two large wineglasses down from the shelf.

You roll your eyes. "You don't count."

"Rude," Frank says with an arched brow, but there's no power behind it. "If I get him liquored up enough he might be persuaded to play for an audience of more than just me."

You watch him pour the crimson liquid into the dual glasses before handing it to you. You follow him to the sitting room by the piano, your eyes glancing longingly at it.

"It's a Beaujolais," Frank says sitting across from you as he swirls his glass with the finesse of a professional sommelier. "Very fruitful with a few smoky notes."

You twist the delicate stem between your fingertips and peer into the glass. "Looks . . . Red."

Frank laughs at your unrefined palette. He and Bill and wine connoisseurs, their home stocked with all manner of wine and other spirits.

"You look especially dressed up," Frank offers warmly at the wine slips over your tastebuds. "Hot date?"

"If my date tonight is any indication of what's out there, I think I might just stay single forever."

"Was he really that bad?" Frank's handsome face is concerned.

"He's a grey sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake."

Frank laughs loudly, his head tossed back. You smile around your wine glass, secretly pleased you could elicit such a response.

"Was he cute at least?"

"No," you answer a bit too quickly.

Frank looks about to reply when the door to the basement is shoved open with a bang.

A stout man with shoulder length brown hair and a scraggly beard looks around the room wildly blinking, as if his large blue eyes are adjusting to the lights.

He's wearing an old grey sweatshirt, threadbare with holes in the collar. He's such a stark contrast to his husband whose facial hair is meticulously groomed, his patterned orange shirt pressed and smelling like expensive cologne. If you got close enough to Bill you know he'd smell like sweat and oil from whatever he's been working on downstairs.

Bill approaches you both, his eyes sliding to your figure at the table and frowning, the crease between his brows deepening. You raise your hand in a small wave.

"Evening, Bill."

"What are you doing here?" His eyes drift to your wineglass. "And is that my wine?"

"Manners," Frank warns with a teasing lilt. "And last time I checked, Bill, it was our wine."

"Yours and mine. Not hers," Bill grumbles as he lumbers over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass.

You assume he'll head back downstairs but he shuffles to the table and plops down next to Frank, the chair squeaking under him. Sitting next to each other they seem like such an odd pair, and yet when Frank absently moves hair behind Bill’s ear and they look at one another smiling softly, you think there has never been a couple better matched.

"Our girl here finally went out on a date," Frank says like a proud father.

"A blind date," you explain with a wince. "And a bad one. Almost makes me remember Paul fondly."

At least Paul had never insulted and then walked out on you in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

"Paul," Bill scoffs into his glass, shaking his head. "Idiot man-child."

You smile at this, appreciating Bills acerbic tone when it's directed at a common enemy. You take this moment of unexpected civility and indicate to the piano with your wineglass.

"Hey Bill do you think you'd ever play for me?"

Bill turns his hardened gaze on you.

"Not a fucking chance."

#fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #fanfiction #dad joel miller #smut #pedro pascal

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lover-of-mine · 8 months

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I'm here to argue my case about how Eddie fell first and has in fact been semi-aware of his feelings since season 3 and it's currently dealing with the way he thinks he'll have to be the best man on Buck's wedding. So sit down, buckle up, grab your delusional drink of choice (today I'm drinking my delusional tea lol), and let's go.

Okay, given season 6 information, we know Buck and Eddie are roughly the same age and we know Eddie was pursued by Bobby and Bobby wanted a partner for Buck (unrelated but Bobby so hoped the military guy would balance out Buck and for a while there he ended up with two very impulsive firefighters and he definitely had a few what the hell have I done moments lol) so it's kinda safe to assume that Buck was one of the selling points of the 118 because Buck is a very competent firefighter and they would be on the same shift. So Eddie went in with the expectation of someone his age he could befriend. I'm making some assumptions but the internet tells me the academy takes a year, we know Eddie still doesn't have a permanent childcare plan, so this man is interacting outside of the academy exclusively with his 7 yo, his abuela, and tia for a year, so I think that the idea of having a friend his own age was appealing to him. Especially after the army and Shannon leaving him. So much so that with his sharp edges, you can actually read things like "I'd go lower" or "you're in the wrong light, man" as attempts to create a bond, very awkward I haven't tried to make friends in forever attempts but attempts nonetheless because he's trying to be helpful. Buck is being Buck, but even Eddie says I hear you're a good guy, so dude is trying to understand what's happening, what's setting Buck off, and while he matches Buck's energy after the gym conversation, he actually continues to try and bond with Buck with the thing that actually works and the "you're badass under pressure" that is still another attempt to get through to Buck. I have various theories about the way Eddie keeps trying to start something, the one I like the most and the most painful one is about how Eddie has had the weight of the world on his shoulders forever. And he had to grow up really fast, and then there is Buck annoying him about nicknames and discussing his body fat percentage, and with all that really carefree energy season 1 and beginning of season 2 Buck had that he probably wanted to know what it felt like. But Buck is Buck and Buck also wanted a friend so dude imprinted on Eddie like a baby duck. But Eddie doesn't mind, like before Bobby comes in to say who got the spot on the calendar, Eddie looks amused by Buck not annoyed. But up until now, that's casual. They're coworkers.

Then we have the earthquake. We know Christopher is Eddie's whole world and he's very careful about the people he lets into their life, considering the earthquake happened on Maddie's first day on the floor and she must've had some sort of training before that, it's safe to assume that Eddie didn't mention Chris at the firehouse for at least a few weeks and he is very hesitant to tell Buck about him, but again Buck is Buck and he switches into reassurance mode and that's when Eddie actually lets him in. I actually would love it if we had an explanation as to why Buck drove Eddie to Chris' school after the shift, but it's something that he went from being hesitant to even mention he existed to introducing Buck to him. But then we have the moment Buck becomes his ride-or-die, you imprinted on me but now I'm hanging on to you, with the whole going to the hospital with him because of abuela and also the way that Buck clears Chris staying at the firehouse before Eddie thinks to do it.

This moment right here it's what gets Eddie. He's ready to apologize and justify and he doesn't have to because Buck stepped up to do something simply because he realized Eddie needed help and he could do something about it. Eddie is doing everything alone and he needs help but he doesn't know how or who to ask for it and Buck just steps in and does it before he needs to ask. And then there's Carla. Buck tricks him into showing up and literally hands him the solution to his problems because Buck knows Eddie wouldn't accept it if Buck had said what that was about beforehand, but at no point does Buck make it seem like Eddie is a bad parent for needing help. And I think with the whole thing with his parents trying to take Chris from him, that really does something.

I really like to use the second gif here as a major example of Eddie's heart eyes for Buck, but the first one, when he realizes who Carla is and what she can give him completely changes his demeanor. He was ready to be polite, was probably trying to figure out a way out without saying he was still married, but instead, Buck does something that not only makes Eddie's life easier but makes Christopher's exponentially better. And right then, Eddie is done for. I'm not saying he fell in love with Buck here, I'm just saying right here is when Eddie goes you're stuck with me now dude, and let his guard down with Buck, as much as this Eddie can at least. That's when something starts for him. You can't change my mind on this one. But for now, there's the Shannon of it all, because Eddie does love Shannon but their relationship is beyond complicated.

But Buck is still constant through Shannon and I think that's important, actually, because Eddie is having trouble trusting Shannon and I feel like having Buck around helps him not go straight to the worst-case scenario all the time. I don't have a point in mentioning this, it's just a clear show of how much Eddie already trusts Buck, but to have Buck go with him to take Chris to see Santa is so wild. Who takes their best friend to see Santa with their kid? Like, what?? But Isn't it interesting that Eddie decides to propose again after Buck asks when is the wedding? I find that fascinating really. Then Shannon dies, Buck almost dies, dude goes into move past it mode but the seed is there. Forever thinking about the wistful shot of Eddie saying almost after Hen says things are back to the way they should be. Something else about the finale it's that it's the first in the list of irrationality moments from Eddie regarding Buck. Eddie is a firefighter, he's objectively stronger than Chimney, so the logical thing to be done is to have Eddie helping lift the truck and Chim treating Buck. But no, at that moment he's a medic who's there to hold Buck's hand. He's just holding Buck's hand. He could've left Buck with Hen and go help lift the truck. But no, he's staying by Buck's side.

But season 3 is when things HAPPEN. We start out strong with the sheer excitement on Eddie's face that Buck is going back to work. Then the way Eddie just hands Christopher over to Buck without a single worry. "Oh, you're falling apart? Here's a kid, he will help" and just goes. We focus a lot on Buck's reaction to them finding Chris because it is what the show wants us to focus, this is the moment Buck looks at Chris and goes "shit I really love that kid" but Eddie looking back at Buck as he holds Chris is interesting. Eddie just went through 30 seconds (actually it's 1 minute 4 seconds from the moment Eddie notices Buck to Eddie having Chris in his arms not that it matters) of the worst possible moments in a parent's life and I guess, since Buck didn't have Chris, and Buck was too shaken to explain what had happened, he assumed Buck lost Chris during the first wave and he's looking back because he's shocked he saved not only himself but Chris from the wave, but from his focus to shift to Buck like that it's interesting. Even more, considering the way he barges into the loft to hand Chris over again. "There's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you" I'm sorry, there's no platonic explanation for the wording of this, okay? This is a man who looked at his honest to god wife, the mother of his child, and said "I can forgive you, I'm just not sure I can trust you" and trust is always the thing Eddie struggles with. To trust someone with Christopher is Eddie's ultimate show of love because it's what makes sense with his character, he is loyal until it kills him but nothing goes above Christopher. Also, Mr. Kids are signs hands over his own child to someone and I'm not supposed to look at that and go "huh wonder what he's feeling"? And there's the lawsuit of it all. Eddie gets that mad because he misses Buck and has no idea what to do with it. Because he got used to being a priority to Buck and he cannot handle the idea that maybe he's not. He's struggling, Chris is struggling and he needs Buck to do the thing he does where he fixes the problem without Eddie having to ask. But Buck has no real responsibility to Eddie or Chris, you can't really expect your best friend to base his life decisions on what's best for you. But it is the expectation Eddie has. He needs Buck to consider him. He needs Buck to be there for him no matter what. And at this point, when he's screaming at Buck as if they are a divorced couple, he's aware of something. He's definitely aware of something he doesn't want to look too closely at.

Because being left by Buck leaves him completely off balance. And since Eddie is famous for not dealing with the shit he's feeling, things keep escalating because anger it's easier. Anger he can deal with. But in the end, he just wants Buck back so he forgives him the second he lets Buck speak. Because he wants the Buck that looks right through him, he wants what they have back. And he doesn't hesitate once he does. There are definitely some lingering feelings about how he kept pushing Shannon away and then she died and he "lost" time he could've had if he had let her in after he sought her out, so when Buck apologizes he just goes let's go team and moves on because tomorrow isn't promised to anyone.

But I think there's something important to take into consideration, that it's Eddie's therapy session. He talks about not feeling anything, good or bad, and the his feelings are boxed thing and how he doesn't know what to do with them and yes, that comes back into play later, but it is important that Eddie doesn't name his feelings and he consistently tries to box them and move past them instead of feeling them, and it gets to a point where he's doing this even to positive things. So he is not looking too closely as to why missing Buck throws him off balance. He's all let's go back to the way things were and they do. Forever seeking for a heterosexual explanation to the kitchen scene in 3x09 but I also do think there are different types of tension between them there. Because while Buck is teasingly trying to get Eddie to admit on what had happened and how Buck's absence was a trigger for Eddie's fight club era in his flirty way of his, Eddie is trying to make him stop talking in a real "man don't make me look at what happened too closely" because he doesn't know what he'll find. Or if he's ready to find it. Considering the whole widower who never processed a big emotion in a healthy way he has going on there. But Buck is a really steady presence in Eddie's life, and Buck does his best to not put them in the lawsuit situation again, he's around, he's helping Eddie with parenting issues and then we have the well.

The well is a pivotal moment. Not just because of the sheer amount of Buck in Eddie's I need to keep fighting montage and the way Buck is acting above the ground, but because of the way Eddie changes his will after that and chooses to hide the fact that he did. Eddie has parents who are more than willing to raise Christopher, he has sisters, he has a lot of blood relatives that he could assign as Chris' guardians if something happens, but he chooses Buck. He chooses a firefighter, who is not only a firefighter, it's also his partner so if Eddie ends up in a life-threatening situation, Buck will probably be there too, so it's not the biggest safeguard. Buck is also single and without kids of his own. He also has known Buck for what? 2 years at that point? Eddie's lawyer probably stared at Eddie in disbelief when Eddie explained the situation. But the real thing about the will is that Eddie doesn't talk about it. Dude had some revelations while under all that mud because the only reason he wouldn't tell Buck is if he couldn't tell Buck without talking about himself. That's the only explanation for why he would hide it. Because Buck would ask why him, why now, like he did when Eddie did finally tell him, but right then Eddie can't shift the focus back to Buck. But there's a very subtle change in the way Eddie acts around Buck after the well. And again, sure, you can play off Eddie's reaction to when Buck wants to do something dangerous as he needs Buck to stay alive, but you can't really apply that logic to the way Eddie acts about Abby. Like, Eddie is petty to girls who want Buck, that's a fact. And Eddie is petty about Abby, but he also gets unsure about his place in Buck's life when he sees Buck's reaction to seeing Abby. And they focus on Eddie there. We get Eddie's reaction to that interaction. That means something.

We get Eddie legit feeling insecure about his place in Buck's life over the fact that Abby is there. And Eddie knows Abby as this entity, the one that got away, the person responsible for Buck being the way he is, because that's the way Abby is talked about, and sure, if I was in Eddie's shoes, only seeing the damage someone did to my best friend and then have them risking their life because of whatever lingering feelings are still there, I would also reserve myself the right to hate them, but it's more than that. Like, the way he backs away from the both of them once Buck goes into protector mode.

"Abby, His fiancée's Abby." *stomps away*. Absolutely insane interactions happen there that paint Buck as still hung up on Abby, even more after the whole thing with Red, but if you look at it with the right lenses, it paints Eddie as jealous of the way Buck is willing to put himself in danger to keep someone who broke him happy.

Every reaction from Eddie in the train wreck feels so calculated to give this idea that he's unsure of his place in Buck's life. His face when he realizes who he's talking to, his hand hovering over Buck's shoulder like he wants to comfort him but doesn't know if he can, the way he looks at Buck after Abby and Sam are in the ambulance. He's completely off balance at the sight of the ghost of Buck's great lost love and I'm supposed to believe that man is just experiencing platonic friendship feelings about his best friend? Come on.

Season 4 is complicated. Because of the Ana and Taylor of it all. They do have the easy banter, Eddie being someone Buck can rely on during the whole mess with his parents, a few scenes of Buck completely comfortable in Eddie's space and Eddie just moving around him like he's meant to be there, but we know the Ana of it all happens because of external pressure. Eddie thinks he needs to date, so he grabs onto the first woman he can. The way his whole body relaxes when he realizes Christopher is with Buck is actually insane. But even though he's dating, he's holding on to Buck in a way. Absolutely obsessed with how much he hates Taylor. Dude legit looks like he's fantasizing about running her over with the fire engine while watching Buck and Taylor interact making Buck ignore him.

But then Eddie gets shot. Say whatever the fuck you want Eddie reached for Buck. He thought he was dying. And he reached for Buck.

Eddie's been aware of something he doesn't want to look at too closely since the lawsuit that became harder to ignore after the well that he became fully aware of when he got shot. I know that what we have now says Eddie doesn't remember the shooting but wouldn't it be beautiful if he lied because he can't say what he remembers because everything he remembers is about Buck? The dramatic effect of I'm lying to you because I realized I loved you then but I can't tell you that now? Ugh. Anyway, Eddie got shot, things fell into place when he hit the ground, terrible place to have an oh! moment though. Dude just got shot, he's bleeding out, and the thing he gathers the rest of his energy is to ask if Buck is hurt. Sure, you can look at that as I think I'm dying so one of us has to make it home to Chris, but the possibility of it being an I love you I need to know you're okay before this kills me it's there. But he doesn't die. And when he wakes up Buck tells him it would've been better if he had been shot. You can see it on Eddie's face that he kept rehearsing what he was going to say about the will. Something else is the way that Ali takes Buck home after the truck so it would honestly make sense if Ana took Eddie home but he probably asked Buck to do it. That scene feels like an aborted love confession. "You act like you're expendable but you're wrong" the way he's saying you're not spare parts, you're not less important, you matter so much to me. Eddie knows Buck, he knows Buck associates love with pain. He wouldn't actually say something after he almost died, but it feels like he's working up to something. Sure he needs to break up with Ana, but there's time before he heals and can just, do something about it. But then Taylor fucking Kelly is in his welcome home party. He knew Buck and Taylor were working up to something. He knows Taylor being there means it happened. A violent reminder that Buck is straight (debatable) and doesn't feel the same (also debatable). So back to safety, he goes.

I need to know who decided that having this particular look when they are literally talking about how Eddie is about to meet Ana's whole family was the way to go.

Also, can you believe Eddie needed Buck's approval to break up with the girlfriend he didn't even want to date anyway?

Season 5 is complicated because of Eddie's PTSD, 5A has a lot of Eddie pulling away because of the way he knew when the dam broke it wouldn't be pretty and he didn't want to take down anyone with him. But even when we see Eddie out of the job, we see him making an effort to include Buck and Taylor so Buck would know that he really did mean the whole "you're stuck with us" thing. I can talk about 5x11 to 5x14 and the implications of it to buddie for days, really, (you can read this for some of those thoughts), but the thing here I guess, it's a lot about how when the box exploded, the feelings are all over the place, Eddie sits back and lets Buck in. He talks about the way he's feeling in a way we don't really see Eddie do all that often and he leans on Buck through his recovery and the process of finding out how to not feel like there's no hope for himself and how to feel comfortable in his own skin again. And it's a lot about Buck and the way Buck is constant. Eddie feels like Buck is this steady presence in his life that can and does help Eddie move forward.

But the thing is, the shooting happened, Eddie realized things, Taylor Kelly (derogatory) happened, Taylor Kelly (derogatory) took herself out of the running, Eddie now has the tools to deal with his own emotions, he's single, Buck's single, they're having dinner with Chris at Buck's loft and Eddie is asking Buck about things Chris kept from him, but Eddie is in a fantasy bubble where he can pretend he has the things he wants without actually asking for anything to change. I mean, post therapy Eddie is better with his feelings, but he's still Eddie. He was in his little I have time bubble. That was violently popped. Because Buck died. And he had to save him. "Do more" is such a desperate thing for a first responder and former combat medic to scream at a team of doctors. He knows they always do the best they can. He did the best he could, but there's only so far he can go. The way he follows the gurney hurts me in so many ways. Some real don't go where I can't follow bullshit.

This is a man who watched Buck almost die multiple times. But this is also a man who never contemplated the possibility of Buck actually dying. The thing that drives me crazy about Eddie and everything surrounding Buck's death is that he can't look at it. He can't take his eyes off him, but once he's out of his sight he can't look at him again. He spends the whole time not looking at Buck. He looks away every time someone mentions it. Even when he's in the room with Chris he's not looking. 3 minutes 17 seconds. Look, this number bothers me. Bobby said they were 3 minutes out from the hospital and that it took 3 minutes to start compressions. So Buck was dead for 6 minutes. The rescue took 3 minutes. And Eddie counted. That's the only explanation for this particular number. He counted how long it took to get Buck to Chim and Hen and in the ambulance ready to go.

But Eddie was living comfortably in his bubble, I don't think he was at peace with it, but I do think he accepted it. But Buck wakes up, Buck seeks him out to help deal with the trauma. They look like a family, they act like a family, maybe it's not hopeless after all. Maybe Buck can feel the same and they can talk about it once Buck is not feeling so raw over his own death. Buck is just there all the time, something like that can't be one-sided, can it? But then Buck pulls the rug from under him. I made a very long post about the cemetery, you can read that one if you want, but the thing about that conversation is that it is a reminder that they are not on the same page. Because Buck throws him off balance again, considering the way Eddie was trying his hardest to be there for Buck just for Buck to say he's getting what he wants from a random woman he met a few days before. And it makes Eddie back away so he won't end up hurting his own feelings more. I think at this point Eddie has accepted the fact that he's going to have to be Buck's best man and is trying to find a way to be okay with it. So he's retreating to familiarity again. It explains why he's trying to recreate what he had with Shannon because he loved Shannon, so maybe if he found that again he wouldn't have to cut Buck off to move on. Because he needs Buck on some level but there is a limit on how much he can take while Buck goes around looking for something he already has.

And yes I talked and talked and talked but why does this mean Eddie fell first? Well, Buck will never figure it out on his own. The thing about Buck is that Buck doesn’t know what healthy love is. He thinks love is work, but in a it’s bleeding himself dry for someone way. He thinks love is pain. Eddie is safety. Eddie is home. He never knew home as a place where he can find love.

This is all for today. If you read this I love you. Also the doc I typed it out says it has over 4.3k words so this is long as fuck congratulations for sticking through it 🩷

#shit this is LONG #dont ask how long it took i dont feel comfortable sharing this information aioskoaksoaksoaksoaksoaksasokokasokas #i have no hinges left oasokasokaosk #yes i know i sound crazy its fine tho #911 #buddie #otp: you don't need to pretend with me #911 meta #buddie thoughts #buddie meta #i miss them soaksokasoaksoaks

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cameronspecial · 7 months

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Let Me Be Yours, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Drinking and Doing Drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: When Y/N's best friend wants to test frat boys, it leads to a meeting that will change Rafe's life.

A/N: Inspired by this Instagram post and the book, Icebreaker.

Masterlist

Y/N isn’t a partier but she also isn’t one not to go to them. Her solution: Only going to parties that are thrown on holidays. It meant she could plan when the parties were while ensuring she didn’t feel like she was missing out on the university experience. Halloween means the only way into the frat party is with a costume. Daisy and Y/N coordinate their outfits in the classic Devil and Angel costumes. Since she came to the party, Y/N has been using alcohol as a way to drown out the loud music. She quickly regrets this decision because her drunken state has allowed Daisy to convince her to see if the frat boys at this house are gentlemen.

“It’s your turn to hold your hand out,” Daisy screams as they head over to one of the most infamous frat boys at the school. Rafe knows he’s been drinking and doing weed, but he doesn’t feel like it is enough to start to see things. Angels aren’t real. Yet, the beauty in front of him is telling him otherwise. The flashing lights reflect off of her plastic halo to create a glowing effect that makes her seem like the real deal. He is completely entranced by her and when she holds up her hand randomly to him, he just has to feel her skin against his. He cups her outstretched hand, kissing the back of it softly. His lips linger as he makes eye contact with her. She moves her hand from him and leaves with her friend without another word. Disappointment settles in him; he didn’t get her name.

———

The bathroom line is so long that Y/N fears she might pee in her own skirt. She is next in line and as she watches the person in front of her enter the room, her nose scrunches in disgust. The mixture of weed, vomit and diarrhea hits her nose. There is no way she can go to the bathroom in those conditions. Lucky for her, Rafe finds his Angel again and he isn’t going to let her go to the bathroom in its appalling state.

“So we meet again, Angel,” he teases, leaning against the closed doorframe. She barely looks in his direction, “And it’s the shirtless fireman again. You know that wouldn’t meet safety regulations.”

“How about we go up to my room and you can tell me all about safety regulations?”

“How about you leave me alone and I go pee in this disgusting bathroom.”

“I was just about to offer to use my bathroom upstairs, but I guess you really want to pee here.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I just really need to pee and can’t think of anything else.”

He smiles and holds his hand out toward the stairs, “It’s okay. Right this way, Angel.”

The busy party and her short stature mean she could lose Rafe easily, so she reaches out to intertwine their hands. Her soft hand in his makes his heart flutter and he just wants to stay like this forever. They navigate through the crowded house, making their way to his room. He punches the code into his room and exaggerates his hands towards the door with pizazz, “Welcome to Casa el Rafe.” “Why thank you, Señor Rafe,” she giggles, dashing to the bathroom.

She returns from the bathroom and Rafe is waiting for her on his bed. “You didn’t have to wait for me. I could’ve found my own waitout,” she jokes, heading toward the door. He gets up from the bed, running to stop her from leaving, “Wait, I didn’t get your name.”

“I didn’t know I needed to give you my name to use your bathroom.”

“Please. Give it to me, so I can ask you out. Let me be yours, angel.”

“Figure out my name by yourself first then we’ll see about a date.”

She exits the room with a flirtatious wink and he watches his Angel walk away from him. He has to figure out her name because she already has his heart and he has every intention of giving her the rest of him with it.

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juyeonszn · 7 months

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SWEET

PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 4.61k

GENRES fluff ﹒ smut ﹒ minuscule bit of angst

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, boy next door/neighbor au, reader was in a toxic-ish relationship, juyo is so cute and so sweet, until he’s kinda 😵‍💫 yk?, um kevin and changmin appearances, reader being absolutely irrevocably impossibly down bad for juyeon’s hands, so hand kink lol, making out, vaginal fingering, cum eating…. lol, they get a little sappy at the end

SUMMARY maybe this was for the better. maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor.

MORE i would like to apologize for putting this out a day late… um i was really busy preparing for my enhypen concert so 😭 not a lot of writing was happening since there wasn’t enough brain juice flowing. anyways. ENJOY <3 pls rb if u did! (ALSO THANK U REESE AND @sungbeam FOR BETAING AND EDITING <<<3 i love y’all sm)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

If there was one thing you took pride in, it was your keen sense of hospitality.

You’d been raised as the type of girl to always be welcoming when a new face arrived, to be that guiding light for them as they adjusted to all the changes in their life. When you were little, your mother taught you to introduce yourself first, because you never knew if that person was shy or not. Of course, there was the usual ‘Stranger Danger’ pep talk, but it differed greatly from the new friend pep talk.

The first time you exhibited this wonderful trait of yours was in middle school when the foreign student in your class was forced to stand at the front of the room. He wasn’t necessarily shy, but you could tell he didn’t really enjoy being put on the spot, hands behind his back as he said his name and where he was from.

Kevin Moon. Age 13. Vancouver, Canada.

The only empty desk in the classroom was the one beside yours, and that was the golden opportunity to become best friends with the new kid. As soon as he settled into his seat and class had resumed as normal, you leaned over slightly and cupped a hand over your mouth to whisper loud enough that he could hear.

“Hi! I’m Y/N!”

He gave you a small smile in return and from then on, you and Kevin Moon were the best of friends.

The second time you proved your kindness was your freshman year of college. It was still syllabus week, but your professor had sent out an email over the weekend with papers that needed to be printed and brought to class. The guy next to you didn’t get the memo, freaking out over already messing things up on the first day.

You didn’t know him at all, but you felt bad that he was so stressed. In turn, you decided to rip up your own papers. He looked at you like you were crazy, maybe because you were. What idiot does something like that?

You give him a warm smile. “There. Now we’re both missing it.”

All he can do is laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m Changmin.”

“Y/N.”

After that, Ji Changmin came to be another one of your closest friends. It was kind of silly that something your mother instilled in you at a young age had become such a big part of your life. It brought you people who you’d cherish forever. But it also brought people you wish you’d never met.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Y/N, babe, we can work through this—”

“Are you deaf?” Your tone raises and your feet carry you to the front door, swinging it open. “I said to get out of my apartment.”

“We’ve been together for three years. You’re not gonna fight for us?” He pleads, clasping his hands as he stands in front of you.

“Why would I? Why should I stay with someone who doesn’t value me enough to stay loyal?” You seethe, your anger growing in size the longer you glare at his pathetic face. The face of a man you thought would love you until death did you part.

“She meant nothing to me!” He tries to rationalize with you, but you won’t have any of it. You weren’t stupid and you sure as hell weren’t blind.

“Do you take me as a fucking fool, Daehyun? I’ve known for months that you weren’t ‘working late at the office’. She even DMed me and showed me screenshots of your messages. Now get out before I call the cops.” You’re so pissed off that you don’t even realize you’re crying, fat tears trickling down your hot cheeks.

“After all I’ve done for you and all I’ve given you? You’re gonna act like a bitch?” He drops the innocent boyfriend act, backing you into the doorframe.

“Leave, Daehyun.” You say flatly. You’re not gonna give him the satisfaction of crumbling beneath the weight of his words. You knew the truth, you knew what kind of person he truly was after all this time.

He scoffs, grabbing his jacket off the hook beside him and finally storming out of your apartment. You cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the sobs that so badly want to escape. You watch as he bumps shoulders with a stranger holding a box, thankfully not looking back at you.

You make eye contact with said stranger, eyes wide like a child who’d just gotten caught with their hands in a cookie jar. His eyes resemble those of your friends’ when you told them you’d found out about your boyfriend’s infidelity. You both stand there for a moment, an impromptu staring contest ensuing.

Quickly, you snap out of your trance, cowering into your apartment. You vaguely remember the elderly woman across the hall mentioning that someone was moving into the unit beside yours. She had never told you a specific date, though. Had you known it was today, you might’ve expedited the dramatic break-up with Daehyun.

How could you possibly introduce yourself to him after he witnessed that? And in your current state; snot-nosed and teary-eyed? There was no way. You’d just have to postpone that for another day. Hopefully he didn’t mind too much.

“Was he cute?”

“Kevin, why is that what you’re worried about?” Changmin’s mouth pulls into a thin line, smacking the slightly older male over the back of the head. He winces, caressing the spot to ease the pain.

“I wasn’t really paying attention to that when I had just shoved my cheating ex boyfriend out of my apartment,” you push around the ramyeon on your plate with your chopsticks. “I do feel terrible that he had to see that though. But how can I face him after that?”

Kevin taps his chin with his index finger, lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t you bake for him? Welcome him to the complex like the hospitable neighbor you are.”

“That’s not a half bad idea, actually.” Changmin nods, shoveling some rice onto his spoon. The Pisces deadpans and reclines in his chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, enough bickering you two. I need you to finish eating so I can start planning what to bake.”

The third time you practice your mother’s life lesson, is the next evening when you’re face-to-face with your neighbor’s door.

Your hands have begun to clam up beneath the warm tupperware of cookies you were holding. Were you supposed to just knock on his door like everything was fine and dandy? What if he wasn’t even home? Maybe you should just leave the baked goods with a note and—

The door swings open to reveal the stranger from a few days ago. However, this time he also wears that expression of shock, cat-like eyes widened. Your mouth moves like fish out of water, not sure what you should say or how you should say it. So you don’t think and you just act, extending the tupperware towards him.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N, I’m your neighbor,” your speech is a little shaky, but you’re too nervous to focus on that. “I— um— I baked these for you as a housewarming gift to welcome you to the complex. As well as an apology for making you a bystander in my messy breakup.”

His features relax as a smile inches its way onto his face, graciously accepting the treats you made for him. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. And don’t even worry about it, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“N-No, you’re fine, I swear! We shouldn’t have aired our dirty laundry so publicly like that. You did nothing wrong.” You wave your hands as if physically dismissing his words. He lets out a little chuckle that warms your chest.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad that you left the dude. He sounded like a total asshole,” your neighbor tucks the tupperware under his arm, leaning against the threshold of his apartment. “You seem too nice to settle for somebody like that. From what I’ve seen, of course.”

You don’t know why that has your heart skipping a beat like a high school girl. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he really was cute. He had a boyish charm to him, but not so much so that it overpowered how handsome he was. Kevin was going to have a field day with this information.

“Uh, thank you. I should be getting back to my place now. I have an early day at work tomorrow. Have a good night!” You clear your throat to kick yourself out of whatever stupor you were about to fall into, bowing. As you’re turning on your heel to make the ten foot trip to your own apartment, he calls out your name.

“I’m Juyeon, by the way.” He grins, waving as you push open your door.

“Now that is quite the interesting development.” Kevin snorts, helping himself to one of the raspberry filled donuts you’d just finished baking.

“If you keep eating my product, I’m gonna have to kick you out of the kitchen and out of my bakery,” you chide, swatting his hands away from the baker’s rack. “And how is that interesting in the slightest? I literally gave him the cookies, apologized, and that was that.”

“He was literally flirting with you, Y/N. Changmin, tell her I’m right. Apparently I’m no longer a voice of reason here.” He says through a full mouth.

“I mean, yeah? Kinda? Calling a girl nice is usually guy code for ‘I think you’re attractive and I could see myself sleeping with you’,” Changmin shrugs, tearing off a piece of Kevin’s donut. “But I also see where you’re coming from. You did just meet each other. He could’ve just been trying to console you in a way.”

“Why am I even friends with men when they’re useless?” You throw your head back, speaking to no one in particular.

Perhaps Kevin truly was overthinking the situation. Juyeon seemed to be a kind person who probably didn’t want any problems with his neighbors. It made sense why he’d side with you after witnessing your break up. Besides, the wounds were still too fresh to even consider thinking of anyone else in such a way. No matter how hot they may be…

You’d just have to wait and see for yourself. Only time could tell what would become of the nature of your relationship with your cute new neighbor.

You look insane with everything in your cart, filled to the brim with baking ingredients. It was around 10 PM and here you were, at the grocery store buying the things needed to make cinnamon rolls. Being a baker with a bit of a sweet tooth meant your cravings got a little out of hand at times, forcing you to make drastic decisions. (I.E. grocery shopping so late at night.)

Even your clothing choice was silly: flimsy pajama shorts with Care Bears patterned on them, a baggy t-shirt, and matching slippers. It’s not like anyone cared anyway. And it wasn’t like you were trying to impress anybody either.

But as you’re walking towards the registers, you start to regret your outfit. You very quickly spot your neighbor with a basket on his arm, waiting in line for self-checkout. You feel all the color drain from your face as you stand there, staring like an absolute idiot.

He’s dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants, a hoodie swallowing his figure. He looks so effortlessly good, it kind of makes you upset. Because how are you just now meeting a guy who’s both kind and attractive? As far as you were concerned, they didn’t exist in real life— they only existed in fairytales.

Juyeon looks up from his phone and catches your eye, his hand coming up to give you a little wave and one of those crinkly eye smiles that he does when you pass each other in the hall.

As the weeks have passed, you’ve seen him more and more than you deemed normal. You’d bump into each other on the way to or from picking up your mail, you’d hold the elevator for the other in record time, and you’d even leave your apartments at the same time. Now it appears you’re running into the guy at the supermarket, too. You tried to chalk it all up to coincidence, that you just both happened to be thinking on the same wavelength.

But shyly waving back to him right now reminds you that divine intervention had crazy ways of working its magic. Perhaps those had all just been openings for you to engage in something more with your cute neighbor. And there was only one way to find out.

You psych yourself up as you walk towards him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Juyeon’s smile grows wider as he notices you approaching. “Hey, stranger. What are you up to tonight?”

“Some late baking,” you giggle, wanting to punch yourself in the face for sounding like a goddamn school girl. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to come over and keep me company? Totally up to you of course! I just thought it might be nice to get to know each other properly.”

Your suggestion is what leads the two of you to meet back up at your apartment after purchasing your respective groceries. You attempt to tidy up as best you can while you wait for the knock at your door, setting out all the ingredients on the counter and preheating your oven.

The soft knock comes moments later and you find yourself practically running to open the door, grinning at the sheepish expression on Juyeon’s face. You allow him inside of your apartment, trailing after him into the kitchen. Part of you felt like you were moving on too fast after Daehyun. As a baker, your kitchen was your safe space. It was where you went when you needed to be alone and in the comfort of what you knew best. Kevin and Changmin were the only ones you trusted to be within that element. For you to let Juyeon in— to let him permeate the walls you’ve never let down before, not even with your ex— was brand new territory.

“I almost forgot you own a bakery,” Juyeon speaks up, fingers tracing along the stand mixer. “But seeing all this expensive equipment reminded me of that. It only makes sense that someone as sweet as you would constantly be around sweet treats.”

You fail to bite back your smile. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor. He laughs when you nudge his shoulder, grabbing all the dry ingredients for the dough.

“On a scale of one to ten, how patient are you?” You ask, avoiding his eyes as you open the flour. The question was in regards to several things.

“I’d say about an eight or nine. Patience is a virtue, you know. It comes easily if you practice hard enough.” He answers, leaning against the counter and watching you.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, searching for your measuring cups. Both you and Juyeon begin to measure out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. You decide to let him take some of the reins, folding in the mixture of milk, egg, butter, and yeast. While he does that, you prepare the cinnamon sugar.

“I think I’m done. What do I do next?” He turns to you, head cocked to the side slightly. You might actually die of cuteness aggression. The duality of man would one day drive you to the brink of insanity.

“Now you just knead it until it’s smooth.” Your back is to him as you say this, putting away any refrigerated items so they don’t go bad. But as you face him again, you wish you hadn’t.

Your eyes zero in on his hands, kneading the dough with careful, nimble fingers. You feel light-headed as you slip into a spell, gawking at how long and slender they are, massaging the dough like an expert. How had you never noticed how big and pretty his hands were?

Maybe baking with Juyeon was a bad idea. You could barely focus on anything but his fingers pressing the under-construction-cinnamon rolls into the counter. Oh how badly you wanted to be that dough— his hands all over you, groping and massaging and kneading and caressing everywhere they could reach.

The veins running up his arms weren’t helping either, instead fueling the fire burning in the pit of your stomach. You feel your lips part, eyes glossed over with that all too familiar lustful intensity. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had to wipe away drool after this.

“Y/N?” Juyeon glances up from the dough, a little taken aback by your reverie. He follows your line of sight, grinning to himself smugly when he realizes what has you so transfixed. He’s finally found your weakness, and he couldn’t wait to dangle it over your head. Patience was a virtue, but perhaps it would be okay for him to dabble with a vice for once.

He pushes out the dough, using his thumbs to spread it into a rectangular shape. He feels his blood pressure rising the darker your eyes get. However, he’s aware that you just recently got out of a relationship. He wants to move at a pace you’re comfortable with. So he won’t take the first step. He has to leave that up to you.

It’s at a certain point that you come to, blinking to force away the dirty thoughts plaguing your mind. You travel your field of vision to his face, where you find him already looking at you. Your cheeks heat up in mortification from being caught red-handed. You were just gawking at the poor guy’s like they were a piece of fresh meat. This was terrible.

You swallow thickly, averting eye contact to grab the bowl of cinnamon sugar. “Uh, we can start forming the rolls now so they can rise. And then— um— and then we can make the glaze.”

The burn of his gaze on your profile has you tripping over your words, cinnamon sugar sprinkling onto the counter space surrounding and the knife almost slipping from your grip when you go to cut the dough. Juyeon catches it for you, wrapping his fingers around yours to guide your movements and keep them steady.

You feel his breath behind your ear, his chest pressed to your back. His hand is so much larger than your own, nearly covering it entirely. He doesn’t make an effort to move either, rolling the dough into swirl shapes along with you. The whole time this is happening, neither of you are saying a word, letting the silence consume you and the air around you.

As the rolls are rising/baking, you set up everything necessary for making the icing. Juyeon watches with hearts in his eyes as you whisk the sugar, cream cheese, vanilla, and butter in a separate bowl. He wonders how many other people you let see you in this setting. How many people get to see you do the thing you love so dearly?

“I’d like to visit your bakery sometime, if you wouldn’t mind,” Juyeon suddenly says, resting his elbows on the counter as you taste test the icing. “I wanna try all of the desserts you bake.”

“I’m opening later tomorrow morning actually,” you smile, humming in appreciation when the sweetness of the glaze hits your taste buds. “You can come with me to try the fresh batches before I put them out? I’ll warn you though, I get there at like six.”

“AM?” His eyes practically pop out of their sockets.

“Yes, AM.” You laugh, lightly shoving him backwards.

“I’ll put like ten alarms so I can make sure I’m up in time, then.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue, tipping his head to the side. The goofy smile on your face remains even after minutes have passed and the two of you are just waiting for the cinnamon rolls to finish baking.

It feels like hours have gone by with the two of you standing there when they’re finally ready. The ding of the oven has you springing into action, putting on some oven mitts and taking out the baking sheet. Juyeon's eyes light up and even though you’d just been losing your mind over how insane he was making you, you find yourself cooing at him.

He laughs as you grab a couple spare icing bags for the cinnamon roll glaze, filling them generously. You hand one over to him and decide to split the rolls evenly, icing one half yourself while he does the other. And for once, you think that tonight might end normally. You think that nothing eventful will happen and you’ll just ice the cinnamon rolls without problems.

But you were wrong, like always.

“Ah, shit—”

You glance up from the roll you were glazing to see what the fuss was about. Juyeon’s icing bag tore somehow, the sticky topping getting all over his hand. Truly, you were no better than a man, with the filthy thoughts inhabiting your brain almost instantaneously.

He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking the glaze off the back of his hand and wrapping his lips around his thumb. You felt dizzy, drunk on the sight of your extremely attractive neighbor doing something so sensual without even trying to. You bite your lip, accidentally dropping your own icing bag due to lack of attention.

Juyeon smirks slightly, relishing in the way it takes absolutely nothing to hypnotize you with his hands alone. He really tried to keep himself contained. He really wanted you to extend the first olive branch, but he knows you’re apprehensive. So just this once, he tells himself that it’s okay to initiate, to give you a little push in the right direction.

He takes a step closer to you, caging you against the counter. You stare up at him with wide, doe eyes, as if you were completely innocent despite the naughty images flashing behind them. Juyeon brings his thumb up to your lips, the pad of it still covered in icing.

“Think you could clean this up for me?” He asks, voice low and husky. You could actually combust with that all on its own.

Just like your formal introduction, you don’t give yourself the time to think, and act, instead, running your tongue along the length of his thumb. Juyeon doesn’t restrain the groan in the back of his throat, holding your face in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

You reciprocate immediately, fisting his hoodie like it was the only thing capable of stabilizing you. Maybe it was, with the way Juyeon’s lips synchronized with yours and his fingers tangled in your hair. You thought the ground would swallow you whole and wake you up from this dream. On what planet did someone like Lee Juyeon like a girl like you?

His hands slide down your body, groping everything in their path desperately before cupping under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter. He knocks the baking sheet of cinnamon rolls out of the way, palms rubbing up and down the sides of your legs. You want more, so much more, but you’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid to start something you’re not even sure you can emotionally handle.

Juyeon senses your hesitation, detaching from you momentarily. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. I understand if you still need time.”

“N-No, I want this— I want you— I'm just… scared.” You breathe, your forehead using his shoulder for support.

“I'm not him, Y/N. I can give you the world if you’d let me. I’d never do what he did to you, that’s a promise.” He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing the crown of your head.

“Okay,” you nod, smiling up at him. “I trust you, Juyeon.”

You reconnect your lips as his fingers slip beneath your pajama shorts, toying with the waistband of your panties. His lips curl up when he feels you squirm, legs parting to make more room for him in the middle of them. You sigh, body shuddering when he drags his knuckle down your clothed slit.

Juyeon hooks his fingers into your shorts and underwear, hauling them down your legs. You place your hands behind you to brace yourself, a shiver trailing your spine when the cool air of your apartment hits your warm core. He groans again at the sight of you bare for him, using two fingers to spread your lower lips.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he swears, his thumb slowly circling your clit.

You whine, tossing your head back as he applies more pressure. Bit by bit, you begin to lose yourself to the pleasure of Juyeon’s gorgeous hands. Soon the stimulation on your clit amplifies when he adds another finger, thrusting it in and out of your entrance. He curls deep inside of you, like he was reaching for something he’d left.

One finger turns to two, and before you know it, Juyeon’s openly finger fucking you on the counter. He leans over your body to keep your lips together, kissing you sloppily while all his focus is on drawing you to the edge. You can almost taste it, your saccharine release in your field of vision now.

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly he was able to wind you up and trip you over the edge, but you feel too euphoric to care. You pause in your kiss to look down at his handy work. (No pun intended.) It makes your head feel foggy and your vision blurry to see his deft fingers fucking you open, veins bulging, like he’d done this many times before. Your hooded eyes follow them up his forearms, a whine escaping your lips.

A particular curl of his fingers and circle of his thumb have you clenching around him, creaming like you’d never had an orgasm in your life. He doesn’t slow his assault, bringing you down just to put you back up on that summit once again. The overstimulation has you cumming a second time in a matter of what felt like seconds, whimpers becoming voluminous moans.

Juyeon kisses you softly, gently pulling out his fingers to lick them clean like he did with the cinnamon roll glaze. A choked groan bubbles past your mouth, tossing an arm over your eyes. He laughs, towing you to the edge of the counter.

He brushes some stray hairs out of your face, moving your arm to smile dopily at you. “I hope you know I was being serious about the whole treating you better thing. If you’ll give me the chance.”

“I know. I told you I trust you, remember?” You nip at the inside of your cheek. His eyes crinkle up like they tend to do when he’s smiling so genuinely. It forces the wind out of you, because how could you ever get used to a sight so stunning?

“You’re so cute.” He laughs, kissing all around your face and smushing your cheeks together.

“Juyeon,” you mumble. “I’m half naked…”

“Even better,” he grins, pecking the tip of your nose. “Makes it that much easier to do all of the other things I wanna do to you.”

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