#so sad i already started my new play through without this
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Battinson on SNL
Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀
SO
To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”
But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.
Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨
But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.
They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.
So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.
He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?
Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.
It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:
OPENING MONOLOGUE
It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.
To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.
Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”
It’s working. The audience loves it.
Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.
Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.
There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.
Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!
(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)
SKIT #1
Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)
The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀
Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.
Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.
PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”
He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.
PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”
SKIT #2
For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.
It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.
He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.
Yes, he IS sparkly.
Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”
Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.
Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”
Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”
Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.
SKIT #3
The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.
Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another.
Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.
Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."
Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.
At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”
This time, the mic bit is a bit different.
Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”
Board dings! That was the #1 answer
Brucie Wayne for the win
SKIT #4
Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”
The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…
But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.
Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”
A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…
We hear some generic hero music play…
And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume
(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)
Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”
Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.
Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”
He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”
CLOSING SEGMENT
Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.
Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)
News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”
News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”
News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”
It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!
News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”
And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.
The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.
Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.
THE END
LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D
#battinson#bruce wayne#batman#batman 2022#the batman 2022#the batman#battinson needs a hug#gotham#dc universe#dc#saturday night live#snl#soft bruce wayne#batdad#batfamily#gotham city#brucie wayne#only in gotham#give battinson a child 2k23
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…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?
Content:
Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader
Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.
Maybe you watched too many movies.
Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.
Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.
In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.
Things like,
Still young, I want to explore…
How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?
Last bit of freedom before being tied down…
If you love me and our relationship…
You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.
An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.
You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.
You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.
Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.
It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.
Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.
The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.
“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”
You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.
The perfect place to be out but alone.
You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.
“Love that one.”
You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.
“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”
You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”
He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”
He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…
“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.
He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”
His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”
Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.
You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.
You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.
You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.
He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.
Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.
“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”
You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.
“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.
Kyle frowns. “What about you?”
You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.
“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”
Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.
“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”
You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.
“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”
His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.
#thoughts™️#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#misters steal your girl#poly 141#open relationship trope#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader
Summary: Astarion fears that he is forcing you to spend the rest of your life in darkness.
Astarion was lying on the bed, next to you, his eyes were staring at an indefinite point on the ceiling and between his eyebrows there were a few more wrinkles, as if he was intensely thinking.
The inn room was comfortable, clean, and scented with lavender. It was nice to finally be able to spend a few days of peace after Cazador's death and sleep in a real bed, next to someone you loved.
You looked at his profile, the curve of his lips, the white curls on the pillow and some falling onto his forehead, the way his chest remained completely still, devoid of a beating heart and air in his lungs.
His ruby eyes looked darker now that they were no longer in daylight and you found yourself thinking that you already missed the way they sparkled when hit by the sun's rays.
You glanced at the window in the room, the curtains were drawn so as not to let in the slightest bit of light, obviously. Ever since Astarion went back to not being able to be in the sunlight, you were always careful about that.
"Is something bothering you, Star?"
You already knew the answer, you knew him, but you didn't want to force any explanation.
"Don't you think you made the wrong choice?" He responded with another question, his voice low.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you think I am the wrong choice?" He continued speaking without looking at you, his pale hands lying one on his stomach and one on his side. You wanted to grab one, kiss his knuckles and play with his fingers in that way that always made him laugh no matter how hard he tried to hold it back.
You decided against it only because he seemed so deep in his thoughts that a sudden touch would start him. You knew that some types of physical contact were still new to him.
"Star-"
"I feel like I'm forcing you to spend the rest of your life in the dark, hiding."
"You're not forcing me, it was my decision to stay with you."
"This is exactly why I ask you: don't you think you made the wrong decision?"
"You will never be-"
He interrupted you.
"I want you to know that if at any moment you realize that this is not the life you want to live, that you are tired of hiding from the sun, I will understand.
And although I may never be ready to let you go, I will, because you deserve to live. You deserve to walk among people, village festivals, going through the markets, you deserve the sun's rays kissing your skin. And I don't want to deprive you of what you deserve, my love. I can't deprive you of living."
The way he spoke and the sincerity in his voice, devoid of any hint of sarcasm and irony, struck you in a way you couldn't quite place and left you speechless.
He was telling you to leave him for your own good.
"As much as I would like to have you next to me for eternity, I find it a too selfish idea. Even for me." He continued, "So I'm telling you, if one day I won't find you lying in bed next to me, don't feel guilty for running away from someone who was limiting you, who was forcing you into the darkness when you wanted to see the world.
I'll understand it. I won't lie and say I won't spend the rest of my days trying in vain to fill the void you left in me, but that won't change my mind. You deserve to live, my love. Not to hide."
He was saying you could go, even though it would cause him pain. That it was more important to know you were happy with someone else than unhappy with him. You wondered if there was a greater sign of love than this.
"My star."
The way you called him, maybe stirred something in him. He turned his head towards you and his gaze finally met yours, his red eyes were big, sad and full of affection.
“I would rather spend the rest of my life in the darkness with you than in the daylight with someone else.”
He slowly moved his body towards you, his hand gently brushing your hip and so you reached out to trace his features with your fingertips, brushing a curl away from his forehead.
You kept talking.
"The world is still alive when the sun goes down, we can go out and live with it. We can see how the moon reflects on the waves of the sea and on the surface of the lakes, we can walk in the woods that only we know, we can try to count the stars and invent new constellations."
His grip around you became firmer but still extremely gentle as he pushed you closer to his body. You put your arms around him in the same way and with your hand you caressed his back, aware that under the light fabric of his shirt, the scars of his past stood out on his skin.
You remembered the day he told you that it was okay, when you touched them, that they hadn't caused him physical pain in years and that, when he felt the tips of your fingers run gently over them, it was as if they were healing for a second time.
"I don't care what we do, as long as we're together. I'm not interested in running away from you because I don't want anyone else. You won't find my side of the bed empty one day, because that's the only place I want to be. You didn't force me to do anything, Star, it was my decision to be with you. And it will be my decision to stay with you every day to follow."
There was a moment of silence, then his lips curved into a slight smile. Almost invisible, but enough to show the tips of his white canines.
“You have always been so stubborn.” He murmured before leaving a kiss on your forehead. It was light and sweet and made you giggle.
"I think you like that."
"Just a bit."
"Just a bit?" You asked, pretending to be shocked.
"Mh-mh."
"Now don't you try to tell me that-"
When his cold lips met yours, you couldn't finish your sentence. The kiss was sweet, full of meaning and slower than usual.
Because in the end, you had all the time.
Because you weren't planning on leaving anytime soon.
#astarion x reader#astarion bg3 x reader#astarion fluff#astarion angst#astarion x reader angst#astarion x reader fluff
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Invisible string (pt. II)
♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader
♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.
♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining
♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing
♡ Word count: 13.2k
♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠
← part I ♡ part III →
The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.
After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.
You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.
Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.
You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.
“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”
Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”
You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”
“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.
You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.
As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.
Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.
But he’s also Minho.
Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.
How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?
How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?
How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?
Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.
You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.
“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”
You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.
“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”
Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.
The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.
God, you really don’t hate it one bit.
You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.
After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.
The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.
You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.
As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.
As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.
You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.
The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.
“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.
“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.
Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.
As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.
“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”
Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.
“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.
It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.
Yeah, that’s it.
Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.
It’s just your stupid hormones.
You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.
It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.
Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.
“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.
Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.
It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.
You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.
You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.
“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.
Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”
“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”
You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.
“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”
Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.
Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.
He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.
“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.
“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”
Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”
He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.
“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”
You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.
He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.
“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”
You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.
You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”
Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.
You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.
Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.
That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.
“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.
He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”
You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.
“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”
Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.
“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?
Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”
“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.
“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.
Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.
“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”
Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.
Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.
It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.
Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”
You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”
“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”
To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.
And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.
You smile.
“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”
Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.
You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.
You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.
“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”
He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”
“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”
Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.
“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”
You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.
“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.
Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”
He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.
“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”
You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.
Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”
“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.
“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”
“Is that why you two broke up?”
Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”
Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.
You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.
“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”
Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.
“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”
He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”
“Like soulmates?” You ask.
He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.
You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.
“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips.
“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”
Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”
“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”
You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”
He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”
“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”
Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.
“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”
As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.
However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.
You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.
“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”
Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”
You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.
“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”
“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”
You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.
You were probably over-analyzing his words.
But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?
The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.
But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.
Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.
After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”
You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.
The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.
His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.
After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.
It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.
So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.
Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.
Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.
As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.
You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.
After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.
You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.
And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.
“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”
You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”
You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.
“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”
You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.
“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.
Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.
“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”
It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.
Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.
“With me?”
“With you.”
His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.
You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”
“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”
Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”
And he does.
Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.
And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.
You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.
“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.
He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”
You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”
Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.
“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”
Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.
And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.
Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.
Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.
“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”
You let out a chuckle. “Really?”
He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”
Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.
You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.
You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.
You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.
Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.
“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.
You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”
Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.
Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.
As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.
“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”
Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”
You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”
“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter.
“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”
His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.
As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.
You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.
“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth.
You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.
His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.
“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”
You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”
Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.
The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.
And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.
“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.
So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.
Oh.
So that’s what’s going on.
You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.
“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease.
He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”
You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.
You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.
“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”
“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”
His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”
“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”
Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.
“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.
“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss.
You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.
“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.
“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”
With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.
Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.
“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly.
“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”
Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.
He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”
You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.
Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.
Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.
“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.
“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”
Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.
Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—
Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.
You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.
He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.
You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.
“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”
You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.
You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.
If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.
Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.
It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.
You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.
This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.
“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.
His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.
“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.
You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.
“It’s okay.”
Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.
Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.
You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—
The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.
Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.
He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.
He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.
Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.
“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.
Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.
You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.
Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.
Before they shoot open.
Because holy shit.
If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.
Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.
As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.
“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.
You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?
You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.
There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.
At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.
But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.
“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.
“Yeah, I just zoned out.”
Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.
“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?
“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.
With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”
“You’re not…?”
“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion.
“I really don’t.”
You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.
“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”
His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.
“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”
You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.
Minho was the complete opposite.
After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.
With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”
Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”
You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.
Minho was unquestionably different.
“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”
With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.
“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”
Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.
“What?”
“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”
You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.
“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”
Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.
“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”
But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.
“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”
♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1
#stray kids#stray kids fic#skz smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz fic#lee know fluff#lee know#lee know smut#lee know scenarios#stray kids x you#skz#fanfic#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know imagines#lee minho#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut
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douceur
⤹ now playing: k. by cigarettes after sex
PAIRING: boyfriend!jaehyun x female!reader
GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), fluff
WARNINGS: explicit language, alcohol consumption, pet names (kitten, honey, baby), short appearance of roommate!jungwoo, explicit sexual content; thigh riding, slight voyeurism (?), praise, suggestive scene of oral (m receiving)
not proofread, let me know if i missed any!
WC: 2k
A/N: this was sitting completely forgotten in my drafts. the first wip wasn't meant to include smut but oh well. anyway, perfume jaehyun has a very strong effect on me, so here's a little present from me to you
* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
the glugging sound of the deep red liquid pouring into the tall thin glass echoed in the silent room. soft breaths were coming in and out of your nose as you watched your boyfriend jaehyun placing the glass on the counter top and taking the other empty one to pour some wine in it too.
you were sitting cross-legged on the sofa of jaehyun's dim-lit apartment, your body angled towards him and your back turned against the window looking down on the busy city streets. even though it was just a bit past midnight, the whole city was lit up as if it was new year's eve.
you and your boyfriend jaehyun had just got back to his apartment after your date to the movies. the streets were lively, the sky was gleaming, the mood was dazzling, yet the night was chilling, so you and jaehyun decided to take your date back to his apartment. before you could even think about arguing, jaehyun reassured you that he would lend you his clothes as nightwear, as always, and that he had also bought those baby wipes that remove your makeup. that's what he called them.
jaehyun placed the bottle of wine on the counter, grabbed the two half-full glasses he just filled with the red liquid and headed towards the couch where you were sitting. he sat down with a huff and handed you one of the glasses.
you smiled before your glasses met with a clink and then the two of you took a small sip of the alcoholic substance that filled the inside of the glass. "let's put on some music, go and pick something kitten" jaehyun motioned you to the shelf next to the tv set where he stored his vinyls.
you squirmed excitedly and placed you glass on the coffee table in front of you before you got up. jaehyun playfully patted your butt as you got up from the sofa and waited to see which vinyl you would pick. you had been through his vinyl collection many times before, but you knew exactly what you were looking for.
you fingers brushed softly against the spines of the vinyl covers, rummaging through them until you found the so familiar cover you always chose.
you took the black and white cigarettes after sex vinyl out of the shelf and went over to jaehyun's record player to put it on. jaehyun rolled his eyes at the sight of it. "out of so many different vinyls, you always pick this one. "we're having a good time honey, why the sad music?" jaehyun asked you in a way to make you change your mind, but your actions were quicker than his words as the vinyl had already started playing.
you sat back down on the sofa and leaned to the coffee table to grab your wine glass. "don't act like it's not one of your favorites either. and i don't care if it's sad, it sounds so calming and beautiful" you defended yourself and jaehyun couldn't do anything else but laugh.
you started swaying along the soothing sound of the music, taking in your surroundings. you had been in jaehyun's apartment many times before, it also felt like your apartment too. it radiated warmth, serenity, and a kind of comfort you only felt when you were wrapped in his arms.
you unconsciously started humming along to the tune that filled in the silence that previously occupied the living room, slightly swaying your body along to the soft melody. jaehyun noticed that and smiled to himself, thinking how lucky he was to have you in his life, thinking how much he loved you.
without even looking at him, you noticed his eyes trained and you and turned your head towards him. you instantly returned his smile at the sight of his almost beaming face. "what are you smiling at? come on, let's dance" you urged him and took his hand to drag him from the sofa onto his feet.
jaehyun sighed at your actions, but he only did it because he knew it irritated you. deep down, he had been waiting for you to do this ever since the song started playing.
the two of you stood in the center of the living room, jaehyun's arms wrapped around your waist and your arms stretching up to reach the back of his neck. as if somebody casted a spell upon you, your bodies became one and with the cue of your feet, the two of you started swaying to the soothing sound.
you rested your head on top of jaehyun's chest, your ear sitting at the exact spot that allowed you to listen to his heartbeat. at this action of yours, jaehyun moved one of his arms from your waist to caress the back of your head. you felt calm. at ease. this is the place you always wanted to be at. the only place you only wanted to be at.
this beautiful moment between the two of you was suddenly interrupted by the jingling sound of keys and the banding of the front door opening, revealing the tall slender figure of a rushing jungwoo. you and jaehyun practically jumped out of your reverie at the abrupt emergence of the loud sound.
with quick and almost nervous movements, jungwoo kicked the door shut behind him and placed the keys on top of the kitchen counter before he went on to take off his shoes. he flashed you a bright smile that spread across his entire face and spoke up in a soft yet cheerful voice. "hey guys, sorry to ruin the mood, i'll be out of your feet in a minute. i'll stay in my room, don't bother about me. have a good time!" he said and hurried to his room.
you and jaehyun looked at each other and bursted out laughing at jungwoo's straight-to-the-point comment. he was actually true to his word; he sweeped his feet on the floor on his way to his bedroom and without even turning his body, he closed the door with a thud behind him.
jaehyun sighed after his laughter slowly faded and pulled away from you and went to sit on the couch. you immediately felt empty without his touch and you instatly found your body gravitating towards his, aching to be touched again.
but this touch you were aching for was tranferred in the spot right between your legs. you wanted jaehyun. you needed him. and you needed him right then and there.
without thinking, you shifted your body in a way that allowed your thighs to meet closer in order to give your aching area some kind of friction. you could already feel your panties getting wet, and the sight of jaehyun sitting in front you on the sofa with his upper body leaning back and his legs spread made your aching sensation even worse.
jaehyun looked at you and patted his hand on his thigh, signaling you to go towards him. you didn't need to be told much at that moment. you practically hurried to his lap and straddled him, putting your legs on each side of his thighs.
jaehyun rested both of his hands at the back of your thighs and gently pushed you closer to him. you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and he responded to your touch in an instant, deepenign the kiss even more than you initially wanted.
jaehyun kissed you slowly yet roughly and full of hunger. he was eager to taste more of you and he was as desperate for you as you were for him. his grip on your thighs tightened and you felt your pussy clench around nothing, longing to be touched.
you shifted the weight of body so that your thighs were pressing with more force on jaehyun, which only made you even more wet as you felt his growing hard length through his pants. an uncontrollable whimper left your lips into jaehyun's mouth and he smirked during the kiss at that sound.
without breaking the kiss, jaehyun spoke. "what is it kitten? something wrong down there?" his voice was muffled and bore a suggestive tone. your response was again another broken whimper and jaehyun chuckled at your already undone state.
you shluggishly started rocking your hips against jaehyun's clothed length in order to somehow relieve yourself from the almost painful sensation between your legs. jaehyun noticed your eagerness and with steardy hands, he lifted your hips and moved your body so that you sat on top of his thigh.
"there we go. this is much better kitten, isn't it?" jaehyun spoke with a low raspy voice. "now go ahead. help yourself honey, i'll watch" he said and you could swear you could feel your wetness drip down you leg.
you didn't need jaehyun's words to get you going though. you were moving your hips along his thigh, pressing onto it so that you could get as much friction as possible through the fabric of both your pants and his. you were too impatient to take them off, you just begun riding your boyfriend's thigh, gripping onto his shoulders to support your body from completely falling apart.
all this time jaehyun had his gaze fixated on you, his eyes darting from your face, to the spot your aching core met his thigh, and then back to your face. the expression of pleasure on your face and the breathy moans that left your lips had jaehyun reaching between his legs, cupping his dick outside his pants.
a low squeak escaped your lips as you were coming closer to your climax and jaehyun quickly moved his free hand to cover your mouth. "shhh, baby, you don't want jungwoo to come out of his room and see you like this" he whispered and you closed your eyes shut, muffled moans leaving your mouth into jaehyun's hand.
you felt you climax almost there. the movements of yous hips became faster and sloppier in an attempt to reach your high. jaehyun sensed it too and he flexed his thigh bone, which gave you a harder surface to grind on, finally reaching your climax. you buried your head into his shoulder, your body trembling at the relief of all this tension. jaehyun moved your hair away from your face and placed a tender kiss on your cheek. "you did great, baby. you were amazing" he praised you and you don't know how it was possible for your panties to get even more soaked than they already were.
you stayed like this for a moment to catch your breath and slowly lifted your head to meet jaehyun's eyes and kiss him. the kiss didn't last long though, as you heard jaehyun undoing his zipper and try to remove his pants. you grabbed his arm and stopped his movements before he could go any further.
"uh uh, what are you doing?" you asked him, teasingly.
jaehyun scoffed in desperation. "i mean, you gotta help me out on this one kitten," he said.
you got up from his lap and dropped down on your knees in front of him, right between his legs. you moved your hands at the waistband of his pants and with painfully slow movements you pulled them down to his ankles, dragging his underwear too at the same time, revealing his hard length already leaking with precum.
you leaned your upper body closer to him, taking his dick into your hand. you ran your thumb with a circling motion along his glistening tip, spreading some of his leaking cum across the sensitive area, which earned a low hiss from the male.
you brought his dick closer to your mouth, your lips barely touching his lenght. you looked up at jaehyun with an innocent puppy-eye look before you whispered right on top of the tip of his aching cock.
"let me handle this, babe"
* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
TAGS: @matchahyuck @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie
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Candles
Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.
Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader
Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?
notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.
Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one
18+ ONLY
- - - -
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day.
What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.
What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will.
What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.
It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed.
As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.
Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.
What would it be like … to call you his?
“Dad…Dad!”
“What!”
Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.
Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.
“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.
He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.
It’s his dad.
“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”
Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”
“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”
Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug.
Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”
“Go upstairs and get changed.”
She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior.
Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.
His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”
“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.
“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”
Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”
“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”
“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”
“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“
“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.
“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”
Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”
His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”
“Well you know where the door is.”
His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.
“Joel—“
“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”
-
If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.
Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.
“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.
He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”
You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.
The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.
And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.
“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.
You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.
“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.
Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”
You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.
“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”
You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”
His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”
You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length.
Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.
“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“
“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.
He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.
His soon to be complete family.
His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now.
Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.
“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.
You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.
Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you.
Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.
Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—
You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other.
You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.
The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother.
You curse under your breath.
You’re still going to have to see him today.
-
He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!
“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside.
Twins. you're having fucking twins.
Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.
…
You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.
But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.
Between your legs.
It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.
You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you.
So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?
Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy.
You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?
A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again?
“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“
“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”
You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.
Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.
Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”
You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.
You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length.
He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.
“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink.
Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted.
The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel.
The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.
“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”
You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats.
He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”
You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.
Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.
Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.
“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”
He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.
You’d gotten pretty good at that.
Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close.
You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”
You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.
His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly.
“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”
His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.
You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.
“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him.
You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.
He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.
You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet.
“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him.
You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.
You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you.
“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”
“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.
“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”
His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties.
He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek.
But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.
He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.
“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“
He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.
That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.
"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”
"I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.
His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:
“Then why you comin’ to me?”
There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp.
"... I just want... more.”
It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.
Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.
You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.
And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.
Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either.
He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.
Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.
You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.
“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”
He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”
You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children.
Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away.
"You said you wanted more.”
It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.
The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching.
Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after.
You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.
There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”
You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all.
But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome.
“Joel. No. Are you insane?”
“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“
“But it’s NOT!”
“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—
It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time.
You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.
“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”
“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”
The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.
He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"
Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”
Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway. “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”
She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.
You stare at the door, having not moved from your place.
The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.
You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”
You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”
Tommy observes your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”
You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.
It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?
You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?
Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.
Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife.
Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.
Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.
Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.
You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.
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Finale poll: Who are you Rooting for?
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This request is so middle school core but I'm such a sucker for this trope, could you do how the toxic Slytherin boys would react to either them finding out they were a bet or you finding out you were a bet? I <3 your writing
Slytherin boys – You find out you are a bet/They find out they were a bet
Warning: Toxic Slytherin boys and physical abuse (Tom Riddle), so please proceed with caution. Otherwise have fun reading!
Also: Not proofread.
A/N: Thank you for your kind words! Honestly, same – I love those tropes that are all over TikTok. 🙈 Glad you enjoy my writing!
Mattheo …
… clenches his jaw when you glare at him with tears in your eyes, angry at himself and angry at whoever told you about the stupid bet. He watched you shake your head in disbelief before taking something out of your pockets. It was the money they had bet on. You flung the money in his face before storming out of his room. Mattheo just closed his eyes, his anger reaching a new peak as the money made contact with his face. How dare you throw something into his face?
He wouldn’t bother running after you. You’d be crawling back to him in no time.
Theodore …
… scoffs at your accusations. “Do you really believe them over me? Do you have that little trust in me?” He raises his brows, mock hurt all over his face. Theodore would make you feel bad for doubting his love for you. If his friends were the ones who told you, he’d have to talk with them. If your friends somehow found out and told you, he’d make you question their loyalties. “Don’t you see, bella? They’re trying to rip us apart. You know your friend still has a crush on me, don’t you? I didn’t want to tell you, because I don’t want to see you hurt, but it is true, cara mia.”
And just like that, you start apologizing to him. With a heavy sigh, Theodore pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his body. “I forgive you. But please – never doubt my love for you again.”
Bullet dodged.
Lorenzo …
… rubs his hands over his face as he paces around in his room. You have been trying to talk to him – apologize for your wrongdoings – but he simply wouldn’t listen. Lorenzo had already known about the bet – he was the mastermind behind it after all. He had been watching you for a while but did not know how to approach you without appearing too needy. So, instead he told his friends to make a bet with you – the goal: You have to seduce Lorenzo Berkshire. You had actually agreed and given it your best. Enzo had enjoyed the advances you had made; all the attention you had given him.
And this whole drama of him ‘finding out’ and you tearfully apologizing was just a positive side effect. It was his way to ensure your emotional dependency on him.
“How could you do this to me?” He cried softly as he slid down the wall, face in his hands as he forced himself to cry. You immediately ran to him, falling to your knees in front of him as you tried to pry his hands from his face, apologies falling from your lips like a mantra.
When you finally uttered the magical words, he had hoped for he bit back a smirk before removing his hands from his tear-stained face. Please, I’ll do anything you ask of me!
Draco …
… stared at you in disbelief. How did you find out? Raking his hand through his hair he stared at you silently. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because he knew that nothing he said would make it better. After a minute of silence your tears finally fell, your bottom lip trembling at the betrayal. How could you do this to me.
Your voice came out in a broken whisper before you walked out of his room, leaving the blonde to watch you leave with sad eyes.
Blaise …
… was honestly impressed when he found out about the bet. He never would have guessed you to engage in silly things such as bets. He’d underestimated you. Blaise would tell you that he knew – he’d let everything play out and watch your reactions whenever he mentioned words such as ‘bet’, ‘honesty’ and ‘loyalty’.
“I love you so much, babe. I really appreciate your honest and good-natured heart.” Blaise whispered against your lips before passionately kissing you. When he wanted to pull back, you followed him with your lips not wanting to part yet – not ready to look him into his eyes yet. You were obviously ashamed for hiding something from your boyfriend and Blaise knew. Oh, he knew, and he would enjoy watching you squirm and do anything to please him. And if you ever got mad at him for something or denied him any request, he’d throw the truth into your face and make you pay.
Tom …
… is deeply disappointed when he finds out. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he feels. And when you finally walk through the door of his dorm – he is filled with blinding rage.
“I didn’t think you’d stoop so low … how pathetic.” He grit out, his steps slow as he walked towards you with a dark look on his face. You stared at him with confusion written all over your face, your eyes wide with fear as he pressed you against the wall, trapping you between his arms.
“I can’t believe I didn’t find out sooner – and don’t you dare deny it.” He spat, clenching his jaw as he penetrated your mind. Your eyes widened when he found what he was looking for. He knew.
“Yes. I know.” He murmurs, dragging his nose from your cheek to your ear – and before you know it, one of his hands moves to your throat, fingers gripping tight as he smashes your head against the door.
“Time to reap what you sow.”
#slytherin boys#toxic slytherin boys#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys headcanons#draco imagine#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire imagine#enzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#blaise zabini x reader#blaise zabini#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#angst
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Family therapy: A promising future.
-What do you think of “dad”? The first place medal again, aren't you proud of me?-
After the flash of the photo I looked at his old and tired face, he barely made a small smile that seemed totally fake, I knew what was hidden behind his smile, only jealousy and bitterness, I was sure what was going through his mind right now:
“That should be me, you stole my youth, my life, my triumphs”
But I think deep down he knew that all of that was a lie, he wouldn't have been able to get to where his body is now if it wasn't for me his father, Before I took his life he was just a teenager slowly approaching failure.
-HEY! Let's take a picture with just the guy for the hall of fame
My Ex-wife Karol and my son Nathan walked away from me and The photographer started taking pictures of my perfect body, When I did a double bicep curl the camera flash focused completely on me, My son Nathan's face of defeat In my old body was just funny. Maybe at one point Nathan could have accomplished all of this on his own, but now he was just a sad, overweight old man.
-Congratulations… “Son”-
Before I was a retired man, I used to be a teacher and had seen hundreds of kids like my son Nathan, he started skipping a few classes, failing most of the tests, going to the infirmary in PE and then getting caught smoking pot with his friends behind school. I knew if I didn't do something drastic, what would be the end of my son Nathan frying French fries at McDonald's and living in a tiny apartment with his teenage sweetheart who is pregnant.
His mom and I were so sick of Nathan we started fighting, and it led to a divorce, the only thing I had left in my life was Nathan and I couldn't let that last one slip through my hands.
Since there was someone who could help me and that was my old boss and friend, Principal Morris, we had done this trick so many times to deal with the Bullies in the school, just swapping their bodies for a week with their victims would make them turn model students.
I called him and I found out my problem with my son, without asking him, he gave me the recipe for his secret elixir, the body swapping potion, it was enough for two people to drink a bit of that potion, and they would immediately be in each other's bodies, and that I did I poured some into my coffee and into Nathan's breakfast juice, he didn't even notice the taste he drank every drop of that juice until he started to feel the effects of the potion.
Just a little dizziness, A little sleep and a blink later Our souls traded places occupying each other's bodies. Nathan was so confused by the identical person in front of him that he ran off to his room like a madman, he didn't even realize his huge belly was bouncing up and down as he ran his little feet around his old room where I sleep now.
Meanwhile, I was left alone in the dining room admiring my new youth In the kitchen mirror, It felt good to be a teenager again Although there was a lot of work to be done, I ran my hands over my soft and weak arms, but I already had everything planned, he had even bought a membership to the gym that was close to Nathan's school.
When everything seemed calmer in Nathan's room, pretending totally that you didn't know what hadn't happened, I spent hours pretending that I was on the computer looking for my information on body switching and things like that so that Nathan wouldn't suspect that I had something. What to do with this
I tried to calm him down by telling him that he wouldn't have to worry about anything in my body, he could sit his ass on the sulfate all day Watching TV or playing his video games and no one would notice that he was really just a 15-year-old, meanwhile I would go to the school and would pretend to do it.
As the years passed I improved Nathan's life, in just one year Nathan's life improved, his grades were perfect, and all the dedication I put into Nathan's diet and gym paid off, Nathan's adolescent muscles reacted very well to protein powder and weight lifting.
I got rid of the good for nothing, my son's friends and started making new friends at the gym my Gym bros, It's great to be young again, making friends is so easy, especially when you look as big and handsome as me.
And while I was living My second life they need, he didn't seem to get used to his new life, he avoided leaving the house as much as possible, and he became grumpy, all he does is clean the house, go to the supermarket and spend all day insulting kids his age while playing online video games, He hates when I walk shirtless around the house demanding my hard horny muscles or when I pose for the pictures I post on my new Instagram, he was so upset that his life has improved so much that he refused to give me his social media passwords, but it's okay there's nothing to make me proud of old Nathan.
Maybe in a couple of years when Nathan learns what it's like to be an adult responsible for getting back into his body In the meantime I'll enjoy myself a little more being a teenager, maybe I'm ready for dating now, I've always wanted to try something new, and I can't stop From looking at all the hot guys in the gym, and they keep staring at me, I don't think Nathan will mind if I fuck a guy or two while I'm in his body.
Sup If you liked this story or any of my other stories you can take a look at my story archive by subscribing to my page on Ko-fi, there are a lot of stories that haven't been published here yet and that are too hot for Tumblr.
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Meeting again. Alexia x reader part 3.
Reader is confronted by her friends.
Saying that tension was in the air would be an understatement. After the hellos, hugs and kisses the whole team went back to the changing room and took Leila with them. So there I was standing in front of Alexia, mapi, ingrid, parti, claudia, and aitana.
The silence was loud and their glares were unforgiving. All i thought to myself was that i didn't belong in barca anymore, i was cursing myself for ever choosing to leave city before Ingrid said “ We cant talk about this here how about we go to a restaurant and have a proper conversation.”
The rest of the girls seemed to agree with her, then Parti jumped and said “ okay then we will meet at our usual spot in about an hour, you still remembered no ?” she asked me with a sarcastic tone.
Confused, I only nodded and waited for them to all get inside before I breathed again. This encounter was harsh but I had a feeling it wasnt gonna get any easier.
After an hour I found myself at a table in my favorite restaurant with feelings I buried three years ago. All the anger, shame, and sadness came back with it. I waited a little before they all came together except alexia who was running late.
“ So how do you want to start this? Maybe with an apology for what you have done.” started Patri as soon as she sat down, which earned her a jab from Claudia who told her to be nicer.
“ i don't know what had gotten into you these past three years Patri but i don't this i have anything to apologies about.'' I replied with a defensive tone.
“ yes you do carino. You let us, no goodby no nothing we had to learn the news from instagram like everybody but we are not everybody we are your family and we felt hurt. Plus you didn't talk to us for 3 years. You denied every try at contacting you. You abandoned us you……” said mapi softly so as to not sound angry because she wasn't. They all went angry; they were just hurt.
“ Look, we don't have to do this. I came here to do my job and play good fucking football. I did this for my career not to rip my insides out again.'' I replied, trying to hold back my tears.
“ Darling, we are not trying to hurt you, we are trying to understand you. We are just curious why our best friend left us. ” explained ingrid with a concerned look on her face.
“ there is nothing to understand that your bestfriend is dead. She died three years ago. I have been a walking corpse since I left. I don't feel anything i am numb to everything.'' I managed to get out before a few tears left my eyes.
I then got up and went out. I was overwhelmed and all the feeling came back rushing. Which led me to hyperventilate. Suddenly I felt a hand on my back.
“ I am sorry about our reaction. We didn't know this would happen. We acted out of love for you. We missed you. We just are so very sorry just come back inside.” said aitana before pulling me into a hug.
I then started crying, all the tears i have been holding back decided to go out all at once.
“ i love her tan, i still do, i abandoned her, i gave up on her i didn't fight for her.'' I said while crying into tana’s shoulder.
“ I know darling, I know. She loves you too. She has been suffering without you we all have. Now just come back inside please.” she added running her hand through my back.
“ i dont think it's a good idea, I just want to go home now.” I said after we separated.
“ okay. Call me when you are ready to talk, okay.” she added before going back in.
When I got home Leila was already there. So as soon as I saw her on the couch I went straight to her and laid on her chest.
“ How did it go?” she said, running her hand through my hair.
“ fucking horrible.” I answered.
“ Do you want some ice cream?” she asked. “ I will get you some ice cream.” she answered herself after looking at me.
When Leila was gone the doorbell rang so i went to answer it.
And there she was in front of me, beautiful as ever. “ I know you want space but we need to talk.” she said and I ushered her in.
“ I miss you and I want you back.” she started after sitting on the couch. “ I know I was shitty to you, you didn't deserve what I put you through. I changed carino. You motivate me to get my priorities straight. You are my number 1 priority. You matter more than football more than le and more than life itself. Please give me a chance again. Please mi amor.”
Her words left me speechless. I was too tired to start over. I just want to be comforted and loved.
#alexia putellas fic#alexia x reader#alexia putellas#bataclan#alessia russo#mary earps#niamh charles#ona batlle#woso#woso fanfics#woso imagine#espwnt#mapi leon#magdalena eriksson#woso community#woso request#wosoreader
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chapter xxiii – gust & flame
Eris Vanserra x Reader
Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.
Word Count: 4,500+
masterlist
“You are being awfully quiet, my dear.”
Y/N blinked, getting mentally awoken by Leonora’s comment. “Sorry, I just…I don’t think the hand-made gown tailored specifically for me was necessary.”
Leonora looked confused. “And why is that?”
Y/N’s gaze couldn’t lift from the floor as she answered, “I do not think it is wise for me to attend the celebration.”
All of the servants and seamstresses froze from the statement and subtly looked at their Lady of Autumn for indication of how they should react.
But Leonora, calm and collected per usual, just gave Y/N a gentle smile. She nodded to the seamstress that was kneeling at Y/N’s foot to continue her work.
Then she looked up at Y/N without judgment or worry, but with an encouraging smirk and soft eyes. “Why would it not be wise for the mate of our new High Lord to attend his coronation, Y/N?”
The witch finally looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. “Will it not give the people of his Court the wrong idea? I am not the next Lady of Autumn, nor have I accepted his bond. I do not wish to put Eris in an uncomfortable position.”
Leonora gave a sad nod. “I see…” she sighed.
She turned around and gave everyone in the room a soft request to leave the two of them.
Y/N’s heart started beating faster as she watched them all quietly exit.
Was Leonora about to scold her? Yell at her for refusing to accept her son as his mate?
No, that couldn’t be it.
Leonora had been nothing but kind to Y/N since they met. Never once did she pressure her on behalf of Eris. She hardly ever brought up their relationship. Most of the time, Y/N felt like Leonora was just happy to have a new female friend in the Forest House, especially after so long of being a prisoner here.
Leonora offered Y/N her hand to help her off the platform she was standing on for the seamstresses. Then she held both of her hands gently as she told her, “You forget, Y/N, that you are more to Autumn Court than simply the mate of its new High Lord.”
Y/N’s brow furrowed.
Leonora smiled. “You are their savior. Yes, it was Eris who slayed Beron in the end. But he would not have had the courage or strength to do so without you. Most in this Court despised and feared Beron Vanserra. You have given this Court a chance for change.”
Y/N’s face grew hot from the praise.
Leonora gave her a sympathetic look before adding, “But also I cannot say that as Eris’ mother, I do not also have selfish motives, as well. You make him stronger. I worry how he will be if he if he goes through such a coronation alone.”
“But you and Lucien will be there,” Y/N tried to argue.
Leonora tilted her head and gave her a look. “It is not the same, and I think you know that, my dear.”
Then she looked down at the beginnings of the dress on Y/N’s body that the seamstresses had begun.
“As for the dress, Eris wishes to spoil you with finery and I can’t argue with his intentions,” Leonora teased with a smirk.
But her expression sobered. “However, I know neither he nor anyone else will fault you for avoiding such a celebration. So much has been thrust upon you, and in so little time. You must do what is best for you.”
Y/N frowned and looked down at herself. “I will let them finish the dress – if only to please everyone. I would feel bad for throwing away all their hard work they’ve already done.”
Leonora nodded. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”
–🍁–🍁–🍁–
In the following weeks, the Forest House was bustling with activity.
Apparently, the coronation included inviting every High Lord and Lady of of Prythian.
Which meant the servants and cooks were frantic with preparations. Lucien had explained to her that the staff saw this as an opportunity to show why Autumn Court should be considered the best of Prythian. With a new High Lord came a new chance to prove that Autumn Court could change for the better and they were not to be overlooked.
Therefore, Y/N tried to stay out of everyone’s way. She either hid in the library, continuing her personal research or she was in her workshop, keeping herself busy with spells and potions.
However, on the day of the coronation, she stayed hidden in her bedchambers, scared that leaving would only bring attention to the fact that she would not be attending the festivities.
Maids and seamstresses had knocked on her door early in the morning. But Y/N simply ignored them, not wanting to see the looks of disappointment when she told them she would not be going to the coronation.
Y/N tried to distract herself by the fire, sitting on a chaise lounge with a romance novel in hand when more aggressive knocking came at the door.
She planned on ignoring it again, but then she recognized the group of voices on the other side.
“Y/N, if you do not open the door, we will break it down!” Nesta threatened loudly.
She jumped up and hurried to the door to whip it open.
On the other side, were her three Valkyrie sisters: Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie.
Not only that, but they clearly dressed and done up for the coronation.
Nesta wore a simple black, velvet dress. But it was not simple in the way that it fit her body like a glove and edged toward risqué. Y/N had always appreciated how Night Court attire never strayed from being seductive and showing skin. Gwyn wore a more elegant black dress, which made Y/N wonder if Nesta was using her mate’s money to buy her friends luxurious gowns. Emerie wore leathers, that could have been a warrior’s uniform, over pants. Though less feminine, they were still formal and lavish in their own way.
When the Illyrian saw Y/N eyeing her outfit, she shrugged. “I was never really one for gowns…”
“You all look beautiful,” Y/N muttered. “B-But w-what are you doing here?” Y/N gasped in shock.
“We’re here for you, obviously!” Gwyn urged and pulled Y/N into a warm hug.
“Eris invited us,” Emerie confirmed with a smile, also walking into her rooms.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Nesta asked, looking Y/N up and down as she closed the door behind them.
Y/N frowned. “I…I am not going.” Her eyes stayed down, scared to see their reactions to such a confession.
But, without hesitation, Gwyn announced, “Then we will stay in here and drink ourselves silly!”
Y/N’s jaw dropped at how unfazed her friends were. “B-But you will miss the festivities. And you all look so lovely.”
Nesta rolled her eyes. “This will not be our last opportunity to dress up. We would much rather hang out with you than all the stuffy High Lords and their nobles.”
Then Emerie nudged Nesta. “But we must still tell her our plan.”
“Plan?” Y/N questioned, eyes scanning all of them.
“Helion Spell-Cleaver will be in attendance!” Gwyn squealed.
Y/N’s brow furrowed, immediately thinking of Leonora and Lucien. She wondered if the Lady of Autumn would ever reveal to her past lover and her youngest son of the secret relation. Or if Leonora would ever follow her heart and return to Helion.
“Yes, all of the High Lord’s have been invited…” Y/N muttered, not understanding their clear excitement.
“Helion is the sole owner of the last of the pegasuses,” Emerie explained.
Nesta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And he makes sure to remind everyone of it, using them as his transport to any event he possibly can.”
Y/N’s amusement dropped for concern. “Please, please, please tell me you do not plan on stealing Helion’s pegasuses.”
“Don’t be silly,” Gwyn brushed off. “However, we do plan on sneaking into their enclosure to give them some pets.”
“And perhaps seducing Helion into giving us one or two…” Nesta added while looking at her nails. Y/N gaped at her. “What? He’s already propositioned me to join an orgy once when I visited Day Court.”
“Yes, before you accepted Cassian as your mate!” Emerie pointed out.
Nesta quirked a brow. “Who said Cassian would not be participating?”
“Those smutty books of yours have given you too many ideas,” Y/N laughed.
“More like inspiration,” Nesta corrected. “And inspiration that my mate is very enthusiastic about trying.” Then she pointed to the book Y/N had been reading when they arrived and quirked a brow. "Do not pretend you are above them."
“OK. Enough about your bedroom habits!” Gwyn interrupted. Then she turned her attention to Y/N. “Are you in or are you out?”
The witch smiled. “Of course I’m in.”
Minutes later, they were sneaking around the Forest House, Y/N led them toward where she assumed any guests horses would be quartered for the night.
But before they could reach it, a gust of wind wrapped around the females.
“He…needs…you,” The wind whispered to Y/N. “Go…to…him. He cannot…do this…without you.”
Y/N froze in the hallway.
“What? What is it?” Emerie asked.
“I-I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. “Eris needs me. I will catch up to you later.”
“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” Gwyn cried. “As if we would make you go alone.”
“She’s right,” Nesta added. “Someone needs to do your hair and makeup.”
–🍁–🍁–🍁–
Eris swore his back had a metal pole along his spine with out tense and stiff his posture was. He knew his expressions were cold and unwelcoming. But he was in a room with too many people he had yet to decipher friend or foe. The nobles of Autumn Court smiled at him, but most only wanted good favor with the new High Lord. And for those that weren’t smiling, there were plenty that looked at him with fear or uneasiness, trying to gauge if he was just as bad as Beron.
His mother kept giving him tense, but encouraging smiles every time he spotted her in the crowded hall.
When to use his mask and when to reveal his true self, Eris did not know.
It was easier when Y/N was by his side. She eased him, reminded him of who he truly was. The mask never felt needed when her scent surrounded him.
But his mate was not here, nor was she coming.
And Eris couldn’t blame her. These events of politics and groveling were conniving at their best and boring at their worst. If he could skip it too, he would have. But that was no way to officially take over the throne of a broken court that needed mending.
Eris once again caught sight of a group of courtier daughters. They whispered and giggled at him, hardly even bothering to subdue their staring. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed how they seemed to edge closer and closer as the night went on.
Yes, Eris was handsome and powerful. Female attention was not something he was unaccustomed to. But he knew what those females were truly after were the wealth and power being married to a High Lord would bring. It didn’t matter that everyone knew of his mortal witch mate. They wanted him for themselves regardless.
His attire did nothing to help him blend in to the crowd. New, custom armor glinted against the thousands of candles and faelight surrounding them. And the blood red cloak stood out – even in Autumn Court.
Eris threw back the rest of his faerie wine, hoping he could get drunk enough to keep his wits about him, while also making the evening go by faster.
“Another?” A male voice offered from over his shoulder.
Eris turned to see Rhysand handing him another full glass, Feyre glued to his side with a knowing smirk.
“I promise I did not poison it,” Rhysand added.
“At this point, you would be doing me a favor,” Eris grumbled, taking a sip immediately.
Rhysand smirked. “Already over being High Lord, Eris?”
“I became High Lord to make my Court a better place, not to rub shoulders with nobles and courtiers who wish to use me to gain favor…”
“And I’m sure being away from Y/N is only making your mood more sour,” Feyre muttered more teasingly.
“She may do what pleases her. I’m sure her Valkyries have found her by now and are keeping her company.”
“Are you quite sure about that…” Feyre asked as she looked behind Eris.
The High Lord of Autumn Court quickly turned to follow her gaze.
At the entrance of the great hall stood Y/N.
Eris felt the invisible string attached to his heart go taut. A feeling Y/N had not experienced, and probably never would.
Despite her entrance not being formally announced, many had gone quiet and began to stare.
Someone had pulled Y/N’s hair up and done her makeup. Though Eris found her beautiful regardless, the level of glamour around her made her magnetic.
Meanwhile, Y/N held her head high as she slowly, yet confidently, walked further into the room. She was doing a good job of ignoring the scrutiny, but Eris could tell that she was more than aware of the staring.
Her dress fit her perfectly. And while most attendees wore green and the rustic browns of the court, Y/N had not strayed away from vibrant red, almost looking as if she were glowing like fire itself. Eris realized it matched with his own cloak. There were strips of black in her gown that felt like a call out to her short time in Night Court, where she had already gained respect and acceptance.
Eris wanted to go to her immediately. But he had to hold himself back. There was a reason she was late and walked in alone, instead of on his arm. It was clear that she worried about making his court believe she had accepted the mating bond.
But if Eris had his way, he’d use his magic to shove everyone out of the path from Y/N to him. He’d stop any conversation he was having – no matter how rude or undiplomatic it was – to give her his full attention and affection.
“Will you not go to her?” Feyre asked, concern obvious in her tone.
Y/N’s friends of the Night Court were unaware of the the change in her relationship with the High Lord of Autumn. They did not realize how far the two had come, how much had changed. Everything was so much more complicated than how it had begun: a male desperately hiding his mate in a court that was not his.
–🍁–
Y/N felt the eyes on her. She wondered if all of them were judgment or if there was also just innocent curiosity.
She wished she’d forced the Valkyries to drink heavily with her before leaving her bedchambers, because being sober for this felt like a cruel torture.
The three of them convinced Y/N that she needed to walk in without them. That she needed to walk in confident and independent.
But Y/N underestimated how many stares she'd receive in return.
So, she decided to straight line to where refreshments were being served. Feyre had once warned her away from fae wine, for it is far too strong for mortals to consume in the same manner as fae.
But right now, Y/N didn’t care.
Of course she couldn’t make it there without overhearing a group of females. Whether they had noticed her arrival, she had yet to discern.
“Now that his dreadful father is dead, I wonder where the High Lord will find his…entertainment,” one female said somewhat quietly.
Another chimed in with, “I once heard he would only bed harlots at pleasure halls in other Courts, in fear that Beron would kill any female who could sire a child from him.”
“But now he has a mate. Surely that means any and all of our efforts will be wasted,” a third female added.
“Oh, please.” The first female scoffed. Y/N didn’t have to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. “She is not even a fae. Truly, how long do you believe we will have to stay away before her mortal life ends?”
This is a terrible mistake, Y/N thought. She should have never shown her face here. This was exactly what she had been wanting to avoid.
Obviously Eris was a desired male – High Lord or not. And who was she to get in the way of him finding a suitor that was of his Court, of his own kind?
But, suddenly, the females stopped talking abruptly.
Had they finally noticed Y/N’s presence? Did they even care enough to make sure she didn’t overhear such things?
“High Lord Eris,” the first one greeted overly sweet. “How lovely of you to join us.”
Y/N whipped around to find Eris’ eyes already locked to hers as he stood a few feet away from her.
He ignored the female High Fae entirely, not even glancing in her direction.
Y/N didn’t know how to address him in such a setting. She looked around before starting to lower her head into a bow.
You do not bow to anyone, Rhysand’s voice suddenly snuck into her head.
With her dress and fanciful jewelry, Y/N had removed her protective amulet that stopped any daemati from entering her mind. That meant the High Lord and Lady of Night Court were free to speak to her mind freely.
Ignore them, Rhysand added. He has been waiting for you all night.
Eris didn’t greet Y/N verbally. Because nothing would’ve felt right.
But his eyes said everything.
And slowly he offered her his hand.
Y/N’s chest heaved as she put her glass down before stepping forward and lightly placing her hand in his grip.
Without breaking eye contact, Eris lowered his mouth and kissed it.
Without hesitating, he pulled Y/N to him and tucked her hand under his arm so it gripped his bicep. Then he placed his other hand over it, securing her further to his side.
Without asking for direction, Y/N quietly followed him as he guided them to the center of the room.
There was suddenly a female gasp from behind them. Eris didn’t turn, but Y/N looked over her shoulder to see that the first female from the group was covered in red wine. So much so that it was dripping off of her fine gown.
And there was Nesta… holding an empty glass with a smug, but melodramatically innocent look. Gwyn and Emerie were trying to hide their amusement.
"My mistake," Nesta gasped deviously.
Y/N didn’t know when her friends had joined her, but clearly it was early enough that they had caught the dreadful things those females had been saying about her and her mate with their fae hearing.
Then there was a screech of fear and a soft growl.
She looked down to see that her new little pet fox, Ronan, was nipping and growling at the group of rude females. How he escaped from her bedchambers was beyond her. But clearly he didn’t like being away from her.
Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the sight.
Then she whistled softly and Ronan’s head snapped in her direction. He didn’t need another command, so he floppily ran to her and Eris, trotting along beside them.
When she turned forward again, Y/N realized Eris was leading them to the throne.
And with the wave of his hand, Eris pushed his throne over a foot and a second one appeared magically beside it.
Y/N’s head whipped to him, wanting to ask him what in the Cauldron he was doing.
But then she realized he was making a statement. There were some who would question her and her relationship with their new High Lord. But Eris was announcing to everyone that she was to be treated and respected as their High Lady, whether she accepted his bond or not.
“Eris,” she whispered in a hiss.
Her anxiety was skyrocketing at the statement he was about to make.
But he ignored her subtle plea, and instead just said, “Head high, little witch.”
He guided her carefully up the steps that led to the throne and waited for her to sit before he took his own.
The room quieted and turned their attention to Eris.
Y/N controlled her expressions, but her heart was racing from confusion of what she was meant to do.
They will crown him now, Rhysand’s voice entered Y/N’s mind again. He wants you at his side, therefore you belong there. Act like you know it.
Y/N found both Rhysand and Feyre in the crowd, which was fairly easy since they were the only people wearing black in a sea of mostly Autumn Colors – except for the other High Lords that were in attendance.
The couple gave her encouraging grins. Then she found Cassian, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie standing next to them, doing the same.
Cassian gave her a proud and beaming smile.
Y/N listened as one of Eris’ advisors started speaking the ritual of crowning the newest High Lord.
It was shorter than she expected. Though she struggled with paying attention, too focused on maintaining her posture and composure while being put on the same display as Eris.
Then the advisor was standing behind Eris, slowly lowering a rustic golden crown atop his head. It was in the shape of fallen leaves, with subtle hints of autumn red and green in the detailing.
As soon as it settled on his head, Eris turned to Y/N with his hand outstretched to her.
Without hesitation, she took it.
Together they stood.
The room immediately lowered into a bow – except for the other High Lords, who only subtly bowed their head in respect.
Y/N found Leonora’s gaze amongst them and she had a proud smile on her lips, but it was not only directed at her son.
Eris helped Y/N sit once again.
People started moving closer toward the throne.
Y/N realized the courtiers and lords were swearing their allegiance now.
A male high fae stepped forward first, bowing his strawberry blonde head deeply.
“Lord Foley,” Eris greeted indifferently.
The male bowed his head again and then turned his gaze to Y/N, opening his mouth to formally introduce himself to her.
“You are Eoghan Foley?” Y/N asked him before he could speak.
The males eyes widened in surprise.
“You own the majority of farms in the south east territory, correct?”
The male looked even more surprised.
Eris smirked at his mate, deciding to let her speak while he watched.
“You are known for paying your farmers the most, even when Beron underpaid you in an attempt to raise competition amongst other lords.”
Eoghan bowed his head. “My workers deserve a fair wage, Lady Y/N. When treated with respect they are more inclined to stay and there is less loss.”
Y/N then turned to Eris, having a silent conversation with their eyes.
“And for that, you shall be rewarded,” Eris’ voice came out strong and confident. And the entire room could clearly hear it. His gaze moved about the room. “The days of exploitation are over. Those of Autumn Court deserve to be paid for their work. Such competition only turns us against each other.” His eyes moved back to the lord. “A bonus will be delivered to you before nightfall tomorrow, Lord Foley.”
The male looked taken aback at such a decision. He half-expected to find that Eris was no better than his tyrant father. But he was instantly proven wrong.
“T-Thank you High Lord Eris,” he said with another bow. Then he looked up at Y/N before turning his gaze to the floor. “And to you, Lady Y/N. Our people are already indebted to you for bringing Autumn Court back into the light.”
“I hear your wife is a talented sculptor, Lord Foley.” Y/N noted with kindness in her eyes. “I hope to see her work for myself someday.”
“Any time you wish, Lady Y/N.”
“Enough business and politics for tonight,” Eris announced once Lord Foley had moved back into the crowd.
Then he eyed the other High Lords who were in attendance. All of them had been studying him and his interactions carefully. “Otherwise, we shall be spilling Autumn’s secrets to our guests who have their own Courts to govern.”
His courtiers laughed lightly at his joke.
With the swipe of Eris’ hand, the lighting in the room darkened to a moodier setting. And the symphony took their signal to begin playing music.
The guests started coupling up to dance.
Once again, Eris stood and offered Y/N his hand.
She took it, but moved close to his side so she could whisper, “I do not know these formal dances.”
Eris squeezed her hand tightly. “Trust me,” he simply whispered back.
When they entered the center of the dance floor, Eris pulled them into the proper stance. “I will lead. Just relax and do not overthink it.”
And Y/N did just that.
Either the steps were not as complicated as she had presumed or Eris was good dance partner. But they swayed across the floor. And despite hundreds of eyes watching them, the room disappeared around them, and it was just them.
“Thank you for saving me,” Eris whispered in her ear as he pulled her even closer.
Y/N knew this closeness was more immoral and informal, but she needed it. And if it was improper, Eris didn’t seem to care one bit.
“I hardly did anything,” Y/N admitted softly.
“You did more than you could ever understand,” he countered quickly. “You continue to be my savior, Y/N.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Y/N confessed softly. Her lips quirked as she added, “The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others.” Repeating her past statement from the night he had confessed how lonely he'd once been in this court.
Eris stopped abruptly, pulling their dance to a halt.
His eyes slowly went from her eyes to her lips.
Y/N knew he wanted to kiss her. She could feel it. And she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want him to, as well.
Eris was calculating how safe it was to show such affection to his mate so publicly. Another voice in his head was telling him he should to whatever he damn well pleased.
A deep voice cleared their throat behind her.
They turned to see Cassian standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
He gave a polite bow to them. “I was hoping to share a dance with my favorite witch.”
Y/N smiled at his playfulness. But she also saw the hidden message in his gaze. Her friend was trying to save her if she so wanted it.
She turned back to Eris, half expecting him to be giving the Illyrian a death glare. But the High Lord only nodded, and slowly removed Y/N from his grasp.
“She has much to share with her friends,” Eris offered him.
“Shall we?” Cassian asked her with his hand offered.
The Illyrian's dancing just further proved how skilled Eris was. But Y/N didn't mind Cassian's clumsy feet.
“I am the only witch you know,” she glared playfully at him.
“Yes, but if I were to ever meet any more, you would still be my favorite.” He spun her sloppily, ignoring the steps everyone else was following.
He lowered his voice as he said, “I only wanted to offer you an escape. It seems tensions are high between the two of you…”
“Thank you,” Y/N told him with a frown. “I fear I am lost.”
His brow furrowed as he turned them. “How so?”
Her eyes surprisingly welled with tears. “Cassian…I-I-I love him.”
-------------------
I know it took me a long time to update. But I worked really hard on this. And I loved putting together everyone's outfits. 🥹
Please leave a lovely comment. You know I love a book report.
@pancakefancake
#acotar#gust & flame#eris#eris acotar#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris vanserra x reader#a court of thorns and roses#autumn court#high lord of autumn#lady of autumn#cassian#nesta archeron#gwyneth berdara#emerie of illyria
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can i just word vomit for a min...
there was a point in late 2023 where i felt like i overstayed my welcome on simblr and i planned on just wrapping frozen pines up as quickly as possible and moving on. continuing to write when it's clear that the audience for it is dwindling felt so embarrassing that i almost didn't even want to put effort into it anymore, because i was afraid it just looked pathetic (obligatory disclaimer: no one made me feel this way, you're all so lovely, it's just the nature of seeing a community change over 7 years). writing already feels very personal to me and it's becoming increasingly harder for me to put my work out there (again, for reasons unrelated to simblr and entirely related to mental illness 🤙🏻). i know my story is so long that it deters new readers, and so sporadic that it makes old readers drop off with time. this has really been bothering me lately because i don't know what i can do to fix it. i don't think there IS anything i can do.
but. okay. don't make fun of me for saying this. dan and phil returning to youtube kinda changed my mindset? they may be pulling a fraction of the views they got in their peak, but they're happier than they've ever been and they're working on things they actually want to do, not things they think will be particularly popular. seeing that has made me realize that it is possible to keep finding joy in a community that has largely moved on without you. obviously my little blog is nowhere near the same scale, so this feels kind of silly, but i've been thinking about all the things i used to do on simblr that were never fun for me, i mainly did them because i knew they would get notes or because i felt like i had to do it. making cc, lookbooks, sim requests, reshade help (oh my god the reshade help), lot downloads, etc. they DID get notes, but i can't imagine spending my time doing any of that stuff ever again tbh.
on top of that, it makes me sad to scroll through my dash and realize that i don't recognize most of the people i see anymore. i still talk to some wonderful people here who i consider friends and that's invaluable to me (💖), but the broader community aspect is something i no longer feel a part of. and believe me, i know i'm at fault here because it's not like i'm going out of my way to talk to new people or participate in trends like i used to. i don't blame anyone except the passage of time!!
frozen pines, and simblr by extension, played such a gigantic part in my life when i needed it the most. and that's not to say that i don't still care about it, because i absolutely do, but it's a different kind of feeling. i've always promised that i would give frozen pines a satisfying conclusion rather than silently abandoning it someday, and though i do intend to keep that promise, i know it's possible that i might never get there. but i don't want to let my own insecurities get in the way of something i really enjoy doing. writing is an intrinsic piece of me that i'll never quit doing, but sharing my writing on tumblr is something that can't (and shouldn't) last forever. i know that. but i'm going to enjoy it to the fullest while we're all still here together 💞
to anyone who's still reading my silly story after all these years (especially those of you who still check in on my blog even though you're not on simblr anymore): thank you thank you thank you THANK YOUUU. you don't have to change a single thing about what you're doing. this is not me fishing for compliments or putting down an ultimatum, this is just me trying to make sense of my feelings.
but with all this being said, i've decided to quit simblr and start my own exclusive streaming service for $60 a year, i hope you'll all support me as i increase my production value 😌
(just kidding. ily. okay that's all)
#to be 100% clear this is not a goodbye - i'm literally halfway done with the next story post#just sort of an update on the state of my brain#👍🏻#btw...... sorry to Watcher fans lmaoo you guys really got the short end of the parasocial relationship stick..... </3#that's not relevant to anything i've said here i've just spent way too much time thinking about how youtube has changed in the past 20 year#because i'm a loser that got really into youtube when i was 11 and never looked back#and then the watcher thing happened. and i was like ohhh if dan and phil did that to me i would have to die about it.
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YOU’RE LOSING ME — JACK HUGHES
jack hughes x fem!reader
summary: in which y/n is struggling to grasp the fact that she and jack have grown apart amongst his newfound nhl stardom
warnings: angst, neglectful jack, dying relationship, long intro (so sorry), alcohol
specific lyrics: “remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light. now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time” and “how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?” and “how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier. fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me. i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me). and i wouldn't marry me either; a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her. and I'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"”
notes: idk how i feel about this. it’s been awhile since i’ve written an actual fic so i think my writing is a little rusty. there will be no part 2 to this one! i know y’all love when i make part 2’s to my angsty fics, but some fics i just wanna keep as angst and this is one of them <3
maybe we were naïve. young and innocent in thinking our love would last forever. that we could withstand everything the universe had to throw at us.
i could give us this; we did last past Jack’s rookie year. but maybe that’s when things started breaking. i couldn’t tell you for certain.
when we moved to New Jersey, we were going on three years into our relationship. we thought that milestone of three years meant we would be together forever.
we went apartment hunting, i opted to go into online schooling rather than on campus classes, late night whispers consisted of marriage and future children.
now, the last time i even brought up marriage, he told me he wasn’t ready for that. that he was at the peak of his career and didn’t want to spend time that could be used bettering his skills, to plan a wedding.
i spend most nights in an empty bed, the cold sheets serving as a harsh reminder that my boyfriend would rather go out with his teammates than spend time with me.
rather than the past early mornings of soft loving stares and cuddling on his bare chest, i now spend my mornings glaring towards my boyfriends sleeping figure; trying to calculate when he may have gotten home after i had already fallen asleep.
seven years. one-third of my life, spent with Jack.
no one ever said love would be easy; but no one ever told me it would be this hard either.
the mug in my hands is at risk of breaking from my grip, the coffee inside having gone cold. a cruel euphemism to how our relationship has cooled. the burning fire that it once was, now fizzling to dying sparks. but i still hold onto what’s left, because i’m not sure i know how to live a life without him anymore.
i sit curled up on the sofa, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the New Jersey skyline. i still remember the day that Jack and i decided on this apartment, this room was a deciding factor. we loved the lighting, the way the sun shone through the windows and cast a golden haze over the rest of the apartment.
now i sit in the darkness nearly every night, wondering if this was the end of our relationship; if it’s time.
the worst part is that we keep going on. keep playing house. pretending that our relationship is still as happy as it once was.
‘i love you’s never became a rarity, still uttered past our lips multiple times a day. but i know his words only hold an empty promise now.
how can he say he loves me when he can’t tell that this relationship is killing me?
that this dynamic of our relationship becoming a chore has slowly broken me down?
our life is robotic now. we wake up, he leaves for practice, i stay home, i do school, he comes home for a pre-game nap, he leaves for a game, i still stay home, i go to bed, he comes home, repeat.
even worse when he’s away. what once started as facetime calls whenever he was free on a roadie, slowly died until it’s nothing but a few measly unsubstantial texts.
at first i thought maybe we were just going through a rough patch, that we would get through this, but now i fear we won’t.
***
my eyes track my boyfriend at the crowded rooftop bar as i nod my head, only half paying attention to what Ryleigh says.
Nico’s surprise party has been a success. for Nico, at least.
i, selfishly, thought i would use this party as an opportunity to grasp Jack’s attention. i wore the dress that he used to say was his favorite, but not once did he mention it. i curled my hair because i knew how much he loved it, but he didn’t compliment it how he usually does. i dolled myself up in hopes that it would glue him to my side. maybe even spark that possessiveness he used to hold for me.
but instead, all i got was a measly and empty ‘hey babe, you look nice.’ when i arrived, before he chased Dawson down to discuss some new bar he wanted to check out after their next win.
i spent the next hour following him around like a lost puppy, standing by his side as he spoke to his teammates. if he hadn’t had his hand resting on my lower back, i would’ve thought he forgot i was there. but somehow being forgotten would’ve felt better than being ignored.
i’m the best thing at this party, or at least i should be to him, and he barely spared me a second glance.
eventually, i saltily left to find the other wives and girlfriends. for the past three hours now, i sit with Ryleigh and Darya. Ryleigh is currently recounting she and Dawson’s date night last night.
the party has been dwindling down, our group of people among the bar slowly dispersing, giving their final birthday wishes to Nico and going home.
“what about you and Jack?”
“hmm?” i perk up at the mention of my boyfriend, dragging my line of sight away from said boy and back towards my friends.
“i asked about you and Jack. when was your guys’ last date night? how was it?” Ryleigh is only trying to be polite, i know that. but she’s only reminded me that Jack and i haven’t gone on a date in what has to be at least six months.
“honestly? i couldn’t tell you.” i confess. “i don’t even remember the last time we went on a date.”
“well, that’s not right! we should do a double date soon! i’ll have Dawson set it up.” she smiles. “ooh triple date! you and Yegor should come!”
“we’d love that!” Darya chimes in. i let out a polite smile, but i know it won’t happen. i’ve tried too many times to set up a date night and nothing ever comes from it.
“hey, baby. you ready to go?” Dawson saunters over, planting a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Ryleigh nods, bidding Darya and i goodbye.
“hey, y/n? i think Jack was looking for you.” Yegor tells me as he comes over next, gathering his wife to leave for the night.
“he was?” my voice is filled with a pathetic hope, an excitement over even the thought of my boyfriend seeking me out. but when i look back to where i last saw him, he still stands next to his captain, laughing over something one of them said. “thanks, Shara.”
he smiles, the both of them now saying their goodbyes. and then there was one.
i sit by myself, lazily chewing the straw in my drink as i watch my boyfriend and his friend.
i quickly lose track of how long i sit there, ordering drink after drink. eventually, i stop watching Jack, opting for mindlessly scrolling through instagram instead.
“hey.” my head snaps up at Jack’s voice, watching as he finally joins me. my heart thumps in my chest, like i’m a teenager again, at the thought of spending time with him. “i think i’m ready to head home.”
my mood deflates, my shoulders slumping, but i nod, gathering my purse as Jack sets some cash on the bar top to cover my drinks from the night.
i wobble slightly as i stand, Jack’s hand coming up to hold onto my arm, making sure i don’t fall. heat spreads from the site of the touch, shivers racking my body.
“you okay, babe?” he chuckles, pulling me into his side as we walk to the elevator, pressing the down button and waiting for it to arrive. “how much did you drink?”
“i don’t know. maybe three? i lost count after the first hour alone.” i shrug, my words are slurred, a product of my tipsy state. “i started off with sprite, but i switched to gin and tonics once Darya left.”
Jack is silent as we get into the elevator, his brows furrowed and him seemingly in deep thought. the whole ride home is quiet, the air charged. i spend the whole drive with my head turned to look out the window. but as soon as we reach the parking deck of our apartment, getting out of his Range Rover, he speaks up again.
“you could’ve come and found me? i was just with Nico.” i’m silent for a moment, picking up my pace to try and reach apartment faster.
“i didn’t feel like being ignored again.” i shrug as we step through the door, the alcohol giving me obvious courage that i never had before.
“what do you mean ‘again’? i haven’t ignored you.” Jack follows behind me into our bedroom, his eyes tracking me as i sit on the bed and begin unfastening my heels.
“stop.” i sigh.
“stop what? y/n/n, when have i ignored you?” his genuine obliviousness hurts more than i thought it could. the fact that he didn’t even realize he was ignoring me; that it was just a subconscious reaction for him to push me aside.
“every day.” i tell him. my eyes start stinging with tears, finally ready to have the fight that i’ve so desperately been avoiding. but it’s obvious that Jack doesn’t feel the same.
“i’m sorry you felt that way.” he tells me, barely sparing another glance my way before he starts grabbing pajamas out of the dresser.
“you’re losing me.” my words are choked out in a whisper, but i know he hears them because i watch as he stiffens, slowly turning around.
“what?”
“Jack, this doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore. it feels like a job. a chore.” i confess. “it doesn’t feel like you love me anymore and i need you to just say it. because i love you too much to keep going on like this.”
“y/n-”
“we barely talk, Jack.” i cut him off. “when we do, we’re struggling through empty small talk. you’re barely home, and when you are, you don’t try and spend time with me. i sit in this house, alone, even when you’re here.”
“what are you talking about? y/n, we’ve been together for almost seven years. we’ve been through so much together.” his words are harsh, defensive.
“exactly! i gave you all my best me’s- i gave you my teenage years, i gave you all of my best years! i gave you all my empathy when you were being called a bust. when you were struggling in your rookie year and at your lowest. i sat here and comforted you after every loss! i stayed here and cried and tried to be brave every time you were gone. i defended you to everyone!”
tears roll freely down my cheeks, my nose becoming stuffy and my throat tightening. i’ve risen from the bed now, still keeping my distance from him though.
“and what do i have to show for it? an empty apartment? an empty relationship? we used to spend hours talking about marriage and our future. now, the last time i tried to bring that up, you all but told me you didn’t want to marry me.” i scoff. “and i can’t blame you, i wouldn’t marry me either; a pathological people pleaser.”
“don’t say that, please.” he whispers.
“but all i wanted was for you to see me, Jack! i’m here! i have feelings! i know it’s hard to believe, but i’m a person too! i need love! not whatever this has been.” my words fade off at the end, breaking off into sobs.
Jack’s eyes are red, tears of his own slowly descending as we stand in silence.
“do something, please. say something.” i plead, furiously wiping at my tears. i swallow a lump in the throat as he finally takes a step forward.
“i’m sorry.” his voice is shaky, breaking midst sentence. “i’m so sorry i didn’t know you were feeling this way. i’ve been so wrapped up in hockey and the team that i haven’t been here. not fully, at least.
“i took you for granted. i guess you’ve been this dependable force in my life for so long that eventually i forgot that you need more than just my presence.
“i do love you, y/n. i can’t imagine my life without you. i’ll be better, i promise. just, please, don’t leave.” he begs.
Jack steps forward, closing the distance between us and taking my face in his hands.
“i need you. i’ll always choose you.” his hands shake on my cheeks as he pulls me into a kiss. he pulls away, heaving out a broken mix between a sigh and a sob. “i’m so so sorry.”
“we can fix us. i believe that. but please, don’t put me through this again.” i beg, laying my forehead against his.
“never.”
#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fic#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes imagine#nj devils#nhl fic#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#faithlynn’s writings <3
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Hear me out. HEAR ME OUT.
Some angst…but like fluff idk OKAY.
Say the reader and Eddie are in the upside down and the reader gets separated from everyone and is presumed dead, but had escaped through another way. Ya know all sad etc cause eddie thinks he’s lost his soulmate, but when the fundraiser at the end of the show happens it could be he’s placing posters up of them…then BOOM reader appears and it’s all tooth rotting fluff etc
I Thought I Lost You
Eddie Munson x GN!Reader
Word count: roughly 1.5K
Eddie lost his partner in the Upside Down and his friends convince him to put up a Missing Person flyer.
Warnings: SEASON FOUR SPOILERS, angstyyyy but fluffy at the end, mainly just spoilers, and serious divergence from canonical plotline
Author’s note: So sorry this one took me so long to write but I love a good piece of angst melted to fluff!
The past two days had felt like years. After the world had literally cracked open many citizens of Hawkins had begun evacuating but many stayed. They stayed out of hope. Hope that those they thought were lost may come back.
Eddie was one of those such people. When he had returned along with Dustin to meet up with the rest of the group, Steve was the one who had to gently break the news that Y/N…they had gotten separated and…well...
Presumed dead. Those had been the words people had been saying about them. About everyone who had been lost. Of course, Eddie knew it made sense. Most of the people missing had to be…but Y/N…
He had been inconsolable. When Steve had broken the news there had been no reaction. None. None whatsoever. He hadn’t cried or yelled or broken down. He had just gone quiet which for Eddie was scarier than any of the other things combined. He knew they couldn’t go back to find them. He knew that. And so he had simply said nothing and shut himself away in what was left of the trailer without a word to another soul.
Dustin had come by the check on him a couple of times and each time Wayne said he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or speaking - he hadn’t even had any music on. Eddie truly felt like the world was crashing down. He couldn’t explain it but it was so much worse than when his mom had died. He was young then and it was a disease. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. But here. With Y/N. You could have been with them, his mind reminded him for the thousandth time, you could have stayed with them and not let them out of your sight. You could have protected them. But you didn’t. You had to go and play hero with Dustin. And now they’re dead because of you.
On top of all of that, people were still blaming him for the murders that had happened. The police had been by several times and had asked Wayne to speak to Eddie. Wayne had explained the situation and had begged for time. The department surprisingly gave him to his request and he figured it was solely because they had so many other things going on and Eddie truly hadn’t moved since the day of the split.
When Wayne told Eddie the police had been by, he hadn’t said a word. Merely nodded to Wayne and turned his focus back to the polaroids he had of Y/N, the same ones he had been flipping through for days as if looking at their photo would bring them back. And in that moment, Wayne felt fear. Fear because he realized without his soulmate, Eddie was starting to not care what happened to him.
“I lost them,” He had told Dustin when the teen had finally coaxed him into speaking at Wayne’s insistence, “I lost Y/N, and now…Dustin, they were my world. What’s the point when my life has already been lost?”
After Dustin had told Steve about Eddie’s complete collapse, Steve had talked to Robin who had somehow managed to convince Eddie to come with her and Steve and Dustin to help out at the high school where everyone had basically created a shelter. Anyone who had lost their homes, or family members, or needed food, supplies, or medical attention was there. It was the bulletin board of Missing Persons Robin mentioned that was ultimately what convinced Eddie to go. Along with his friends, he had managed to create a missing poster for Y/N, convinced that maybe, maybe if he made the poster someone would find them and they'd come back to him. His friends had been silent as they helped him, knowing the chances of them coming back from the Upside Down were…well…
But he had done it anyway and it had gotten him out of bed and that in and of itself was something to be grateful for.
The nerves had boiled up in Eddie’s stomach as they had arrived at the high school. The four of them had taken Steve’s car along with a few boxes of items to donate - sheets, clothes, toys - and the flyer for Y/N. The drive had been silent and so was the walk in. Eddie tried his best to ignore the stares he received as the group passed by, holding his head up high…well as high as he could with the sinking feeling that had taken up permanent residence in his chest.
“Hey,” Robin had whispered when she watched him get caught up in his own mind. “We’re gonna put up the poster for Y/N, drop this stuff, and then we can go-”
“No,” he shook his head, “I…I want to stay. To…help.” She had gone silent after that and Steve and Dustin didn’t protest. As they walked in though, Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes from the missing person’s board. Dustin watched as his focus totally shifted, turning his attention to Robin and Steve.
“You two go on ahead,” Dustin said with a nod. The other two teens hesitated for a moment but Dustin shooed them along as Eddie continued to stare at the board.
“You wanna go put it up?” Dustin said as he looked at the flyer Eddie was clutching in his hand.
“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, his voice barely audible, “But…” Dustin watched as his gaze shifted to the police officers.
“Eddie, man,” Dustin placed a hand on his DM’s shoulder, turning Eddie to face him, “You didn’t do it. You’re just gonna go over there and put up the flyer,” He still seemed unsure leading Dustin to sigh, “Here I’ll come with you. Ok?” Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath before following Dustin’s lead and heading over to the board.
“Uh hi,” Dustin greeted the officer who looked between him and Eddie for a moment but didn’t say anything, “We have a missing person poster to put up.” The officer eyed them both once more and went to say something before clearly thinking better of it.
“When did this person go missing?” The officer asked as he held his hand out for the poster. Eddie hesitated to hand it over but with some urging from Dustin, he did.
“The day of the earthquakes,” Dustin said, not quite sure what else to call them. “They were near one of the sites so…we…yeah.” The officer let out a little hum before turning his focus to the paper. His eyes narrowed as he squinted at the photo before they went wide.
“Something the matter?” Dustin asked, “Have you…do you know anything about-” The officer cut Dustin off with a point as he gestured to one of the medical stations. Dustin and Eddie both turned at the speed of light to find a figure sitting in a chair that the cop had pointed to. They were chatting with the nurse who seemed to be checking their vitals, a soft smile on their face as they seemed to make conversation. They looked worse for wear, still in the clothes they had been wearing when they went to the Upside Down. Bruises and scrapes as well as a ton of dirt littered their skin…but they were there. Dustin could watch all the blood drain out of Eddie’s face. It was like he had seen a ghost. And in Eddie’s mind, his fear was that he had.
“Y/N,” was all he said before he began to take slow steps toward the figure. They didn’t notice him as he approached but the nurse did, looking at him with a confused gaze. Y/N must have caught her glance as they turned to look and…
They had the same dumbfounded look. They took a moment to just stare at him, mouth opening and closing as he approached, step by step. This continued for a moment before they stood up on shaky legs as if they could have been blown away by the wind.
“Eddie?” They asked in a cautious tone, their voice shaking as they spoke.
“Oh my god,” he murmured before they were in his arms, holding them with everything they had in them.
“Eddie I thought-”
“But you were-”
“We lost-”
“Y/N we thought you-”
“I know but I was-”
“Where have you-”
“How is-”
The pair couldn’t form full thoughts and the nurse simply backed away to allow the pair a moment as tears brimmed in both of their eyes.
“Y/N, we thought you were…” Eddie couldn’t finish the thought as he felt Y/N squeeze him even tighter.
“I know,” they nodded as they pulled him in, “But I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
And Eddie knew they spoke the truth at that moment. He knew whatever came next was going to be a hard battle. The fight to prove his innocence wasn’t going to be easy. But with them by his side, his life and his soulmate restored, for the first time since Chrissy’s death, he thought he may have a fighting chance.
And she's done! Again so sorry this took so long but I hope it's sorta what you were looking for!!!!
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things 4#stranger things x reader#eddie munson smut#st spoilers#stranger things#eddie munson angst#eddie stranger things
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NEIGHBOR BUDDY x M!Reader (Featuring Actor Mackenyu)
Fluff
You slammed the door of your room shut, while stomping your way to the balcony, huffing at the sound of your mother who's still screaming at the top of her lungs, angry that you went out last night again without permission and to top it off you went drinking. That was the first rule your mother ever wanted you to follow, but considering just how your head is made of rock, you always went against her laws and always obeyed nothing. At first it was just an impulsive thought, going out with your friends, but it soon became a habit and this type of situation between you and your mother became more of a routine. Well, you can't blame yourself, your mother is too strict for literally everything. You wanted to live your life not just stay around in your house and play prison jail. That is just suffocating.
Soon, after a few minutes, the noises died down and you let out a breath that you didn't know your were holding. You sighed through your nose, thanking the heavens that it is finally over. You just don't understand why your mother is specifically too harsh on you, when you're siblings both could do the same thing, but could avoid getting into trouble every single time. So, what difference does it make when you do it? You're literally a grown up already. In your 20s, to be exact, yet you're mother still treats you like an overgrown sized baby.
Usually, your anger would have seeped out and you'd start rampaging inside your room, but the sight of your handsome, tall, buff and everything hot and sexy neighbor, you couldn't help, but let your anger vaporize in just a second. It was the only sight you'd ever need to calm you down.
Mackenyu, your neighbor crush, noticing eyes on him, meets yours and gave you a smile. He waves his hand at you (so cool), while you did the same thing in reply to him. He soon catches the tiniest hint of sadness in your eyes and grew a little concerned. Just like always, he'd move across the street to get to you and climb from the ladder that was located near the railings of your room's balcony. "Your mom caught you again?" He asked you, his voice deep and calming, brows furrowing upon his worry. You nod your head, not saying a word. "Figured. You're such a naughty boy, Y/N. Can't say I dislike that fact about you." He commented, making you blush, but externally all you could ever do is just scoff.
"I can't just stand being with this family anymore. It's crazy how it's madly obvious that they have their favorites yet continue to state that they treat us all equally. What some pure bullshit." You complained to him, Mackenyu hopping inside to get to your side and sat on the bench, the male inviting you to take a seat beside him. You complied, before getting shocked when the buffer sized male wrapped his arms around you and started to caress your back.
"You know the thing I admire the most about you, Y/N? It's that even if you realize the mistakes they did to you, you still stay strong and resilient. You're so brave, Y/N." He said, while tears started to prick the side of your eyes. "If you want to run away, my house is always free." He said, you looking a bit confused.
"But, your house is just across ours." You told him in reply, hearing a soft chuckle from the other male.
"I never said which house, Y/N." Your eyes widened and looked up at him like a dog getting a new owner.
"You don't mean...?" Mackenyu nods his head and you throw yourself at him with so much joy that all you could ever think of was just how excited you are to finally be able to leave this hell of a house. "Yes, yes! I'll start packing." You said and immediately ran to your room and quickly did a heavy packing after locking the door to your room.
"That's my boy."
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Until Dawn
A SMALL JOY: Josh Washington x fem!reader
Summary: Taking Dr Hill's advice, Josh and his lover go up to the lodge and look through all the things his sisters had left behind - after an interesting find she does her best to take his mind off the sadness he's experiencing.
Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.
To be honest, Until Dawn is still one of my favourite horror games. Thanks to the game I found my favourite YouTube channel, my English improved a lot because I wanted to understand every word, and I have a huge crush on Rami Malek to this very day. Me and my friends were obsessed with him the time the game came out, and soon started to watch more of his work together.
Josh Washington was one of my first fictional crushes, I could defend him for years without getting tired and I drew him so many times I actually learned how to draw portraits correctly.
There's a gameplay I like to rewatch every year, because of the great memories I have connected to it. I always fall in love with Josh Washington once again - and thanks to that tradition, I started to write for him as well.
Warnings: a bit of swearing, mentioned depression and loss, mentioning the Washington sisters' disappearance and/or death
•••
° "(...) We would come up in the summer and we would have the best time. The whole family was there - mom, dad, my sisters. It was some serious competition out there on the big lawn... I don't know. Can't go back. New reality." °
She listens carefully, noticing every little pitch or drop in Josh's voice as he speaks - and as he puts down the baseball bat all she can think about is grabbing him and pulling him into a hug, a tight one, the kind that is both loving and comforting. She watches him, she examines his every little move and her heart aches every single time she finds a new sign of sadness.
She hates it.
She hates that look on his face. She hates that change in his voice. She hates that he feels alone. She hates that the whole case is making him go crazy. She hates that nothing is certain and he can't even grieve.
She hates that he had to change so much; that he had to become this depressed because of some stupid, messed up prank their friends had decided to pull on his sister.
He didn't deserve any of it. He doesn't deserve any of it. None of the Washington kids do.
Coming up here was already hard - back to the mountain where Hannah and Beth disappeared, where they played around like stupid teenagers do. Dr Hill said it's for the best - Josh needs some closure, some proof that he needs to slowly start to move on. She thinks it's bullshit - Josh thinks so too. It won't be easy to put yourself through something like this.
But regardless, they came. They are here now, looking through the rooms, the basement...
The memories are hurting her - and if she as a friend is hurting this badly than Josh must suffer a lot.
"Teach me." the words suddenly burst out before she can stop them, wanting to make Josh concentrate on something else - not wanting him to get lost in his own mind.
"What?" the question is loud in the basement.
"Teach me how to play." she continues on, feeling unsure like she tries to cross a very thin and sensitive line. "I've never played baseball before."
"It's been a while since I did so." Josh starts to explain, his gaze falling on the bat he put down. "You really- want to?"
She steps closer to him slowly, carefully, as if she tries to get close to a very scared and wounded animal. She touches his arm, her fingers hold him as her thumb brushes along his skin in an up and down motion. She leans towards him, her face touching his shoulder as she presses a kiss to the area what isn't covered by his t-shirt.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." she whispers. "I know it's not-" she holds that thought and says something else instead: "I just haven't seen you play yet and I want to join in."
Josh looks at her over his shoulder, he looks at her as she tries to smile even if her eyes stay sad. He watches her like she's the only thing he has left, like she's the only person who matters anymore. He looks at her and feels something break inside, realizing that she really is the only one who he has.
"All right." he says and when he sees her eyes change a tiny bit - showing a bit of happiness - he feels his heart flutter. It makes him feel better, it makes him want to touch her too, putting his hand over hers - over the one which is still clinging onto his arm. "As long as you promise me you won't accidentally hit yourself with the bat."
And there's what he wanted to see - her expression changes, playful offence takes the sadness' place and she gently hits his back.
"Hey! I wouldn't do that."
"You totally wouldn't." his sarcasm earns him another punch and despite the situation and the place, he feels like he got something back.
The last time they bickered like this was half a year ago, the night his sisters had disappeared. They drank and played around until they started to make out in the kitchen, only stopping when Chris stepped inside the room wanting some booze for himself.
As they climb the stairs hand in hand they both feel somewhat relieved. They found a kind of small joy, a bit of happiness - something what they had left here months ago. Josh chuckles when she trips and almost falls, she feels excited as he hands her the baseball bat outside.
"Since there're only the two of us here, I think it's best I teach you how to hit the ball and not yourself."
"I'm not that clumsy Mister!" she tries to sound offended, but it doesn't work.
"I know you too well, girl; and I don't trust you with that at all."
Josh stands behind her, keeping a gentle hold on both of her arms as he explains how to stand and how to hold the bat. She chuckles when he playfully tickles her and this time she doesn't feel guilty about laughing. Before he lets go of her to throw the ball, he gives her a short hug and presses a kiss into the crook of her neck.
She misses the first time...
and the second time; and the third time...
She misses and Josh laughs and she thinks it's the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.
They change positions after a while and no matter how she throws, Josh never misses - not even once. He hits the ball every single time and it flies and lands far away.
She has the feeling that in that very moment, doing that very thing they both feel somewhat complete. She feels like Josh's smiles are honest, his laughs are honest and she forgets about Dr Hill and his stupid advice.
"No shit you like to play it." she says after a while as the both of them are lying in the grass, her head resting on Josh's arm. "It is fun."
"Believe me darling, it is much more fun when you actually hit the ball." his voice has a teasing edge to it and for a moment she thinks about turning towards him and hitting him playfully once again - but she doesn't.
Instead - hoping to get something more, trying to get a kind of good change out of him, she says: "I will, after a bit more training. You'll teach me, I have no doubt about that."
Josh turns towards her, gently touching her face and playing with her hair. She tries to read his face and she realizes that he understands what she's playing at. She wonders if he'll get upset or sad... but she gets an answer pretty quickly.
"I will - of course I will. You'll be the best player in this damn country."
The muscles in her face twitch and she feels like she'll cry. It's been so long, so long since Josh smiled and laughed that now seeing it again feels like a whole new experience. She doesn't want to leave the place or the moment. It's too nice.
"Better than you?"
"Way better." he promises and lets go of the lock of hair he's been playing with. "I love you, you know that, right?"
She feels frozen at the question and starts to wonder where it's coming from. The doubt in his voice, the softness in his eyes... He deserves the world, he deserves everything in it and he deserves to know that he does enough for her - she feels his love and every single emotion and action it causes.
"Of course I do... I know." she promises. "I love you too. And I'm here for you, no matter what."
It's her turn to lean in and she kisses him, making sure the kiss is soft and calm. She wants to make him feel whole and safe. She wants him to be happy.
They lay back down and stay quiet for a bit, enjoying the sunlight and the light summer breeze. She feels like she could melt. Melt into the feeling and moment forever, without ever getting bored.
"You know," Josh starts suddenly, his voice soft and unsure. "it's been a while since I've taken you out on a date."
"It's fine, Josh. These past months weren't exactly the best."
"No... I know." for a few moments he stays silent, not knowing what to say. "All I want to say is I have a few movies here we can watch and we can have a nice time before we-"
"-go back to them." she finishes, understanding what he means.
Them. All the friends, all the family members and pals who show an annoying amount of pity. All of those people who try to comfort Josh when doesn't want to do anything with them. The people who make him feel worse than better.
"I'd love that." she smiles at him as he turns towards him and hugs him. "But no horror."
"No horror." Josh nods.
It wouldn't be good for either of them.
She kisses his shoulder as they get going, stretching their muscles, before climbing the stairs to go and find the movies Josh was talking about.
As they look over his DVDs while hugging, all she can think about is how unfair life is, because Josh doesn't deserve any of the problems life threw at him...
#until dawn#until dawn x reader#josh washington#josh washington x reader#josh washington x fem!reader#hannah washington#beth washington
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Anywhere I would follow you || Joel Miller x Reader
summary: Joel comes knocking on your door 3 weeks later with a girl and in need of help.
warnings: swearing, readers got a sad backstory, mentions of family death, episode 3, Joel might be a little OOC and I apologize, mentions of guns but no gun use
a/n: Disclaimer: This is not following show or game canon. The reader is kinda in the role of Tess but I will not be going episode by episode and I will not be following the plot exactly. Anyways I really hope y'all enjoy. Its been a hot second since I wrote anything over 1k words lol.
Part 1 || part 3
It had been three long weeks since you've heard from Joel. The day you walked out you swore up and down that you wouldn't go running back to him. No matter how badly you wanted to.
Ever since then you realized how much you hated silence. Living with Joel, there was always something. The hum of the heater that barely worked or the soft static of the radio but now its just. Silent.
You don't sleep you barely eat, just enough to keep you alive in this damn place. So when you finally managed to fall asleep you were pretty pissed to get disrupted by loud banging on your door. Taking your gun you grip it tightly and open your door.
"What." You point your gun and when you see Joel standing at your door you don't lower it.
"I need to talk to you." He steps to the side and you see a girl behind him. Reluctantly you lower your gun and step aside.
"What could you possibly need want to talk about Joel? Thought I didn't know shit." The girl laughs and Joel shoots her a glare.
"Ellie go in there."
"Why?"
"Just do it." He snaps and she rolls her eyes before trudging into your bedroom.
"Smuggling people now?" You ask as you watch her slam the door shut.
"Not by choice. Look I know you're angry with me but I need to take her west and-" He stumbles to find the words, to ask for help.
"You need my help?" You finish for him. He nods and you sigh.
"What happened to going our separate ways?" He winces but you can't find it in you to care.
He hurt you and now he thinks he can crawl back? As much as you wanted to forget it all and go back to how things were before, you can't. You can't just forgive him right away. He grabs your arm and pulls you to the other side of the room.
"She's immune." He whispers.
"She got bit but its healed. I saw it with my own eyes." Your eyes widen and you look towards the closed bedroom door.
Immune? Could this..could she be the cure? Optimism isn't exactly your specialty but news like this can't be ignored.
"Okay, I'll help. Not because of you, but because of her." God knows what Joel would be like dragging a teenage girl across the country. You'd give him a week before he loses his mind.
His hand drops from your arm and your turn around without another word. Grabbing a bag and stuffing some essentials inside. Opening the door you find Ellie looking through your small bedside table. She jumps back as and smiles.
"Let's go kid." Ellie follows you out of the room and Joel's already out the door.
"Is he always like that?" She asks making you sigh.
"Yeah."
- - -
Travelling with Joel and Ellie is, interesting to say the least. She could spend hours asking questions that you and sometimes Joel would answer. Asked about his scars, asked about the world, anything that came to her head. You've barely talked to him since you started this journey. The first stop is Bill and Franks. But that was still a day or two away. When night falls you find a clearing in the woods to sleep.
"So what did you do before..." Ellie gestures to the land around her. Joel glances over to you but you ignore his gaze.
"I was a kid when it happened. I think I was 10, maybe 11 years old." You smile softly at the faded memories of your childhood.
Spending nights with your family, your friends. Going to school and playing on the playground, making friendship bracelets and playing tag. It feels like a lifetime ago.
"I uh, my family was shipped off to the QZ. I was the only one to make it." A heavy tension fills the air as you try to remember your family.
Try to remember their faces, their voice, their laugh. Joel frowns, he never knew that. When you first met it was an unspoken rule to never speak of the past. That rules was broken once or twice.
When he slept he'd mumble a name, Sarah. You didn't know who she was but its clear she meant a lot to him but you never worked up the courage to ask him about it.
"Damn." Ellie whispers and Joel looks at her.
"It's alright, it was a long time ago." You shrug your shoulders and try to shake away the pain.
"I never met my parents. Raised in an orphanage and sent to a shit school." She grimaces at the very thought of school.
"The school really is shit." You remember being forced to go to "high school" in the QZ.
Ellie looks to Joel but he leans against a tree with his eyes closed and arms crossed. She takes it as a sign to try and sleep as do you. You tuck your pistol under your backpack that was being used as a pillow and mange to fall into a restless sleep.
"Rise and shine." Joel's gruff voice wakes you up. Your head is groggy as you sit up. A jacket that isn't yours slides off your shoulders. It's Joels.
"You looked cold." He doesn't meet your eyes as he packs up his bag.
"Thanks." You hand it back to him and he takes it with a bit of reluctance.
"I was cold too." Ellie pipes up. Joel looks at her before putting his jacket back on.
"Too bad."
- - -
You breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar gated community. Bill and Frank were always kind to you, well Frank was. Bill was untrusting of you and Joel but you couldn't really blame him. Joel wasn't too trusting of him either.
"Bill? Frank?" You call as you enter the house. Its eerily quiet. Something isn't right. Joel brushes past you, putting his hand out to stop you from moving any further.
"Stay here." You roll your eyes as he takes off upstairs, his gun gripped tightly in his hands. You thought that maybe things had changed but he slips right back into old habits. Making you stay while he goes off into a possibly dangerous place.
You tell Ellie to be careful and head into the kitchen. Your heart falls when you notice the rancid food on the kitchen counter. Clenching your fist you make your way back into the main hall.
Ellie stands there with Joel, a letter in her hands and a sad look on her face. You keep your eyes glued to the floor as she reads off Bills last words. It's too much to handle. They loved each other, it amazed you how they managed to find that happiness, that peace in a world like this.
"I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving."
Ellie glances up to you and Joel and you can't take it anymore.
"Excuse me." You say quietly as you walk out the front door.
Taking a deep breath you sit on the porch. Covering your face with your hands you focus on your breathing. Death is something you're all too familiar with in the QZ. But for some reason, it just hurts. It hurts so bad.
The door creaks open, the sound of footsteps start and then they stop. Looking up you stare in front of you, watching the flowers blowing in the wind. You know its Joel. He's got the letter in his hand and he can't help but feel a sense of guilt as he stands next to you. Guilt for what? Too much to say.
"Do you think they were happy?" You ask, fiddling with the strap of your bag.
"I do." Joel says, a small crack in his voice almost goes unheard by you.
Taking a deep breath you wipe your eyes and Joel offers you a hand. A peace offering. You hesitate at first, only looking at his outstretched hand. But to Joel's and honestly your surprise you take it. He helps you up and doesn't let go of your hand.
"I-" Joel starts, he rubs his thumb across your hand.
You look down and gasp lightly. His knuckles still hold the scars from when you left. You never saw what he did but you heard it. There's a large cut across the back of his hand. Jagged and barely healed. Even though he drove you away you can't help but feel a little guilty but to him the injuries on his hand are his fault and his alone.
"Joel.." You gently lay your hand on top of his. He closes his eyes and relishes in your touch. The time spent without you has felt like a lifetime. He missed you so damn much.
"I'm not..." He struggles to find the words, he always struggles to find the right words.
"They have hot water! I'm going to take a shower!" Ellie peeks her head through the door, a happy look on her face.
"Oh." She awkwardly stares at the two of you. Silently slipping back out of view. You take a step back, gently taking your hand from his grip.
"I'll go look for some clothes." As you walk into the house Joel sighs. Looking down at the letter, he reads it over one more time before heading back inside.
Bill didn't like him. He didn't like Bill. But he respected him. He didn't agree with a lot of what he did but Bill was right about one thing.
There is someone worth saving.
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