#( ♡ ). chapter one: jean

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room. 

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep. 

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce. 

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show. 

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you. 

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name. 

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained. 

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No. 

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued. 

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower. 

No hair. 

No makeup. 

Great. 

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down. 

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit. 

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour. 

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for. 

Three interviews down, two to go.  

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.  

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated. 

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers. 

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is. 

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so” 

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life. 

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum, 

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest. 

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present. 

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh. 

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words. 

Betrayal? 

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath. 

You will not cause a scene. 

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you. 

You will not give him what he wants. 

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps. 

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick. 

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond? 

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet. 

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror. 

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red. 

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album. 

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process. 

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately. 

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour. 

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates. 

Well, mostly with Aemond. 

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now. 

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close. 

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name. 

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak. 

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body. 

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it. 

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can” 

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses. 

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches. 

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition. 

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained. 

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan. 

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin. 

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories. 

They hurt the most. 

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be. 

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own. 

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time. 

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving. 

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap. 

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you. 

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over, 

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented” 

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking. 

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks. 

“Of course”, you reply shortly. 

Why is he asking for permission? 

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds, 

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door, 

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind. 

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin. 

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room. 

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic. 

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you? 

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name. 

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night. 

“What would you do if I were there?” 

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background. 

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”. 

Aemond groans. 

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are. 

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you. 

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage. 

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good. 

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers. 

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’. 

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio. 

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing, 

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’ 

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him. 

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience. 

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best. 

Where you can contribute something to the world. 

Make people happy. 

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song. 

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder. 

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you. 

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing, 

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back. 

Fuck that. 

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell. 

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’ 

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down. 

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you. 

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching. 

Why is he suddenly so intimidating? 

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago. 

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago. 

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man. 

You hear the crowd cheer. 

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye. 

The crowd cheers louder and louder. 

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar. 

Never looking down. 

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓒hapter 𝓞ne

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you discover you have a next door neighbor after 5 months of believing no one lived there. a tall, mysterious man who rarely speaks and made of pure muscle.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. angst, little fluff, swearing, brief mention of stalking (but it’s false and paranoia), very little interaction

❛⠀ masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

you regret not grocery shopping like planned last week. damn work has been kicking your ass. coming home when it’s past sunset. it’s your manger’s fault for changing your schedule this week.

carrying three heavy ass plastic bags and your purse on your shoulder, you waddle towards the front door of your apartment. a frustrated groan escape your lips as you dig through your purse for your keys while balancing the three bags in one hand.

the moment you find the keys, you feel one bag slipping from your fingers. “no no no no—“

just as the bag slips off, a large hand catches it in a firm grip. looking up, you see a man standing before you. a man way too tall, like a fucking tower. his head covers the hallway light, casting a shadow over you.

undoubtedly handsome, probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. dark chocolate wavy hair that looks a bit messy. piercing mahogany eyes which you’ve never seen before. is that even possible? the sharpest fucking cheekbones to exist, let alone on a man. his facial structure is insane.

not to mention those bulky shoulders. heavily outlined through the black shirt he’s wearing. damn he fit as hell just by those damn shoulders.

“oh- thanks.”

he hums with a light nod.

you try not ogle at him too much and unlock your front door. ignoring the heat in your face as you feel his stare, observing your every move. unlocking the door and shoving your keys back in your purse, you turn to him and take the bag from him.

“thanks again.” you offer a small smile.

the man nods once again then walks away. you expect him to walk down the hall but instead he walks up to the door next door. pulling out keys from his front jean pocket and unlocking the door.

oh shit- he’s your neighbor?

that’s the actual person who owns that apartment?

for the past 5 months you’ve been living in this apartment complex, you never saw anyone leaving or coming out of that apartment. you solely believe it was empty. but now, there was an owner.

you hurry inside, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, and close the door. after locking it and taking off your shoes, you place down the grocery bags on the dining table with a heavy sigh. your sweet white terrier luna approaches, barking happily and tail wagging. you crouch down to pet her.

you decide to take a shower after a long day. the need to feel refresh and relax. after your nice shower and slipping into a silky nightgown, you do your nightly skin care routine. thoughts about your neighbors has never left your mind.

that handsome face plagued your mind. how close he stood next to you, almost feeling him against you that made your face heat up. how he towered you so easily. a complete giant compared to you.

but what you really thought about was that you never saw him before. especially a man taller than the door and built like a tank, it would be easy to notice him. every time you leave and come home, that door is always closed. even with a shared wall, there was no noise coming from the other side.

now, five months later and some random guy shows up and claims to be the owner.

something about him is so… alluring. you’ve only know the guy for 30 seconds and already conjured up vibes about him. he never spoke a word to you, only hummed and nod as you thanked him for helping you. quiet and alluring.

now it’s confirmed you have a next door neighbor, you’re suspicious of him.

how long has he been living here? why he did suddenly show up now? where has he been before? will you see him in the morning when you leave for work? will you ever see him again in general?

you shake your head to not overload your tired mind with a million questions.

undoing the covers and getting into bed, you spend some time on your phone before falling asleep. setting your alarm for the morning. luna joins you and cuddles with you. the minute your head lays on the soft pillow, you’re taken to dreamland.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

you’re running late.

rushing around the apartment while getting ready made you spill your coffee over your brand new white blouse. it was your favorite blouse too. angrily digging in your closet, you find a baby pink one and hurriedly change out of the now coffee stained white blouse. you’re gonna buy a new one later.

after kissing luna goodbye with loving pets and grabbing your purse, you rush out the door. rushing down the hall, the elevator door was closing.

“wait wait wait!” you panic, running towards the elevator, as much as your little heels let you.

you can’t waste any more time. waiting for the elevator is dreadful since everyone uses it, especially since it’s the morning and everyone’s heading to work. taking the stairs would be a nightmare and you can’t afford sore, tired feet.

your worries fade when a hand stops the elevator doors from closing, they heard you.

“oh my god, thank you so much.” you sound breathless as you hurried inside the elevator to not keep them waiting, too busy trying to catch your breath to notice the person beside you.

“no problem.”

that rich, baritone voice. you instantly recognize it and glance upwards.

your tall, mysterious neighbor.

your alleged neighbor who suddenly showed up after 5 months with no trace of his existence.

your eyes rake over his bulky figure. a black duffel bag over his board shoulder. a plain black compression shirt hugging his biceps graciously-

nope, don’t think too deep.

you look away and keep your gaze forward. awkward silence between you two. unfortunately, you both live on the 5th floor so it takes a few minutes to get down to the first floor. a few minutes of awkward silence.

you remain unfazed and mind your business, waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the first floor. music playing through your airpods at low volume in case he talks to you. but also so he can’t hear your music blasting through them. it was a smart move when he spoke to you, which surprised you.

“your dog was howling this morning.”

a wave of embarrassment hits you. “yeah… sorry about that. she gets excited about treats.”

you’d reward luna with treats if she behaves well or does something really cute. your other neighbors didn’t mind, hearing a dog’s howl is cute. luna isn’t a loud howler but your next door neighbor says otherwise, mainly because he’s next door.

it also didn’t surprise you that he knew it was luna because you’re the only person on the 5th floor who owns a dog. your neighbor across mrs. harrington, an elderly lady, owns two cats but they’re super quiet.

the elevator reaches the first floor with a soft ding. your neighbor surprises you even more when he silently offers you to go first with his hand, standing to the side. you mutter a soft ‘thank you’ without eye contact and exit the elevator. suppose he does has manners, despite how suspicious he is.

walking to the parking garage, you hear his footsteps behind you. you can’t deny how your heartbeat increases as he follows you. he may be walking to his car but you can’t shake off the feeling that is he actually following, stalking you perhaps.

those accusations were dismissed when you hear his footsteps fade away. as you make it to your car and get inside, through the window shield you see your neighbor across the lot hopping on a bike.

oh shit- he owns a bike? a black one specifically. by the looks of it, appears to be a ducati.

damn, that’s lowkey hot.

secretly, you watch him drive off. the motorcycle engine echos the entire lot.

a motorcycle guy, interesting.

snapping out of thought, you remember you’re running late and start driving off to work.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

“so he just showed up out of nowhere?”

“yes, eddie!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. “for 5 fucking months, i’ve never seen anyone coming in or out of that door.”

eddie, your coworker and friend, stares at you with a surprise look. rubbing his chin with a hand as he leans against the desk.

“hmm… maybe he had a business trip?”

your expression falls flat. “a business trip for 5 months? be fucking for real, eddie.”

he shrugs. “just saying, maybe he’s fbi.”

a scoff left your lips as you turn around. rubbing your forehead with a hand as you feel an upcoming headache. “sure, fbi agent. sure, eddie.” much sarcasm, one of your famous traits.

“i’m serious, they go away on long ass missions.” eddie suggests. “or maybe military.”

you look back at him with a deadpan expression before heavily sighing. it’s possible eddie could be right, he could be in the military or fbi, it seems reasonable. but in reality, you don’t know what he does or even he does anything generally. those suspicions vibes still linger on him.

“maybe.” you shrug, crossing your arms. “but he’s still suspicious.”

eddie snorts, the corners of his lips raised up into a grin. “well, if anything happens, call me.”

you flash a small smile. “thanks.”

he hums happily as he leans off the desks, lightly patting your shoulder as he walks past you.

“oh wait—“

you turn around. “what’s up?”

“how’s anne?”

of course he’s ask you how his ex, your friend, was doing. he never left the conversation without asking how anne was since you talk daily. the breakup was hard, for both of them but especially eddie. poor guy was in rock bottom for months.

“she’s fine, got promoted at her job.” you see the way his eyes light up with enthusiasm.

“oh wow! that’s amazing, she deserves it.”

“she does. maybe you should tell her yourself.”

eddie blankly stares at you, mainly at your wild suggestion. “r-really? i don’t wanna—“

“do it, she’d love to hear from you. trust me.” a soft smile illustrated on your face.

he smiles on return. “okay, i will.”

you two share a smile before going your separate ways, mainly to not get caught of being distracted and off tasked. jameson doesn’t like slackers.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

a sigh of relief left your lips as you return home after a long day at work. after changing into comfy clothes, you take luna out to the bathroom and walk around a bit. the refreshing breeze of the night gently fitting your face. snuggling yourself in your sweater.

you head back inside and decide to check your mail. one from the bank and the other a costco coupon. the third one however isn’t meant for you.

miguel o'hara

apartment unit 99

it’s your neighbor’s. your apartment is 98, it adds up. now you have a name to go with his face.

there isn’t much information on the envelope, only his name and address as well the address of the sender but you don’t recognize it. this peaked your curiosity about this man.

you decide not to snoop further and take it to its respective receiver. it’s none of your business and you just wanna jump into bed.

after taking the elevator, you approach his door. suddenly, you become a bit nervous. you’ve only encountered this man twice, had awkward conversations, and now stand at his front door with his mail in your hand. his silent, intimidating demeanor makes you feel uneasy. a quiet, lonely guy who randomly shows up as your next door neighbor after five months of silence.

why are you nervous about giving out mail? just tell him the mixup, hand him his mail and leave. plain and simple. if only your racing heart agrees with that.

exhaling a deep breath, you knock on the door ever so gently. hearing the door unlock makes your heart jump. behind it is your tall, mysterious neighbor. clad in a plain white shirt that looks a bit tight on him. hair a bit messy, a few strings dangling over his forehead.

“uh… sorry for bothering you. your mail got mixed up with mine.” you went straight to the point, holding out the envelope to him.

his gaze falls down to the envelope. “hm… thanks.” he gingerly takes it from your grasp. “sorry about that.” he apologized in a light tone.

you shrug, lightly shaking your head. “it’s all good.”

glancing down, you see luna sniffing his feet. half of her body inside the doorway.

“luna, no.” you gently tug her away by her leash. “sorry.” you mutter awkwardly, a bit embarrassed to spare him a glance.

“it’s fine.”

the task is done and time to leave.

“night.” you mutter, walking back to your apartment and head inside without looking back at him.

what you failed to notice is your neighbor observing you returning to your apartment and closing the door. he remains standing there in silence for a moment then closes his door as well.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty ⭐︎ Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! slight angst, only a tiny bit of sadness, fluff, lots and lots of fluff, mentions of loss and death, smut, pool sex, unprotected sex, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve get lost in your own little world, a delusion in which you both have what you want, if only you knew how to talk, how to communicate.

Word count: 11.6k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult we've been talking about this moment since February and now we're here aaahhhh! thanks for helping me and for putting the smut idea in my head, it's been living rent free in there for the past few months, thanks for writing with me hehe ily

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

Steve was dying of boredom. Mrs. Click’s voice sounded through the room that was filled with other bored students, the girl next to him that he never bothered to learn the name of was chewing her gum obnoxiously as she was sketching in her notebook, she smelled like weed and a strong perfume, it was giving him a headache. 

He looked at the clock and sighed, forty minutes to go… 

He couldn’t wait for the bell to ring and go home, watch a movie and eat the pasta his mom made the night before. 

Steve leaned back and tapped his fingers against the book he didn’t even bother to open when Mrs. Click told everyone to flip to page 137. He looked to his left, at the girl sitting by the window, listening attentively and taking notes the way he should have been doing too. 

Just the sight of you angered him and he didn’t even know why, but something in his chest burned every time he looked at you and it frustrated him to no end. And yet, he never stopped himself from looking, from taking in the sight of you and how soft your skin looked, how pretty your eyes were, how nice your clothes fit you and how stunning you always were, even when you ditched your pretty dress for sweaters and jeans on some days. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, you were wearing a skirt, a short one that rode up on your thighs, it made his eyes spark with interest, it made him look closer at you, he sat up straighter and leaned his elbows on the table. 

Your eyebrows were scrunched together, your glossy lips puckered, your eyelashes kissed your skin every time you blinked, your hair laid so prettily on your shoulder, curled at the ends, he wondered how much time you spent on it, did you sleep with rollers in your hair? Or did you get up early just to style it? 

Your skin was glowing and he swore that he could smell your sweet perfume even from a distance. Every time you passed him, he breathed in your scent and made the burning in his chest feel worse than before but he couldn’t help it, you smelled so good. 

He kept staring at you and questions started running through his mind. 

Why do you have to be so beautiful?

Why do you have such pretty lashes?

Why do you bite your lip like that?

Why does his heart beat so weirdly every time he sees you?

It’s not fair, it’s bullshit. 

Your eyes, your smile, your hair, your lips, your pretty face, your stupid rings, your scent, your beauty… it’s not fair. 

Your presence always made him huff in irritation and yet, he never bothered to look the other way or avoid you. 

He always stared, every chance he got, he stared, just like now. 

But then, you turned your head and your eyes locked with his, you caught him staring and it made his cheeks heat up. He shifted in his seat as you gave him a look of confusion, your puckered lips turning downwards, your eyebrows scrunching together even more. 

He should’ve looked away and pretended like nothing happened but he didn’t, he raised his brows at you and curled his lips into a smirk, an action that made you roll your eyes before you turned back to your notebook. 

He almost felt disappointed at the loss of your attention, but then you flipped a page and leaned closer to the table, you quickly scribbled something into your notebook, it made him curious and it made him crane his neck a little but he couldn’t see what you were writing. You then ripped the paper out and folded it, you looked at Mrs. Click before you turned back to him and threw the note on his table without giving him as much of a glance. 

Something in his chest stirred as he picked it up, still looking at you before he gave his full attention to the paper in his hand, he unfolded it and furrowed his brows as he looked at your pretty handwriting before he even read what you wrote. 

What are you looking at perv?

Steve almost laughed, he didn’t expect anything else from you. He shook his head and smirked as he folded the note back together and threw it in his pencil case. He ripped off a piece of paper from his own notebook and started writing without thinking. 

You.

A simple ‘you’, that’s all. He wanted to see how you would react, what you would say back, if you would take it as a chance to flirt with the King, if you would use the opportunity any other girl would use. 

He looked around and ignored the curious looks from Tommy as he threw the note on your table, it landed right in front of you and you wasted no time unfolding it, you looked over your shoulder at him, a deadpan look on your pretty face. You sighed and turned back. 

Steve straightened in his seat, he pressed his lips together as he watched you and the way you held your breath, the way you stared at the paper for a moment, tensely and then, you huffed and crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it in your case just the way he did. You started writing hastily and made him more curious when you stopped for a second before you continued. 

His heart jumped when he got the second note, just like the first time, he quickly unfolded it and read it with excitement bubbling in his chest. 

Very funny, are you running out of girls to flirt with, King Steve?

Of course you would not take the bait and give into his curiosity but he found himself craving for more, you sparked his interest, so he picked up the pen again. 

What makes you think I’m flirting with you, Blondie? Maybe I just like looking at you. 

He should have seen the way you halted your breath, the way you stared at the note a little longer than you did at the last one.

And here I thought you only like to look at yourself…

He snorted at that and earned a pointed look from Mrs. Click, he instantly straightened his back and pretended to listen to her, scared of getting caught, he didn’t want this to end just yet. A sigh of relief fell from his lips once she turned her attention back to the book in front of her. 

No, I quite like looking at the skirt you’re wearing today

Steve swore that you grew flustered at this note, you even glanced down at the skirt and took a few deep breaths before you wrote back to him. 

Like I said… perv. 

His shoulders slumped and he sighed. A part of him was amused, the other… not so much but before he could write back, the bell rang and everyone around him started gathering their stuff and hurrying to leave the classroom, including you. You picked up your notebook and got up, you smoothed down your skirt and left without sparing him a single glance. 

But Steve wanted more. He gathered his things and jumped up, not bothering to wait for Tommy, he hurried after you and watched the way your skirt swayed and your hair bounced. He licked his lips and cleared his throat as he caught up to you, he glanced down at you with a cocky smirk on his face, one that made you roll your eyes again. 

“What do you want, perv?”

He chuckled and shook his head. 

“I’m not a perv.”

“You’re not?” You tilted your head at him, cutely. “Then why are you staring at my skirt and making comments about it?”

He shrugged and looked down at it before his eyes moved up your body, “maybe I just really like it.” 

You rolled your eyes again and laughed – a sound that made him feel something in his stomach. 

“I fear you can’t borrow it, it won’t even fit around your big square head.” 

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes and yet, he couldn’t even help but snort at your insult, they were so very different from the ones he threw at you sometimes.  

“My head isn’t square…”

“Yes it is,” you giggled and gave him a smirk as you eyed him. 

Evil. 

“You look like a lego figure, you have a lego head.” 

He shook his head at you, though the amused smile lingered on his face, even as he took notice of all the prying eyes on you and him, he heard the whispers, saw the girls that eyed him and then you before they leaned towards each other to make up some new gossip, a part of him felt irritated and annoyed but the other part of him that loved the attention, couldn’t care less about what they would say about him or you. 

You stopped at your locker and gave him a weird look when he stopped too, he leaned against the locker next to yours and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you fidget with your lock. He looked at your hands, how much smaller they were than his and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander the way his eyes did as they roamed every inch of you while you were busy putting your stuff into your locker. 

Usually he did not allow himself to see you as anything other than a girl he disliked but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he allowed himself to see you as something other than that, as something more. 

He licked his lips as he looked at your soft skin, his fingers itched to touch your hair, wondering if they felt just as soft as they looked. He breathed in the scent of your perfume and felt something stir inside of him. 

You turned towards him and he didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, your lips twisted into a downturned smile, you raised your brows at him and shrugged.

“Okay, what do you want from me, Harrington?” You asked, the strap of your backpack now over your shoulder and you slammed your locker before you crossed your arms over your chest. “Is this a dare or something or why are you staring at me like some creep?” 

He felt his cheeks heat up a little, a shyness he usually never felt tugged at his emotions but his arrogance was still in control. 

“I’m bored,” he shrugged and let his eyes linger on your lips as his mind continued to wander. 

You rolled your eyes at him and huffed, pointing your finger around you, gesturing to the students, to the girls that stared at you in envy at this moment. 

“Well, I’m sure one of them will keep you entertained,” you mumbled and took a step forward, “they are practically begging on their knees for your attention, don’t leave ‘em waiting.” You patted him on his chest before you stepped away from him. 

He turned to face you, not wanting to let you go just yet. 

“What if I want you to keep me entertained?” He asked teasingly with a cocky, playful smirk on his lips, one that made you blink and sigh. 

“Dream on, King Steve,” you smirked and looked over his shoulder at something behind him, “gotta be more creative with your dares, your stupid friends are way too obvious.” 

He furrowed his brows and turned around to see what you were looking at, he found Tommy and Carol watching the two of you with a smirk on their lips, giggles falling from Carol’s mouth. Steve rolled his eyes at them and sighed. 

“Listen, that wasn’t–” he stopped talking when he found you long gone and away from him and watched as you walked away, “a dare…” He mumbled to himself, he sighed again and looked down once you were out of sight. His notebook and pencil case were still in his hand, your notes tucked safely in the case – where they stayed for a while. 

“Steve!” 

Your giggles make him smile so widely that it makes his cheeks ache but he can’t stop, not when you continue blessing him with your sweet laughter, your hands are on his shoulders, holding on tightly as his fingers dig into your sides, he peppers your neck with kisses, smacking his lips against the skin over and over. 

You are squirming underneath him, your dress riding up in the process as you both lie on the big couch in your living room, the movie playing on the TV long forgotten, your snacks discarded on the table, your attention is fully on each other, your lips locking every few seconds as your hands wander across his shoulders, over his back, down his arms and finally melting into his hands, your heart skipping several beats when he entwines his fingers with yours.

Steve squeezes your hands and he dives in deeper into your neck, kissing and smiling against your skin. 

“That tickles!” You giggle again, your eyes begin to water from all the laughter. 

He chuckles against you and pecks your neck one more time before he pulls back to kiss your jaw instead, then your cheek and finally your lips, humming against you when you kiss him back immediately. Your breaths mingle together, your lips mold against each other, softly yet passionately, you are chest to chest, hands clinging to one another. 

You let go of one hand and place your palm on his back, sliding it up to his shoulder and squeezing it before you sink your fingers into his already messy hair. 

Steve sighs into the kiss and tightens his hold on your hand as he parts your thighs with his knee, not to take this any further but to feel you closer and you welcome him happily, not initiating anything else either, this feels good, this feels nice, this is enough. 

Your whimper makes his stomach flutter, a smile tugs at his lips as you play with his hair. Your hands feel so good on him, so perfect, so right. His heart skips a beat when you push yourself up and press yourself further against him, parting his lips with your tongue, you deepen the kiss in need to feel him even closer. 

Your hands roam his body and his roam yours, sighs and whimpers sound through the room as you make out on your couch, growing more and more breathless, only when it gets too much do you break the kiss and pull away from one another. You lay your head back on the pillow and open your eyes to see him staring at you already, a soft smile on his swollen lips, eyes hooded and laced with softness, his cheeks are pink and his hair is messy from all your tugging. Steve makes your heart flutter when he presses another soft kiss to your lips and cups the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone as he gazes down at you in a way only a special one should do. 

“Hi Blondie,” he whispers sweetly. 

You raise your hand up towards his face, brushing back his spitcurl before you trail your finger down to his lips, “hey, Lego Head.” 

His eyes crinkle in amusement, a chuckle falls from his pretty lips, “wow, way to ruin the moment.” 

You giggle at him and it makes him continue. 

“You haven’t used that one in a while.” 

“Mhmm, did you miss it?” You tease him, knowing how much he hated the nickname you gave him on a random school day. 

“Hmm, it kinda grew on me,” he admits, smiling down at you, “but I kinda prefer it when you call me Stevie.”

“Stevie? That only happens when I’m drunk.” 

“Yeah,” he whispers and tugs your hair behind your ear, still smiling as his eyes trace your features, “guess I gotta get you drunk again.”

“Why?” You giggle and furrow your brows at him, “so I’ll call you Stevie again?” 

“Yeah, and so I can have sweet Blondie again,” he smirks, “you’re so nice and adorable when you’re drunk.” 

Your cheeks heat up at his words but you roll your eyes and shake your head. 

“Are you saying I’m normally not adorable?” You joke and pout at him and push him back so you can stand up, heart beating faster at the groan of protest and the tightness of his hold on your waist when you try to get up from the couch. 

“Where are you going?” He asks, frowning at you when you place your hand on top of his and gently remove it from your waist. 

“I’m starving, I’m gonna see what I have in the fridge.” 

Steve nods and wastes no time to get up and follow you into the kitchen, admiring the way your little sundress fits your body, the way it hugs your waist and sways around your hips as you walk. Your hair matches the state of his own, messy and disheveled from the previous makeout session. 

When you open the fridge, you let out a loud sigh and look over your shoulder, “uh… I kinda forgot to do the groceries.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, chuckling at the expression on your face, he steps closer to you and places his hands on your waist as he takes a look inside, finding nothing more than fruit, drinks, condiments and cheese, “yeah, that won’t do.”

You sigh again and close the fridge, turning around to face him while his hands are still on your waist. 

“Yeah…”

“Well, let’s go out then,” Steve shrugs as the idea of taking you to a restaurant fills him with excitement and giddiness. 

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen. 

“W-Where?”

Steve clears his throat, his cheeks take on a deeper shade. 

“T-To eat. We can uh– go to a sushi restaurant, I’ve always wanted to try… Have you ever tried sushi…?” He stutters and blushes. 

“Y-You wanna go out with me… in public?” You ask, cringing at how shaky and small your own voice sounds. 

His lips twitch, curling into a smile as he nods. 

“We uh… We could go out of town, there are no sushi restaurants in Hawkins, Blondie.” His words left his mouth so casually, like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest and he isn’t filled with the same nervousness he felt as a teenage boy. He feels as though he is asking you out on a date… and maybe he is, maybe he’d like to pretend that he is. 

“You mean to Indianapolis?”

Steve nods. He wants to leave Hawkins for a while, even if just for one night, he wants to be able to go out with you without feeling the need to hide, he wants to hold your hand in public and kiss you breathless on the streets, he wants to hold you close and show you off as if you were his. 

He wants it all with you and he wants it here too, in his hometown, where anyone could see but he still doesn’t know how you feel, he feels hopeful but he is still in the dark about your feelings. 

“It's the closest city we got.”

“It’s an hour trip!” 

His heart melts at the bewildered, cute look on your face, the excitement that lingers in your eyes as your lips start curling into a smile. 

“So?” Steve shrugs and squeezes your waist, “we got all night.”

Your heart is racing and everything inside of you flutters in excitement. Your cheeks are burning and you feel the giddiness of a girl that’s been asked out on a date by the boy she likes. You can’t even hide the smile that appears on your face, brightly and happily. 

“I need to get changed then!” You beam at him as you already step away, not giving him the chance to protest or say anything else before you walk out of the kitchen, “I’ll be down in a minute!” 

Steve listens to the sound of your footsteps as you rush up the stairs, leaving him in your kitchen with a pounding heart and a huge smile on his lips. He looks up at the ceiling, an accomplished and joyful feeling rushing through him, he can’t help but do a silent fist pump. 

This is going to be a date, an unofficial one, but still a date. 

He can’t fight the grin off his lips, the giddy feeling settling into his whole body. He walks back into the hallway and takes a look at himself, your lipstick is smudged on his skin and his lips, his hair is a mess, created by you, his cheeks are glowing from all the happiness inside of him. 

He fixes his hair and wipes the pink lipstick off his skin before he makes his way into your living room to turn off the TV and put away the snacks you both had earlier. 

You come back down fifteen minutes later, changed into a new dress and your makeup reapplied, your hair fixed and a small purse in your hand. You meet in the hallway, keys already in his hand, and he’s leaning against the door.

Steve’s heart goes wild at the sight of you in your new sundress, your glossy lips tugged into a smile, the urge to pull you into a kiss pushes him towards you.

He whistles playfully, making you roll your eyes with a giggle. 

“Getting all pretty for me now?” He teases, acting cocky as though his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his chest. 

You always get pretty for him. 

“I’ve been dying to wear this dress,” you say, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you twirl around to reveal your open back to him, not knowing how crazy you drive him with your action. 

Steve’s stomach flutters, his hands instantly itch to touch your bare skin, you look so beautiful. 

He takes a step closer to you and grabs your waist, humming, “that’s a pretty dress, I can’t wait to see it on my bedroom floor though.” 

Your cheeks burn and despite it, you giggle as you turn around to face him, “is that a King Steve pickup line?” 

He shakes his head, “no, he never said such things.”

“Sure,” you snort and tug at his hand, pulling him towards the door, “come on now, I’m starving!” 

Steve chuckles and nods, reaching for his car keys on the dresser, he squeezes your hand, “yeah, come on, before you get grumpy.” 

“I never get grumpy,” you argue as your lips curl into a pout that he instantly feels the urge to kiss. 

“You always get grumpy when you’re hungry,” he laughs. He loves it. 

Steve opens the door for you, giving you a sweet smile as he looks down at your pretty face. You step out and he follows, admiring the way your dress hugs your body, the way your skin glows beneath the evening sun, the way your hair shines, your perfume lingers in the air and he can’t help but breathe it in deeply, just the way he always did. 

Your hand fits in his so perfectly, like it belongs there… and to him it does. 

You look over your shoulder, giving him a cute smile that leaves him breathless. The golden light that shines down on you turns his breathing shaky, no words could describe your beauty, nothing comes close to it, absolutely nothing. You are stunning, bewitching, you are a goddess and he worships every inch of your being and you don’t even know it.

He wishes he could scream out those three big words, kiss you breathless and show you just how much he adores you but he can’t, he is too afraid, he fears rejection so deeply, so all that he can do is pretend, pretend that you are already his and live in this small delusion for as long as he can. He opens the door for you and winks at you, fighting the urge to kiss your hand before he lets go of you and closes the door only to grab your hand again once he is seated in the driver's seat, you lace your fingers together and squeeze his hand, unaware of the feelings you leave him with, with your sweet action. 

When he turns on the music and a smile appears on your face, you sink deeper into the seat and get comfortable, a content look on your pretty features. You look so perfect sitting in his passenger seat, next to him, holding his hand, enjoying the music as you look out the window when he drives down the road.

This is where you belong, this is what he wants, you by his side, for tonight and for always, he wants you to be his, his girl.

This isn’t enough, it never was, this was never just about sex. 

There was never an ounce of hatred for you in his bones, not in high school and not after. 

He felt bitterness, confusion, denial but most of all, he felt jealousy, he always did and he never understood why you didn’t like him, why you bickered with him, why you laughed at his poor flirting attempts, why you didn’t want him the way every other girl did, why you showed up for Lucas’s game but not a single one of his – that night isn’t one he likes to think back on, it makes him cringe and shudder in annoyance at himself for what he said to you, he let his emotions, his jealousy, his frustrations control the words his mouth left. 

He didn’t know that you were a friend of Max and Lucas, he didn’t know that you showed up for her, and for him, knowing that his friends were too busy with Eddie’s D&D campaign. He didn’t know why you were there, but when he saw you on the bleachers and he caught you waving at Lucas, whose eyes lit up when he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel jealous because why did you show up for a freshman, for a kid? Why did you never show up to any of his games? Why didn’t you give him the chance to show off? 

He felt irritated, even more so when he saw you talking to Lucas in the parking lot, smiling at him and congratulating him on his successful first game. 

He remembers the way he marched over to you, the way he started bickering with you instead of praising the teen he showed up for. 

“Are you so desperate for attention that you go for a freshman now?” 

He cringes at himself, even now, disgusted at the words he threw at you.

You looked so hurt and angry, you pushed him away from you and he never blamed you for it, you could’ve slapped him right there, he deserved it. 

He felt guilty right then and there but that emotion intensified when only a few days later he found out about your sisterly bond with Max and your friendship with both of them, you cared for them and protected them just the way he did. Before he knew that, he made himself believe that you were just a loner, a person too cold to feel anything, even platonic, he wanted to believe that he wasn’t some unimportant person that you crossed paths with, that you were simply unable to form bonds or relationships but that wasn’t the case, you had people you cared for, you had friends you would die for, you just didn’t want to give him a chance, not platonically and especially not romantically. 

He was jealous of anyone who was close to you, who was special to you but back then, he didn’t allow himself to explore the depth of those emotions that always lingered inside of him when it came to you. 

Now he can see them, he can feel them, he can admit that he was jealous and hurt because he is no longer ashamed to like, love you — someone who might not feel the same. But whatever the outcome of this affair will be, he doesn’t regret letting all those feelings in, especially now that you are here with him, like this, holding his hand and letting him take you out and show you off in public. 

He is allowed to feel hopeful now, he thinks. 

Indianapolis is big and no town people, no friends, no prying eyes will be there to see you both but you could have still easily said no to his suggestion because who goes out to eat with their supposedly casual hook up? But then again, what is casual about you both? 

Not even your first night together was casual. 

You kissed and held each other close from the very beginning. 

You stay over, you cuddle, you hold hands, even in public and when you are sure that no one is looking, you sleep in his arms and you make each other breakfast, you make sure that his favorite drinks and snacks are in your kitchen and he does the same for you, his bathroom and his bedroom are filled with things that belong to you. 

This isn’t casual, the signs are there and they are so very clear, tonight especially, when you make it to the city and you walk through the busy streets where it’s much more crowded and louder than it is in your small hometown, you keep close to him and hold onto his hand tightly as you lead him to the sushi restaurant that you have told him about on the drive here, the one you went to with your parents and your sister every time you visited your grandparents in the city. 

So many things go through Steve’s mind and so many emotions rush through him as you walk side by side, hand in hand with the city lights shining down on you both as the sun disappears more and more. He feels free, like he can do anything, like he can kiss you right here, right now, without needing to hide or drag you to a secret corner, he feels giddy, happy, he can’t even hide the smile on his face. 

Once you make it to your destination, Steve lets go of your hand and places it on the small of your back instead, he opens the door and keeps his palm pressed against your body. He is so lost in his happy bubble, he doesn’t even notice the blush taking over your face when he wraps his arm around you and rests his palm on your hip instead as he leads you inside. 

It’s crowded but he didn’t expect any less from a restaurant in a big city, he doesn’t seem to mind though and neither do you, especially when you get one of the booth tables, tucked away in the very back, next to a big window where you can see the city lights. 

You sit down across from one another, smiling from ear to ear as you look into each other’s eyes. 

“Hi,” he whispers, making you giggle. 

“Hi.”

His honey eyes look so pretty in this golden light, his hair looks softer than ever, his smile so big and bright that it fills you with hope, especially when it stays as his eyes trace your face, he is staring at you even though he could be staring at this pretty setting around you, at the decorated room, the string lights over you, the city lights, but no, he is staring at you and he is making you feel special. 

A sheepish smile takes over your face, a shyness that you rarely ever feel flushing through you, the look in his eyes is so intense that you can’t help but be the first to break contact. You lean back and cross your legs, looking around the restaurant you used to eat dinners at with your family. 

Nostalgia comes over you when a family of four catches your eye, sitting at a round table, they seem to be in a lively conversation, the two little girls laughing with their father as their mother shakes her head with a smile on her face. 

Steve follows your gaze when he notices the sad but soft look in your eyes. Something tugs at his chest when he takes a look at the family you are watching and suddenly your eyes aren’t the only ones filled with sadness. 

He leans closer to the table, placing his palm above your hand. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, watching the way you tilt your head at him, the softness in your eyes never leaving. “I mean, are you okay to be here… right now… with me?” 

There is no one else you would rather be with here.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you nod, glancing down at his hand, he is now rubbing circles into your skin, “and yes, I want to be here with you,” you admit, knowing how vulnerable you can make yourself look with such words. 

He breathes out a sigh of relief, his lips curl back into a smile. 

Steve keeps holding your hand, not letting go, not even when he decides to look at the menu, not even when the waiter stops at your table to take your orders, not when your drinks arrive a few minutes later, he keeps holding on and you let him.

Curiosity sparks in him when he notices the way you keep looking back at the family, a look in your eyes that signalizes the feeling of longing. 

“Blondie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You nod, “anything.”

You’re close enough to ask each other questions that won’t make the other uncomfortable and that is something Steve greatly appreciates, knowing that you weren’t here months back, not even close.

Steve blinks, taking a few shaky breaths, he keeps his hand on yours, tracing the ring on your middle finger. He clears his throat and looks down, ignoring the strong beating of his heart and the nervousness bubbling in his stomach. 

“Do you uh… do you ever think about it?” 

You look at him with big, curious eyes and it’s not helping his case at all. 

“Think about what?” 

“Kids.” 

You furrow your brows at his question but you smile softly and you don’t hesitate to nod, not even needing time to think about it. 

“I honestly want to… I miss having a big family, you know?” You pause and look down at his hand, wondering what it would be like if he had a ring on his fourth finger, one that would match your own. “I don’t care if it’s one or many, I just… I really want a family, one that is here with me, all the time.” 

Steve’s big hazel eyes soften and flicker with deep emotions. His heart skips a beat as warmth settles in his chest. 

He didn’t think he could fall even harder for you, even deeper but now as he looks at you, as he holds your hand and looks into your pretty eyes, he knows that he will never stop falling, there is no end, no limit when it comes to his feelings, to his love for you.

A future lies before his eyes, a future with you, rings, cradles, a white picket fence, kids that look like you and him. He sees something, something that is in reach, something that he hopes for, something that he wants with you without a single doubt.

“You will have it all, Blondie.”

You don’t know what to make of his words but whatever the feelings behind them are, you know that they are not what you want them to be, no matter how much his feelings for you changed, no matter how much hope there is in you, no matter how big it is, you can’t believe that the thing you have now, could be one for the future too and not only the present. 

You don’t know what to say without revealing your feelings to him, you want this with him and he can’t know, he just can’t. 

To your relief, the waiter brings your food to the table, taking Steve’s attention away from your face. You let go of each other's hands, thanking and smiling at the waiter. 

“That looks amazing,” Steve murmurs as he looks at the plates in front of the both of you, reaching for the chopsticks, he looks down at them, growing a little nervous, he never used them before. 

“It does,” you nod with a smile on your face, “hey, this is special, Steve. I’m getting my first sushi with you.” You say with a giggle, making his chest flutter. 

“I thought you had some before.” 

“Yeah, stole some from my dad but I never actually had a plate for myself,” you chuckle. 

“Well, I’m glad we share some firsts together then because I never tried them before, at all,” he grins. 

You can tell by the way he is holding the chopsticks wrongly, looking down at them with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He looks so cute like this but a part of you wants to laugh even though you can’t even use them properly yourself. You have seen your dad using them every time you came here to eat, but you never tried it yourself. 

“I can tell,” you murmur, unable to hide the giggle when he tries to pick up a roll but fails to do so. 

He snorts and shoots you a playful glare. 

“Go ahead, and show me then, Blondie,” he smirks at you, pointing at your plate. 

You clear your throat and place your chopsticks between your index and middle finger, you can already feel your cheeks heating up beneath his gaze. You press your thumb against the chopstick and bite your lip in concentration, glancing at him for a second to see him staring at you, making the warmth in your cheeks grow hotter. 

“See?” You grin as you pinch your food gently, growing confident when you manage to pick up the sushi despite the shakiness in your hands. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling softly. 

You go to dip it in the soy sauce when your shaky hands lose control and your sushi plops into the sauce loudly, splattering over your plate but luckily not on your dress. You press your lips together and look into his eyes, you stare at one another for a moment before you both burst into laughter. 

“Oh my god,” Steve chuckles in amusement, “you’re a great teacher, honey.” 

“Shut up,” you giggle and try to pick it up again. 

“Guess we gotta learn together,” he shrugs with a smile on his face. 

You do, you learn together and you share jokes and laugh at each other every time you fail, but once you get the hang out of it, you fall into a conversation about your parents, you tell him stories of the times they brought you and your sister into the city and Steve listens attentively, smiling at you and feeling grateful that you feel comfortable enough to bring him here and to talk about them – and you, you are surprised yourself when you don’t feel the cold sadness in you that you always felt every time you even mentioned them, talking about them with Steve feels… comforting, he is comforting. 

His knees touch yours beneath the table, the material of his jeans brushing your bare skin, his hand is close to yours, his pinky touching your own. He smiles at you, he laughs with you, he makes silly jokes and feeds you his food, his eyes never stray away from you, there is only you for him right now and as the realization strikes you, you grow hopeful again, your heart skips a beat at the thought that this could be something like… a date. 

You both want the same thing, though what neither of you realize is that you aren’t acting like two nervous people who finally managed to score a date with that one person, you are acting like a couple, not a single awkward moment follows you both, you are talking and laughing with each other like you’re best friends. 

“I have this theory…” Steve says before he takes a sip of his coke. 

You cock your head to the side, “please continue.” 

He places his glass back on the table and picks up his chopsticks again, he chuckles before he opens his mouth once more, “that Dustin is copying Eddie.”

“What?” You laugh. 

“Hear me out, for the past few weeks… Have you seen Dustin’s change of style!? He is wearing all black now! And his hair? It’s fucking long!” He exclaims, shaking his head. 

You’re a little amused by his sudden outburst, by the confused and slightly irritated look on his face, it’s cute. 

“Well, he sees Eddie as a role model, so?” 

"Excuse me?” He scoffs, not liking your words, not liking that the boy that once looked up to him found someone else, someone better to look up to. 

You squint your eyes at him and lean closer to the table, cupping your cheek as you smile, “Steve, is it just me or are you jealous of Eddie?” 

He scoffs again, waving his hand at you, “nonsense.”

“You’re jealous that he stole Dustin from you.” 

Steve shakes his head at you, “I’m not jealous, I’m just saying that– he is following Eddie like some lost puppy, copying him fully! What if he takes on smoking?” 

A laugh tumbles from your lips and Steve can’t even fight the smile off his lips when your soft eyes glow with amusement. 

“Really? He is fifteen, Steve! You were hosting parties at that age and getting drunk, he is not the twelve year old you once met.”

Steve laughs, he leans back in his seat and sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “yeah, I forget that sometimes, he’s not a kid anymore… he’s a teenager,” he chuckles, furrowing his eyebrows, “but come on… Eddie? Eddie’s sense of style? Is Dustin insane?” 

You roll your eyes at him, still amused by him. 

“So, you want him to wear polo shirts and cardigans instead?” 

His lips part and he pretends to be offended, “hey! You like my polo shirts!” 

“Yeah, not the point here.” 

Steve tilts his chin up, smirking at you, “you admit that you like them then?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head and hiding your face behind your hair as you start blushing again which prompts him to continue his teasing as he begins to reminisce about your shared days at school, leaving out the saddening memories and only talking of the good ones, the funny ones, memories of your childhood, of your time in kindergarten and middle school and how long you have been a part of each other’s lives and when you leave the restaurant after a long time, you reach for each other’s hands and entwine your fingers together without even thinking about it. 

You stroll through the city and kiss on the streets, like he wanted to all night and it makes you both smile, it makes you feel happy and free and Steve can’t wait for the day when he will find the courage to ask you out on a real date, to ask you to be more than this, to be his, like he pretends you are now as you stand beneath the twinkling lights, surrounded by people, surrounded by the sounds of the city and he can’t stop kissing you, not even when you continue your way to his car, he keeps pulling you into kisses, pressing his lips to yours, to your cheeks, to your hands, to your neck, over and over again, making you giggle and blush at his sweet actions. He’s drunk on you, he is so in love with you that he can’t contain it, he has to show it in some way, he has to let it out, even if not in words. 

Steve holds your hand on your way home, he kisses you at every red light and he sings along to The Smiths, you don’t think that you have ever seen him so carefree and relaxed before. 

And Steve, he had never felt this happy before, nothing, no one can compare to you, to the way you make him feel, to the love he feels for you, to the happiness that flickers in him every time you reach for his hand or bless him with a sweet smile after pressing your lips to his. Those three words that are on the tip of his tongue, beg to be released and he is so close to doing it, so damn close. 

You’re waving your hand in front of your face when you step inside his house, the heat of the summer night feeling too warm on your skin and Steve’s hands on your waist aren’t making it any better, worsening second by second, especially when he keeps making you laugh with his silly comments. 

“I need to cool off.” 

Steve brushes his fingers through your hair and tucks it behind your ears, “cool off? Why, am I this hot?” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You snort and place your hands on his chest and run your finger down his stomach, hooking it around his belt,  “you’re such a dork.”

Your dork. 

His lips curl into a smirk, he leans down close enough that your noses brush, “mhm, you like it though.” 

Yes, you do, you really do. 

You gaze into his honey eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne, getting lost in his touch as his hands hold your waist. 

“You know what else I’d like?” You whisper against his lips as you give him a soft kiss, making his breathing hitch and his heart stammer. 

“Hmm?” 

Steve blinks at you, excitement bubbling in his stomach. 

“A cold beer.”

He chuckles, he expected something else but he can’t complain, not when you give him another short kiss. 

You bite your lip and step away from him, letting his hands fall to his sides. You bring your hands up to the buttons of your dress, walking backwards slowly and continuing to gaze into his eyes with mischief in yours, you undo the top buttons, revealing your new bra to him. You almost giggle at his parted lips and the hunger in his eyes. 

Steve gulps as you expose more and more of your skin to him, he could fall to his knees right then and there.

“Don’t take too long,” you murmur, winking at him. You walk away from him and into his living room, humming as you turn on the lights in his backyard before you slide open the big glass doors and step outside. 

The night is quiet and hot, the only sound coming from the crickets and the slight rustling of the trees as soft wind blows through them and then Steve turns on the stereo in the living room, making you smile. You look up at the starry sky and listen to Steve’s footsteps. 

You push the straps of your dress down your shoulders and kick off your shoes, looking over your shoulder to see Steve rushing out with two beers in his hands. 

He places them on the table and steps towards you, tutting at you with a playful glare on his pretty face, “could’ve let me take that pretty dress off,” he murmurs and places his hands on your elbows where your straps hang loosely now. 

His hands are cold from the beers he picked out of the fridge, goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“I didn’t take it off yet,” you shrug, smirking as your hands find their way back to his belt, and you waste no time to unbuckle it. 

Steve smirks back at you, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers as he slips the straps down your forearms and pushes your dress down, bunching it around your hips, he sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes grow darker, lustful. It certainly isn’t the first time he sees you like this, but his reaction never changes, his body always reacts to you, just the way his heart does. 

You look so beautiful, so goddamn sexy that it drives him crazy. 

Not many words are shared between you but the silence is comfortable and your eyes speak enough words as you undress each other, you take his shirt off and place your hand on his chest, staring at him in awe as he pushes your dress down and lets it fall to the ground, his hands touching your bare skin, fingers tracing your lacy underwear. 

With hooded eyes he looks down at you and he pulls you closer, “is this little set new?” 

You nod, your skin heating up again. 

“Looks so pretty,” he murmurs and leans in to press his lips against your neck, “too bad it’s gonna get wet.”

You sigh at the feeling of his kisses, breathing shakily. 

You start pushing his jeans down, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “take your pants off, Steve.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles and pushes them down his legs, he quickly steps out of them and bends down, hooking his arm around the back of your knees, he scoops you up into his arms, laughing at the surprised squeal that falls from your lips. 

You throw your arms around his neck and hold on tight, looking at him bewildered while he smirks smugly. 

“What are you doing?” 

He steps closer to the edge of his pool, “what do you think I’m doing?” He chuckles, not giving you time to react before he tightens his hold on you and takes another step forward, jumping into the pool and crashing into the water with you, letting the cold envelope you both. 

And you feel it, you feel the freezing water on your skin, the goosebumps that rise and the shivers that ripple through you but not even this takes away the heat you feel inside of you. You taste the chlorine on your lips and you feel his hands on your waist as he pulls you back up with him. 

“Is that cool enough for you, honey?” He asks breathily as he wipes his hand down his face and shakes his head to get the water out of his hair. 

You giggle and stretch your arms out, “mhm, the water feels nice,” you murmur and tilt your head up, glancing at the stars in the sky, smiling at the sound of one of yours and his favorite songs playing on the stereo. 

Steve starts humming along, his eyes tracing your pretty features, your wet hair that still somehow looks just as perfect as it did before, water rolls down your face, your lacy bra now clinging even more to your skin making his hands itch for you. 

The water sloshes around him as he moves closer to you, wanting to feel your body back against his but you seem to have different ideas because when you notice him inching closer to you, you give him a teasing smirk before you turn around and start swimming. 

“Hey!” 

You giggle at the disappointed sound in his voice, that sighs that follows after. 

You feel his hand brushing your foot but unable to get a hold of you, you pick up your pace and start swimming faster, pushing against the water stronger, “you can’t catch me, Lego Head.”

He shakes his head, letting out a laugh. 

“You think you can get away from me?” He teases, diving deeper into the water, he starts swimming after you, “I was a lifeguard, honey.”

“Yeah, you’ve been bragging about it for three years now,” you snort and dare to take a look over your shoulder, “you must’ve been a bad one, ice cream man.”

He laughs again, amused by your comment and by how you slowed down. 

“You’re so funny.”

“I know,” you smirk and turn around again, thinking you can still get away from him but Steve is close, so very close. This time he catches you by your ankle, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back, chuckling at the squeal that falls from your lips, he grabs your waist and embraces you with his arms, pulling against his chest, he holds you tightly, chuckling at the pout on your lips when you look back at him with a frown on your face. 

“Not fair,” you whine and wiggle against him which prompts you to press yourself harder into his chest, into his front, you can feel his bulge against your butt, you can feel how hot his skin is despite the cool water, his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips on your neck. 

You breathe in shakily, the heat inside of you rushing into your core, making you press your legs together as a deep longing takes over you. 

“Guess you’re not that fast after all, huh?” He teases, loving the way your bare skin feels against his. “Didn’t even take me thirty seconds to catch you.” 

You hold onto him tighter, glancing at his lips before your eyes lock with his again, “maybe I just let you catch me.” 

He chuckles, adoring the way you look at him. 

“Yeah sure, Blondie.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around your waist as he starts guiding you away from the middle of the pool and towards the stairs. 

“So what now, do you plan on drowning me?” You joke. 

The water gets lower and lower, exposing your upper body to the cooling wind, making you shiver a little. 

“No, too late for that,” he jokes back with a chuckle, “but I am thinking of something.” 

You tilt your head to the side and raise your brows at him. He moves away from behind you and reaches for your hand as he takes three steps up the stairs, enough to still be in the water once he sits down before you. He licks his lips as he looks you up and down with need and adoration in his eyes, he admires your body, your curves, you. He pulls you a little closer, the water is still hiding your hips, your legs that he loves having wrapped around his waist and his head. 

“What?” You ask softly and curiously. 

Steve looks at you with hooded eyes, with cheeks glowing pink and lips begging to be kissed. 

“I want to fuck you, right here, right now, in my pool, and–” he rasps, glancing up at the sky above you, he points his finger up, “under the full moon.”

Your eyes widen at his words, butterflies that never die growing wild in your stomach, your kneels almost buckle and you have to press your thighs together. 

You follow his gaze and frown when you only see the stars in the sky and the quarter of the moon. 

“That’s not a full moon, Steve–” you gasp when you suddenly feel his hands on your waist and he forces you closer, prompting you to straddle his waist. Your knees hit the steps he’s sitting on, your arms wrap around his neck instinctively. 

“You’re a stupid moron,” you whisper with no venom in your voice or your eyes. 

Steve blinks, smirking at you. 

“And you are too naive,” he whispers back, squeezing your waist as you lean into each other, not even noticing that you did as you shared your soft whispers. 

You smile at one another, your noses brushes and you close your eyes as your lips meet in a soft kiss, a kiss enough to steal your breath. 

You move your palm down his strong shoulder, squeezing his bicep and resting your other hand on his back, deepening the kiss as he parts your lips with his tongue, blessing you with the sound of his moan. 

Steve runs his hand down your waist and to your hips, gripping your body tightly, pulling you closer and closer until you’re flush against him. He can’t help but gasp when you grind against his erection, filling him with more need. 

Your soft kiss grows faster, hungrier, needy but still passionate and despite the lack of air, you don’t pull away just yet. You run your hand down his hairy chest, his stomach, making him shiver against you. You tug at his boxers, pulling them down just far enough for you to wrap your hand around his dick. 

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips, continuing to press kisses to your mouth as he tugs at your panties, “let me–”

“No,” you whisper as you jerk him off slowly, pumping him a few times and teasing his slit with your thumb, “I need you.” 

You don’t need no preparation, you don’t need his fingers or his tongue, not right now, you only need him, to feel him, all of him. 

“F-Fuck,” he breathes shakily, moaning at the feeling of your soft hand around him, “please… I want you, I need you so bad.”

You whimper as his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his words rushing to your heart and your core. 

You push your panties to the side and waste no other second to guide him to your entrance, looking into his pleading eyes that watch you in awe as you sink down on him, taking him slowly and moaning out his name in pleasure as your eyebrows scrunch together. The water pressure making it a little harder to do so, and it is a weird yet not unpleasant feeling. 

“J-Just like that, baby,” he whimpers, his hands holding you tightly, his eyes flickering between your face and your body, the pleasure in him growing deeper and stronger, “you’re doing so well… fuck… you feel so good,” he groans when he feels your warmth enveloping him fully. 

His right hand settles on your lower back, moving up to the middle and the top and then he wraps his hand around the back of your neck so he can pull you even closer, he presses his lips back to yours, pecking them one, two, three times. 

“Steve,” you whimper, tears brimming in your eyes from the pleasure in your body, from the size of him. You bite down on your lip and suppress a moan, when you’re fully seated on top of him, you feel a wave of different emotions rushing through you. His kisses, his touches, his hugs and his compliments, the sweet things he says to you, the sweet things he does for you overwhelming you in the best way possible. 

Something changed, something was different today, this feels different. 

You pull him into an even deeper kiss than before, letting your emotions take full control over your actions. 

Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the sudden kiss, he even smiles into it, feeling his heart beating in joy. 

You start riding him slowly, moving your hips at a torturing pace as you’re still getting used to his size. You’re clenching around him, your slick coating his dick and Steve feels it all so intensely. 

The strap of your bra slips down your wet arm but you don’t bother to fix it.

Steve cups your cheeks as your tongues clash together, your needy whimpers vibrate against his lips but he notices how quiet they sound compared to moans and screams you let out when you’re in his bed. 

“Let them out, baby,” he murmurs as you both pull away from the kiss, your breaths mingling together as your lips keep brushing against one another. He tucks your wet hair behind your ears and slips his hands down your body, settling on your hips, he gives you a lazy smile, his eyes already fucked out, “let me hear your pretty moans,” he whispers, trying to coax his favorite sounds out of you as he starts fucking up into you. 

You gasp and hold on tighter, furrowing your eyebrows even more, the feeling of him splitting you open, fucking you deeper making you whimper in need. 

“P-Public, neighbors might hear, Steve–” You whine as you meet his thrusts, continuing to roll your hips despite the nervousness that lingers in you from not wanting to get caught, but it’s hard to keep quiet when he feels so good. 

Steve couldn’t care less about his neighbors, the bushes around his house hide his backyard well enough, there is no need to worry. 

“Let them hear,” he whispers into your neck as he presses his lips to your delicate skin. 

Your heart stutters in your chest, surprise sparks in you because he wants people to hear you, both of you, he doesn’t care about hiding, he didn’t care about it at all today. 

His strong hands hold your hips, his cock sliding in and out of you, sending waves of pleasure through your belly, his moans echo through the night and you can’t help but get lost in the moment of this. 

You bury your fingers in his hair and your face in his neck, whining as you pick up the pace, riding him faster than before, causing the water to splash around you both. His chest hair brushes against your boobs, his lips suck on your skin, his moans vibrate against you as he kisses you through it all. 

“Just like that,” he hums, satisfaction tugging at him when he feels you drooling over his neck, your hot tears falling down on his skin, “look at me, honey, I wanna see your face.” 

You gather your strength to pull back far enough for him to see you and those tears he caused to fall from your eyes. You’re whimpering and clenching around him tightly, making him match the sounds that fall from your lips. 

His hazel eyes are dark, his lips puffy and cheeks redder than before, his wet skin glowing under the string lights in his backyard. God, he looks so beautiful, especially when he is moaning your name and clinging to you. 

He cups the side of your face and you make his heart flutter in his chest when you lean into his touch. 

For a moment, he leans back the slightest bit just to see you, to watch how you ride him, how you take him, how much pleasure he brings you, how your face scrunches up so prettily, how your lips curl into a pout, how your boobs threaten to spill out of your bra as you bounce on his dick, whimpering his name, over and over again. 

God, he loves you, he loves you so fucking much that it physically hurts him to hide those words from you, everything inside of him screams at him to say them, to let you know, to confess to you, to show you how much he wants you, how deep his feelings for you are. 

His own eyes burn with tears, pleasure and emotions mixing together as he watches you, convinced that there is something behind your eyes as well, feelings, adoration, love. 

There has to be something, right? 

You wouldn’t hold his hand just for the fun of it, you wouldn’t kiss him and let him feel you, have you like this if there wasn’t something in your heart for him. You wouldn’t spend nights in his arms and dinners with him if it was casual. 

It’s not casual, it just can’t be. 

You have to feel it too, you have to feel the love. 

You just have to. 

Your name falls from his lips and when you wrap your arms around him again and you lean your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes with something, you grow tighter around him, making his moans louder. 

I love you. 

He traces words into your skin that he can’t say out loud because he is too afraid to lose you because while there is hope in him, there is also fear, fear that he is misunderstanding something again. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Steve wants to whisper them to you, to say them to you, to scream them out into the open for the whole world to hear. 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, making your heart explode in your chest. 

“So are you,” you whisper back, shakily, wishing you could say something else, something more. 

Steve looks up at you as though you’re something special, like you aren’t the girl he once hated, like you are his and it prompts you to peck his lips, over and over again just the way he always does to you. 

Waves of pleasure crash over the both of you as you chase your high together, you moan against each others lips as his hand moves down your stomach and his fingers settle between your thighs, no words are spoken anymore when he presses against your clit gently, rubbing circles against your sensitive nub, your high pitched moans, his deep thrusts and the begging looks in both your eyes are enough. 

You kiss and you both move, faster than before, you cling to one another harder, stronger, deeper than ever, your lips moving feverishly with each other, desperation and love behind all your movements, a searing heat cursing through you both, overwhelming your poor hearts that long for each other so pleadingly. 

And when you both reach your peak, Steve has to press his lips strongly to yours so he doesn’t spill the words that become harder to keep in. He kisses you for as long as he can, he kisses you through your high and through the aftermath, your movements slow down and your hearts beat slower, he still doesn’t pull away, if anything, he tightens his arms around you, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting this night to end. 

He wants to smile, he wants to feel happy but a part of him is so scared, after tonight especially. 

You showed him something that he could lose at any given moment, you made him feel things he didn’t even think he was capable of feeling, you lit the fire inside of him again, you made his heart feel again, you made him love again, stronger than he ever did before, he didn’t even think a love like this was possible, he didn’t think he could love so deeply. 

What will there be if he loses you? 

He experienced heartbreak before but nothing would compare to this, not even his first love could make him feel such excruciating pain that you will curse him with when you decide to leave him. 

His heart pains at the thought, it already begins to break just thinking of the possibility. 

Steve clings to you, when you pull away from the kiss, he buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, he holds you tightly as though he is afraid that you might disappear if he lets you go. 

He needs to feel you, he needs you against him, he needs to savor every moment you still allow him with you. 

Steve can’t bear to lose you, not you, he can get through anything, he can get over anything but not you. 

And while he is filled with fear, inwardly begging for you to stay, for you to be the one to be by his side – you are holding onto him with hope, with a smile on your face, unaware of the fear that lingers in the man that you love with all your heart.

You never thought you’d be in this position. That you’d ever feel like this when it came to Steve. You never thought you would feel confident in this relationship, potential, a future in it. The fear slowly decreases in each caress he gives you, in every touch, in every kiss. A fear you never thought you would lose in your life.

All you ever imagined in this love you had for him was pain. Everything ended in pure heartbreak and loneliness for you. Now, that image doesn’t come to mind. That picture you painted is no longer vivid in your head. 

And this is when you realize that you have a chance. You truly have a chance.

You decide to push it all aside, the anxiety, the fear of rejection, the fear of loss, you push it all away, no longer allowing the sadness and the fear to control you, if today wasn’t the push that you needed then you don’t know what else will. 

All the signs you weren’t sure of are there, they are there, colorful and bright, for you to see so clearly and you no longer move away from them, you move towards them, allowing yourself to feel hope that he can feel the same. 

And when you two go to bed that night after a long shower together, you cuddle and you kiss each other sweetly, whispering words of affection to one another, tracing each other's skin and holding one another tight. 

You make a decision. 

Tomorrow… Tomorrow will be the day you decide to confess. It cannot wait any longer. It cannot be postponed. It is inevitable, and you cannot handle the pain of loving him and being just this item with him any longer, especially not after this night. 

Having him like this is no longer enough. 

Keeping those three words in becomes less possible after every kiss, every touch, every whisper.

Tomorrow your life will change. 

And hopefully for the better. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

[kamaluhkhan]

YOUR SWEETHEART PSYCHOPATHIC CRUSH !

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader word count: 5.7k chapter summary: while spending your summer at the ackerman's estate, you and levi become slightly obsessed with each other despite mikasa being very clear she doesn't want you to fuck her cousin. warnings: alcohol, smoking, slight enemies to lovers dynamic, kinda rough smut (18+!!), oral (f+m receiving), unprotected period sex, mentions of blood, yearning, religious imagery/references, morally ambiguous protagonist with unclear motivations, eat the rich vibes....essentially very saltburn inspired so...yeah author's note: been having levi brainrot all summer and this is the result hope y'all enjoy ♡

♪: the louvre by lorde

you weren’t in love with him. 

picture levi ackerman on a gilded summer day. shimmering, sweaty skin. designer sunglasses and overpriced flip flops. mouth red and sticky from the popsicle melting in his hand. sharp jawline. sharper tongue.

you understood why people loved him, of course — and so many did. 

he saw through them, and they wanted to be seen by him. 

picture levi ackerman at a busy pub on a friday night, the most expensive whiskey in front of him. one eyebrow quirked, silver piercing disappearing beneath his hairline. grey-blue eyes watching carefully. interested. suspicious.

he was dangerous;

picture levi ackerman on a hot, midsummer night. on his knees, canines sparkling in the moonlight. blood on his chin, between his fingers. he’s wearing pristine silk pyjamas that will soon become stained with grass and dirt and other unspeakable things. 

beautiful, of course;

picture levi ackerman in a marble bathtub, skin wet and soapy. defined muscles and intricate tendons that could have been carved from marble, too. smelling of citrus and bergamot.

and compassionate, somehow. 

picture levi ackerman handing someone a cigarette, heart beating fast after a heated argument. long, slender fingers and a silver crested ring. black stars etched across the skin of his hand, similar to his cousin’s. 

you loved him. 

picture levi ackerman across a bountiful breakfast table. he pries open a ripe fig, reaches over for some tea. as always, he holds his cup from the top. burgundy bruises in the shape of someone’s lips decorate his neck, disappear under the collar of his shirt. 

you loved him.

picture levi ackerman, preening as if for a portrait they’d hang in an art gallery. taking a slow drag of his cigarette, backlit by the sun shining in from grand windows, framing him like a halo. 

but, were you in love with him?

it’s a sticky, sultry summer — the summer mikasa first brings you to paradis. 

with each day that passes, slow and sweltering, june gradually melts away in the blistering heat, but july lingers. 

time passes differently when your life is filled with luxurious nothing. 

mikasa always had friends over, all of whom had their own summer houses nearby. you recognized them from school. work, actually — they were frequent customers at scout’s coffee.

there was historia reiss (oat vanilla latte), who was family friend to the ackermans and twice as rich; annie leonhart (double shot of espresso), who grew up next door; eren jager (black coffee) whom mikasa had gotten back together with at the end of year banquet; and, jean kirstein (cappuccino with extra foam), one of eren’s frat brothers who seemed to notice you more now that you were out of your emerald green uniform and instead squeezed into a very revealing bathing suit mikasa had given you to wear. 

she’d been doing that a lot since you arrived to paradis: giving you last year’s dress to wear at dinner, a blouse that didn’t fit her right, a skirt she wore once that she thought you would look so good in, trust her.

you’re sure it was a coincidence that jean only took interest in you now. 

“oy!” jean whistles your name from across the water. “enjoying the view?” 

you stop your task to look at him, but your eyes quickly wander.

you are, in fact, enjoying the view. on the other side of the pool, levi ackerman (no coffee, just earl grey tea) lounges on a pool chair. his pale skin shimmers under the afternoon sun. levi’s mouth is stained, red and sticky from the popsicle melting in his hand. 

levi, whom mikasa had already deemed off limits. he was family, she said, and you were her friend. it wouldn't be right, she said.

she might not be too thrilled to find out how much you wanted to run your tongue over levi’s lips and underneath his jawline, chase the sweet popsicle stains with the salty sweat on his skin.

“instead of painting mikasa’s nails, you should paint me like one of your french girls sometime,” jean continues, lifting his prada sunglasses just to wink at you. he then goes back to his conversation with eren, the two of them talking animatedly in the shallow end while sipping their beers.

oblivious or not to your staring, levi seems too busy devouring another gothic novel — last week was frankenstein by mary shelley. this week is oscar wilde’s the picture of dorian gray. he’s shirtless, wearing designer sunglasses, overpriced flip flops and board shorts. in his day-to-day summer outfit, an entirely new expanse of skin is on display: a sword tucked into his forearm; angel wings sprouting from his shoulders, almost golden under the sun’s rays; flowers and thorns blooming between his ribs; a snake slithering across his hip bone. 

mikasa clicks her tongue, a telltale sign that she’s impatient for you to get back to work, so you do.

“so, here’s the thing: eren told me than jean likes you,” mikasa says once you finish with her left hand and start on her right.

annie snorts. she’s one chair over, clad in a light blue bikini, suntanning with her eyes closed yet very much engaged with the gossip at hand. “you think? he’s been drooling over her since the start of summer. i’m surprised he hasn’t made a move yet.” 

“well, apparently, he’s been waiting for you to make the first move.”

you bite back a scoff. “why?”

“he likes to be chased, sometimes,” mikasa explains. “it’s a game to him.” 

“i don’t know. i’m not really looking to play any games,” you lie, thankful that she let you borrow one of her many pairs of vintage sunglasses as they hide how your eyes instinctively flick over to levi. 

“come on!” mikasa pouts. “jean would be, like, the hottest summer fling. he’s smart and sexy and definitely knows how to show someone a good time.” a sober mikasa would have never said that — eren would hate his girlfriend talking about another guy like that — but she reaches over to grab her second margarita, smudging the fresh polish on her thumb, and takes a long gulp before adding: “you should go for it. right, guys?”

“you should totally go for it!” historia encourages, leaning over the other side of annie to nod at you enthusiastically. “jean is such a catch.”

“heard he’s good in bed, too,” annie adds. “so, yeah. go for it.”

“right,” mikasa smiles, satisfied. “it’ll be good for you.”

it’ll be good for you. 

you didn’t even want to think about what mikasa meant by that, however well-intentioned. 

the truth is that you had arrived to the ackerman’s sprawling estate with a hand-me-down suitcase, one old swimsuit, and a bitterness buried in your throat. 

mikasa had invited you because she pitied you, the poor scholarship student working at the cafe she and the others frequented. all you had to do was comfort her after another argument with her flighty boyfriend eren jaeger, and suddenly the two of you were the best of friends. inseparable, even when spring finals bled into summer break.

friends is a generous word, really. she was your golden ticket, you were her charity case.

what’s that saying about the road to hell?

it’s paved with good intentions.

you wonder what that means for the road to paradise, then. 

“just promise me you’ll consider it? at least give it a chance? please?” mikasa looks at you with those naive, hopeless romantic eyes. she wants this for you, and you have to keep her happy if you want to stay in this paradise for a little longer. 

“okay,” you concede. “i’ll think about it.” 

when you glance across the pool once more, levi is gone. 

SPRING SEMESTER. 

amid the chaos of students rushing across campus, all you could focus on was useless clicking. 

click.

click.

nothing. not even a goddamn spark.

served you right, buying a lighter from the dollar store. 

“need a light?”

levi’s voice had a deep baritone, one that might have been calming if the two of you hadn’t spent the past hour bickering. he argued that caravaggio’s painting of judith beheading holofernes was more sophisticated than any other rendition; you challenged him, stating that artemisia gentileschi’s work was more powerful — cathartic, even — and therefore a better representation of the story.

erwin smith, the professor leading your art history seminar, urged the two of you to stay focused on the class material, but between you and levi — it always got personal. 

you couldn’t afford the textbook, so how could you know anything about art? 

his family bought his way into the university, so how could he know anything about anything? 

so on and so forth. razor-sharp insults and sarcasm that dripped from your tongues like honey, the other always eager to lap it up like a starving dog. 

if there was one thing you could count on from then on, it was levi providing a snarky comment or underhanded joke meant to remind you that you were only a guest in the aristocratic world mikasa pulled you into, and for you to defend yourself as best you could through equally cutting remarks.

it was like that ever since mikasa dragged you into the group earlier in the semester.

everyone was already a few drinks in at the pub when you walked in behind her. the most expensive whiskey was sitting in a crystal glass in front of levi. he quirked one eyebrow at you, silver piercing disappearing beneath his hairline. grey-blue eyes watching carefully — interested, suspicious — as mikasa introduced you.

it was exhausting. a little exhilarating, too, but not enough to keep you from sliding down to the ground, back against the cold limestone wall, knees pressed to your chest.

“not from you,” you told him. you expected him to leave you alone, grant you a minute to compose yourself.

instead, levi sat down next to you, legs stretched out because he knew the crowd would bend around him. you listened as he lit his own cigarette on the first try, handing it to you without taking a drag. 

long, slender fingers and a silver crested ackerman ring. black stars etched on the skin of his hand, similar to the ones mikasa has.

you couldn’t help but stare; levi ackerman had that effect on people. 

it was almost unfair how attractive he was. all he had to do was lounge against an old building, dark hair with a sharp undercut and eyebrow piercing glinting in the late afternoon sun, to give michaelangelo’s david a run for his money. 

you dug your nails into your palm to keep yourself from accepting his offer. there was always a price to kindness, especially with people like him. 

after a few moments, levi rolled his eyes. he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, just for show.

“it’s not poisoned or anything. i wouldn’t do that. not to you, at least.” 

you weren’t convinced, but smoke curled around his words. when it hit your nostrils, you had to give in.

“god,” you practically moaned as warmth filled your lungs; your heart rate eased as you finally got your vice. levi let out something of a choke. his cheeks became slightly flushed.

it must have been your imagination. levi ackerman did not get flustered.

he cleared his throat, your fingers brushing against each other when he accepted the cigarette you handed back to him.

“mika says i’ve projected certain….insecurities onto you.” 

mikasa had changed her major three times already, and the one she’d settled on then was psychology. her new pastime was psychoanalysing the people around her, depending on which chapter was being covered that week. 

“she says i should apologize for —”

“being a dick?”

“yeah, i guess.” 

it wasn’t an apology. he just looked at you with his signature, disinterested gaze. 

“okay.” you wouldn’t give him forgiveness, anyways. 

“can i ask you something, then? without you biting my head off?”

a pause.

“fine,” levi responded. 

“what insecurities?”

another pause. he twisted the ring on his finger, almost nervously. 

levi ackerman did not get nervous, but maybe he wasn’t used to letting his guard down. 

the silence stretched between you.

“let’s just say that i’m not as blue-blooded as i try to seem,” he finally said.

you turned your head to examine levi ackerman: ironed button-down rolled up to his elbows, showing off elaborate tattoos that must have cost a fortune. brown leather satchel engraved with his initials. shiny new rolex.

“oh. could’ve fooled me.”

levi laughed, stiff and hollow. you could taste the bitterness from his lips when it was your turn with the cigarette, and instinctively licked your own. 

“you more than anyone should know: that’s kind of the point.” 

it was the way he said it that got you. his voice just above a whisper. protecting his secret — and, by proxy, yours. 

you gnawed the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste copper. 

it never occurred to you that you might not have been the only outsider. 

there might have been reasons why levi remained on the edge of the group, a brooding mystery to most of them, why you were the only one levi bothered to argue with. there were reasons why he didn’t skip class or get blackout drunk on weekdays like the others, why he was always so pristine, so perfect, so composed. 

“look, i’m not a bad person. it’s just —”

“sometimes you have to bite,” you finished his sentence. “you’re angry at the world, and you know that the wrong person might take everything away if you step out of line and let that anger slip through.”

it was a coping mechanism; one wired within you, too, even if it sometimes manifested in different ways. you didn’t need a textbook to recognize that. 

“yeah.” 

you could tell he was trying his best to hide his reaction, but you knew — by the sudden glint in his eye, the slight relaxing of his jaw. 

levi ackerman did not let his guard down, but there you were, recognizing the hunger inside him as your own.

“well, i don’t care if you bite,” you promised. “just don’t be surprised if i bite back.” 

the corners of his lips curled into a smirk, matching your own.

“i’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

you let the time pass, let ash fall from the smouldering cigarette you shared until it was down to the quick. the sun was hidden behind the lecture hall by then, and the quad was quiet. only you and levi remained.

“i should get to my next class,” levi informed, breaking the comfortable silence you had unexpectedly built. he got up swiftly, although he was likely already late. 

“see you around.” you caught a flash of silver where he was just sitting. you grabbed it, and held it up. “don’t forget your lighter.”

he flicked his eyes towards the object in your hand, and he frowned. 

“keep it.”

“i – i can’t.”

“it’s fine. just take it.”

“i don’t need your handouts, levi,” you snapped. you remembered the time he had teased you for wearing one of mikasa’s blouses, warning you that her handouts aren’t enough to make you pass as one of them.

levi winced, clearly remembering too. “consider it a gift for being — what did you call me before?”

“a dick.”

“right. anyways, you’d be doing me a favour,” levi continued. “i’ve been wanting to get rid of this one; got a better one waiting for me at home.”

you would’ve continued pushing back, but it was too late. levi was already walking away. 

levi looked back once and winked at you. you let the cool metal lighter burn through your skin.

apparently, trust fund kids suck at monopoly. especially after a few bottles of wine taken from their parents’ cellar.

they don’t really have a strategy, and those who did…well, it can’t beat yours.

you secure property left and right, make deals, and, yeah, screw people over until you’re the only one remaining with any candy-colored bills. by the end, you’re drunk off pinot noir and a high on the euphoria of winning this little, insignificant game. 

“no fair!” jean whines. “how’d you do that?”

“a magician never reveals her secret,” you hum. 

“what if i asked nicely?” 

you shake your head with a slight smile, leaning over to grab the last of the pretzels as a cover for getting jean’s hand off your thigh. he’d become bolder in the past few days in his flirtations; you, in all fairness, gave as well as you got — lingering eyes, purposeful touching, flirty banter. 

levi, sitting across from you, sips his drink calmly. 

“maybe you just underestimated her,” he suggests. 

“hell yeah, he did.” historia gives you an enthusiastic high five.

“i did not underestimate her.” jean rolls his eyes. “it’s just, i didn’t expect her to —”

“ — have a strategy that might outwit you, of all people?” levi mocks.

“put your teeth away, ackerman,” jean huffs. “i’m just saying — i’m a business major.”

“you did fail econ 200 twice, jean,” eren points out. 

“you’re lucky daddy kirstein payed off the professor so you didn’t have to take it a third time,” levi quips, earning a scowl from jean. 

“don’t get me started, you underground piece of — ” 

“okay, good game everyone!” mikasa interjects, so loud her words bounced off the walls. the ackerman’s ‘cozy’ den is just as grand as any other room, large with signature tiled floors and marble columns. she turns to you and jean, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “why don’t the two of you go get more snacks, and the rest of us will decide on a movie?”

as everyone else follows mikasa to the home theatre, the board game now forgotten, you and jean head to the kitchen.

“my dad didn’t pay the professor off, for the record,” jean says as you start refilling bowls. he leans against the counter, watching you. “he paid for a tutor. i mean, i had to pass the class, right? if i’m going to take over my dad’s real estate company. there’s nothing wrong with a little help.”

you smile like you mean it. 

“of course not.” 

and that seems to pacify jean, until he bluntly asks: 

“is something happening between you and levi?” 

you freeze. “why would you say that?”

jean walks around the large kitchen island, stopping in front of you. 

“he just seems…protective over you.”

“nothing’s happening,” you swallow the lump in your throat, unable to say more. “nothing’s happening between me and levi.” 

if you keep saying it, maybe it will become true. maybe the tension will evaporate, and the fire in the pit of your stomach will die out, and you will be able to give mikasa what she wants.

jean watches you through thick lashes, hands creeping over your hips. playing the part, you throw your arms around his neck, fingers threading through auburn hair.

“good. because this dress is incredible.”

it’s mikasa’s dress. gucci, spring collection from the year before.

“jean,” you whisper his name like you want him. 

jean kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, slides a hand underneath the dress you wore. whispers again how incredible the dress was, how good you would look on your knees for him later.

you feel nothing. it’s fine.

you squeeze your eyes shut and, ignoring your guilty conscience, imagine a certain raven-haired boy in jean’s place. it works fine, allowing you to deepen the kiss, but then jean presses his thigh between your legs, and his stubble itches against your cheek.

fuck. you don’t want this. 

lightheaded, you rip away from jean’s grip and place a hand on the counter next to you to steady yourself. you swallow as much air as you can, but still feel terribly breathless.

“everything okay?”

of course, it’s levi. he came to inform the two of you that cruel intentions was decided on (a message from mikasa), and to tell you to hurry the fuck up with the snacks (a message from eren).

jean smirks as he walks past your raven-haired boy and winks at you before he leaves the room.

levi is the one who helps you bring everything to the home theatre. he doesn’t say another word to you all night.

the only time you can truly be at peace in paradis is late at night, looking out into the dark green nothing. 

it became a habit of yours, going out to smoke when you figured everyone was asleep. you’d formed an attachment to a particular stone bench next to a statue of some melancholy mythological woman (persephone, maybe?), and parked yourself there every night to look up at the stars. 

quiet. limitless. alone.

even then, there’s always someone watching.

“nice lighter.”

those are the first words levi has spoken to you in the past week that aren’t delivered like he’s getting his teeth pulled. 

“nice shirt, too.”

you look down, remembering that you’re not wearing the nightgown mikasa had given you when she saw your actual pyjamas: a pair of old boxers and an oversized marvin the martian t-shirt. 

that’s one thing you can’t bring yourself to give up in all this, apparently: the soft, worn cotton that feels like home. 

the other, unfortunately, takes a seat next to you. you should tell him to leave you alone, but you find yourself wanting him to stay.

he reaches out for the cigarette. you pass it to him like a moth to a flame, body betraying mind, knowing deep down that it might cause you to burn in the end. you watch as he inhales deeply, then tilts his head up as if sending the smoke as an offering to the full moon.

the quiet, formerly comforting, now makes your skin crawl. 

“so….what’d you get on the final?” that’s the best you can do in terms of small talk with levi ackerman. your heart stops, when you realize your mistake — 

the reality of what happened the last time you studied together.

levi, for his part, doesn’t bring that up. he hands the cigarette back to you.

“97. you?”

“98.”

levi whistles. “better go celebrate with your new boyfriend.”

“he’s not my — ” 

you bite your tongue. 

careful. 

you want to bite that smirk off his lips.

it’s been a while, but he’s trying to rile you up.

you wonder what levi saw in you that made him think this was how to understand you: by throwing a punch and seeing if you could match his fight. 

the truth is that jean isn’t anything to you. nothing had happened after that moment in the kitchen, and you wanted to keep it that way. you know that levi is perceptive enough to notice how you subtly distance yourself from jean, despite mikasa’s efforts and jean’s once again one-sided flirtations. 

(you have a clear image of levi at breakfast a few days ago, prying open a ripe fig and holding his cup of tea from the top, burgundy bruises in the shape of someone’s lips decorating his neck and disappearing under the collar of his shirt. historia had thrown a party next door, and you had the profound displeasure of watching levi make out with someone who wasn’t you. as soon as your eyes met his from across the room, levi removed himself from the person sucking on his collarbone. you weren’t sure it was a coincidence.)

“so kirstein isn’t your boyfriend?” 

“what does it matter to you?”

“are you just hooking up, then?”

“why do you care, levi?” you snap.

it was dark, and you felt levi shuffle closer to you. you turned your head away, refusing to acknowledge the weight of his gaze on your body. 

“i think you know why.” his voice nothing but a burning whisper in your ear.

levi, the clever brat, after giving you the cold shoulder, is not only trying to rile you up — he’s teasing you.

god, you were losing your mind, playing levi’s game, when he should have been losing yours.  

you felt a fresh kind of heat spread through your body.

“whatever.”

you rip the cigarette from levi’s fingers, careful to avoid skin touching skin, snuff it out, and make all the moves to leave.

“wait.” he commands, grabbing your wrist before you can get too far. “let’s start again. i know you heard me earlier tonight.” 

you clench your jaw, still standing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(your bedroom is the closest to his, with only a bathroom with thin walls separating the two. earlier, you swore he was pleasuring himself to the rhythm of your name, but when you entered the bathroom to check, all you found was water swirling down the bathtub drain.) 

“i saw you.”

“what do you want, levi?” his name like poison on your tongue, fire in your throat.

levi doesn’t say anything for a bit. 

crickets chirp in the distance. 

neither of you move. 

“i think about that night all the time.” levi swallows, hard. “that night in the library.”

(during finals season, late night at the library, when you were both frustrated and bone-tired and in need of release, levi fucked you in a secluded corner. two fingers in, knuckle deep. you returned the favour after reaching your high, kneeling down on the carpet to taste him. he was wiping away his own cum from the corner of your mouth just as someone walked over to examine the shelves for a book on the italian renaissance. it was careless, and dangerous, and neither of you spoke of it again.) 

mikasa made her expectations for you clear, and you need to please her, so you bit back your desire, swallowed whatever spark might have been between you and levi, and carried on as acquaintances because you couldn’t really afford to let it catch.

except, levi’s looking at you like he did then, hooded eyes, dark blue with desire. 

he lets go of your wrist and you already miss his touch. 

so, the reckless part of you stays, sits closer to him, tries not to melt when his silk pyjamas brush against your naked thigh. 

“i think about your mouth.” he brings a tentative hand to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “those pretty little moans, the way you said my name….” 

you can’t help it; you brush your fingers in the junction between his neck and shoulder, and find his pulse strong, but steady. 

“levi,” you sigh, and he shudders.

“fuck, just like that.” 

you and levi are so close now, you aren’t sure the air you’re breathing is your own. 

“it kills me, that you’re only a room away —” 

“i think about your fingers,” you finally confess. you lick your lips, grazing levi’s thumb in the process. “i think about the way you taste, how full you made me feel.”

levi sucks in a sharp breath. by now, he’s snaked his other hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing shapes onto your stomach.

“kirstein might murder me.”

you nod slowly. 

“mikasa might never speak to me again.”

“you’ve been driving me insane all year,” levi justifies. “all fucking year. when mika brought you to paradis, i thought we’d have all summer….”

he scrapes his nails against your ribcage, wandering further into dangerous territory.

“i guess we better make up for lost time, then.” you suggest. his hand stills, eyes locked on yours. “don’t you think, levi?”

levi answers by surging forward, and kissing you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starved. teeth on teeth on tongue. you tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some strands just to see what he'd do. he groans, and retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of minty toothpaste on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you can’t go too far.

"sorry." levi smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it. 

you don’t care. you tug his hair some more and crash your mouth back to his, let your tongue trace every one of his teeth as if committing to memory.

you’re jolted back to reality when his hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear. 

“shit. wait.” you push levi away and need a second to appreciate the state he’s in: raven hair a mess of your own making, pupils blown wide as he watches you with greedy impatience. 

“what is it?” he presses when you take a second too long to explain.

“oh. it’s just,” a nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. you’ve craved this, craved him for so long, and it seems cosmically unfair that something else prevents you from satisfying your hunger. “i’m on my period.”

levi blinks at you. “so?”

you’re flustered, having to spell this out for him. “well, i guess we can’t really have sex, then?” you pause, watching as levi tilts his head. “i can suck you off if you want —

“what i want is to taste you,” levi states. “it’s lucky for you, i’m a vampire.” 

you would have bet all your money that levi was just fucking with you, ready to leave you to tend to yourself for the night. 

it’s a bet you would have promptly lost, seeing as levi slides to his knees and lodges himself between your legs.

“if you’re not comfortable with it, i don’t have to.” 

your teeth catch your bottom lip, heart almost beating out of your chest.

you could back out now, suck it up and get on your knees for jean instead, gush to mikasa about it later and keep making her believe that you’re following her word like scripture. 

but — it’s just so sincere. sweet, almost, how levi tilts his head up at you, waiting for your command like you’re a deity he’s dedicated his life to, willing to do anything and everything to prove his devotion. 

the final transgression, the nail in the coffin: 

you reach down to brush your fingers underneath his jawline and tell him it’s okay — that you want him.

levi sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, soothing his tongue over the sting before removing your shorts and underwear.

he has his way with you, bringing you over the edge not once, but twice with his sharp tongue and skilled fingers. you bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming, until it’s just too damn much and you have to push levi’s head away. 

levi looks up at you again, this time with a devilish grin, canines sparkling in the moonlight. crimson on his chin, between his fingers. once spotless silk pyjamas are probably stained with grass and dirt and whatever wetness he’s gathered from you. 

maybe you should be on your knees, too, repent for the sin of crossing a line that was very clearly drawn, but you don’t care. 

you’re hot and sticky and overstimulated, and fuck if you aren’t entirely blissed out. 

levi confesses that wants, needs, to be inside you, so he carries you to his bedroom. you claw at the angel wings engraved on levi’s shoulder blades as he thrusts into you and sucks at your pulse point, your collarbone and chest.

“knew you’d feel like bliss, all tight and wrapped around me,” levi exhales, moving up to press his sweaty forehead to yours. “i’d call you angel, but we both know our friends would sentence us to hell for this. worth it though, right, baby?”

“fuck, levi,” you moan at the nickname, which encourages him to go faster. one of his hands moves to grip the pillow beside your head; you take the opportunity to angle your chin and run your tongue over the tattooed sword on his forearm, tasting salt. “so fucking worth it.”

you reach your climax when levi starts rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. he lets you ride out your high before pulling out of you, stroking himself a few times, and painting your stomach with his release. 

lingering in a post-orgasm haze, you take a few moments to look around. levi’s room is pristine, save for the dirty clothes you practically tore from each other’s bodies and the now ruined sheets. you’re about to close your eyes, but levi taps your cheek. 

“hey. you okay?”

“yeah,” you yawn, tracing a finger across the roses decorating his chest. “sorry about the mess.”

levi shakes his head. “don’t worry about that. i’ll do laundry tomorrow,” he assures. “but let’s get you cleaned up now, beautiful.”

it was such a rush at the beginning, between you and levi. now, the result of your… whatever you want to call it — obsession, violence, passion — sees the two of you sharing a bath.  the air thick with steam and smelling of citrus and bergamot. levi ackerman in a marble bathtub, skin wet and soapy after washing away blood and dirt. defined muscles and intricate tendons that could have been carved from marble, too.

he falls asleep in your bed, and you fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

in the morning, when you wake up, levi is sitting on your windowsill. backlit by the sun shining in, framing him with a halo, he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, preens for no one in particular as if for a portrait they’d hang in an art gallery. 

you’ve tried, multiple times, but could never quite capture his beauty. at least not with a regular hb pencil and flimsy sketchbook paper. you thought he deserved to be immortalised, all shadows and intense angles. maybe the louvre in paris or the uffizi in florence; displayed somewhere for all to admire, like renaissance portraits of italian nobles or ancient gods carved in stone, given sacrifices from starving peasants. 

levi represents everything you want to burn to a crisp.

and, yet.

levi notices you stirring.

he smiles at you (you’d sit in hell just for a glimpse of that rare, precious, levi ackerman smile) and murmurs a good morning, sweetheart (how is it possible that you can taste his words on your tongue, thick like honey and just as sweet?), all while looking at you like you were the work of art.

you feel something twist in your gut. 

you’re so, utterly fucked.

[samptlay]

♡ ⁠◍⁠• Skin That Cries Golden Tears • Chapter 2 ◍⁠

Chapter 1•🌑

Ah yes. How cliche. Of course, you blackout as soon as you hear the background noises of the tiny mob dying. Everything was too overwhelming at once, you couldn't fight it. You died and suddenly woke up inside a game. Not to mention you still have to process the deep feeling of betrayal left by your ex. But it honestly can't be helped. You have no idea where you'll be when you wake up and just pray it's not a jail cell. You weren't dressed in anything they were used to, you were dressed in a simple black dress that you’re sure didn’t belong in your wardrobe, it definitely wasn’t what you were wearing when you had died but it looked modern. You’re going to half to find a way to play it off, somehow.

When you first felt your body being carried, it was no surprise since it was the only way you’d be…. Well, rescued. That is what happened, right? Surely you didn’t get kidnapped. But judging by the moon being out and the cool air at the time, it couldn’t have been the Knights since all of them must have been asleep or in town based on how dark it was. So who came to your rescue? They had to use Pyro, you knew that, at least.

Red ponytail…. Pyro vision…. Night time….

You can’t possibly be this slow. It’s clearly -

“So you think the Dark-Knight Hero is the one who left her unconscious at our doorstep?” There’s no mistaking it, the owner of that soft-spoken voice was most definitely the Grand Acting Master, Jean. Your eyes were still closed telling by the sunlight hitting your skin, that you most likely spent the night there, or morning. You were completely conscious, but you wanted to know for some reason. Depending on when they noticed you outside. “Yes, there was a letter too but it flew away in the wind before I could bring it here when I picked her up.” And that absolutely had to be Diluc’s voice. Anyone smart enough would be able to tell that it was clearly him who brought you the HQ. However, Jean just sighed with a nod before looking over a particular document at her desk, which actually looked more like some type of scroll in your opinion. She kept looking back and forth between it and you.

“So, unidentified traveler, how long do you plan on faking unconsciousness?” The sudden change in his voice startles you, causing your eyes to blink open fully and take in the frowning tall man who’s crossing his arms while looking down at your figure lying on the bed.

“Oh. Sorry, I was a bit… Half-awake? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, I just-” But your words were interrupted by someone clearing their throat to which both you and Diluc turned to look at the source, Jean, of course. “It’s not that big of a deal, Diluc.” She takes a few steps towards you before raising a hand to your forehead, even moving a little hair out of your eyes. Even with her touching you, she looked somewhat wary and in your opinion, overly spectacle.

“You seem healthy. However, I am curious to know exactly what you were doing in the fields late at night. And you don’t seem like a traveler, with no weapons on you, or resources. And you clearly don’t have a companion, or am I wrong?” You catch the way she wavers in her voice as if she’s conforming to something she doesn’t want to or is even afraid to. It is exactly what she’s doing so you’re confused about why she’s nervous.

“..Yes, I’m alone. I was just… I... I don’t know how I woke up there, to be honest.” Diluc, who you had forgotten was there for a moment lets out something that sounds like a chuckle, but out of disbelief. Jean glances at the desk once more which just makes you want to get up and see what’s there for yourself. She removes her hand from your body before standing up straight up and eyeing you with something you can’t describe. She goes behind her desk and sits down.

“...”

The silence & tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. You suddenly felt the urge to sit down, as if sitting down would prove to turn you too vulnerable. So you get up, quickly. It startled the other people in the room and you swore you saw Diluc reach for his sword when he flinched, and the reaction on your face clearly said it all because he glimpsed over the sword strapped to him before visibly relaxing (at least trying to). 

“This was fun for a little but I think it’s time you c-” The Grand Acting Master is interrupted as the door flies open and you think the temperature gets a little chiller. A certain navy blue man with an eyepatch scurries in, looking like he is searching for something. His eyes scan the room in a flash before landing on you. Something about the eye contact you two made sent a shiver down your spine while his gaze lingered while he turned towards the other two in the room. “Oh! Was I interrupting something? Sorry, sorry. I heard that a particular person had shown up in the middle of nowhere and I just had to see what all the commotion was about…” The deep ocean blue eyes fall on you again. “So this is our guest?” He leans against the door frame for a moment, eyeing you up and down when he decides to stand up straight and walk (more like stride) straight in your direction. 

Real. This is all real and in fact, not some delusional dream. You pray none of them notice the way you hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, stopping at Diluc's distance, only a little closer. You can't stop the words coming out of your mouth. 

“You're-” “Kaeya.” He interrupts confidently, stretching out his hand to you. It's a good thing he said something before you mentioned his name. It would have only made you all the more suspicious. You stare at his hand that's stranded in the air for a few seconds, before he sighs and takes your own with a gentle yet strong grip, pulling it to his lips, and kissing it. A peck. Then he freezes, as if he didn't believe what or why he just did that. It wasn't really visible on his face but you could tell. You can tell a lot about everyone here, actually. And some things tell you it's not just because you know all the lore for every character. It's something you feel from the inside. 

Kaeya graciously lets your arm fall back to your side and you hope there isn’t as much blush on your face as you think there is. “Why don’t I take this fine lady throughout Mondstadt, hm? You two seem like you have more important… things to discuss about whatever just happened, unless..?” He, not aggressively, yanks you up and off what you are sitting on and starts leading you toward the door. He didn’t even wait for the two to reply. Jean gets up from her chair, hands practically slamming on the table as she pins him with a look. “Hold on Kaeya, this is dangerous. We don’t know who this is or where they came from. And here you are trying to show them around? Let them meet civilians? This is all too suspicious. You can’t just-” She shuts her eyes and makes a noise that sounds like something close to a groan. One hand on her hips. “They have to stay here. You know exactly how heavy this situation is.” Diluc, being the man he is, also glares at Kaeya, and you swear you hear a scoff from under his breath.

Kaeya, shockingly, doesn’t look back and continues dragging you along out of the head office. “I’ll bring them back, don’t worry. But I’d like this with this one by myself.” You can hear Jean and Diluc’s complaints rise but you're out of the building by the time you can make out any of their words. 

The two of you venture into the city, and you take a moment to look at everything around you. Wow. It’s much more beautiful and lively since everything is suddenly so…. Realistic. Before waking up here, it was your least favorite nation but you might consider changing your mind. Everything seems so calm and it really is less chaotic than all the other nations. It’s peaceful. “So I assume our city is to your liking? With the way your eyes are practically shining…” Your daydreaming is cut short when Kaeya stands in front of you, arms crossed, hands on his hips, looking amused out of his mind. “Well, it’s not every day you wake up in a whole new world.”

It slipped out, it really did. But you hope he doesn’t take your words literally, and you think he didn’t because he lets out a content chuckle. But then his smile drops. And you’re stuck in place. He slowly makes his way closer, then he grabs both your hands and stares you straight in the eye.

“I don’t think what I’m feeling right now is simply attraction. I have a lot of experience with that, trust me. But with you, there’s a pull. A pull that I can’t ignore. Hah, I wonder if the Red Hawk man feels it… Maybe that’s why he didn’t want you to go.”

You don’t know what to say. You have no idea why this is happening or why you’re here. And is he serious? A pull of some sort? That’s not good. Pulling means attention and that’s the last thing you need right now. Yet the way he looks at you would make anyone think the whole world revolves around you. And as of now, you have nothing. No one knows you or trusts you. You don’t know how to fight, which is very much required to survive in Teyvet. You need friends, allies, and people who are willing to defend you. And you can’t do that while simply touring around Mondstadt.

“Thank you, for this.” You step closer and you know what you want from him, what you need. You need his trust. “All of this is nice, but I’m more curious about you. I think I feel that same pull with you, to be honest. I want to get to know you better. Where do you live around here? I’m curious to see how people here live.” You’re positive you sound genuine and curious. Good. All is needed to win him over.

He looks surprised, then pleased. All before you’re suddenly tucked into his chest… And a sword is against your throat. You gawk at it, squirming. That wasn’t the smartest thing to do, which caused him to press it against your throat even more. “I might be captivated by you, but I’m not as stupid as you think. Now… Why would anyone try and get into someone's home when they’ve barely known that for a couple of hours? Unless, that certain someone has a plan, of course. I took what Master Jean said to heart. For all I know you could be dangerous. I’ve been watching you closely the whole time. It’s as if you’ve never seen something like a regular town. There are even more impressive ones all over Teyvet. You know what that tells me?”

You know exactly what he’s implying and you feel like you could throw up your organs. Were you going to lose your second chance so easily? 

He turns you slightly and you’re finally facing him. Expect all the warmth is gone. His gaze is as cold as his vision and you’re no longer sure if you’ll be able to try and gain him as a companion, let alone civil allies. The sword across your neck is making you start to throb in pain and you’re sure it’s going to leave either a cut or a mark. It hurts.

You can feel Kaeya’s breath against your neck.

“Who are you?” 

Suddenly, there’s a bright flash and you’re temporarily blinded, and Kaeya’s holding his left arm up. You can see some blood seeping through. It looks like it’s the same size as the one he created on your neck. But yours is gone.

He’s breathing heavily, confused. Kaeya’s barely standing on his two feet, he’s dizzy. Even though he just practically attempted on your life, you couldn’t blame him for it. He doesn’t trust others. He can’t, it’s not what he’s here for. You don’t know how you get to him so quickly, throwing one of his arms around your shoulder. He seems to be in a more… fatal condition than you were. It’s like he took your injury, only intensified. You have to get him aid. But then again, if you go to anyone else, there’s a good chance you’ll be locked up. You don’t want to imagine an interrogation right now. So, you look at the poor man in your arms and speak softly. You hope that gets you some points, at least.

“Where do you live, Kaeya?” He barely opens his eyelids, having a look on his face that’s in between exhaustion and uncertainty. You think he’s about to shake his head before he blurts it out, surprising the both of you. Now he’s the one gawking at you since you go in the actually direction of his home. How did you even know your way around? That took away some points, didn’t it?

A/N:

A little over two weeks, my apologies. Time flies, 1.5x longer!! Yippeeeee ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ I'll get to that Masterlist...

Taglist: Sorry if I tagged you twice!

@esthelily @cosmo112 @fantasyhopperhea @ilxina @aloflapse @mayberaspberrywrites @enjoyjellime @vianitry @blipblopblopblip @fuji-sen @leafanonsforest @cchiiwinkle @annexblogs @akemityan

@uhfhfhfhf @xdrin @msun1c0rn @umi-adxhira @lovingnahida @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @ssecylia @skyl8ver @immahuman @meowmeowraven @01234 @markexplanation @esthelily @dawnofazrael @chickenalfredo4life @eccaza @jun-xiu @klemen-time @delulu-val @everi-eve @cluelesstoeverything @strangersomeone @lapinaenmicoche @alwayslegendarymoon @lumiiiiiiiiii @superninjaarbiter @themonsterunderyourbed69

Borders by @cafekitsune

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : A CELEBRATION : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You, a successful skincare entrepreneur, are supported by your loving husband Hugh Jackman and your two kids at a promotional photoshoot. Later, you host a rooftop launch party to celebrate your brand's commercial, with friends like Ryan Reynolds attending. Filled with love, laughter, and pride, the story highlights your achievements and Hugh's unwavering admiration for you as you share the joy of success with your family.

Based on a request.

THE DAY WAS BRIGHT AND BUZZING WITH ENERGY AS YOU STEPPED INTO THE SLEEK, modern studio where your photoshoot was set to take place. Your skincare line had exploded in popularity over the last year, and this shoot was a major milestone. As you entered, the familiar hum of cameras, makeup artists, and stylists filled the air, and your excitement mirrored the energy in the room.

Hugh walked in right behind you, holding the hands of your two kids, their wide eyes taking in the vibrant scene. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a dark button-down shirt, looking every bit the supportive husband with a proud smile plastered across his face. Your kids—an adventurous five-year-old boy and a curious eight-year-old girl—were equally excited, bouncing on their feet as they looked around at all the equipment and lights.

"Look at this place, Mom!" your daughter said in awe. “It’s like we’re in a movie!”

Hugh chuckled softly, watching her enthusiasm. “You know your mom is a star, right? She’s not just in a movie; she’s the leading lady.”

You smiled at them, adjusting your outfit and taking a deep breath. Today was a big day, but having Hugh and the kids here made it all feel easier, more grounded. They were your biggest supporters, and their love and enthusiasm were the fuel that kept you going.

As you were guided toward the makeup station, Hugh leaned in to kiss your cheek softly. “You look stunning already,” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and full of warmth. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep the kids entertained while you work your magic.”

“I couldn’t have done any of this without you,” you replied, squeezing his hand. His eyes sparkled with love and pride, and for a moment, the bustle of the studio faded away as the two of you shared a quiet moment.

~

The photoshoot went seamlessly. You felt confident and radiant as the photographer snapped away, directing you with ease. Every now and then, you caught a glimpse of Hugh and the kids in the background. They were lounging on a plush couch, Hugh holding your son as he animatedly pointed out the cool lights and equipment. Your daughter was mesmerized, her little hands cupped around her face as she watched you pose.

“You’re doing amazing, babe!” Hugh called out, offering you a thumbs-up with that signature grin of his.

During a break, you walked over to them, your heels clicking against the polished floor. Your daughter ran to you first, hugging you around the waist.

“You look so beautiful, Mom! I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and you crouched down to her level, brushing a stray curl from her face. “You already are like me, sweetheart. You’re smart, creative, and beautiful, inside and out.”

Hugh ruffled your son’s hair. “She’s right, you know. Both of you have got a bit of your mom’s magic.”

A small, contented laugh escaped your lips. The love you shared as a family felt like an unshakable foundation, one that had carried you through the highs and lows of launching your business. And here you were, on the brink of even more success, with them by your side.

~

The evening of your launch party had finally arrived. The event was being held at a luxurious rooftop venue, with sweeping views of the city skyline and an intimate, festive atmosphere that felt like the perfect way to celebrate the next chapter of your skincare brand.

Hugh stood beside you as you surveyed the space, your fingers intertwined. He looked effortlessly handsome in a sharp suit, the very picture of a supportive, loving husband. Your kids were running around with their friends, laughing and enjoying the festivities. The rooftop was elegantly decorated, with soft lighting, floral arrangements, and tables laden with food and drinks, including your very own line of skincare products on display.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you whispered to Hugh as you gazed at the bustling room. Friends, colleagues, and even a few celebrities had shown up to support you, making it feel like a dream.

Hugh kissed your temple, holding you close. “Believe it, love. You’ve earned every bit of this. I’m so proud of you.”

Just then, you heard a familiar voice calling out. “Oi! Where’s the star of the night?”

You turned to see Ryan Reynolds walking toward you, a grin plastered across his face, arms wide as if he were about to make a grand speech. As usual, his entrance was full of energy, and he didn’t waste a second before pulling you into a friendly hug.

“Ryan!” you laughed, returning the embrace. “You made it!”

“Of course, I did. There’s no way I’d miss celebrating your big night,” Ryan said, pulling back to glance at Hugh. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Hugh would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t show up.”

Hugh smirked, crossing his arms. “You’re right about that.”

Ryan turned back to you, his playful grin in full force. “Seriously though, congratulations. I’m going to buy so much of this skincare stuff that people will start mistaking me for Hugh. Just you watch.”

Hugh groaned, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t. One of me is more than enough for the world.”

Everyone laughed, the banter light and familiar. It was moments like these—surrounded by friends and family—that made all the hard work feel worth it.

As the night progressed, speeches were made, drinks were raised, and the rooftop was filled with laughter and joy. Hugh rarely left your side, his arm draped protectively around your waist, his presence a steadying force amid the celebratory chaos.

When it was finally time to unveil the official commercial for your skincare brand, the entire crowd gathered around the large projector screen. Your heart raced with anticipation, and you felt Hugh’s hand squeeze yours as the video began to play.

The commercial was stunning—a perfect representation of everything you had worked so hard to build. It showcased the elegance, simplicity, and natural beauty of your products, and when it ended, the crowd erupted in applause. Hugh leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips amidst the cheers.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “This is just the beginning.”

You smiled against his lips, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you like a blanket. “We did it,” you corrected softly. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

He cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “You’re incredible. Don’t ever forget that.”

Just as you were about to respond, your daughter came running up, dragging your son behind her. “Mom, Dad! Did you see how cool that was? Everyone loves your commercial!”

You scooped her up into your arms, feeling the love and pride radiating from every direction. Hugh placed a hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into the family embrace as the four of you stood there, soaking in the moment.

It wasn’t just about the success of your business or the adoration of your friends and peers—it was about the love and support of your family, who had been there every step of the way.

As the party continued into the night, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Surrounded by your loved ones, with Hugh’s arms wrapped around you and your children beaming with pride, you knew that this was the start of something even more beautiful. Not just for your company, but for the life you were building together—full of love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @haytchee @kellyxo1

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

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

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

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

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied. 

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes. 

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Once again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately. 

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods. 

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly. 

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield. 

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.01.2024]

[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part Two

cw: dystopian/apocalyptic imagery, emotional distress Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Hi again! I'm back with the second part of this series and its another long one🤭 I really wanted this chapter to focus on Logan's emotions and inner turmoil. I'm working on the third part already and hoping to have it out soon...stay tuned! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪. Summary: Logan wakes up in the past, grappling with the contrast between the peaceful present and the grim future he left behind. He struggles to focus on his mission to prevent the Sentinel program while being haunted by memories of you and the dystopian world he must change.

(Part Three)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Logan’s eyes snapped open, and the world around him came rushing back in a disorienting blur. The sharp scent of fresh linens, the warm touch of sunlight streaming through the window, the distant hum of a city that was alive and thriving—all of it was jarringly foreign, and yet achingly familiar. For a moment, he simply lay there, his mind grappling with the surreal contrast between the present and the grim future he had just left behind.

He could still feel the phantom ache of the battle-scarred wasteland, the oppressive weight of despair that had become his constant companion in those final days. The memories of that desolate future clung to him like a second skin, refusing to be shaken off even as he tried to focus on the present. He blinked hard, trying to banish the images of burning cities and fallen comrades, forcing himself to breathe, to center himself in this time, this place.

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, the beat echoing with the urgency of the mission that had brought him here. The room he found himself in was modest, cluttered with remnants of a simpler life—a life untouched by the horrors he had witnessed. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the wooden furniture and worn, familiar objects. It was a world that should have felt safe, comforting even, but to Logan, it was nothing but a ticking time bomb, the calm before the storm.

He rose from the bed, the creak of the mattress beneath him almost startling in its normalcy. As he moved, the sensation of the sheets, the cool air on his skin, the scent of life outside the window—it was all too vivid, too real, reminding him that this was not some fevered dream. He was truly in the past, in a world that still had a chance, and that realization hit him with a force that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

But with that realization came the crushing weight of what was at stake. The future he had left behind was teetering on the brink of extinction, a future where you were still fighting, still struggling to survive in the face of overwhelming odds. The thought of you, alone in that doomed timeline, fueled his resolve. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t fail. Every second here mattered, every decision could be the difference between salvation and destruction.

He caught his reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall, and the sight was almost jarring. Gone were the lines etched by years of battle and loss, the gray that had crept into his hair, the weariness that had settled into his bones. He was younger, stronger, unburdened by the physical scars that had marked his body in the future. But the weight of his mission was already visible in his eyes, a dark shadow that lingered, a reminder of the impossible task that lay ahead.

With a deep breath, Logan began to dress, the familiar movements grounding him, pulling him back from the edge of despair. He slipped into his worn jeans and boots, each piece of clothing a small comfort, a tether to the man he had been before the world went to hell. But even as he moved through the motions, his thoughts were drawn back to you—your face, your voice, the way you had looked at him in those final moments before he left.

The memory of your kiss, fierce and desperate, lingered in his mind, a bittersweet echo that made his chest tighten. He could still feel the warmth of your lips, the way your fingers had tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could somehow keep him from slipping away. It had been a kiss filled with everything you hadn’t been able to say, everything you feared you might never have the chance to say. The thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, was a cold, sharp pain that cut deeper than any wound.

Logan shook his head, forcing himself to focus. There was no time for distractions, no time to dwell on the past—or the future. He had a mission, and he had to stay focused. If he let his mind wander, if he allowed himself to be consumed by thoughts of what he had left behind, he would fail. And failure wasn’t an option. Not when the stakes were this high.

The streets of the city were bustling with life, a stark contrast to the desolation he had grown accustomed to. People moved about their daily routines, unaware of the dark future that loomed on the horizon. It was both a comfort and a torment, this vibrant world that still held so much promise. Logan’s heightened senses picked up the sounds, the smells, the pulse of a city that was very much alive, and it almost overwhelmed him. The laughter of children playing, the scent of fresh coffee wafting from a nearby café, the distant honking of car horns—it was all so normal, so ordinary, and yet it felt like a world apart from the one he had left.

But beneath the surface, there was tension. Logan could sense it, the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that ran through the city like a barely contained storm. The mutant crisis was already brewing, the seeds of hatred and fear being sown by those who sought to control, to dominate. And at the center of it all was Bolivar Trask, the man whose assassination would set off a chain of events leading to the creation of the Sentinels.

Logan’s jaw tightened as he thought of Trask, the man who would become the architect of so much death and destruction. He had to stop the assassination, prevent the creation of the Sentinels before it was too late. But how? Every step he took felt like walking on a razor’s edge, the consequences of even the smallest mistake echoing across time, threatening to unravel everything.

He made his way through the city, his mind racing as he tried to piece together a plan. He needed allies, people he could trust, but the X-Men he knew in the future were not the same people they were in this time. They were younger, unscarred by the battles to come, and convincing them to join him in this mission would be no easy task.

As he walked, Logan’s thoughts kept returning to you. He could still hear your voice in his mind, your whispered words of encouragement in the dark, the way you had held him close that final night. The memory of your touch, your warmth, was like a balm to his soul, giving him the strength to keep going, to push through the fear and doubt that threatened to overwhelm him. But it was also a torment, a constant reminder of what he had left behind, and the fear that you might not be there when he returned gnawed at him relentlessly.

Logan’s steps slowed as he reached the outskirts of the city, his thoughts a tangled mess of longing and determination. He couldn’t afford to think about what might happen if he failed, couldn’t let himself dwell on the possibility that you might be lost to him forever. He had to stay focused, had to keep his mind on the mission. But the weight of the future, of the memories that haunted him, pressed down on him like a crushing burden.

He found himself in a quiet park, the sounds of the city fading into the background as he took a seat on a bench beneath the shade of a large oak tree. The park was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that churned inside him. For a moment, Logan allowed himself to close his eyes, to breathe in the scent of grass and earth, to let the sounds of birdsong wash over him. It was a small respite, a brief moment of peace in a world that seemed determined to tear itself apart.

But even here, in this quiet sanctuary, the memories wouldn’t leave him. The faces of those he had lost, the screams of the dying, the endless battles that had worn him down to the bone—all of it played out in his mind like a never-ending nightmare. And at the center of it all was you, your face etched with determination and pain, your voice a constant whisper in his ear, urging him to keep going, to fight, to survive.

Logan’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he fought against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He had been through so much, had endured so much pain and loss, and yet the thought of losing you was the one thing he couldn’t bear. It was a fear that gnawed at him, a cold, relentless terror that gripped his heart and refused to let go.

But then, in the midst of that fear, he remembered your touch, the way your hand had rested on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his stubble. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your eyes filled with a fierce, unspoken love that had given him the strength to keep going, to fight for a future that seemed all but lost.

“You’ll get through this. You have to.”

The memory of your words, spoken in the darkness of that final night, echoed in his mind, and Logan felt a surge of determination wash over him. He couldn’t afford to let fear control him, couldn’t let the weight of the future crush him beneath its burden. You were counting on him, trusting him to change the course of history, to save a world that had been doomed by the actions of a few. He couldn’t let you down.

With a deep breath, Logan opened his eyes, the peace of the park settling into him like a soothing balm. He had a mission, and he would see it through. No matter the cost, no matter the pain, he would succeed. For you. For the future. For the world that had not yet been lost.

As he rose from the bench, the weight of the future still heavy on his shoulders, Logan set his jaw in a firm line. The fear of losing you would never leave him, but he would use that fear, channel it into the determination to succeed. He had to. 

 Logan walked through the bustling streets, he couldn’t help but notice the way people looked at him—casual glances, indifferent stares, eyes that held no recognition of the man he was or the battle he had fought. To them, he was just another face in the crowd, a man with no past, no future, only the present moment. It was a strange, almost liberating feeling, to be anonymous in a world that had once known him as a warrior, a survivor. But the weight of what he knew, of what he had seen, anchored him, kept him from fully embracing the illusion of normalcy.

The city around him thrummed with life, every corner turned revealing something new and unfamiliar. It was as if the world itself was trying to distract him, to pull him away from his mission, but Logan’s resolve was unshakable. Each step he took was a reminder of why he was here, of what he had to do. The mission was all that mattered now. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by the ordinary, by the lives of people who had no idea what was coming.

Yet, despite his determination, there was a part of him that longed to stop, to sit down in one of the quaint cafés he passed, to sip a cup of coffee and lose himself in the mundane. To pretend, if only for a moment, that he was just a man living in a world at peace. But he knew better. The illusion of peace was just that—an illusion. Beneath the surface, danger lurked, and it was up to him to ensure that danger never became reality.

Logan’s thoughts drifted back to you, as they so often did. The memory of your voice, your laughter, your touch—they were the only things that kept him going, that gave him the strength to face the daunting task ahead. He could almost hear you now, teasing him about his gruff demeanor, laughing at his grumbles and sighs. 

But it was more than just your laughter that kept him grounded. It was the memory of your strength, the way you had faced the end with courage and determination, never wavering in your belief that there was still hope, still a chance to turn things around. You had been his rock, his anchor in a world gone mad, and now, more than ever, he needed to hold on to that memory. It was all he had left of you, all that kept him from succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume him.

The sun was beginning to set as Logan made his way to the edge of the city, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink that seemed almost surreal in their beauty. It was a sight that would have taken his breath away if he hadn’t been so focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now. Not when so much was at stake.

As he walked, his mind raced with thoughts of what needed to be done, of the people he needed to find, the alliances he needed to forge. There was no room for error, no time for second-guessing. Every move he made, every decision, had to be precise, calculated. He had to be perfect, because the consequences of failure were too dire to contemplate.

But as much as he tried to focus on the mission, his thoughts kept returning to you. He could still feel the warmth of your touch, the way your hand had felt in his, the way you had looked at him with those eyes that had always seen right through his tough exterior. You had known him, truly known him, in a way no one else ever had. And now, with you gone, he felt a piece of himself missing, a void that nothing could fill.

He stopped for a moment, standing at the edge of a small clearing, the city’s lights beginning to twinkle in the distance. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees around him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, to imagine that you were there with him, your hand in his, your presence a comforting warmth against the growing chill of the night.

But when he opened his eyes, the illusion was shattered, and he was alone once more. Alone with his thoughts, his memories, and the crushing weight of the mission that lay before him. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, on what might have been. The future was all that mattered now, and he would do whatever it took to ensure that future was one worth living in.

With a deep breath, Logan set off once more, his resolve as unyielding as ever. He had a world to save, a future to rewrite, and he would stop at nothing to see it done. But no matter how far he traveled, no matter how many battles he fought, you would always be there with him, a guiding light in the darkness, a reminder of why he couldn’t afford to fail.

And so, with the memory of you burning bright in his heart, Logan pressed on, determined to change the course of history, to save the world from the fate that awaited it, and to find his way back to you.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

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[gloomy0x0phantom]

Nightmare chapter one

ʚ synopsis ɞ You haven't been able to sleep for a while, and Bepo has the solution to your problem. As you develop a friendship with the polar bear, you fail to notice the jealousy of a certain captain.

pairings : Bepo & Fem!Reader / Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem!Reader

words count : 5.2k

content : fluff, a very tired reader, mention of nightmares.

note : Here's the rewrite of the first chapter of Nigthmare! I hope you like it ♡ I decided to keep the old version up cuz I don't want to lose all the nice comments 😭 A huge thank you to WesNest for being my beta reader!! English is not my first language

Next chapter // Chapter index

In the middle of the ocean, on a small island lost in thick fog, lay the crews of the Straw Hat and Heart Pirates. Once again their paths crossed, much to Trafalgar Law's misfortune and Monkey D. Luffy's delight. Despite having seen each other a few weeks ago, Luffy insisted that this umpteenth encounter should be celebrated with a big feast, a bonfire, and music. The Hearts, equally fond of a good night's drinking, gladly accepted the offer without consulting their captain, who had expressed reservations about the idea. Although Law was hesitant, his crewmates knew he didn't harbor animosity towards the Straw Hats and that he would be unable to resist an evening with them. Why? Well, let's just say they were well aware of their captain's weak spot... a weak spot concealed within the opposing crew.

A cheerful melody of violin fills the night air. Between the beach and the tropical forest, a towering fire illuminates the faces gathered around it. Luffy, Penguin, Shachi, Usopp, Bepo, and Hakugan dance enthusiastically around the flames, waving their arms and reveling in the moment. Even after a hearty meal the guys find the energy to twirl and celebrate. Chopper, his belly full, peacefully dozes in Robin's embrace while she talks with Jean Bart and Jinbe. Brook plays the violin while Franky joins in with an old tune. Nami, Zoro, Uni and Clione are competing to see who can best hold their liquor, with the redhead taking the lead of course. After completing his cooking duties, Sanji approached Ikkaku, expressing that he doesn't have the opportunity to see her often and desires to cherish every moment in her delightful company throughout the evening. Although unimpressed by the blond's flattery, the young woman allowed him to continue to be around her. Leaning against a tree, Law observes the pirates with a bored expression, yet a faint smile betrays his true feelings.  And you? You sit slightly apart from the others, quietly observing the festivities.

The others made efforts to include you in their activities, and you almost succumbed to Usopp's invitation; however, you opted to take it easy instead. Despite your desire to join the dance, you feel too drained to participate. While you find the drinking competition entertaining to watch, your distaste for alcohol prevents you from taking part. Although you enjoy listening to Robin's stories, there's a risk of nodding off while she speaks. Right now, despite your body craving it, sleep is the last thing on your mind.

You're glad to see your friends unwinding and enjoying themselves; everyone needs it. It's a relief that the Sunny has stopped at a deserted island. Since leaving Wano, you've encountered one unpleasant situation after another with pirates who believed they can defeat Luffy. Additionally, you've had to hastily depart from the last three islands as the Navy was covertly lying in wait for you. It feels like the crew's every move is being meticulously tracked. Nami insisted on searching the Sunny in case a camera had been planted on board. Thankfully, nothing was found, but it's clear that every member of the crew is exhausted. Meeting the Hearts provides the much needed distraction to unwind.

You can sense that Law isn't pleased with this coincidence. At least he's smiling. You noticed it when your gaze landed on him. The fire casts such a beautiful glow on his skin. He's dressed in a white tank top that showcases his black tattoos. You're secretly admiring the artwork - well, you think you're being subtle, but you soon realize that Law is watching you. Caught red-handed, you quickly avert your gaze. Despite this, you can still sense his eyes on you, and it's embarrassing.

“Chronicler-san!”

You are surprised when you hear your nickname cheerfully shouted by the Heart navigator. The guys halt their dancing while Brook takes a break to stretch his bones. Bepo, exhausted and needing to catch his breath, settles down next to you. You greet him with a warm smile. The polar bear is someone you appreciate, even though you've never had time to chat for more than a few minutes. It's not as if you've had the opportunity in the past. You're constantly in dangerous situations or caught up in Law and Luffy's plans. Come to think of it, this is probably the first time you've all been together outside of a mission.

"It's a beautiful night!" he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He's breathing hard, which is not surprising given his size, but he still takes the trouble to ask if you're okay between breaths.

"I'm fine, and you? Life with your crew isn't too hard?" you reply in a playful tone.

"I could ask you the same question about yours," he replies, laughing. "I'm fine, a little out of breath."

"A little?" you say, raising your eyebrows and smiling, gently teasing him. You've just witnessed him dancing for a solid thirty minutes. It was quite entertaining. It's a good thing everyone was dressed casually; otherwise, you're sure Bepo would have fainted. He might have even ended up in the fire. There's always something wild happening at parties.

Bepo usually chooses to be by his captain's side, so you get the impression that he hasn't come to see you by chance. You're curious about why he's here, but based on what little you know of him, you can tell he's likely searching for the right words. You choose to keep the conversation going.

"How's your journey been since Wano? I hope you haven't run into too much trouble with the new bounties, unlike us."

"We came across a few annoying cases, but Captain is so strong, he wiped them out in a heartbeat!" Bepo gestures animatedly as he speaks with such admirationI. It's cute. "To avoid drawing any attention, we stayed underwater most of the time. Otherwise, the Marines would have chased us too."

"Oh Bepo!" you gasp, and it's his turn to jump. "Would you trade places with me? I'd do anything to live underwater for a while and vanish from the Marines' radar!"

"I don't think the captain would be happy about losing his navigator!" He chuckles, glancing at Law, who once again looks your way, though you remain unaware.

"Don't worry, I've got a plan," you wink at Bepo and motion for him to lean in. As his ear draws near, you whisper, "I'm going to dress up as a polar bear, and you're going to wear a wig. No one will suspect a thing!"

Bepo straightens up with a laugh. "Do you even have any navigation skills?"

"No, but that's a detail!"

You both laugh at this outlandish idea. Pulling off such a plan would be next to impossible, but the thought of wearing a polar bear suit and casually strolling around the Polar Tang brings a smile to your face. You can imagine the amused reactions of the Heart Pirates, except for Law. As for Luffy, you know he'd be thrilled to have Bepo join your crew simply because he's a mink.

"What brought you out of hiding?" You ask. 

“Hm?”

"Why did you surface and come to this island?"

"Oh! Um... Well... It's kind of my fault. I enjoy being on the Polar Tang, but after a while, I start craving some sun and fresh air. My body can't handle the heat of the submarine. Maybe I complained a bit too much to the captain, and he agreed to stop at the next island, which happened to be this one." The navigator scratches the back of his head, embarrassed.

"I'm sure the others wanted some fresh air too. Just look at them!"

The two of you take a moment to observe the Heart Pirates. All you see are smiling faces, including Hakugan's mask. To you, this scene appears ordinary, but for Bepo, it holds significant meaning. They spent months without their captain, wondering if he would come back alive. And when he did, they had to face two emperors, which could have ended badly. Bepo smiles proudly. Their captain is healthy, and everyone is safe. They emerged victorious.

"I was so relieved when I saw the Polar Tang in the distance." you murmur as you continue to look at the others.

"Really?" asks Bepo, curious to know the reason.

"Yeah... I'm tired of all the fighting. We haven't had a break in ages. When I saw the submarine, my body just relaxed. I know you won't harm us. I feel safe with you guys." You glance at Bepo with a wide smile and flushed cheeks. Suddenly, you realize the magnitude of your words. "B-But I know we're not... I mean, we're enemies."

“Right, enemies…”

As if you shared the same brain, your attention shift to Law and then Luffy. Finally, you meet each other's eyes and hold back a laugh. Yeah, enemies. Luffy can't consider Law a real enemy, not after all they've been through. And honestly, you'd like the alliance to be renewed, someday. It may never reach the same level as when Law lived aboard the Thousand Sunny, but having him as an ally is comforting.

"I'm glad you feel this way with us. I feel safe with you too!"

You're taken aback by his declaration, and even more so by the wide grin Bepo offers in return. You don't doubt his sincerity. Your heart races, and your cheeks ache from smiling so much. Then, you hear a small voice in the back of your head saying, "He shouldn't."

You look at the fire, and gradually your smile loses its brightness. Returning to the boat would be a wise choice. The conversation is enjoyable, but you shouldn't continue. You're enemies, despite everyone getting along well. It's only a matter of time before Law betrays Luffy again.

Bepo noticed the sudden shift. “Alright, now would be a good time to intervene,” he thought. But how? It's not for nothing that he decided to approach you. While he was dancing, he noticed that his captain was watching you intently. The subtle frown of his eyebrows meant he saw something wrong with you. And it must have been very important, given the tension in his shoulders and his clenched jaw. As his second mate, it was his duty to find out what was wrong with you, for the sake of his captain's sanity! 

Now that he's close to you, he sees what his captain noticed.

"Are you sure everything's alright? Your dark circles are starting to look like the Captain's, and that's never a good sign," Bepo jokes, trying to lighten the mood with his question.

"It's a bit unsettling, isn't it?" you ask, with a dry laugh. "I don't sleep very well."

"B-because of the attacks?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Partly."

Bepo senses there's something more, but he's uncertain how to encourage you to open up without crossing any lines. Yes, he's eager to assist his captain, but... Bepo genuinely wants to help you. He's always held a fondness for you. He recalls your initial interaction: you were kind and appreciative. His mink instincts don't fool him; he's adept at sensing energies that humans might overlook.

"Captain could prescribe you some sleeping pills," he suggested in a hushed tone.

"I don't want to sleep," you confessed darkly.

Instantly, Bepo understands.

"Nightmares."

You nod in agreement. Bepo has known Law since childhood, and living with someone who suffers from chronic nightmares alters one's perception of sleep. For Law, sleep isn't refreshing. Bepo has seen him push himself to stay awake to the brink, and it's not a pleasant sight. So when you mention that you're reluctant to sleep because of nightmares, the navigator believes he can understand the root of the issue. However, he doesn't plan to pry further with any probing questions.

"As a doctor's assistant, I feel obliged to list all the reasons why sleep is important, but I suppose you already know them all."

You tilt your head slightly and regard him with curiosity. "You help Law during surgery? I had no clue! How long have you been studying medicine?"

"Oh, well, everyone in the crew knows how to assist the captain during surgery! It's crucial knowledge that enables us to handle situations both on and off the submarine. I've been learning for - You've changed the subject."

You look down, embarrassed.

“I did. Sorry…”

"N-no! I'm the one who's sorry!" Bepo attempts to reassure you, his tone gentle. He doesn't want you to think he's mad at you.

"Please, don't be. I'm the one who tried to fool you."

Bepo sighs, concern etched across his features as he observes you. He notices your trembling hands, the dark circles under your eyes... You don't resemble the vibrant young woman he met at Sabaody. Reflecting on it, even during your time in Wano, you seemed burdened by stress, much like everyone else.

"How many hours have you been awake...?"

"About... 60 hours, I think. Actually no, that's not true. I sleep 5 to 15 minutes every few hours, it's never a deep sleep. I wake up as soon as I hear a noise. The adrenaline rush from the fights keeps me going, pushing myself beyond my limits. But I feel strange. My heart feels like it's pounding everywhere, I can't focus on writing, food's lost its appeal, Sanji has saved my ass a few times during fights because I'm not paying full attention, sometimes my vision gets blurry and I see things in the corner of my vision. But otherwise I feel fine."

In one breath, you spill out your words, leaving Bepo staring at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked by your extreme lifestyle. He shouldn't be so surprised; enduring 60 hours without sleep is far from healthy, but for you, it seems, this is just another day in the life.

"Have you discussed it with the others...?"

"They're aware of my nightmares; that's nothing new. But I haven't brought up my current issue. It'd be foolish for Monkey D. Luffy to have a crewmate who can't sleep due to stupid nightmares... I don't want to embarrass him."

"Nightmares are not something to be taken lightly, especially the ones that are-" Bepo stops abruptly, his expression twisting into a grimace. "Uh.. Don't feel ashamed. Capt-," he halts once more, grunting in frustration. His lips clamp shut as he bites down on them, then he resumes, "I know someone incredibly strong and respected who dealt with nightmares. They'll never be seen as weak or a disgrace in my eyes. They're truly remarkable, destined to become the king of—" Bepo abruptly cuts himself off, covering his mouth with his hand. He's let slip more than intended.

The navigator's reaction is cute. It's clear he's referring to Law. You appreciate what he's trying to say. You understand why the Heart Pirates hold the polar bear in such high regard; he truly has a talent for making people feel at ease with his attentive listening and open-mindedness. You can't help but wonder if he also serves as a psychologist on board the submarine; it wouldn't be surprising.

Slowly, you lower your head, resting your elbows on your knees and concealing your face behind your hands, assuming a vulnerable posture. With your back bent and your shoulders trembling, it's a sight that catches Bepo off guard. Panic grips him, and he quickly scans the surroundings, ensuring that no Straw Hat crew member is watching. You're... You're crying. And he's the one to blame! He feels a pang of guilt wash over him. He's replaying what he said to you, he doesn't know what could have provoked such a reaction! He wouldn't dare hurt you on purpose!

Bepo's hands fidget nervously as he mutters a string of "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" His entire focus is on you, but he can sense his captain's frustration looming in the background, only adding to his anxiety. If you were part of his crew, he'd instinctively reach out to hug you, offering comfort and reassurance. But you're not part of his team, and he hesitates, unsure if such a gesture would be appropriate. After all, he doesn't know you well enough to gauge your comfort level with physical contact.

“Can I... hold her? Give her a hug?” Bepo's thoughts race frantically as he considers the consequences. “I've seen her snap a man's neck with one kick—I don't want to die!” But the fear of the Straw Hat discovering her tears fills him with dread. “If they see her crying, they'll know I'm the cause... they'll kill me!” He shudders at the thought of facing the wrath of the redhead. “I don't want to provoke her wrath, she's terrifying!” Panic grips him as he wrestles with his dilemma. “Oh no, what am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING??? I'M SO SORRY!”

Behind your hands, a sound that doesn't resemble crying catches Bepo's attention, halting his panic. He tilts his head, intrigued, and whispers your name. Swiftly, you unveil your face to reveal a broad smile, tears glistening in the corners of your eyes. You don't look sad, on the contrary, you're laughing! Relief floods through the navigator as he releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. For a moment, Bepo had feared the worst—walking the plank and sparking a conflict between Law and Luffy. But now, seeing your smile, he knows everything's alright.

You wipe away your tears of laughter and jest, "What kind of spell have you cast on me, Bepo? I never allow myself to broach this subject with my friends, yet here I am, spilling my heart out to you without a second thought!"

From the look on his face, you realize you've startled him. You let out a soft giggle and gently pat his back. Predictably, Bepo hangs his head and apologizes. Wanting to reassure him, you decide to do what comes naturally to you: offer a hug. You're not sure if he enjoys being cuddled, but he seems like the type who appreciates a good hug. After all, you've witnessed him embrace several members of his crew before.

Since the navigator towers over you by several heads, you have to stand up to reach his neck. Bepo quickly catches on to what you're trying to do and bends over slightly to make it easier for you, allowing you to control the strength of the embrace. As your arms encircle his neck and your face brushes against his fur, you freeze.

"B-Bepo..." you whisper.

The mink senses the tension in your body and quickly pulls away, fearing he's made you uncomfortable. But as he looks at you, he sees anything but discomfort in your expression. You stare at him as if he were your soulmate, as if he were an oasis in the desert, as if he were the most delicious treat in the world!

"Bepo!" you shout, disregarding the volume of your voice entirely. "You're... you're... so..."

"Y-yes?"

"You're so... FLUFFY!!!"

Once again, Bepo relaxes. "Thank you! We polar bear minks are known for having very soft fur," he responds, his tone tinged with pride as he puffs out his chest.

His pride comes to an abrupt halt when he hears you say, "Give me your fur!"

"Huh?! No way!"

You burst out laughing at his reaction.

"You can touch me, if you like. But you can't have my fur!"

"Really?" you say, hopeful.

Bepo nods eagerly, a wide smile spreading across his face, showcasing his beautiful, sharp teeth. Seeing his joy, you can't help but smile too. Driven by a sudden warmth in your chest, you decide to climb onto the polar bear and settle in his lap. It's impossible to wrap your legs around his waist, his stature is impressive, but that doesn't stop you from trying. You can't stop giggling like a child. Your fingers trace down Bepo's arms to his shoulders, and you even muster the courage to touch his round cheeks. It strikes you as surprising that this is the first time you've thought of cuddling him, and you find yourself wishing you'd done it sooner!

Struggling to remain composed, you fight the urge to cling to the navigator and squeeze him like a cuddly stuffed toy. It's not the first time you've had such an impulse. In the past, you nearly suffocated Chopper in your embrace when he donned a cow costume; and poor Karoo fell victim to your accidental feather-plucking. You've always been wary of approaching small animals (and even larger ones) for fear of inadvertently harming them with your overwhelming cute aggression.

You don't want to hurt Bepo, but you want him to know how much his fluffiness messes with your brain. 

"You're so cute and soft! I want to bite you!"

Bepo flinches and lets out a little cry of fear. "Please don't!"

You squeeze him with all your strength and rub your face on his furry chest, releasing a high-pitched squeal of delight. Your statement catches him off guard; while he's accustomed to receiving compliments on his fur, being told that someone wants to bite him for it is a first. Unsure of how to respond verbally, Bepo reacts instinctively, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing his head against yours. The two of you share smiles and giggles, caught up in the moment. He couldn't be more adorable!

You let out another cry of joy, causing heads to turn in your direction. The music abruptly stops, and you feel a pang of regret for disturbing everyone. You hadn't realized you were being so noisy.

Suddenly, rubbery arms wrap around you and Bepo, pulling you both into an even tighter embrace. Luffy's body collides with yours, almost knocking the breath out of you. Like a true monkey, the young man clings to you, laughing gleefully in your ear.

"Oi bear, you are fluffy shishishi!"

As you catch your breath, Penguin, Shachi, Hakugan, Franky, and Brook all join the hug. You're completely crushed under the weight of all the men—and the skeleton—but you don't mind. It's a shower of love that you happily accept!

"Yohoho, your fur is so soft! Oh, but I can't feel it, I have no skin yohohoho!" exclaims Brook. 

You roll your eyes, a gesture Brook can't mimic, at his classic skeleton joke. 

"Bepo is the fluffiest!" declares Penguin.

"Yeah, he's the best mink!" adds Shachi.

The boys return to dancing and singing, leaving you alone with Bepo. His face is flushed with embarrassment, but there's also a hint of happiness in his expression knowing he caused this adorable moment. You're the last one to remain in his arms, cherishing the warmth of the embrace.

You release a long, contented sigh and allow your eyes to drift shut. Gradually, your body begins to relax. You immerse yourself in the sounds around you—the crackling of the fire, Bepo's steady heartbeat, Brook's music, the chatter of voices—and find the atmosphere to be perfect. Feeling a protective hand resting on your back, you take it as confirmation that Bepo doesn't mind your presence on his lap. Whatever worries you had earlier, they slip away from your mind. Normally, you'd muster the strength to snap yourself out of such a relaxed state, perhaps with a sharp slap to the cheeks, but right now, you find yourself unable to resist the pull of fatigue.

Before long, you fall asleep. It feels like being cradled by a giant teddy bear, shielded from the demons of the night. Bepo becomes your protector, kicking away any bad memories and nightmares, ensuring you're safe and sound in his arms. Almost unable to believe it, Bepo watches you sleep, feeling a sense of happiness wash over him. 60 hours awake... If you had continued, you could have slipped into psychosis.

A little further away from the duo, Law sits with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. He attempts to focus on the fire, seeking distraction, but his gaze inevitably returns to you. Your face is nestled against Bepo's chest, mouth slightly parted, hands grasping the bear's fur. A stray lock of your hair appears to tickle your nose; he has the urge to step forward and gently tuck it behind your ear, but refrains. Instead, the captain remains seated against a tree, determined not to retreat back to the submarine.

Of course, Bepo would notice your fatigue; it was obvious. It was the first thing Law noticed when you walked onto the beach.

You stepped off the Thousand Sunny with a radiant smile. You were looking at your feet, a habit he noticed, to avoid falling or running into someone else. Ikkaku took you in her arms, the lucky girl. That's when he saw it. Right there. Your hands, resting on the young woman's back, trembled ever so slightly. Were you that eager to see his crew? No, it couldn't be; when you're excited you tend to hop to your feet, and would have thrown yourself at Ikkaku to cuddle her. His suspicions were confirmed as you stepped back to chat with the brunette—your eyes were heavily bagged. So you were tired. When you're working on the logbook or writing a story, sometimes you get so immersed in your work, you end up pulling an all-nighter. Maybe you've been working a lot the last few days? While plausible, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.

Law recalls something peculiar about your behavior earlier in the day. You frequently glanced behind you in a manner that appeared paranoid. Moreover, you seemed more on edge, visibly flinching when Clione tapped you on the shoulder and even when Sanji placed a glass down in front of you at dinner. Nami's earlier conversation with Shachi may shed some light on this.

"People are insane for wanting to test Luffy's power! Ever since his new, stupid poster came out, wannabe pirates have been constantly coming at us! One group even had the audacity to attack us during the night! Zoro was pissed. We thought we could rest on the next island, but nope! The Marine was waiting for us. Sanji didn't even have time to buy food; the boys had to fish every day! I'm sick of eating fish! The Marines pulled the same stunt two other times, but at least on the last island we had enough time to roam around for a few hours and stock up. I decided to change course completely, and that's how we ended up here. So if you attack us, I swear, I'll electrocute you all."

Your nervousness could be attributed to the constant presence of enemies. Yeah, that's likely it. Tonight no one's going to attack you—Law's going to ensure that.

In the ongoing competition, Nami and Zoro are the final contenders. The swordsman eyes the opportunity to pocket some money, and he's adamant about seizing it. Though he's never emerged victorious before, tonight might just be his chance. Meanwhile, Nami has no plans of letting him walk away with the prize without a challenge, but she enjoys seeing him give it his all until he eventually succumbs to sleep.

But, Nami suddenly stops drinking, leaving a glass half-full.

"What? Now you're going to give up? I knew you were going to lose," says Clione, clearly intoxicated.

The redhead doesn't seem to hear; she's bewildered by what she sees across the fire. Has she indulged in too much alcohol, leading to hallucinations, or is it actually you sleeping? Doubtful of her own condition to discern reality, she slaps Zoro's shoulder and gestures towards you. Gradually, the swordsman follows her gesture and frowns in confusion.

"Am I crazy or...?"

"You are crazy, but it's real," replies Zoro. He waves his arm to get his captain's attention. "Oi, Luffy."

The young man tilts his head to the side and stops playing with the guys. He follows the navigator's finger and a huge grin spreads across his face when he sees you sleeping in Bepo's arms. Finally!

"The party's over."

Brook and Franky immediately stop playing music, leaving only the sounds of the fire and nature. The Hearts are visibly intrigued by this drastic change of mood. When Luffy says the party's over, something's wrong.

"What's going on?" Ikkaku asks, a worried look on her face.

Robin stands up while keeping the little reindeer in her arms, gently stroking his head.

"The recent events have affected the sleep of the whole crew, but (y/n) is the one suffering the most. We've tried to help her by giving her chamomile tea and exhausting her with training, but it's not working. Bepo, would you be willing to spend the night with her?"

All eyes are on Bepo, who must deliver an answer quickly. He's feeling the pressure of the Straw Hats. Disappointing them is the least of his concerns; the navigator considers that he owes them nothing. The alliance has dissolved in Wano, and there's nothing compelling him to comply with Nico Robin's request, but... The thing, or rather the person, that makes him hesitate is just a few meters away. Bepo doesn't dare turn to his captain, as it might raise doubts, but he can sense a negative energy emanating from his direction.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Uh... S-she might wake up if I move."

"No problem; you just have to stay in this exact spot and not move a muscle," Nami replies, her arms crossed and a tone of finality in her voice, indicating she's not open to negotiation.

"Okay... B-but she might get sick if we stay outside!"

"Don't worry bro, I'll go get some blankets, no one will get sick." adds Franky with a thumbs-up.

Bepo lowers his gaze to your sleeping face. You look really comfortable... And with everything you've told him, it would be a shame to wake you up.

"Bepo, you have the right to refuse," Robin finally says, sounding sincere.

Did he truly have a choice? Because right now, he feels like murder will be committed if he refuses. Bepo doesn't mind sharing a sleeping space with you; you're not heavy, you smell good and he trusts you. Law is the problem. Bepo isn't the only one harboring this thought; Penguin and Shachi are visibly nervous as well.

"Bepo will stay with her," Law declares before anyone else can continue the conversation, thus putting an end to the negotiation.

"C-captain?" asks Bepo, uncertain and surprised.

"But only for tonight. My navigator is not at your beck and call," Law adds firmly.

"Of course, Torao." agrees Robin with a mysterious smile. "Franky."

"Yes! I'll be right back with the blankets, I'll be suuuuuuuuper quick!"

"SHH! You'll wake her up if you scream!" Sanji warns.

"Sorry! I'll be suuuuper fast!" murmurs Franky without losing his excitement.

"You're the one who's loud, shitty cook."

"What did you say mosshead!?"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!"

"Sorry Nami-san!"

The pirates walk away, their voices ranging from hushed murmurs to boisterous chatter. The Straw Hats aren't good at going unnoticed - they never have been. In contrast, the Heart Pirates are accustomed to lurking in the shadows, making silence second nature to them. Most of them bid Bepo a good night, but Shachi and Penguin restrain themselves from voicing the myriad thoughts swirling in their minds. They know that uttering those thoughts could provoke their captain's wrath. They certainly don't want to risk being swapped for the night or, worse, dismembered. So, they remain silent, merely waving their hands in farewell.

And Law? He uses his power to return to the Polar Tang, without uttering a word.

tag list : smokeprincess24, phsycochan, miloonepiece, stuckinthewrongworld, metonimia-de-bellota, tolkienlovee, norasincubi, theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction, awkwardspontaneity, sleepykittycx, perilous-pasta, shadowserpent4444, songinabottle, fireinyoureye, someobsessionrequired, dummyegg, undermoonlightwalk, latanyalove, rebeccawinters, stormruff, shuujin, elen-alambil, amortentiaz, nemisimp, saybeyonce, corazon-lover, shamrockfish, dark-swedish-suitcase-blog, dionysiachan, stachelrose, btsvtxtenha, thestrawartsofreading, beebeesthings, pottedloam, bluebunny002, ravendgie, nonominchan, bluebreadenthusiast, justone-piece, emmaiscool22

[rinhaler]

TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES

CHAPTER SUMMARY: It's Chigiri's birthday and everyone decides it's a perfect day to go to the nearby village to shop for secret santa gifts! Will you be able to get through one day without bickering with your ex?

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, hate sex? + love making, dry humping, mutual pining, no prep, vaginal sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering, oral, mattress humping, tit sucking, multiple rounds?, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, dacryphilia, pet names (princess, baby).

WORDS : 12.2k

notes : It's MY birthday too btw hehe wanted Chigiri to be the readers bestie bc he's my birthday twin oops enjoy the fic tho ♡

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Daybreak filters through the window as your eyes begrudgingly flutter open. It seems like both you and Chigiri had forgotten to close the curtains before you passed out drunk and stoned. The mattress beneath you feels like a cloud as you stretch out; your hand comes into contact with cold, fair skin.

You blink the sleep from your eyes when you recall that Hyoma seldom sleeps without a shirt.

And your blood runs cold.

It all comes rushing back to you, then. That crushing conversation with Rin you’d had last night that made you sob and search for your best friend, leaving him alone so you could preserve his enjoyment of the evening.

“Eita.” you whisper, attempting to shake him awake.

He knocked on your door, offered you weed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to decline. Not when you were so lonely, so filled with envy and loathing as you dredged over each painful word your ex shared with you on his balcony.

“Mmpf, w’time is it?” Eita grumbles, feeling around for his phone until he finds it. “Eugh, it’s so early…”

“You have to go.” you tell him, lightly slapping him until he pays attention to you. You get out of bed and are met with the freezing air filling the room. He doesn’t listen, but he watches you with one eye slightly open as you rush to turn on the heater to warm up the room. You freeze as you look at him again, wondering why he’s shirtless if it’s so cold. “Eita… did we…”

“Mm.” he grunts, closing his eyes again. You jump onto the mattress beside him, really shaking him so he can’t possibly ignore you. “Woah, what is it?”

“We fucked?” you ask him, panicking.

“No way.” he shakes his head. “Don’t fuck drunk ‘n high girls.” he assures you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you lie back beside him. It’s stupid to worry about Rin anymore, but you can’t help it. He said he wouldn’t care if you fucked the whole house, but did he really mean it? It seems like a violation, to you, breaking bro code or something. And, honestly, you don’t think it would reflect well on you either.

The last thing you wanted to do was cause an uproar when you’re here for a few more days.

“Eita? What happened last night?” you wonder, quietly, unsure if you want the answer.

You might not have had sex, but that doesn’t mean something else didn’t happen. If you kissed, you certainly don’t remember it. The possibilities are endless, and it makes your blood reach the same chilling temperature that fills the room.

“We jus’ smoked, baby,” he tells you, rolling over on his stomach to look at you. He’s pretty, like this. He’s pretty anyway. But the pinks and yellows breaching through the blinds softens him immensely. “You cried a lot. About Rin. ‘n then you passed out.” he closes his eyes to sleep some more.

How utterly humiliating.

Though you don’t really have time to dwell as you see him trying to sneakily sleep beside you again. You lightly tap his face, yanking the duvet away from him to reveal his toned back muscles.

He’s still wearing his jeans from the party.

“I don’t know where Chigiri is, but if anyone sees you in here, they’re gonna get the wrong idea,” you whisper, and he grunts. He takes his time, but eventually, gets up in search of his shirt and shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles back at you over his shoulder as he shoves his feet into his sneakers. “You want Rin back, yeah?”

“I—” you hesitate. Do you want him back? You still stand by the reasons you decided to end things, after all. But so many feelings have come rushing back since seeing him in the flesh again. You were missing him already before you even got here. And now, you’re so close but so far. And even further now that he’s seeing someone new.

Do you really want him back?

Or do you just want what you can’t have?

“Either way, you don’t need me right now.” he tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. “Your loss, by the way.” he laughs.

“Hah, really?” you laugh too.

“Big time, I’m definitely a better fuck than Itoshi. Both of them,” he winks, biting his lip before heading for the door. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.” he salutes before sneaking out and shutting the door behind him.

The cold air hits you like a brick as you run to lock the door after him, but you hurry back to warmth soon after. You starfish in the bed when you realise you have the space to yourself again, and your eyes slowly close. A few more minutes sleep won’t hurt, right? No one else seems to be awake yet.

He didn’t even tell you what time it is.

You roll over and grab your phone from the side table and wince when you see that it’s only 8am. It’s sickening, so much so that you practically throw your phone back down and get in a comfortable position to sleep.

It’s short lived, though, you get fifteen minutes of resting your eyes at most before you hear knocking at the door.

It makes you grumble, like a man. Like your dad specifically. It horrifies you enough to make you stir and clamber out of bed. It’s grotesque, you think, inheriting such an uncouth trait.

You’ll have to train yourself out of it.

You unlock the door, and you aren’t sure why you’re surprised to see Chigiri step through. He stares at you silently as you lock the door again, he doesn’t even follow you into bed when you cover your barely clothed limbs.

“Something happened last night.” he tells you, looking worried.

“What?” you wonder. “What did you do?”

He looks so serious, and it makes your heart race. Did you do something embarrassing? Probably, but that isn’t anything new. His silence makes your body flush with warmth. The nerves and anxiety you feel begin to course through every nerve ending you possess, and soon enough you’re throwing the blankets away from your body.

He looks into your eyes before thinking about what he should say. And after losing all composure, he starts laughing. “Nothing, just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for a second.” he smirks, “You do that shit everyday? Exhausting.”

“You’re such a dick.” you chastise him, getting comfy in the bed again. And now, finally, he joins you. “Have you got a hangover?”

“Big time.” he tells you. You grab some painkillers from your side table and pop out enough from the silvery film for you and Chigiri to consume. “Something happened last night, right?” he asks.

“Don’t get me started.” you sigh.

“I came up here to come to bed, the door was locked.” he tells you, “So I woke up with Tabito on the couch, Sae on the floor and Oliver on the coffee table.”

You laugh, rolling on your side so you can face each other and gossip. The state everyone is in today is no surprise. Though you suspect the only one not nursing a hangover is probably Rin. You didn’t see him drink all that much, and he doesn’t get high.

He’s probably doing his morning routine right now.

A routine he got you into when you first started dating. You wanted to impress him, after all. But his yoga routines are far out of your league. You used to end up giggling on your back after a fall while he laughed along with you.

But you liked doing the meditation afterwards.

“Rin almost kissed me last night, I think…” you contemplate it, though you admittedly aren’t sure if it’s a fabrication. “It was really intense, but he rejected me.”

“Damn.” he replies, “Wait, so you were in here alone? Why did you lock the door?!”

“Eita spent the night…” you sigh, covering your face with your pillow. Chigiri teases you, trying to pull it away to inspect your facial expressions. He’s laughing, loudly, unable to believe what he’s hearing. “He told me that we just got high, and I cried about Rin.” you confess.

“You are floundering.” he tells you, and you nod. “He’s into you, you’re into him, Ryusei made him sound like a major player so he’s probably a good fuck. Rin gave you your answer, you should have sealed the deal!” he continues, and all you can do is groan. Because he’s right.

How long is it going to take to get over Rin, anyway? Why should you spare his feelings when he clearly has no desire to do the same for you?

Eita isn’t what you want right now, though.

His pretty face and his alleged impeccable stroke game isn’t going to change that.

“Rin was jealous last night.” Chigiri admits, and it grabs your attention instantly. “Ryusei was, too. But Rin was really jealous.”

“Really?”

He nods, “When you were dancing with Eita, I was trying to keep an eye on him.” you get comfortable and make full eye contact with him again as he speaks. “While we were playing never have I ever, too. When Eita and Oliver were all over you, he looked pissed.”

“Interesting…”

“His girlfriend’s gotta be a rebound.” he theorizes, and for whatever reason, it gives you chills. Both of your eyes widen at the same time, and no doubt you’ve arrived at the same idea. “We need to get more info.”

“Ryusei wants to talk to me at some point, I’ll ask him.” you tell Hyoma, and he nods, concurring that it’s a good idea. “You need to talk to Sae. He might know something.”

“He didn’t even know Rin was coming,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, but relents. “Fine.”

The two of you go downstairs, surprisingly greeted by everyone else. Everyone’s crowded around the kitchen island again. The smell of bacon, eggs and toast floods your nostrils as you descend and reach the kitchen.

You sit in between Oliver and Chigiri, the former not paying you too much attention other than a polite hello. Ryusei catches your eye as he tilts his head, waving when you finally make eye contact. His face looks serious, intentional, he’s waiting for that talk you silently agreed to.

“Surprised you’re cooking for us all, Rin.” Hyoma speaks, resting his elbow on the countertop before settling his head in his hand.

“Yeah, well,” he speaks quietly but with a slight gruffness. “It’s fine.”

He carefully sets down two plates in front of you all. Eita and Ryusei are already eating, so Oliver reaches for the nearest plate. Rin scowls at him, harshly trapping his hand between the plate and the spatula he’s holding.

“That’s not for you.” Rin tells him, and he moves his hand. You watch him as he pushes the plate in your direction, looking at you briefly before he looks back at Oliver. “Here.” he continues, pushing the other plate towards his hungry friend.

Hyoma is thankful that Rin seems too preoccupied trying to shield his face from you to notice how his eyes have widened and he can’t control the smirk on his face. You haven’t noticed, either, but Sae raises a suspicious eyebrow as he looks at your best friend. Though, luckily, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look down at the plate, realising why he wanted you to have this plate. He’s cut your toast into triangles how he knows you like, and they are the perfect shade of golden brown with butter dreamily melting into it. He cut the fat off your bacon and fried it until it was crispy.

You look at Oliver’s plate, seeing how little care have gone into the eggs. The yolks are messy and broken, whereas yours are perfect.

“Thank you, Rinni— Rin.” you smile, picking up your cutlery as you start to dig in. He doesn’t say anything, he just smiles weakly as he nods. He washes his hands in the sink as his brother places a plate down in front of Chigiri. He sits opposite to him with a plate of his own.

Your smile fades as you watch Rin walk away without sitting down with a plate of his own.

“Where’re you going?” Ryusei asks, cheeks full of food as he talks.

“Not hungry.” he responds, retreating upstairs.

You sigh, losing your appetite despite the food looking so perfectly appealing. Hyoma leans over to you, whispering that you need to eat as he watches you play with your food. He’s right, as usual, so you force yourself to take a few bites. Your eyes meet Ryusei’s as you look up, and you see an expression of concern and worry on his face.

It forces you to continue eating. You don’t want to worry everyone, after all.

But you yourself are worried about Rin.

He could be telling the truth, of course. It’s possible that he really isn’t hungry. But what if it’s your fault? Maybe he can’t stomach the idea of being around you. Eating around you. He might not even want to breathe the same air as you after last night.

Breakfast… he made it for you specifically, though.

Why would he do that if he hated you so much?

“He’s almost finished eating,” Hyoma whispers, gesturing to Shidou’s plate. “Eat your food, pull him aside, and I’ll see if I can find out anything from Sae.” he continues.

You take a few more bites and push your plate aside. Chigiri waits for you to do as he had told you, but you whisper to him instead.

“Why do you think Rin isn’t eating?” you ask, “I should make him breakfast since he did the same for me!” you smile, excitedly.

“Aw!” he smiles back, a little too widely to be sincere. “Your cooking is disgusting. You’re trying to get him back, not kill him.”

“Oh my God it isn’t that ba—”

“Hey, didn’t you need to talk to Shidou about something?” he says, loudly, pulling everyone’s attention from their food to look at your exchange. No one is more captivated than Shidou himself, however, who picks up both of your plates and moves them closer to the sink. “I’ll wash up, dude, don’t worry.” Chigiri says as he stands to his feet, shooting you a final, warning glare before walking to the sink.

You smile at Ryusei, leading him over to the empty lounge. He lights the wood logs in the fireplace after seeing your skin break out in goosebumps. The couch feels tight as you sit together, despite being so far apart. His arm rests over the back while he rests an ankle on his knee, and you’re sitting cross-legged with your back against the furniture’s arm.

It’s awkward.

There’s an obvious tension that you don’t feel qualified to break. He’s formulating words, you can see him thinking of what to say since he’s older and should therefore be more mature. He’s the one who hurt you, unintentionally of course, so he should try and alleviate this heavy feeling of unease.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he starts. “If I did anything to give you the wrong idea… I’m sorry.”

“No, I was being a brat, I’m sorry.” you tell him, trying your best to not let your bruised ego interfere with a friendship you do value wholeheartedly. “You were right, I was hurting and then I lashed out because I was embarrassed.”

“You know I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if you weren’t Rin’s girl, yeah?” he laughs, tilting your head up by the chin with his finger as he urges you to look at him. “I know you aren’t together, but it’s a red line to me.”

“I understand…” you nod, “Are you going to tell him?”

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Nothin’ happened.” he smiles at you. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. It makes you giggle; you can’t help yourself. Ryusei always seems to make you feel lighter whenever you talk to him.

He’s sweet.

Really sweet.

And often times, severely misunderstood. You’ve known him since he was young, he’s thirty, now. You remember meeting him when you hadn’t been with Rin for too long. He told you about how they’d fight, physically. He told you he was crazy and unhinged, this that and the other.

But you got to know him, you suppose.

You got to see a softer side of him and one that cares deeply. And he does care for you, even still. He’ll care about you for as long as he lives, you can see it plainly as he holds you in his arms, looking up into his eyes.

He looks at you like you’re his everything, sometimes.

You melt into his arms when you hear him lightly sniff your strawberry scented hair, it makes him hold you tighter. His head drops, levelling his mouth with your ear.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he wonders.

You stiffen, and he feels it. He rubs your shoulders lightly with his thumbs, encouraging you to share in your own time. Whether it’s now, or in an hour.

He’s got you.

“Rin— His… girlfriend,” you gulp, fighting tears as they threaten to form and douse your cheeks for the second day in a row. “Do you know anything?”

“I know the same as you,” he confesses, feeling a pang on guilt in his heart as he hears you sigh in disappointment. “You ended things, baby, are ya jealous?”

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake…” you admit, looking into his eyes. “Help me, Ryu, please. I want to know if there’s still a chance with him.”

He just huffs and shrugs his shoulders.

Realistically there’s not much he can do to help. And you know that. You know how stubborn Rin can be, and what’s worse, he’s so private about his personal life. It used to be you that he was so secretive about. The only pictures on his Instagram profile were ones of you and him.

Just two pictures.

One of your birthday.

Another of your engagement.

They’re both gone, now. It breaks your heart to think about. He might replace them one day with photos of her. The thought of another woman wearing his grandmother’s ring makes anxiety surge through your nerve endings. Your body eases, though, when you feel Ryusei’s protective hold get stronger.

“I’ll find out what I can for you…” he whispers, “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

You nod, closing your eyes peacefully when you feel him place a delicate kiss into your temple. Chigiri looks over at you, shrugging, as if he’s asking for news. But you just shake your head, leaving both of you disappointed.

“Sae doesn’t know anything either.” Chigiri tells you now that you’re finally alone together again in the room you’re sharing. You grunt as you sit down on the bed with him, pouting that your little scheme has failed before it even took flight. “Are we giving up?”

“I guess, what else can we do?” you sigh. It was a noble thought that you’d be able to get some information and find a way to get your fairytale ending, but this is real life. Of course that wasn’t an option. “Anyway, it’s your birthday tomorrow. We should be focusing on that. Sae said he wanted to plan something.”

“We talked about it last night… he suggested going to one of the bars in town.” he explains. “Maybe we could do the secret Santa shopping too. Who did you get?” he wonders.

“Um…” you get off the bed, moving a few things around in the room as you try and recall where you left the jagged piece of cardboard with your recipient’s name written on. You find it in a crumpled pile of last night’s clothes and panties, handing it to Chigiri to read.

“Sae! At least you know him well enough to get something for him.” he smiles, giving it back to you.

“I was hoping I’d get you or Ryusei to be honest… or, never mind.” you speak quietly, regretting wanting to bring Rin up again when you’d tried to change the subject in the first place. “Who did you get?” you wonder.

He smirks, pulling his own piece of cardboard out of his pocket before showing it to you. Your face drops, and he can’t help but laugh, sticking his tongue out as he waves it around teasingly.

Rin.

“Give me it.” you demand. You reach out to grab it, but he snatches it from your reach. “Fucking give me it!” you leap on him, fighting with him as he carries on keeping it away from you.

“You fucking psycho!” he laughs, losing the upper hand as he lowers his hands to hold his aching stomach. “I was gonna give it to you anyway, idiot.”

“This is a gamechanger.” you smile, triumphantly holding the bent and torn piece of cardboard. “He almost kissed me. He was jealous. He made me breakfa—”

“He made everyone breakfast.”

“We’ve got history!” you steal the conversation back from him as he interrupts you, glaring at him with a new determination in your eyes. He watches you as you speak, knowing that you’re definitely onto something. There is so much history between you. And if you can pull of a simple, romantic gesture, he might bare his heart to you again. “Good things always happen on your birthday. I’m more excited than usual.”

“Because it’s my special day and you love me, right?” he rolls his eyes. “Not because you’re scheming to get your ex back.”

“I’m very excited for your special day and I love you very much, Chigs.” you laugh, chubbing his cheeks as you bend down from where you’re standing to tease him. “I’ll give up after this, for real. If he doesn’t want me, fine! But I think there’s still a chance…”

You aren’t sure if that’s entirely true though.

Maybe it’s your imagination.

Maybe it’s just hope.

“Who’s gonna be the designated drivers?” Karasu wonders, scanning around the room as he contemplates who will fill the roles. “We’ll need two, minimum.”

“I don’t mind staying sober.” you pipe up, shrugging and smiling happily. You got wasted on your first night here and, honestly, your stomach is still raw. You look upstairs as you hear a creak of the wood floor, the only person not present is the birthday boy himself. So, your face lights up, eager to finally see him and give him his gifts. “It’s Hyoma’s birthday, so he isn’t driving, decide the rest amongst yourselves.” you tell them as you stand up and rush towards your shared room.

The guys nod, all looking at each other as they try and come to a decision.

“I don’t care.” Rin announces, taking a drink of his coffee. “I’ll drive.”

“We should have one more to be safe,” Sae suggests, and they all groan, disappointed that Rin hadn’t gotten them all off the hook. It’s a choice between five, and none of them seem willing to be gracious enough to offer. “Fine. Let’s draw straws.”

You knock on the door to your room before entering immediately after, a wide grin sprawled across your face.

“Good morning! Happy birthday~!” you squeal, rushing over to your best friend to give him a tight, loving squeeze. He laughs, thanking you gratefully. He watches you as you grab the tall bag full of gifts and hand it to him. “If there’s anything you don’t like, jus’ lemme know and we can return or exchange!” you tell him, and he nods.

Though, as expected, your taste is perfect.

He pulls out each meticulously wrapped gift and is happy with each and every item you’ve gotten him. You’ve gotten the perfect mix of presents for him. Some clothes, accessories, and jewellery you were certain he’d like.

“This must have cost a fortune, you didn’t have to spend so much y’know.” he smiles, happily, holding a designer sweater you’d gotten him with an intricate design. You think nothing of it, though. If you could buy gifts for your atrocious little step siblings, you didn’t mind doing the same for your best friend. “I might wear this today!”

“You should! We’ve just been picking designated drivers.” you inform him. “I’m not drinking tonight, but I told them you aren’t driving since it’s your special day.”

“You aren’t?”

“I want a clear head today… it’s gonna be a long day.” you explain, and he nods. “We’ll probably be leaving soon so we should start getting dressed.” you tell him, standing up and crumpling all of the wrapping paper into a ball. You toss it aside before you decide to sit and start getting ready again.

“I’m gonna say good morning to everyone.” he smiles, waving.

You’re alone in the room, now, thinking about what’s to come. You don’t know how you should wear your hair or do your makeup. You aren’t sure how to dress comfortably for a shopping day whilst simultaneously looking hot enough to go for drinks and party after.

There’s an unnecessary pressure you’re letting weigh down on you. You want to impress Rin. You want to leave an impression. It’s silly, really. He knows you through and through. Every deep, saccharine inch of you, better than anyone else ever will. But here you are, preening yourself for his benefit more than your own.

It feels somewhat in vain, deep down.

Why are you trying to put on a mask for a man that knows you so, so intimately?

“You look really good,” Chigiri comments, leaning across the centre console to whisper in hushed tones. You offer a giddy, accomplished smile as you thank him, Eita and Oliver agree with him as they seem to overhear even over the pop music blasting through the speakers.

Cosy was the right move when you decided on your look for the day, though you may look like you’re heading for a day on some ski slopes rather than shopping and partying.

You’re dressed head to toe in white. Earmuffs, fuzzy coat and boots, and a skin tight jumpsuit. You even have white mittens ready to wear when you get out of the car.

“So… we’re splitting up. Looking for gifts. And then meeting at the bar in a few hours?” you ask the boys, who all nod.

“I already know what I’m getting so I’ll be going straight to the bar when I’m done.” Eita announces.

“Me too.” Oliver tells him, laughing.

You shake your head as you watch them joke around like kids, but with a joyous smile on your face. They must have something simple and generic in mind to be able to purchase their gifts to quickly. Though, knowing them, it’s probably alcohol.

There are butterflies in your stomach as you approach the nearby village town, you look into the rearview mirror to see Rin is still following closely behind.

You wonder how frustrated he is with Ryusei annoying him in the passenger seat.

You take a deep breath as you park, watching him pull up beside you. Everyone gets out quickly, eager to stretch their legs after the thirty-minute drive. You sigh as Rin walks away rapidly; his face buried in his phone without even bothering to say goodbye.

Chigiri shrugs at you, and everyone disperses through the village in different directions.

“I don’t even know where to start…” you confess, looking between each of the cutesy looking stores.

You enter a few, browsing, hoping something will leap out at you. An accessory you know he might like or maybe even a keepsake that might remind him of you whenever he sees it. But it starts to feel hopeless after you leave the 7th little shop you come across.

Otoya and Karasu pass by you, laughing as you enter while they’re leaving.

You dread to think what they’ve bought.

“I bet they’ve bought dirty magazines or something stupid.” Chigiri suspects, shaking his head in amusement as he thinks about how loud they were laughing. You grin, thinking about how the other guys would react to receiving such a scandalous, silly gift.

You try a few more places, and even revisit some others. But you’re about ready to give up as time keeps going on and on. Hyoma hasn’t had much luck finding something for the elder Itoshi sibling, either.

You’re both close to just buying some local sweets and calling it a day.

“Well this has been a disaster,” you huff, “So much for this being a gamechanger!”

“We haven’t been down here yet.” he points to an alleyway with a few more stores.

You enter through the hefty double doors of one, observing what kinds of things they have on the shelves. You’re both immediately excited when you realise you’re in a charity shop. You’re all too familiar with some of the treasures some people give away, some of your favourite outfits are things you’ve found through being thrifty.

“Oh this is perfect!” you beam, looking through each shelf at all of the little trinkets. Chigiri separates from you as he starts sifting through the clothes, wondering if he can find a novelty shirt of some kind as gag gift.

“There are DVDs over here, maybe we should get some to watch if we get bored?” he suggests. “They’re so cheap.”

“Oh cool!” you smile, approaching him to look through the selection together. “Ah! Oh my God, get this for Sae!” you tell him as you pull a DVD down from the shelf and hand it to him. “It’s his favourite!”

“Taxi Driver? Okay.” he scoffs, but keeps hold of it. At the very least, he knows Sae will definitely like it. Though he’s sure if it’s his favourite he probably already owns it in some form. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Every time he tried to make us watch it, I always fell asleep.” you giggle. Your eyes scan across the DVDs as you carry on walking through the shop. And then you realise you’ve walked too far when you see the spines change in height and width. “Oh, CDs!” you speak excitedly as you look through all of the old bands and albums on the shelves.

You grimace in confusion as your eyes settle on a familiar album amongst all of the other more obscure ones. Surely not, you think. But you place your finger on the top and wiggle it out from being suffocated between the rest.

“Hyoma!” you squeal, flipping it for him to see. His eyes drop to see Lana’s Lust for Life album in your hand. He seems confused, though, as his eyes flit between yours and the CD you’re holding. “It’s a sign!”

“Is it?” he asks, sceptically.

“Yes! He got me this on vinyl for my birthday a few years ago!” you explain, and he looks sympathetic rather than supportive. “I— am I being stupid? I was thinking it might remind him of us.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea.” he tells you, holding your shoulders supportively. “Let’s go pay and get to the bar.” he continues, holding a few DVDs in his hands.

You grab your purse, offering to cover everything as the cashier helps you bag everything and rings you up. It’s cheap, and yet, you feel accomplished. You were starting to doubt whether you’d actually be able to find anything for him. If Chigiri hadn’t pointed this place out, you’d be giving him a poxy box of sweets on Christmas morning.

Although, the sweets might be a nice additional gift.

~

The guys slowly but surely begin filtering into the bar with their shopping bags. You’ve been here with Chigiri for a little while, but Oliver, Tabito and Eita were the first ones here when you arrived.

Ryusei sits down beside you when he comes in next, and Rin isn’t far behind him. Everyone cheers when Sae comes in last, and you can’t help but notice everyone’s shopping bags seem to look similar in some way or another.

“The shops are so dead.” Sae tells you all, and everyone happens to agree.

You aren’t sure what they all expected, though. It’s a small village town in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like you’re in a bustling city with anything and everything at your fingertips. It made shopping more fun, you thought. It gave you the opportunity to really look around until you found something special.

“I’ll get drinks,” Rysuei announces as he stands up. He makes a mental note of what everyone wants, knowing he’ll probably forget when he goes to the bar.

“Move down, Rin, I need to talk to Ryusei.” Sae instructs his little brother. Rin looks at Ryusei’s empty seat, and then at you. It makes your heart race when his pretty teal eyes meet yours. He looks worried, for some reason, but masks it well as he shuffles from his seat to the one closer to you.

Your eyes wander as they meet Sae’s, and he winks at you casually.

Hyoma never did tell you what he and Sae talked about, only that he couldn’t get any information, either. But from this simple act, it seems Hyoma has revealed your true feelings for his brother to him.

And you’re happy.

Because this small gesture indicates that you have his support.

You don’t say anything, not right away, as he settles down beside you. You’re surprised he isn’t toying with his phone like he has been endlessly since he got here. It makes your throat tighten to think he might be doing it so that you don’t see his texts with his new girlfriend.

“How did shopping go?” you ask him, hoping to break the ice and stop yourself from spiralling about a woman you don’t even know the name of.

“Fine, I think,” he tells you. “I think everyone’s gonna be disappointed with what they get.”

“I don’t know… it’s part of the fun.” you reply. “If we wanted to go all out, we would have planned to do this before we got here so we could order perfect, expensive things. But having a little budget and no idea was a change of pace.”

“What did you buy?” he wonders.

“I got some sweets to eat when we get back.” you smile. It makes him smile, too, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. You hadn’t expected to see his face change like that because of something you said. It’s warm, thawing away at your frozen heart.

“Happy birthday, Chigiri.” Ryusei says as he gives your best friend his drink first. You already know that Hyoma isn’t going to have to pay for a single drink himself while he’s here, it’s everyone’s birthday offering to him. Rin doesn’t pay Ryusei any mind as he sits down in his previous seat, too busy focusing on chatting with you.

It makes you feel special.

It makes you feel wanted.

“Rin?” you whisper, leaning over to him. He looks at you, a serious expression on his face as he senses your desperation. You’re trying not to be so needy, but you just can’t help it. “… I’m glad you decided to come along.”

It’s not what you wanted to say and not what he expected to hear. Although, you aren’t sure what you actually do want to say to him. Telling him you still harbour feelings will surely only end in tears when you know you can’t have him.

He isn’t yours anymore.

“Yeah? Well, it hasn’t been as painful as I expected it to be.” he tells you. And even that, such a simple, sulky sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it’s because you know it’s oh so quintessentially Rin Itoshi. “You did scare me, when I saw you on the stairs.”

“You scared me too…” you admit. “I—”

“It happened, it’s fine. We’re fine.” he tells you, taking a sip of the lemonade Ryusei had ordered for him. You decided to stick to water, the freezing ice cubes bump against your lips as you drink heartily. “I heard Otoya go into your room the other night. After we— talked.”

“Nothing happened…” you respond, drinking more water to cover how your expression fills with shame and regret. He nods, understanding. “S-So, your girlfriend. Tell me about her…” you ask, reluctantly. And you’re a little surprised when he shakes his head.

“I’m not doing this,” he speaks. “We’re fine. I’m being civil. You aren’t entitled to know about my personal life just because I’m tolerating you.”

“Tolerating me? Really?”

“Yes, tolerating you.” he continues. “You lost the right to know about me when you left.”

“God, Rin, I barely knew you then.” you huff, crossing one leg over the other as you slightly angle your back to him. He puts his arm around the back of your seat and positions himself awful close. It startles you when you turn back to face him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“You were so distant. All you cared about was football.” you inform him, doing your best to keep your voice lowered so that you don’t make a scene. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your best friend’s birthday because you had a momentary lapse of judgement.

Maybe exes are exes for a reason.

“Because it’s my job? My career.”

“And I have a career too, but I still remembered to ask how your day was. You stopped talking to me unless it was about our schedules.”

“You—” he huffs, moving away from you. You’re a little taken aback when he stands up with the intention of leaving. He pulls out some money and tells Hyoma to get himself a drink, on him, as a birthday gift.

Everyone looks a little lost for words when he ups and leaves. But then there’s a sigh of relief when they remembered they appointed Karasu to be another designated driver.

It’s not sitting right with you, though.

It almost felt like you were close to a breakthrough. You were getting into the nitty gritty of why your relationship fell apart in the first place, and, as usual, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. You gather your things and decide to chase after him, knowing you can’t leave things like this.

You won’t even be able to call yourselves friends if you don’t figure this out.

“You’re stalking me, now?” Rin chuckles as he ducks into Sae’s car and locks the door. You try knocking on the window for him to let you in, but you’re speechless when he just drives off instead.

You fumble with the keys to Chigiri’s car until you manage to unlock it.

He’s not running away from you again.

As much as he wanted to break the speed limit to escape you, there was no point. You knew he was heading home so you’d find him eventually. Besides, he didn’t want to risk either of you slipping on the ice and winding up dead.

So he kept to a steady pace, enjoying the thirty minutes of peace on the drive down to the cabin before what he could only assume would be a shouting match between the two of you.

���Rin!” you yell as you get out of the car, slamming the door. It would make him laugh if he wasn’t so frustrated, you always did prove him right about things like this. He gets out of Sae’s car and slams the door, not even bothering to look at you as he walks up the stairs to the cabin.

He unlocks the door with ease before strutting in. It’s hard to keep up with his long strides, especially in the wet, slippery snow. You do what you can to speed after him, even taking the stairs two at a time so that you can get inside quicker.

You spot him in the kitchen as if nothing had happened. He’s standing by the kettle as he boils some water to make tea. He looks at you, casually, before looking back at the steam gently rising through the spout.

“You’re so childish? How didn’t I realise how fucking childish you are on top of everything?!” you shout as you walk over to the platform that separates the kitchen from the entryway. He still looks intent on keeping his mouth shut. And it’s making you crazy. “Will you say something?”

“What do you want?” he retorts, instantly. He looks at you briefly before pouring the water into a novelty Christmas mug. It’s tacky and hideous and you’re sure he hates it, but it must have been the first thing he saw to use. He leans back against the counter behind him while he uses a spoon to press the flavour from the tea bag.

“I— tell me you hate me, call me a bitch, I don’t know!” you demand. “I hate this tension, Rinnie, because every time I think things are okay, you freeze up and it’s—”

“I can’t tell if you’re… joking?” he smirks. “You, literally, broke my heart with no explanation. I’ve spent months trying to move on and then you show up out of nowhere and you’re trying to be best friends. I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“So what do you want?!”

“I want you to leave me alone.” he raises his voice, and it’s harsh. But instead of hurting you, it makes you angrier. You blood boils as you round the counter to get closer to him as he speaks. He puts down the tea he made as you get closer, using hand gestures wildly as he talks to get his point across. “You shouldn’t have come here. Because you shouldn’t have been keeping in touch with my family after we broke up. It’s such a fucking red line, it’s violating.”

“Oh, well, fuck me for wanting to know how you’re doing after everything. You know, since you completely cut me off. I was worried and you wouldn’t even text me to tell you when you were coming to get your stuff!”

“This is your problem,” he wags his finger with a smile before holding it to his lips as he thinks of how to tell you exactly how he feels. “You’re so fucking entitled. I’m being nice to you after you hurt me, and you think you deserve to know me again.”

“No, this is your problem!” you bite back, walking away from him before closing the gap again. You look up at him with watery eyes as he towers over you. Your heart aches as you feel the distance between you expand the more you talk about the past. But it has to happen. Even if you lose him forever, you can’t carry all of this pain with you forever. “You shut people out when they care! I want you to be happy and I want us to be friends, but you won’t talk to me! I broke up with you because when you were neglecting me, I felt lonelier than I did when I was actually alone.”

“I didn’t neglect you, I loved you. What was really the problem? Huh?” he asks, getting closer to you. And you have to crane your neck just to keep eye contact with him. He can’t ignore how glittery your eyes are as you hold back tears. You’re covering your sadness with rage, that much is clear to him. But he doesn’t want to stop. Not now, not when you’ve driven him to the point of no return with your incessant complaints. “I was too busy for you, yeah? You didn’t miss me, missed me taking you on fancy dates so you had something to brag about on Instagram.”

“… fuck you.” you say, quietly, your voice gets trapped in your throat as you try and figure out how to pull away from this confrontation with your dignity intact. It’s too late though. He’s already witnessed a lone tear fall down your cheek. “Do you hate me that much? Do you think that little of me?”

He doesn’t.

“Princess…” he sighs, tilting your head up with his thumb and forefinger so that you’re fixated on his eyes. Teal whirlpools with flecks of turquoise that create a scintillating visage that cannot be described by a mere mortal. No, they are deep lagoons that you want to drown in. They soften as he names you the only way you’d want to be named by him. Not your birth name, but as royalty. His princess. “I don’t think about you at all.”

Your heart shatters and he sees so clearly how your vision breaks. Should you keep looking at him or somewhere else entirely. His face is stoic, as usual, though he cups your face like you’re precious. Like you are the princess you want to believe you are, for him.

The energy in your body has depleted and you can’t even bring yourself to push him away. All you have is words. And, even then, you’re drawing a blank. So you sink, deep. Lower than the depths of hell to truly muster three little words you simply don’t mean.

“I hate you.”

He doesn’t react, not fully. But the colour of his eyes dull as the words reach his ears.

“I fucking despise you.” he retorts.

You do nought but stare.

Both of you.

You just stand there, indignantly staring into each other’s eyes as you process the situation. Your chest heaves and your body trembles with fury. You didn’t mean it, not really. In this moment, you suppose you do hate him a little. But you’ll never know if Rin means it.

Part of you assumes he’s only saying it to hurt you like you hurt him. He said what you said but increased the severity of his words just to twist the knife into your bloodied heart. But maybe he does truly feel this way. Maybe he’s felt nothing but disdain towards you since you broke up with him all of those months ago.

Why would he feel anything positive when it comes to you?

Especially since he’s moved on.

“I hate you, Rinnie…” you reiterate, lip wobbling as your tears spill more and more.

“I don’t believe you.” he says, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

You scan his face, and he doesn’t move an inch. It gives you pause for a moment as you contemplate what you’re feeling. But there are no thoughts in your brain, it’s silent. Blood pumps through you, and emotions overtake you as you lunge forward.

The distance between you is gone as you press your lips against his. He doesn’t tease you, this time. He doesn’t pull away. He kisses you back. You feel his hands explore your body, large palms settling in the slopes of your waist before they lower to your thighs.

You could never hate him.

His hands on your body make you feel whole again. He himself can barely believe how lovestruck you are in the way that you moan softly and breathe deeply from just his hands roaming your body. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he deposits you on the countertop.

You lose yourself to loving squeezes and open-mouthed kisses as he grinds his hips between your spread legs, his tea long since abandoned in favour or tormenting what he knows to be your intricate, sopping flesh.

“You hate me, baby?” he asks, mumbling against your glossy, drooling lips. “S’that right? You hate me? Say it again, princess, say you hate me.”

“D— Don’t—!” you tell him, lips too eager to be smothered by his to answer him properly. You’re worried a truth might stray from your loose lips while you’re with him like this. You fight it, you really fight it. “I hate you, so much. R-Rinnie…” you tell him, and it feels honest. You’re substituting one word for another, and it feels so powerful as you lie to him with ease. He doesn’t stop, though.

If anything, everything intensifies.

“Yeah?” he asks, licking the tip of his tongue against yours tormentingly. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll stop, then.”

“No, please,” you beg and it’s downright pathetic. Your own hips roll to meet his movements. You hump against each other pitifully, the desperation and friction being enough to leave you heady and delirious and most of all satisfied that it’s thanks to Rin Itoshi. “Don’t stop, please.” you whimper, attaching your lips to his as he continues.

Your poignant words lead him to growl against your skin. It’s so primal. So territorial as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders and down your arms. You help him in his efforts to take it off, shoving it until it slides and puddles on the ground.

“God I missed you.” you hear him mumble against your skin. Your heart beats faster as you feel him caress every inch of your body, hands resting on the swell of your tits as he thinks about what he wants to do to you.

You feel your truth being coaxed out of you with each passing second. Every ingratiating word the is meticulously embedded from his tongue and into your brain makes you desperate to tell him how you really feel and beg that he feels the same.

“Rinnie, I—”

His entire hand smothers the lower half of your face. There’s a worry in his eye as his body tenses up. And still, he can’t stop himself. He carries on humping his heavy bulge into your clothed cunt at a snail’s pace, panicked eyes turning heavy and filled with lust as he looks at how needy you are.

“Shh, baby,” he tells you, showing no signs of moving his hand.

“I can’t believe they ditched us.” you both hear a familiar voice muffled from outside. You aren’t sure why you care, but soon enough you’re both scrambling to be away from each other. You put your jacket back on after gathering it from the ground, both of you doing your best to act cool. “Here you are! What the fuck?” Tabito exclaims.

You can’t look.

Neither of you know why you’re so ashamed. So humiliated that you’d almost been caught hooking up. It’s not like it would be so scandalous, is it? You’ve made it very clear that you still have feelings for him, and yet, you don’t want anyone to know about this.

He’s the same, though, doing all he can to maintain composure.

He looks calm.

But you know him.

His eyes are blown. Full of lust and anxiety as he tries to control his breathing. No one else would notice, but you see how heavy his controlled breaths are. He gulps, scratching the back of his neck before looking around.

“I’ll get the others,” Rin tells Tabito, who can only shrug at his words.

Only Chigiri and Sae had returned with Karasu, the rest deciding to wait in the bar until someone decided to come and collect them. Tabito thought he’d have to do a return trip, not expecting Rin to spare him from repeating the journey once again. But once he has the all clear, he kicks off his shoes and sprawls on the couch.

Chigiri stares at you, and you can’t even look him in the eye for more than a second.

Why are you brimming with shame?

He almost sobers up at the sight of you. You look so vacant and dazed. It’s hard to look at him when you feel like this. Every attempt to do so, every forced little smile, only makes his concern grow. He walks towards you, but just as abruptly, he stops.

Rin walks behind you, caging your body beneath him as he traps you against the kitchen island. He doesn’t notice Chigiri staring, and he can’t look away. You turn your head a little, but not much. You’re eager to look at Rin but he levels his mouth with your ear. His breathing is laboured yet soft, and your skin pinches together as it carries through your body.

“I could never hate you, princess.” he whispers. He leaves you alone with that sentence without so much as a glance. He holds the keys to his brother’s car and heads for the exit. Chigiri watches him walk by before looking at you again. Sae looks at you both, briefly. He too is curious as to what is going on.

“That looked intense.” Hyoma speaks, finally getting close enough to have a conversation with you. You smile, and it’s feeble, but it’s all you can do as you try to think of an excuse to give him. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said about missing you. Tensions were high, after all. He has a girlfriend to think about, of course he feels ashamed. Of course, he wants to pretend this little lapse of judgement didn’t occur. “Did something happen?” your best friend asks.

“We just argued.” you lie.

You never lie to Chigiri, though you’re sure you’ll tell him once you get your bearings. You need to find out what’s going on with Rin. It’s hard to talk about something you don’t understand. You’re sure he’ll be sympathetic once you have your story straight.

You just need to talk to Rin.

You need some assurance.

You need to know where you stand.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed early.” you tell him, giving him a hug before walking away. “Happy birthday, Chigs!”

“… okay.” he looks at you, hugging you back. “I’ll try and be quiet so I don’t wake you.”

“Goodnight.” you wave, ascending the stairs and out of his line of sight.

An early night was never an option. You knew that, and Hyoma probably knew it, too.

All you did when you got to your room was scroll through Instagram. You took some time to reply to some texts you’d received from family asking how your trip was going. You hammed it up, of course, not letting slip that Rin happened to be here too.

They all called you stupid for ending things with him.

It felt right at the time. But hindsight is a wonderful thing.

You weren’t ready to deal with re-opening that wound only to hear ‘I told you so’ repeatedly.

You heard Rin get home with the other guys, though they all stayed downstairs.

It’s all the more humiliating when you think about how desperately you want Rin to appear. You need him to come and get you, and not just to pick up where you left off.

You want answers.

Though you suppose you won’t be getting them tonight.

You spent a few hours trying on different outfits and following along with makeup tutorials from YouTube before getting bored. The raucous sounds of laughter and music got louder when you walked across the hall to take a shower and wash your face clean.

The floorboards begin to creak in the direction of the stairs when you get out.

And it scares you.

You rush across the hallway and back into your room. Your hand flies to your chest, adrenaline ravishes your heart as you lean backwards against the locked door. It makes you feel vulnerable, right now. No matter who it is, you feel scared of being seen.

Your heart stops when you hear a knock at the door.

It isn’t repeated.

Just one, singular, knock.

It makes your breathing stutter and stop abruptly. You don’t dare answer, not when you’re naked, save for the towel. It could be any one of the seven men you’re sharing the house with this week. But deep down, you know.

You know who’s on the other side of that door.

The steps retreat, and your breathing calms.

Was it him? Was that really Rin Itoshi on the other side of your door? You wait until you can barely hear the steps anymore before you unlock the barrier between you and him. When the door opens, you step out, sheepishly.

He looks at you from down the hall. Those eyes of his, full of pain and longing as he stares back at you with the same intensity you’re offering him. He doesn’t speak, but he goes into his room, so you go back into yours.

You let your towels hit the floor, crumpling up in a mess as you look for some nightwear and a hairbrush. It’s like a race against time, or at least that’s how it feels as you quickly try to brush through your sopping hair.

Every passing minute feels like it’s expanding the gulf between the two of you. So you want to hurry, it needs to be resolved now.

You barely even close the door when you walk out and jog down the hall to his room. It’s hard to be quiet when you feel such urgency to see him. You hope your footsteps aren’t too loud. And you hope nobody can hear over the music where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s all you can do.

And so, you knock, quietly, waiting for him to let you in. Too much time passes. Minutes feel like hours as you wait for him to answer. Your body feels cold, wet droplets decorate your skin and your hair drips down your spine. It feels like a mistake that you came. But why would he knock if he hadn’t wanted this to happen? Maybe he regrets this, too, as well as what happened downstairs.

It hurts to think about.

But he answers, and of your anxiety leaves you like a deflating balloon. Though you’re stilled, before him, and he doesn’t move aside. It makes your worries return as if it were a cat preparing to pounce on a rat. You widen your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It happens again and again… and again until you realise, you’re choked up.

You can’t say a thing.

So, you don’t.

You get closer to him, still trying to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out, even when you’re close enough to feel his heartbeat. You just stare at each other in his doorway, openly exposed to anyone who may decide to ascend the stairs.

“I— I missed you too, Rinnie.”

His eyes soften at your sensitivity. The way that you have no qualms in making yourself susceptible to a painful rejection.

He lets you in, kicking the door behind himself before leaning back on it.

“You missed me, huh?” he speaks, his head droops backwards until there’s a gentle thud against the wooden door. His eyes are so heavy, his gaze is narrow. And still you can’t help but seek love and comfort from him as he looks at your with such disdain. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous because you can’t have me?”

His words are hurtful, regardless of how valid of a question it is. It’s possible, sure, but it feels like more than that. You knew when you ended things that it was the right decision. But now it feels like a mistake, something rash you did in the heat of the moment. You didn’t give him a chance. You didn’t give either of you a chance.

And now, despite everything, you want to.

“You said you missed me…” you tell him, meekly, “I mean it, Rin. Did you mean it?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. You always hated it when he did this, and it feels worse now, somehow. His eyes are terrifying and yet you can’t stop staring back at him. They’re piercing, like icicles falling from a height and impaling you without remorse.

“Rin…” you speak, closing the distance between you again. Your breath hitches as you approach, shaky hands reach out to rest on his chest, and you swallow before speaking once more. “Rinnie.”

He grabs your wrists and spins you around, pinning you against the door behind you. Your heart rate is rapid, and his isn’t much better. You’re staring again, but you bite your tongue.

Your lips meet as his crash against your own. He lifts you up, just as he had hours prior, and carries you to his bed. Your breathing is heavy, you pant furiously as you roll your hips against him in a bid to alleviate the tension that has been brewing since early evening. He drops you down on the bed, his body smothers yours as he lies on top of you.

His hips roll into your soaking core, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.

“I meant what I said,” he tells you before silencing himself with another kiss. “Fuckin’ missed you.” he wraps his arm around your back and lifts your body further up the bed with ease, determined to get your head comfortable in the pillows.

You wince as he strips you of your pyjama bottoms and peels away your panties from your dripping cunt. It’s too dark to see you, but it’s enough. The way the moonlight bleeds through his windows turns your petalled flesh into a galaxy. Between your legs lies a constellation of the prettiest stars, and there’s nothing more that he needs.

He pulls his sweater over his head, discarding it somewhere unknown as if it means nothing. It’s true, in this moment. Nothing matters but being intimately bare with each other.

Your cunt, his cunt, is committed to memory. He could recognise how your intimate folds feel among others even if blindfolded. Because you were made for him. Of this, he’s sure. Your cunt belongs to him, and you would have done well to remember that.

“I can’t wait, princess,” he explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Please, fuck me, I can’t wait anymore. Rinnie I c—can’t.”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, freeing his cock just enough from their confines to line his length up with you. You sob when you feel his pretty tip catch against your hole. And he coos so sweetly as he teases you with that feeling. Your pretty tears are like diamonds dripping from your eyes as the blinding moonlight ignites them. “I’ve always given you whatever you want, I’m not gonna stop now.” he tells you.

It's the only warning you get before he pushes into you. He sinks slowly until you’re filled up to the brim and you’re sure you can feel him in your throat. It’s like nothing has changed. Every ridge and vein feels so familiar, you’ve never known a feeling better than you know this one. A ribald dance that only the two of you know.

His tip kisses your gooey insides in the most delectable way. Just as it always had in those ethereal nights you spent with him throughout your relationship. He holds your jaw with one hand, and it’s rough. A commanding force that’s imploring you to indulge him in this.

Give him your everything, mind body and soul. He can see how your eyes want to wander. They want to stray and abandon him just like you had months ago. But he’s doing this for you, he thinks you should understand that.

The least you owe him is your loving eyes on his.

Your love is trapped in your throat as you force it to stay there. His eyes are so beautiful and his body feels like you’re home again. You want to tell him, it’s making you cry even more. You can’t help but wonder if that’s enough, alone. If he can see the love you’re pouring into the tears you shed, will he understand what you’re so scared to convey?

He surprises you, however, as he spills himself inside of you after a few deep strokes. It snaps you away from your panicked mind as you feel warmth fill you. And that feels like love, to you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” he tells you, stopping you from replying with a bruising kiss. “I don’t want to stop.” he pushes your little vest up your body until your tits spring free.

You moan beautifully as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, gently caressing the raised bud with his tongue. A gentle yet rough hand delicately pushes your tensing legs apart from each other, not caring in the least if his seed drips onto the sheets below. You gasp as you feel two fingers circle your sticky clit.

“Rinnie…” you whimper.

“I know.” he breaths against your damp nipple, his breath warms your skin before he sinks two heavy fingers into your needy heat. He humps his leaking, coated cock against your side as his length softens slowly. His rutting is in tandem with his fingers prodding your cum coated walls.

Your fingers run through his hair as he continues to suckle on your tits, your second-hand flies to join the first as he alternates from one nipple to the other. And he groans as you tug at his Sacramento coloured locks. The more time you’re with him like this, the more you begin to slip into old habits.

“Think I— f-fuck… Rin.” you mutter, moving your hand to grip the sheets below as he brings you to a tantalizing edge.

“Go on, princess,” he whispers into your pretty skin. “Show me how much you miss me.”

The coil snaps at his silver tongue and salacious language. He never had to try hard to convince you to submit to his commands in the past. Always so eager to please and starved for his touch. You could never get enough of him, and you’ve never been like that with a man before. He makes you greedy, and impatient.

So when he says jump, you show him how high you’re prepared to go for him.

He makes you look at him as you orgasm. Teal eyes, still somehow so radiant even in darkness, hold a neediness you haven’t seen in a long time. You cum, hard, dousing his fingers in your juices as he carries on finger fucking his cum deeper into your insides. And you feel him kiss you. It’s sloppy and pornographic as you swap spit and still moan into his mouth as he drags and pulls every trace of your orgasm from you.

You pant, relaxing your body as the tryst comes to a satisfying end.

“That was amaz—”

“I told you, I’m not ready to stop yet.” he tells you.

He sensually kisses and sucks your neck, though you’re certain it isn’t hard enough to stake his claim on you. He wouldn’t need to, anyway. You both know who you belong to, after all. You watch him as he leaves a trail of kisses down your body. His lips pepper across your collarbone before kissing between the fat of your breasts.

His shushing hits your ears as his mouth comes close to your pussy. His breath fans across your sex, and you feel just how weighty each breath is as he admires your glistening folds as if for the first time.

He gently moves one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, while he pushes the other one into your chest.

His tongue darts out, caressing your exposed clit as he keeps your legs far from each other. Your head falls back into the pillows as the angle makes you delirious. He looks up to see your facial expressions, smirking into your heat when he notices how much you’re enjoying him.

“Rinnie—” you moan, though you’re ultimately ignored. “Rin. Please!” you cry, begging for a bit of reprieve.

“You know what I want.” he tells you, quietly.

You don’t know, not until he frees your leg and sinks his fingers into your heat again. And they curl. It’s devilish and titillating and you just about scream from the feeling. You don’t tell him to stop, though. You wouldn’t dream of it. His arm wraps firmly around your thigh and keeps you fixed in place as you try to flee. But you’re trapped, fated to fall from a height until he’s satisfied.

“Let me see it,” he whispers. Your moans become strident as he digs and teases your spongy interior, searching for what’s rightfully his. He’s there. He’s right there. His jaw hangs low as your toes curl violently, and you make a sloppy mess as you cum perversely. “Goooood girl, good fucking girl. That’s how I like to see my pretty baby cum, jus’ like that.” he grins before slurping up your orgasm. Your pussy gushes like a fountain for him, and it’s everything he’s wanted and needed for months now.

He doesn’t care about getting a little wet.

He couldn’t care less that the front of his hair is almost as soaking as yours.

You hadn’t noticed while you were experiencing the bliss that is Rin Itoshi’s tongue, but he’s been rutting his length pathetically into the mattress as he devours your essence. Each lewd slurp and divine suckle, he’d been grinding his aching cock into the plush mattress below you both.

And he still is.

Pearly pre drools from his slit as he carries on, though he isn’t sure he can stop. But when your cunt stops twitching, he finds the will to proceed. He rests his hands on both of your knees as you put your legs together, waiting to see what he wants to do with you next.

He rakes his fingers through his damp locks, and your cunt flutters at the sight of him pushing his hair back. It flops back into place as he comes down to kiss you again. You wrap your arms around his back, and he moves your body with his until you’re straddling him.

“Rin, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His cock is standing to attention for you again, and he needs to be buried inside. You feel him line his length up, and he covers your mouth with his hand as you attempt to screech out in paradisical bliss as he fills you again.

“Let me do the work,” he tells you, and you nod. “But put your hand here,” he requests, grabbing your wrist until your hand envelops his neck.

You’re worried about falling backwards as he sits with you on top on the edge of his bed. But your safety doesn’t come into question as his fingers sink into your hips to keep you secure. You cry, whimper, and whine as you feel him fuck up into you.

He rewards you with harder and deeper strokes when you softly squeeze the sides of his neck, cock twitching pathetically as he realises how enamoured he is with you still.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me.” he tells you, eyes rolling back until they turn white. The gentle squeeze of your little fingers will always be his undoing.

“Rinnie I—”

“D-Don’t.” he requests, hips stuttering as the thought of you saying what he thinks you’re about to makes him spiral. His heart rate reaches heights he wasn’t sure was possible as he hopes you aren’t about to ruin this. Ruin whatever this even is.

“I love you.” you cry, “I love you s-so much.”

“Fuck,” he pants, slowing ever so slightly so he doesn’t cum before you get to again. He tucks your hair behind your ear. His hips roll and his defined body perfectly stimulates your throbbing clit. “I love you.” he confesses, quietly, kissing you sweetly after the fact.

“Nngh, fuck—!” you wince, your walls tighten around him as you start to feel yourself coming undone once again. So he fucks into you, hard, eager to help you along. “’m cumming, aah!”

You can only assume how red and sweaty his face is as he fucks into you with a passion and vigour you’ve never felt from him before. He has an unyielding need to please and remind you how much he had loved you with every deep, unrelenting stroke.

You cum with him.

And it’s transcendent.

“Did you mean it, princess?” he asks, heavy breaths huffing across your dewy skin. “Do you love me?”

“… Yes, Rinnie—” you pause. “I still love you…”

He kisses your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your torso and holds you close. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was worried to let you go. He lies back and keeps you pressed firmly against him. He plays with your hair as you rest on him. Contentment seems to fill the room as you do nothing but lie like this together. There isn’t a sound other than exhausted breaths and beating hearts.

“I should shower and change the sheets.” he muses into your hair; it only causes you to snuggle further into him. “You should shower with me.”

“I’d like that.” you smile, giddy over the idea of seeing him under artificial lighting and witnessing how his expressions really change when he’s with you intimately.

There’s a niggling feeling, though. That everything is too good to be true. You’re sure this is real, but you have a fleeting thought of being asleep in your bedroom after saying you’d go to bed early. His heart beating against your cheek feels real, though. So does his bare flesh and gentle touch.

Everything is too perfect, though.

You wonder when the bubble will burst.

© 2023 rinhaler

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop. 

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck. 

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder. 

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into. 

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible. 

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess. 

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter. 

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face, 

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?” 

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop. 

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen. 

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.   

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent. 

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand. 

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are. 

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked  niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man. 

His face is even prettier up-close. 

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye- 

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone. 

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you, 

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question, 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?” 

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern. 

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it? 

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out. 

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy. 

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back. 

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means? 

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled. 

“You’ve got a very unique voice” 

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks. 

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says. 

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night” 

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work” 

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow. 

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side. 

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook. 

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not. 

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. 

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice. 

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one. 

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle. 

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”. 

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else. 

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.  

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them. 

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul. 

Sometimes you’re privy to that too. 

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together. 

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple. 

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend. 

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer. 

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before. 

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back. 

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words. 

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie. 

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart. 

Fuck that. 

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit. 

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt. 

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying. 

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions. 

Even when they prove too strong to push down. 

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours. 

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you. 

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence. 

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans. 

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness, 

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb” 

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere. 

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.  

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”  

Oh. 

He’s jealous. 

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for. 

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall, 

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again. 

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one. 

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him. 

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest? 

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you. 

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.  

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation? 

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway, 

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck, 

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips. 

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him. 

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall. 

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.  

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor. 

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart. 

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses. 

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him. 

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit. 

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface. 

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time. 

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit. 

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh. 

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees. 

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink. 

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs, 

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal. 

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more. 

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.  

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal. 

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state. 

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word. 

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants. 

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers. 

He tuts and slaps your hands away, 

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression. 

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience. 

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-” 

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath. 

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion. 

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose. 

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you. 

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,  

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more. 

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him. 

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth, 

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips. 

You. Always you.

“You” 

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief. 

God it feels so good. 

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is. 

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth. 

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud. 

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility. 

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches. 

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you. 

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary. 

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt. 

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation. 

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours. 

What if the fans hate it? 

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love. 

What if it sounds awful live? 

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude. 

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek. 

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something. 

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’ 

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’. 

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though. 

See hurt in his eye. 

See his jaw tick in anger at your words. 

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’ 

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’ 

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’ 

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does. 

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends. 

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room. 

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag. 

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room. 

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table. 

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat, 

“I never said that, you know”. 

His voice is low. He sounds tired. 

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it” 

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours. 

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have. 

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,  

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship” 

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter. 

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse. 

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him. 

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add, 

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?” 

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder, 

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit” 

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage. 

You’d got to him. 

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”. 

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.  

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way. 

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship. 

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own. 

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back. 

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses. 

His voice isn’t cold anymore. 

His face isn’t indifferent. 

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours. 

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!” 

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry. 

Not anymore. 

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache. 

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in. 

You can’t. 

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue. 

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather. 

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall. 

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. 

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him. 

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond. 

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show. 

You think about the Aemond that loved you. 

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear. 

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply. 

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams. 

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓒hapter 𝓣hree

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you plan to hang out with friends at the bar but don’t expect your neighbor there as well, nevertheless knows one of your friends. you decide to get to know each other more.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, tension, swearing, mini backstories, reader wears acrylics, mentions of alcohol consumption

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

“wait wait wait, hold up. he offered to fix your shit whenever you need it?”

your friend lyla, since high school and basically a sister to you, has been freaking out over your story about your neighbor fixing your engine and sink and how he offered to help you when needed.

you shrug. “yeah, pretty much.”

“gurl, he’s definitely into you.”

you almost choke on your lemonade, coughing it back down your throat. “the fuck- no he’s not, lyla. jesus, it’s just a generous offer.”

she scoffs, rolling her eyes under her iconic hot pink heart shaped glasses. “gurl, please. he straight up fixed your engine without you even asking, which you said it was under 5 minutes.” she raises her index finger in a sassy manner. “and he fixed your sink and practically begged you to not pay him back. the man is a sweetheart and clearly into you, period.”

you stare at her with a deadpan expression. can’t believe what she said but it’s kinda true. he did fixed your engine without asking him, he just straight up did it. and he was serious about not paying him back.

but he’s definitely not into you.

“it’s called generosity, search it up. besides, it’s just neighbors helping neighbors.”

“oh my god, you’re so in denial but fine whatever.” she waves off with a hand. “but don’t come screaming back to me when he asks you out.”

you facepalm yourself, sighing frustratingly. “i’m gonna murder you.”

“aw love ya too, bestie.”

you got lyla’s reaction, now it was eddie’s turn.

“i told you!”

you stand there with an annoyed expression, staring at him with daggers. “cállete.”

“see?! i called it! man’s in the military!” he cheered, a prideful smile on his face that you wanna slap off.

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes, walking away to your desk so you can sulk in peace.

“oh come on! it isn’t bad, honestly it’s a good thing. if case there’s trouble, he can help you.” he follows you, leaning back against his desk across from yours. “everyone knows not to fuck with those guys.”

a quiet sigh left your lips. “yeah, maybe. now can you stop celebrating and focus on the damn article which is due by the end of the day?” you shoot him a glare.

eddie chuckled, nodding. “alright alright, let’s get that shit done.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

it’s friday night, hanging out at jackie’s. mj, your other friend, texted you she’ll pick you up so you can meet up with the guys there, peter, harry and eddie. after getting ready, a black crop top and some jeans, mj picks you up and you drive over to the bar.

entering the bar, which seems to be a bit packed tonight, you spot the guys sitting a table near the far corner. eddie and harry wave at you with smiles. passing through the crowd trying to not bump into people, you make your way towards your friends. but you’re walking, you notice peter is talking to someone. a tall, bulky figure whose dark brown hair and muscular shoulders you recognize any day.

oh shit- that’s your neighbor.

peter seems to notice your presence when he turns to see you and mj arriving, a bright, dorky smile plastered on his face. but your eyes are already glued on your neighbor, whose his eyes meets your own and match your surprised expression. your heart freezes the moment your eyes meet.

“hey!” he quickly walks over to mj and gives her a quick kiss which she reciprocates. “i want you guys to meet an old buddy of mine.”

he wraps an arm around miguel, giving his shoulder a light pat which miguel seems to be agitated about. “this is miguel, my old pal from high school.”

hold up- he knows peter? peter knows him?

they went to high school together?

what kind of fucking coincidence is this?

everyone greets him with kind hellos and smiles but you’re just staring at him with wide eyes. eddie winked at you which you glared in return. peter seems to notice the tension between you two.

“you uh know each other?” he gestures at you and miguel with a hand.

you blink feverishly, tearing away from his gaze. “uh yeah… we’re neighbors.” awkwardness in your tone.

you don’t miss the way peter’s eyes light up in enthusiasm. “no way! really? that’s cool! guess you won’t have to only talk to me, huh bud?” he gives miguel another pat on the shoulder.

miguel, on the other hand, still looks agitated and slightly embarrassed. shit maybe you made it more awkward for him. but peter is the one putting him on the spotlight so it’s not entirely your fault.

“cállete.” the taller man grumbles before giving you a quick glance then looks away.

you two don’t say much to each other after that awkward encounter. miguel joins you and your friends. you, mj and eddie on one side of the table. miguel, peter, and harry on the other. coincidentally you and miguel sit across from each other, acting as if you don’t know one another. it’s mainly everyone else keeping the conversation going while sipping on beer, you’ll participate like usual pretending his appearance doesn’t affect you. not in a bad way, it’s just odd yet amusing your neighbor is sitting across from you along with your group of friends.

throughout the night, you feel the tension between you and miguel. his eyes on you the entire time, making you feel warm. you play it cool, pretending it’s not affecting you but really it is. the tension wrapped around your neck. especially whenever you talk, oh you definitely feel his gaze. your heart pumping a bit faster than usual. it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just nervous. your neighbor, a very attractive man, observing your every move.

when he isn’t looking at you, you’d sneak glances at him. you can’t help but admire the soft, golden lighting of the bar does wonders on his facial features. damn he looks majestic as hell. those cheekbones stick out. an amazing side profile. you quickly look away when he turns back, both of you unintentionally sipping your beer simultaneously.

later on, you notice your bottle is empty. one beer is enough for tonight, will ask for a water instead. after telling your friends you’ll be right back, you head over to the bar and politely ask for water. the bartender nods with a kind smile and retrieves your requested beverage. while waiting, you suddenly feel a presence next to you. looking aside, it’s miguel.

“otra moledo, pro fav.” he requests.

the bartender gives him a nod after he returns with your water. you thank him with a kind smile and take a sip of your water, not meeting miguel’s gaze.

“i guess we can never get away from each other.”

“i guess not.” he indulged in your joke.

“so, been friends since high school? sounds magical.” some sarcasm in your tone.

that earns you a light scoff from him. “con ese huevón, it’s the opposite.”

“figured.” a little smile on your face. “peter is special.”

“an idiot most of the time. surprised he’s engaged but good for him.”

“yeah, crazy but they’re good for each other.” you spare a glance at peter and mj.

his friend engaged to your friend. how can it be more of a fucking coincidence? goddamn.

“how did you guys become friends?” curiosity got the best of you. now, you finally look at him. sometimes you forget to crane all your neck up just to meet his eyes. curse him for being so damn tall.

the bartender returns with his moledo and miguel quickly thanks then takes a sip. “robotics club.”

your eyes widen. “you were in robotics club?”

he can hear the amusement in your tone. “what? is that so hard to believe?” he looks at you with a teasing expression, one brow arched.

you can’t help but chuckle a little. “honestly, by your demeanor, kinda.”

the man huffs, shaking his head with a very faint smile on his face. the very first smile you’ve ever seen. not to mention you caused it. you can’t deny the way your heart flutters at the sight.

“well, i was. before i got signed up, i was interested in robotics. since i was a kid, i liked building things.”

you tilt your head a little, evidently interested. “did you win any competitions?”

he confirms with a nod. “four.”

your brows raise in surprise. “damn, you really did enjoy building things, that’s pretty cool.”

the man huffs in amusement. “you?”

“me?” you scoff. “well, i definitely didn’t build cool stuff and won awards for them in high school.”

that earns you a quiet chuckle from him. a sound that makes your heart flutter. a sound you’ve never heard him make but you managed to do so.

you look off to the side, acrylic nails quietly tapping the glass filled with water. “i was a choir girl.”

what you don’t see is the tiny smirk on his face. “a choir girl? not surprised.” audible amusement in his tone, making you look back at him which causes his smirk to grow a bit wider.

“what do you mean by that?” your brows furrowed, a little smile on your lips.

“i heard you singing the other night.”

oh… shit.

singing is one of your hobbies. sometimes you’d sing in the shower, mainly when you used to live with no next door neighbor. but that one night he’s talking about, you were really in the mood and didn’t realize you were singing a bit louder than usual. as ironic as it is, you’re shy in singing in front of others, mainly people you don’t know or not in choir.

you forgot someone lived on the other side of the wall. he heard you and it was during the night. fuck, you could’ve woken him up. oh now you really wanna facepalm yourself out of embarrassment.

“oh shit… my bad. i’m sorry if i woke you. after five months of no next door neighbor, i got used to singing without worrying.”

miguel can see the panic and embarrassment illustrated on your face. a small wave of guilt hits him. “you didn’t, although i was surprised for a second but it’s fine so don’t feel bad.” he said reassuringly.

but truthfully, he enjoyed hearing you. such an angelic voice. it reminded him of aurora singing in the woods from sleeping beauty when he and his younger brother gabriel watched disney movies with the neighbors’ kids when he was a child.

the embarrassment still lingers in your veins. even though he reassured you it was okay, you still feel a bit guilty. now you have to remind yourself there is someone behind that wall, have to be respectful.

you haven’t realized your friends have been waiting for you to come back until you notice peter waving at you guys. eddie flashes a little smirk, making you glare in return. you’ve been standing here having your own tiny conversation that you completely forgot the friends you’re meant to hang with tonight.

“we should head back.” you softly chuckle, miguel nods as you both head back to the group.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

it’s a little past 11:00 pm when you decide to call it a night. the original plan was for mary jane to take you home but miguel offered to take you instead since you guys live in the same place. his offer surprised you but it makes sense so you accept.

mj gives you a teasing look, a very faint smirk and a raised brow but you roll your eyes and give her a hug, hoping it would shut her up.

why can’t people understand you’re just neighbors? or possibly friends? it’s annoying as hell.

you completely forgot this man drives a motorcycle. when you head over to where his bike is parked, you feel a bit anxious. it’s been years since you’ve rode one, not since your ex boyfriend from high school. he used to drive you around town when you two were supposed to be doing homework. it was the sweet teenage romance portrayed in movies.

miguel noticed your apprehension. his brows furrowed a little. “never ridden one before?”

“no i have, it’s just been years…”

“if you’re uncomfortable about it then we can take an uber but i promise you,” the sincerity in his tone makes you look up at him “you’ll be safe with me, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

whoa, his words your heart fluttered like crazy. those mesmerizing mahogany eyes boring into yours filled with sincerity makes your heart race.

“o-okay.”

hoping on the bike, with miguel’s assistance by holding your hand, you never realize how big motorcycles are. or maybe you’re just that short, either way the bike is big. not to mention it’s cold as hell, feeling the cold sensation through your jeans.

he passes his helmet to you. unfortunately, it’s the only one since he came by himself.

“wait- what about you?”

“don’t worry about it, chica. i’ve rode without one before so it’s no problem.”

you huff, a little smile on your lips as you put of the helmet. it’s big on you, even with the strap adjusted.

the minute he gets on the bike, black leather covers your vision. his broad back to you. the starting engine startles you a little. you don’t see the little smirk on miguel’s face at your reaction.

“¿estas lista?” his head turns to the side, seeing you from his peripheral.

you hum with a nod. at first, you’re hesitant to touch him since you’ve never been this close before. but you have no other choice so you have to. very slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist. touching him ever so lightly to not trigger his comfort.

miguel chuckled at your hesitation. “gotta hold on tighter, chica.”

you immediately do when he slowly starts driving off. clinging onto him like your life depends on it. not that he’s speeding like wild but because he’s only your source of security. like mentioned before, it’s been years since you’ve rode a motorcycle. but the warmth radiating from his body soothe your worries.

even through the leather, you can feel the warmth. all the worries of falling or slipping off the bike slowly fades away by the radiating warmth. you can’t help but relax, gently resting your head on his back, finding comfort in his body warmth. not only comfort but security too. there isn’t an exact reason why but just his strong, bulky presence makes you feel safe.

miguel can sense your relaxed self, making the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. breaking into a very small smile when you grip on his jacket a bit tighter when he makes a sharp turn. the small, muffled gasp escaping your lips.

for him, it’s been years since he taken someone on his bike. prior to signing up, in fact. some girl he was hanging out with but never got serious due to his departure. it was always him and his bike.

until now and he enjoys it.

the drive was quiet yet enjoyable, breezing through the streets. a rememberable moment. you return home safely. as miguel parked the bike and turned off the bike, you take the helmet off.

“you okay?” he asks, his head to the side.

“yeah, it was fun.”

he lightly smiled at that.

after hoping off the bike and handing back his helmet, you enter the complex building. miguel opens the entrance door for you. it made your heart skip a beat. what a gentleman.

“thanks for driving me home.” you said as you approach your apartment door.

“of course.” miguel walks over to his door.

“tonight was interesting.” a tiny smile on your face, recapping tonight’s memories.

he agrees with a hum. “yeah, never thought we would be in the same place.”

you nod slowly. “me either. well… night.” just as you reach for the door handle, his voice stops you.

“wait—” he softly calls out, causing you to look back at him. “is your sink working alright?”

you’re a bit surprised by his question, mainly the fact he remembers. it’s kinda sweet of him to remember still. “oh yeah, it’s fine. no problems since.”

“that’s good. no other problems?”

you think for a moment but thought of nothing. “nope, everything’s fine.” you lightly shake your head.

miguel hums in approval with a nod.

this man is really considerate. of course you remember his offer to fix things for you if needed. in fact, it never left your mind. so generous of him. sometimes you feel a bit guilty because he’s willing to fix your troubles, especially for free. you’re gonna convince him to pay him back one day.

you say goodnight to each other, miguel watching you enter your apartment before entering his own. ending the night with little knowledge of each other and a fun little journey back home.

the beginning of new journeys ahead… maybe?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[flowermiist]

A warm heart - II

Click here to check out past chapters if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 3k

A/N: Hii!! I’m really excited for this chapter (as with every other) I’d like to apologize if this took me more time than I intended, work has been quite heavy lately but all the kind comments make me smile soo much. Enjoy!! And please don’t forget to like, reblog and let me know your thoughts about this chapter if you’d like!

After leaving your car at Harrison’s garage, you take an uber home. The mechanic told you it would take about three days to properly fix what was wrong with the engine, you didn’t give it much thought.

You sit in the back seat of the Uber and place your grocery bags on your lap, you sigh and open your purse, seeing the small note with John’s number – It was written on an old receipt the man managed to find in one of the pockets of his jeans, using a black pen you always keep in the glove compartment of your car.

You sink back into your thoughts while looking out the window. You don’t know whether to call his number or not, you sigh and keep thinking, as intense as it might sound, you know that if you call his number and he doesn’t pick up, you’ll be too embarrassed to ever attempt to call him again – You promise yourself that if he doesn’t pick up, you won’t call again.

It wasn’t like you wanted anything other than to thank him again properly for helping you back there. John was nice, yes, but he was still a stranger and you didn’t really know much about him.

You turn your head to the other window and realize you’ve reached your destiny, you pay the grumpy driver and make your way into place.

The charms hanging from the keychain jingle as you open the front door. You sigh and close the door behind you, locking it before you start walking towards the kitchen with the grocery bags in hand as well as your personal bag that has the receipt with the phone number of certain man – you make sure to place the groceries where they belong and you kneel down to the drawers of the counter where you store the bags you used, might come handy anytime.

The tripod is still on the counter where you left it. You check the battery of your camera before grabbing the ingredients for the homemade sourdough bread you’ve been preparing for your next video.

So after washing and drying your hands, you re-adjust the camera to the tripod and begin recording the process, making sure the lightning looks good enough.

When you try to start the small oven to preheat it and have it ready for the bread, it does not respond which makes you confused since last time you used it, which was over a week ago, it had been working – not anymore, apparently.

What is going on? Why is everything you own acting up? First the car now the fucking oven, great.

Not wanting to get pissed any further, you choose to use the oven of your stove which of course, was bigger and would take more time to heat up.

This was going to be a long night for sure.

John finishes putting the clean dishes away, the TV in the background with some History Channel show he was not paying attention to, but it was just the background noise he wanted.

Not particularly interested in what the telly had to offer anymore, he turns it off and does the same with the lights of the living room as well.

John Price has always had a pretty strict rule for himself and for his house, to turn off every light he wasn’t using – except for the old lamp he had in his living room next to the couch but besides from that one lamp, every other room that was not being used did not need any artificial lighting.

As he’s about to walk towards the stairs, the man remembers the laundry he had put in the dryer earlier, he had completely forgotten about it – “Fucking ’ell…” the words escape his lips as he clicks his tongue in annoyance and moves towards the uility room of his house, where the clothes should be.

After opening the small lid of the dryer, John places the clean clothes in the basket, grabs the old iron and the ironing board. He has never liked to leave things to the last minute, never liked to do things in a hurry and do them badly. John knows it’s better to iron the clean clothes now rather than leave them all wrinkly and forgotten.

Placing the ironing board in the living room, he folds out the winkly t-shirt and connects the iron, waiting for it to start producing enough heat and get this shit over with as soon as possible.

Some steam appears and he grabs the handle, making smooth movements with the iron, moving it from from the neck to the short sleeve of the green cotton t-shirt.

Looking back at it, the material is still the same, wrinkly and with obvious creases. John gathers his patience and moves the iron again, using a rough hand to stretch the fabric more and trying to press one of the buttons to make more heat yet nothing happens.

His mind drifts towards today’s events as all he can hear is the sound of the iron against the clothes – Your smile was still in the back of his mind and the thought of the big possibility of you not calling his number crosses his mind. Was he too forward? Would you call?

Without noticing, he moves the iron over his thumb and part of the back of his hand, groaning out in pain loudly as the sharp pain immediately hits him. John quickly grabs his left wrist. “God fuckin’ damnit, old fucking thing!” – Endless insults rumble through his chest, escaping through gritted teeth as the man is scrunching up his face with discomfort looking at the back of his hand where the bright red mark on his thumb throbs.

The smell of burning fabric and steam catches his attention again, looking down at the iron burning his shirt he quickly grabs it and places it vertically, taking a moment to manage the anger rising inside him, his face almost red.

John lifts up the green t-shirt, his gaze darkens as he sees the dark hole over the sleeve of the fabric. “Awesome.” He states with anger and sarcasm as he throws the t-shirt on the floor and unplugs the iron, contemplating smashing it against the wall for a single second but knowing it won’t solve anything.

Breathing through his nose while calming down, he walks to the kitchen sink, gritting his teeth in discomfort as he washes the burning part of his left hand – A first degree burn, nothing he can’t handle.

The basket with clothes ready to be ironed remains forgotten as John grabs one of the aid kits he keeps inside one of his kitchen counters. The man clearly has experience with dealing with these superficial wounds as he loosely wraps some of the bandage around it, covering the red area.

“What a muppet.” He grits through his teeth, directed to nobody but himself.

When you finally finish the video, you look at the clock, it is around 21:30 and you are tired, however; you aren’t too tired to go to bed just yet – and besides that, there’s still something you want to do before going to bed or rather someone you want to talk to.

The bread has such a good smell, freshly baked as you cut a big piece and put some cheese, tomato slices and arugula over it before biting and almost melting at the delicious flavor filling your palate.

You walk towards your bedroom and open the drawer of the nightstand right next to your bed to grab the pack of cigarettes on the second drawer. You were never a smoker but you liked the taste of nicotine on your mouth from time to time, especially after such a long day like this one.

You open all the windows to make sure the smell does not stay inside the apartment, you may like the taste and how the nicotine relaxes your mind but you still find the smell of it sticking to your clothes absolutely annoying.

Walking back to the living room, you grab our purse as the cigarette remains between your lips, the string of smoke and the smell over you now, your eyes open more when you look at the old receipt with the man’s number and smile, grabbing the cigarette from your lips and exhaling the smoke out of you.

At this point, all you are wearing is a pair of gray lacy underwear and a white tank top.

You look at the wrinkled paper and gather some courage before you dial the number and press on the green phone icon to call.

John sits on his back porch, a cigar between his index and middle finger.

His attention is immediately caught when he hears the ringing sound of his phone back in the living room, where he left it before moving to wash the dishes. Who would be calling him at this time of the night if it was not work related?

He grunts as his knees crack when he stands up and walks back inside, seeing the “unknown” contact and quietly staring at the number. Could it be?... No, he does not want to get his hopes up.

“Hello?” A hoarse, masculine voice speaks through the line with a tone full of curiosity and some clear seriousness, you immediately smile, holding the cigarette as sink down on the swing chair of your balcony.

“Hope it isn’t too late.” You say, bringing your hand closer to your mouth and position and the nail of your right thumb between your teeth when you hear a low chuckle. He recognized your voice, of course he would.

“How are you?” The man immediately asks after you stop talking – If you were able to see him, you’d see the way he scratches the beard on his cheek and goes back to his porch, a small smile between his thin lips.

“I’m good…” There’s a small silence before you speak again, keeping the phone close to your ear with your left hand. “Wanted to thank you again for everything, you know…”

John hums in acknowledgement – “No need to thank me, it was quite an honor for me to help my cooking teacher…” Is he flirting? No, that has to be a trick your mind wants to play with you for fun.

“How’s the car, eh? Hope it didn’t stop in the middle of the road.” He slightly tilts his head to the side while speaking, changing the topic rather fast.

“Well… I left it with the mechanic, won’t have it for a few days – took an uber home.”

You could have asked me to drive you home – He wants to say as he takes a puff of the thick cigar between his fingers. Of course, he would not rush into anything. He was still a stranger to you after all and the thought of possibly sounding creepy cringes him.

“Sounds like you had quite the battle then, with all those grocery bags?” His tone makes you chuckle and that gives him some relief yet he doesn’t want to think much of this call for now.

“I did, actually. Came home and filmed my next video.” You say, forgetting about the cigarette between your fingers and you move your hand away from your face.

“Mhm… Next recipe then?”

“Yes.”

“May I know ’bout it?”

“Nope.”

John chuckles quietly and it makes you smile.

“It’s a surprise...” The calmness of your voice is clear and it resonates in his ears.

“I don’t mind waiting then.” His voice is just as calm as yours.

There’s a comfortable silence through the line when the question pops out and you decide to ask it, to learn more about him.

“You said you had experience with changing tires.”

“Indeed.” John responds, giving you silence of his own for you to speak.

“Well, you got me wondering if you were actually my mechanic in disguise.” It lights up the mood a little bit when you hear a breathy smile. John grins before replying.

“I could be, you never know…”

“Where did you get the experience?”

He thinks of his answer...

“Different places ’round the world.” It’s vague and definitely not enough for you to figure him out completely and you are eager to do so.

A hum sounds through your throat, you take a drag of your cigarette and exhale. Not keeping the smoke inside for too long.

“You travel a lot?”

“Quite a lot, yes.” His voice is still calm. John is pondering whether he should say more or leave it at that, he is not the most open man when it comes to his line of work.

“Business men travel a lot.” The suggestion arises in the air when your words are spoken.

“They do, don’t they?” The sarcasm he uses answers absolutely nothing, he’s messing with you and you can clearly tell he finds it funny.

“Maybe you’re a famous lawyer traveling from one boring conference to another…” Another one of your suggestions.

John can’t help but grin a little at your response – “No, nothing like that.”

“Doctor?”

“No, not that either.”

You sigh, you won’t deny this is entertaining but you were getting nowhere so you give it one final try – “Well... They say military men travel a lot... Are you one of them?”

“Correct.” A calm voice replies and you try not to cheer loudly at finally guessing a part of this man’s life.

“So you’re in the military?” You want to make sure you’re right, even if he was clear and brief.

“I am.”

The line goes quiet before you break the silence.

“Explains a lot then.” You try to sound unimpressed as you shrug and it does get to him because now he’s curious.

“Does it?” He moves the cigar to his lips again, taking a puff and looking up at the dark sky.

The phone call hides the teasing smile painted over your lips. “Yeah, you look it.”

Before John can question your words any further, you change the topic.

“I’m pretty sure there are evil gnomes messing with my stuff.”

Your words don’t fail to impress him as he exhales smoke through his nostrils.

“You believe in that stuff?” The thick british accent and his raspy masculine voice could not be more noticeable as he tries not to sound rude while making fun of your possible beliefs.

A chuckle escapes your lips and you pretend to act offended by his selection of words “And what if I do?” A brief pause – “First my car then my oven…”

It catches his attention, John tilts his head like some curious dog and keeps the phone pressed against his ear.

“Did the secret recipe go wrong?”

“Well, almost.” You sigh and elaborate. “So I got this… smaller oven, easier to use compared to the bigger one that comes with the stove but as I tried to preheat it, it stopped responding.” “I’ll have to get a new one tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you get up from the swing and get closer to have a view of the street under your building, you take another drag of your cigarette as you place your elbows on the frame of the balcony, feeling the cold breeze embrace your exposed thighs and caress your almost naked arms, moving your hair with it.

“Could help you look for a new one.” The same husky voice sounds through the speaker of your phone. John’s eyes dart around his back yard, a man like him is never fully off guard. No matter where.

“You’ve already helped me enough… I- don’t really want to bother you.” There’s some embarrassment in the tone you use, looking up at the dark night sky while exhaling a slow – thin string of smoke out of your lips.

The man gazes at his bandaged thumb then at his fingers holding the cigar.

“Wouldn’t mind a shopping expedition, could use one m’self.”

This catches your attention, curiosity enters your mind. “Yeah?”

John won’t admit the fact that he burnt his hand with the old iron because he was distracted, he would rather lie that sound like a fool.

“Got this old iron at home, burnt my bloody hand while trying to use it, burnt my goddamn t-shirt too.” Some embarrassment makes the british man scrunch up his face, he doesn’t want to sound like a potty mouth.

He clears his throat before continuing – “Would be good to kill two birds in a stone, ya get your oven and I get my iron… Some advice could be useful too – ’bout the iron, ’course...”

A small smile escapes your lips as you reply to the man on the line - “Sounds like a good plan then...”

“Sounds like it.”

“Could drive you to the store with me if that’s alright.”

Right, you haven’t thought about how you’d get there.

“Will need one.” Of course you will, dummy, You don’t have your car with you – Says that little voice within your head, the one that tries to prevent you from saying too much.

His deep voice is heard again through the speaker of your phone. “Right, no problem.”

John replies, his tone monotone and casual about it which you’re thankful for.

“What time can I pick you up at? Got all day.”

“I get out of work at five, a friend will drop me off at home… Is six too late for you?”

“Don’t worry ’bout it, six ’s fine.” John says calmly and you smile.

“I’ll text you the address then.” You sit back on the hanging chair as the wind moves your hair and you squish the head of the cigarette against the ashtray placed on the small glass table of your balcony.

“Six it is then.” That voice rumbles through his chest and without even knowing you just put your cigarette away, he sticks the head of the cigar against the wood of his porch, leaving a small mark, putting his own cigar away almost at the same time as you.

“Good night, John.”

“Sleep tight, Y/N.”

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard @blckbrrybasket @shuttlelauncher81 @thychuvaluswife @airzonaaa @mamanmae @cadotoast @ateliefloresdaprimavera @heyitsmarimari @markitvz @live-love-be-unique @syoddeye @hyriefortuno (Let me know im the comments if you’d like to be added! Dm me for removals! ♡)

[thecapricunt1616]

Very First Time (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way. 

♡ Chapter Inspo: So High School - Taylor Swift ; "You know what you wanted & boy you got her" ♡ Summary: Based on ✩This✩ big brained ask from @carmenberzattosgf ♡ W/C: 9.4K ♡ Posted Date: 06/11/2024 ♡ A/N: Omg I had so much fucking fun writing this you have no idea!!! I hope this satisfies your virgin carmy tooth my dirty olive martini! Also, New look for this one shot how are we feeling yall? ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, Characters are 18+, High school relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish'

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 ����𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

2010

You had thought about this year at least monthly since … well - kindergarten. This was your year. 

Graduation year. 

4 decent years of high school were coming to a close. You were freshly 18 as of last week, and felt exactly the same. You actually felt worse now that your birthday had passed you by. Why? Oh. Virginity. Still having one, that thing. 

As far as you knew, all of your friends had lost theirs by now, well - you weren’t so sure. You’d think asking your longest time friend if they were also holding onto their precious dire to get rid of virginity cards as well would be easy, right? 

Wrong. Very wrong. 

This was because your bestest longest term friend? You’d been concealing a massive crush on him since sophomore year. Well, actually - technically 7th grade, when he saved your volcano from prematurely erupting by pouring borax in the hole from his project about borax crystallization after the nastiest girl in the grade dumped the cup of vinegar in it while you weren’t looking so it would explode prematurely while the teacher wasn’t watching and you’d get zero credit. 

But, you told yourself that he was just a really nice person like his sister who had babysat you a few times, so he’d probably heard about you from her and was simply being friendly. Nevertheless, the interaction made you fast friends. 

What sealed the deal to you being so close, though, was when a few days later one of the mean boys in the grade tried to make Carmy his newest victim by continually throwing pencils at the back of his head. He did this every class to someone new, and always while the teacher wasn’t looking. 

You had waited just until half a second before the pencil flew and  “Mrs.Harrison!” urgently left your lips, she quickly looked up, just in time to see the moron let the pencil go, it hit the back of Carmys head, and for Carmy send him a silent glare. 

“Jared! That’s a week of detention. It has been you with those pencils. I’m calling home too- this disruptive behavior is unacceptable!” She was so focused on writing out detention slips that she didn’t even remember you had grabbed her attention. Carmy gave you one of his shy close-mouthed smiles that made his adorable dimples show before going back to drawing some pair of cargo jean looking things on the inside of his notebook cover. 

This sealed your friendship because you had shown him your loyalty. You have my back, I have yours was always the mentality between you two. By the time you got to high school, you and Carmy were attached at the hip. In middle school, specifically in eighth grade, people would tease you two that you were dating. 

The both of you were late bloomers and hadn’t even thought about Carmy or anyone in that way yet, but by sophomore year of high school the teasing really hit home because you did have a crush on him but thought you were absolutely sure he could never like you back, that he saw you as a sister. 

Until one fateful June afternoon. 

You were laid on your full sized bed together in your childhood bedroom, flicking through a J-14 magazine to get all the latest gossip on the celebrities you follow when you settle on the Ask Sabrina page, a forum where a girl answers dating and love questions. 

Dear Sabrina, 

I was wondering - what age should you have your first kiss, French kiss, lose your virginity etc? I’m already 16 and I haven’t had sex yet, I had my first kiss at 14 and my first French kiss this year. But I feel like such a loser cause all my friends are having sex, and say it’s so much fun!! Is it really worth the hype? 

Jane from California

You roll your eyes. 16 and already had her first French kiss. She was 2 years ahead of you in that sense. You hadn’t had sex yet, either. You hadn’t really kissed a boy for real either. The only kiss you’d had to date was -

Ew! 

You had to rectify this situation immediately. The only kiss you’d had to date was Billy Guerrero? In fifth grade?! You couldn’t believe yourself. You’d let time slip away, you’d let your real first kiss prime time slip away. What guy is gonna want a girl at college who was gonna want to date a girl who can’t even kiss properly! You’d bet Carmy had kissed girls, hell he’d probably had sex already. With who you weren’t sure because the only person Carmy opened his mouth to give more then a muttered yes or no were you, and his direct family. 

Maybe it was with Claire down the street, she always seemed to you to be sweet on him. He would probably be better for him, anyway. If Mikey wasn’t teasing him about her being his girlfriend, he was teasing about you being his girlfriend. Each time he brought it up Carmy would go red as a tomato and tell him to shut up, and if Richie was around it would get even worse. 

You wondered if he liked it, why he didn’t tell you about it - wait - why hadn’t the two of you talked about sex? It wasn’t until this moment you’d realized you’d never breached the topic. You laid your magazine on your chest, flicking the cover of Carmys Spider-Man comic with your nail to get his attention from your position sprawled out over his thighs as your pillow. 

“Mm” he hums in response, blue eyes continuing to move across the page. That was something you always loved about Carmy, those large round blue eyes. You loved to tease him that he looked like Flik from bugs life. You’d done very intense studying of those eyes from your many intense staring contests over the summer breaks you two spent together, he would cheat to win, of course - but you liked having an excuse to look at his eyes, so you didn’t mind. 

“What was your first kiss like?” You test the waters. Without even realizing what you had done, he mirrored you and laid his open comic on his chest to hold his page so he could give you his full attention. 

“First kiss?” He repeats. You couldn’t believe how much better his stutter had gotten over last summer. He had told you he wanted it gone or at least as gone as he could get it by the time you went off to college, so the two of you checked out all the speech pathology books the library had to offer and got to work every day. It was hard work, but after about a month he got the hang of it. 

“Very first kiss, well - real kiss” you clarify and by nature he brushed away your bangs that had fallen in front of your eyes from the woosh of air that came from putting his comic down. 

“Uh- w-wh-“ he stops himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, focusing really hard on what he was trying to say and a few seconds later he tries again “what’s a real kiss? Like a kiss that’s not just the back of my hand?” He joked and you snorted a chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Yes dummy like- like a real kiss on a date or something or like…I dunno have you ever had a girlfriend? Well, before you met me? Would a 6th grade girlfriend count?” You thought out loud. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend before, and Carmy hadn’t said he was dating anyone and spent all of his time with you that wasn’t spent at home or at school, so you could safely assume he hadn’t, but just wanted to be sure. 

“n-no- no girlfriend uh- why do you ask?” He cleared his throat that way Richie did after he asked a question he knew was stupid and you shrugged a bit 

“So who have you kissed? Claire?” You ask and those big blue eyes go wide as saucers as he shakes his head no like a bobble head 

“What - what?! W-why why would you think I kissed Claire? Claire- Claire Dunlap? from down the street?” He clarified, his cheeks heating up

“Woah! Do you have a crush on her?” You sat up and he groaned, rubbing over his face dramatically. 

“Squiiish. Not you too” he groaned dramatically. “No! I don’t like Claire! Actually to be f-fucking honest everyone always trying to cram her down my throat makes me hate her!” He huffed 

“Well then who have you kissed! A real kiss!?” You question with a laugh, unsure why he was being so secretive over something so small. The two of you could vote in the next election for Christ sake, a kiss shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“No one!” He blurts, the heat from his cheeks bleeding up to the tips of his ears and down his neck and collarbones. “There. Ok! No one and I sure as fuck didn’t kiss Claire Dunlap.” He crossed his arms, averting your gaze. You were sat there, just staring. You were frankly trying to absorb that, it was surprising to you with such a stud of an older brother - he hadn’t gotten around. 

“Me either” you said after a few beats of silence and his eyes quickly found yours again, mouth dropping slightly and he blinked a few times, the way that told you he was trying to digest what you were saying. 

“Y-you haven’t kissed Claire-“

“Anyone” you interrupted. His jaw dropped like a trout as he stared at you in shock and you grabbed your magazine, rolling it up and bonking him on the head with it.  “Don’t look at me like that! You haven’t kissed anyone either! I technically have you beat because I kissed Billy G. at recess in fifth grade once even though it was just like… a mom kiss you know like a- like” you demonstrate a little puckery peck of your lips. 

His eyes narrowed with jealousy and you smiled proudly “Squish, one - Bear? Zero” that was one thing about you two, you were always in a competition of some kind. Who could run farther, who could read a book faster, who could get their homework done first, you never realized it translated into other things too, and that neither of you were in the lead. 

“I bet I’m better then you at kissing even though I haven’t done it I’ve practiced more so I’m good when it’s time for me to show my skill” he smirked, picking up his comic again. You scoffed 

“Practice? On what, your bathroom mirror? It doesn’t count if it’s not a person, dummy.” You said and he shrugged 

“Find out” he said casually, eyes not tearing up from the page. Now it was your cheeks that felt like they were on fire. Find out?! Find out what, does he even realize what he’s offering you right now?! 

“Find out? What- you want to kiss me?” You said and he smirked a bit, dimples showing and his eyes flick back to yours. 

“It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way. 

But now he was just offering like it was his apple he didn’t want at lunch.  

“French or regular?” You ask, trying to play it cool and the astonished look on his face led you to cackle, shoving his shoulder “what?! Stop looking at me like that weirdo!” You said and he smiled, shaking his head and doing one of those slow Carmy blinks as he sighs, a little smirk on his lips. He always reminded you of Natalie when he did that, he must have gotten it from her. 

“You want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?” He mused and you nod

“I actually think it goes both ways- and with 0 practice I’d win. Sure of it.” You said cockily and shrugged a bit. He snorts a chuckle

“And how do we determine a winner?” He asked, shutting his comic and resting it on the nightstand next to your bed like he was genuinely weighing the offer in his mind. 

You were quiet for a few moments, looking at him carefully - and it seemed like he was serious as you were, so you said “It’s supposed to feel good, right? So…whoever like..moans first?” 

“Uh o-okay- okay sure um.” He swallowed thickly, wiping his hands on his jeans that you assumed were clammy now how they got when he was nervous. “So- how- how do you wanna like- sit,” he asked. Fuck. You were just now realizing you weren’t actually sure. Your heart was thumping so hard in your chest, blood was roaring in your ears. This was all going so fast - you were going to do it. You were going to kiss your crush. 

“Uh-“ you said stupidly, tucking your hair behind your ears and digging your chapstick out of your pocket, cause guys like soft cherry flavored lips, right? If he was kissing you for a stupid competition you may as well make it good. “Yeah um. I think, maybe criss cross? Right? Like how we would play sailer by the sea” you crossed your legs and sat in front of him 

“We should play later I’ve been practicing with nat - I’m totally gonna beat you” he crossed his legs, and you moved in closer so your knees were touching but your faces were still about 2 feet apart, too big a distance for a kiss. “Also- we’re gonna need to be closer” he said plainly. You snorted a laugh,

“Yes - we can play. How am I supposed to get closer?” You asked, and in one fluid motion he stuck his hands under your calves, and uncrossed your legs before dragging you forward quickly and wrapping your legs around his waist. You could feel his breath. 

“There” he looks at you, eyes fanning from your eyes to your lips and back again. “That’s ok, right?” The low softness of his voice, mixed with the action of him just taking control how he did - it sent this feeling down to your core that felt so good. Like a pleasureful pulsing heartbeat, the only time you got that feeling was when you were alone in bed at night squeezing your thighs together thinking about Carmy. 

“Mmhmm” you hummed, unsure what to do with your hands so you settled for placing them on your thighs. “So- uh- ok. I guess um..let’s get started?” Your voice was small, nervous. A definite switch of roles for the two of you. You weren’t sure if this was normal, but you assumed it was for Carmy. 

He was being so normal about it, the same normal he was when you got your period at his house - he just went to Natalie’s bathroom, and came back to the guest bathroom with a few pads and tampons for you, as well as feminine wipes - normal. Not weird, like this happens every day for him. Like - periods (or in this case) sex isn’t the most embarrassing thing to teen life. His chill demeanor told you that he strictly saw it as a platonic friendly competition, so why do your panties feel sticky all the sudden?

“It’s ok- we don’t have to-“ he’s interrupted by your lips on his, 

Now or never, right? 

It was warm, a little messy at first, you found out quickly you should close your eyes since he closed his and once you did it was much easier to just focus on the sensation. His lips were soft, he tasted like the bowl of trix cereal he must have had before he came over. The way his lips moved with yours was… gentle, sweet, unhurried- you found yourself chasing them when he pulled away slightly and that caused you to open your eyes 

“You-“ he huffs a small chuckle “you have t’kiss back, Squish. S’like i’m kissing a wall here” he said. You took a shaky breath, not even realizing you were just sat there like a dead fish, unmoving, in awe that his lips were really on yours. If you hadn’t just finished your period a week ago you’d be scrambling to the bathroom to see what was going on because you were gushing. 

“Uh- sorry- sorry. I was just warming up” you clear your throat awkwardly, fingers tapping on your thighs nervously “lets try again” you said, leaning in and additionally mashing your nose with his “ow- oh- gosh, sorry” you giggle and he followed suit 

“S’not your fault my beak is getting in the way” he joked, gently tilting your face and bringing his lips back to yours. You got the message this time, moving your lips with his and wow. It felt…good. That heartbeat right above your cunt had never pulsed so hard before, it nearly hurt and you weren’t sure what to do about it with him right there. 

You’d usually use the firm corner of one of your throw pillows you kept on your bed when this uncomfortable sensation happened, thinking of exactly this - kissing Carmy - and hump it, and hump it, and hump it, until you were frustrated to tears because you still felt like you weren’t finished. That the feeling would never go away unless you stopped thinking about Carmy like that - but it was addictive, and you couldn’t help but think you were chasing something. 

It all elevated when you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, it was almost like the sensation in your core was beginning to travel throughout your entire body and that had never happened before. It went from just that strong pulsing in your cunt, travelling to a tightness that was winding up in your stomach, your breasts felt good - as strange as that thought was, the only time you remembered they were there was when they were sore because your period was coming, so the warm gushy feeling in your chest and the pangs of pleasure that were coursing through you from the simple swipe of his tongue was something to be revered.

From there, it was like you were following a script you hadn’t even known you’d memorized. Your hands found his shoulders, before travelling to the back of his neck and rubbing over the little curls at the base. You swipe your tongue over his, fingers sprawling over the back of his head to pull him in closer. You didn’t know what came over you, but you deepened the kiss, and he accepted. His hands found the back of your waist, squeezing gently and trailing up your sides, stopping hard below your breasts.

You pulled away, looking at him. If it was any other day, he’d have thought you were initiating a staring contest, but the blown-out look in your eyes and small pants leaving your lips reminded him of when their family cat had a little too much catnip and started climbing the screen doors, wild. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when the next question left your lips 

“Have you had sex before?” your voice was breathy, if you had known better you’d have called it for what it was - horny. The only thing on your mind was Carmy, not how your mom would be home any minute and you forgot to take out the chicken for dinner, not how it probably isn’t a normal thing for best friends or any friends really, to kiss. But you and Carmy hadn’t really ever been ‘normal’ friends. 

“Uhhh” he tried to find his words. He looked so pretty. His cheeks were the pretty flush pink you loved on him so much, it suited him. His lips were swollen and kiss bitten and red. You realized that the glossiness on them was a mixture of your salivas and that brought a burst of that delicious warmth to your chest. “N-no, haven’t have you- I mean- can you have sex without kissing?” he wondered out loud.

“I don’t want to leave high school a virgin” you blurt out. It was half true, you did feel a bit like a loser, even though you could always lie and tell people you had done it even if you hadn’t. It also felt like the one opportunity was presenting itself for you to have sex with your childhood crush and if he agreed, then a win is a win in your book.

“Alright and- and uh” he sits back on the headboard, huffing a chuckle and rubbing over his mouth as he thought, staring up at the ceiling to try and get a gauge on what he was about to say. It was one of the habits he’d picked up during all of your speech practice together, it was cute, almost like he was stopping the words from falling out of his mouth before he was ready to say them so it didn’t come out all jumbly and stuttered. “And you wan’t help with this- i’m assuming you see it as a problem? Thats why you brought it up, right? You want help with that…issue” he mused. 

Suddenly, you felt really, really shy. Shy, stupid, flustered, any synonym for embarrassed and feeling like a complete and utter moron. “I shouldn’t have said anything - i’m sorry, uh- you win” You got up, going over to your dresser and digging out your after-school clothes to change since you were in jeans still. Why the hell would you say that? What, was he gonna just offer to have sex with y-

“I-I mean- I don’t want to, either. I just uh- haven’t… y’know - met anyone who I trusted enough to do it with. But- it- it felt good… the kiss? So, if you wanted we could um..cause- cause I trust you, I trust you more then like…anyone- so, yeah- I-I mean it’s like- like a favor right? You uh…scratch my back- er whatever the saying is- if- if you want to” you looked back at him to see him rambling with his gaze locked on the floor, clearly feeling as stupid and embarrassed as you feel. 

Holy shit, this may actually happen. 

“Yeah- yeah” you agree, mulling it over in your mind. He’s right, this shouldn’t change your friendship, because from what you’d heard - losing said virginity wasnt fun, it was weird, uncomfortable, and a little gross sometimes, so it was almost like you two could get the awkward first time part out of the way together so you could both hit the ground running in terms of dating and hooking up when it came to college, cause that's what college was supposed to be all about, right? Finding the love of your life?

“Sure- Uh-” you swallow thickly and toss him one of the many pairs of sweatpants he kept in your dresser for when he slept over as well as a fresh t-shirt and grab yourself a clean pair of panties from your top drawer since although the awkwardness had taken away that dull needy ache, you were still uncomfortably wet and had to get yourself cleaned up and changed. “How about Friday? My parents have their date night so- you could come over after school and we can um…do it?” you ask and he nodded quickly, grabbing the sweatpants and sweatshirt.

“Yeah- perfect, that’s - mmhmm” he swallowed hard, cheeks bright red. You would totally be making fun of him right now if you weren’t absolutely sure you looked just as flustered, the two of you sharing at eachother in silence like a pair of deer in headlights. 

“I’m gonna go change” you said and left the room, closing the bathroom door behind you and sighing deeply to yourself, leaning against the door. 

And so it was set. 

Carmy had exactly 3 days to study up on this topic other than sophomore health class he knew absolutely nothing about. Well- he had found one of Michaels Playboy magazines before when he was 14, it was the first time he popped a boner and it freaked him out so bad since his father wasn’t very present and Mike hadn’t given him the talk yet. It was a solid 2 months of worrying that he had some weird dick cancer because he got hard every time he peeked through said porn-mag before he asked Mike about it, and he still hasn’t lived down the teasing. Thank god Mike kept his word on not telling Richie.

The moment he left your house that day it was straight to the Chicago public library. 3 books, 3 days. He was going to do his homework on this, because he was going to win the game he knew was inevitably pun intended coming his way. It was going to become a competition, and he knew the name of the game in sex was an orgasm, he knew that much at least, thank god. 

The 3 titles he’d settled on, 

Sex For Dummies ; He’d figured that should speak for itself, it sounded to him like the beginners guide to fucking. He wondered why every teen didn’t get a copy of this book, he’d heard guys talking about how sometimes girls are really bad in bed - so if everyone got one, like the dictionaries they all got in elementary school - he thought their lives would probably be made easier in that department.

She Comes First; and boy, was that a read. He stayed up so late Wednesday night reading it that you had to wake him in homeroom when the bell rang to go to first period. He didn’t know there were so many things to know about a vagina, but he was confident now he probably knew more then any guy in the school about pussys and what gets them going at least on paper once he read all 350 pages in one day.

He comes next; It made alot of sense. This was the breaziest read for him, he sat on the L after school reading it on the ride home. Of course, the front was covered in a brown paper bag he’d taped to it so no one could tell what he was reading, he wasn't a pervert! He was glad he read she comes first, first, because he’d learned that girls can cum more then once, and that when they do - it gets better each time. He also learned that the clit is the best part to touch, and that it actually has like- a tail? Or something? Inside that you can mess with too, and it feels super good for the girl. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find something like that with his dick, but he guessed he’d figure it out.

The day was finally here. You had been thinking about it all week long. The prep you were doing was very different then the prep he was. You were making sure your entire body was smooth, plucking your eyebrows, waxing your upper lip, whitening your teeth, shaving your big toe. Literally, anything and everything grooming. You had put on a lacy pink thong that you’d gotten at the mall a year or so ago in preparation for the night you finally did this, but after observing yourself in the mirror you felt insecure about it. It was just Carmy, he wasn’t into you, it would be weird if you tried to be sexy, right? Like you were trying to seduce him or something? So you settled on some plain grey panties, instead, and a black bra. 

You heard a knock at the door right at 7. Exactly on time, per usual. Your parents had left for their date 20 minutes ago, so it was perfect timing. When you opened the door, you heart may as well have melted and poured out of your ass to see Carmy standing there with a bundle of red roses. “Hey- uh- so - got you these” he thrust them in your direction. They were already cut, and thornless, ready to be plopped in a vase. You could see a little bandage on the pinky finger of his non-dominant hand that wasn’t there at school today, he must have pricked himself while he was trimming them up. 

“Y’get a girl flowers, you trim em’ up, n’for the roses gotta take the thorns off, eh’? Don’t wan’t t’hurt ylady do you? And you trim ‘em cause girls like it, makes em’ all even n’shit. N’it Makes em’ live longer too. Y’givin a gift not a chore heard? Flowers need to be able to be dropped in a vase and that's it, otherwise y’re a prick f’givin’ y’r lady a job t’do” Mikey explained as he snipped the thorns off of the roses he’d gotten for his date. The conversation stuck with Carmy all these years, he promised himself one day he’d put the advice to use.

“Oh- wow - Bear, these are like -” you leaned in, smelling them deeply, the sweet floral sense filling your nose “Wow- this is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to” you stepped back and opened the door wider. He followed you in, shutting the door behind him like usual.

“Mikey says it’s what y’do I guess, so - expect flowers from guys you do this with” he nudged you with his shoulder playfully. The action made your heart flutter but also stomach sink , heavy with nerves. Right. He’s here to just get something over with, like he was probably expecting you to be and the flowers were just a result of him wanting to do things right and not because he had any real, tangible feelings for you other than platonic.

“Mmm, will do. Thanks- I’m gonna go get these in some water, you can get settled” you told him and headed into the kitchen to find a vase. When you came back to the room his hoodie was neatly folded and sitting on your desk, his shoes tucked away beneath it and there was a… towel? On your bed? 

“Uh-” you set the vase of flowers on your dresser 

“Right- uh- so the towel, they say in the books for your first time, sometimes girls will bleed a little? Or- or if I do it right things can get really wet, so…just trying to be proactive I didn’t wanna make a huge mess y’know?” he explained while staring at the towel and rubbing the back of his neck nervously how he did, heat creeping across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks.

“You…studied?” you smile a bit at the idea. You wondered how he did so, did he just watch porn?! You had heard from girls with boyfriends that watch porn - the sex was usually bad, and that they went way to hard and fast. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Yeah I read some stuff.. How else will I know what the fuck m’doin?” he watched you as you sat down on top of the towel, assuming that was the spot he meant for you. 

“Uh- yea…yeah. Ok, well thanks- I guess I should have studied, too. Didn’t even think about it- my legs are soft, though. And I shaved my - um- yeah.” you said, voice getting meeker and smaller by the end. The two of you were never like this, it was usually constant banter and comfortable silence. Awkwardness wasnt something the two of you experienced together up until now.

“Thank you- you didn’t have to it’s…it’s just hair. But um…go pee, before we get started- you should pee.” he sat down on the bed in front of you. You looked at him confused, brows furrowing together but before you could ask he added “In the books, they said for girls - it can feel like…like you need to pee, right before the good part if I do it right. So, if I do do it right- I want you to be able to finish instead of worrying if you’ll pee on me, so I figured if you go pee now then-” you held your hand up, shaking your head as you stood.

“No further info needed” you said as you padded off to the bathroom. Even though the shower you had taken not even an hour prior to him coming over was so thorough made you fresh as the day you were born you still wiped up with babywipes before coming back to see 2 granola bars and 2 bottles of water on the nightstand. “Are you planning on making me pass out or something?” you joked, sitting back on the towel like before. 

He chuckled a bit “Well if i’m that good my first time it’ll be a record or something I bet” he rubbed his forearm nervously “So um..should we kiss? Like last time?” he asked, averting your gaze. You didn’t know this, but he thought he was genuinely about to have a heart attack, and the only reason he was continuing instead of asking you to call an ambulance was because if he was to die in your bed while making out because of the sheer excitement that came with the potential of you touching his dick, he would have died happy. 

The question being asked in that soft, sweet tone of his- syrupy and honest, made your stomach flip- and there was a pang of warmth to your heat that made your heart jump to your throat with anticipation. You couldn’t answer, instead, you just nodded, not breaking his gaze. Jesus fucking Christ those eyes. You had only seen the ocean once, in Hawaii on a vacation. His eyes made you think of the waters in Maui, that was how blue. You could get lost in them like they were the ocean, they often rendered you speechless, like he could peer into your soul. “Okay” he said gently.

This time, the kisses started small. He gently pecked the corner of your lips, before you remembered that yes you had a job to do here as well, and you put your hand gently on the side of his cheek, barely touching him. He could feel you shaking, so he put his hand over yours, gently squeezing your four fingers as his lips captured yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The feeling was so…different then last time. This time felt much more purposeful, and not in the get it over with way, in the i’ve been meaning to do this, way.

Honestly, the feeling made you dizzy. Not dizzy in the kind of way that immediately made you want to throw up, -

 (Carmy learned you got very motion sick very quick at your 15th birthday party when he, Mike, Natalie, and Richie were teaching you how to play dead-man on the trampoline and within 10 seconds of being bounced with your eyes closed by the 4 of them you were scrambling to throw up a mix of cake and pasta) 

- but dizzy in the way that you weren't forming any kind of memory of the encounter, and you also weren’t sure what you were doing - but you came to with your shirt off, dry humping your best friend as he laid sprawled over your floral duvet panting into each others mouths as your childhood teddybear watched the two of you manhandle eachother, he honestly looked like he was judging, but you mentally told him to fuck off.

“Yeah-” he breathed, his cheeks were a pretty pink, his pupils “I-I think that was um…better then last time. Do you feel hot? I feel hot” he admitted, swallowing hard as you both caught your breath. You looked down and oh, yeah - he's still fully dressed. You were still mostly dressed, too. Well, your shirt - you hadn’t a clue where it went, but your fluffy pajama pants were still suffocating your thighs and holy shit..

He is hard as a rock against your clothed pussy right now. 

You look back up at him, and nod in agreement. “Feels like - wow- yeah. Uh- m’hot” you got up and saw the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans. “Uh- so…” you trail off 

“I think i’m supposed to do that part” he sat up, taking his shirt off in that silly boyish way with one fluid motion pulling it up over the back of his head, his sandy blonde hair becoming ruffled by the action. You look over his chest, not even bothering to not stare. That was the point of this whole thing right, to experience? In turn, he crossed his arms shyly, to be expected. Carmy had been open about his upset that he got more of his moms genes then his dads. He was short, softer-jawed, smaller-lipped, and bigger-eyed, the only thing he got was the big Italian Berzatto nose. 

His brother was tall, much broader, was able to grow a full face of stubble by 17. Carmy was still patchy, but he was proud of his little patch of curly brown hair in the middle of his chest. Mike kept telling him he would ‘grow like a weed’ as soon as he turned 20, he didn’t believe it, though. 

“Oh- yea? Thats what they said in your sex books” you teased and stepped forward, between his spread thighs, likely to give his dick breathing room. His hands found your hips as he snorted a chuckle 

“Shut up” he smiled and carefully pulled down the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “I did read…” he helped you step out of them, hands trailing up the backs of your now bare thighs. The action made goosebumps appear on your flesh, nearly made you shiver. “That you are supposed to cum first, it’s like…a warm up.” he explained, looking up at you as he made his way to hold your hips again. You realized quickly, that his hands were also trembling, and he kept stroking and petting you hoping you wouldn’t notice as much. 

Your panties had a dark spot on them that he became fixated on momentarily, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You felt that twitching at his words, your hole clenching around absolutely nothing. You weren’t sure you could remember what color the sky was if someone asked at that moment, you were so focused on Carmy, it was like you two and this bedroom were the only things in the universe. “I haven’t been able to do it, I don’t think you’ll be able to - but you can try. How do you want to do this should I just lay down and I dunno… you stick it in? I got 3 boxes of condoms, different kinds just in case” you went to open your nightstand and he stopped you, grabbing your hand. 

He chuckled a bit, you took it as a you don’t know what you’re doing, let me explain kind of laugh, but really he was just wondering how the following words came out of his mouth “I’m supposed to eat your pussy, could I try?” 

You swore your knees went weak. Carmen, Carmen Berzatto wanted to go down on you. Thank god you made sure that department was taken care of so well in preparation. “Uhhh- alright” you sat down on the towel, twiddling your fingers nervously “So- wow uh” you giggle nervously, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“Your um..you look pretty, by the way” he said while looking at the duvet. He sounded as nervous as he was when he said that. He had thought you looked pretty from the moment he walked through the door, but was too nervous until you were both literally almost naked to say it. You could hardly believe it, because you did your best to not put in a ton of effort. Sure, you were very well groomed, but you didnt like - dress up or put makeup on or do your hair how you would have wanted, you were in regular bra and panties, and pajamas when he walked in. You were also pretty sure that you had a zit growing on your chin and really hoped he hadn’t noticed.

But, that was exactly why he thought you looked so pretty. He loved that you let him have you like this, well - in both senses. He felt so lucky to be able to see you comfortable, in your element. “Thanks, dork, so do you get the honors of taking my panties too?” you teased. That was the difference between you, when you got nervous you cracked jokes and made fun of him to ease the tension in your own mind  - when he got nervous he often got lost in the tension of his own mind causing him to go quiet. 

“I do actually, says the book- so lay down” he shoots back in the same teasing tone, a small smile gracing his lips once again. You, and his brother were the only 2 that could pull him out of his head so fast, and so easily. You shook your head, laying back on the pillows he’d set up and spreading your legs, laying your feet flat on the bed. He sat in front of you, running a hand up your leg and feeling over the soft, smooth skin. “You are really soft” he muttered, almost to himself, feeling up your thigh “Do you mind if I kiss you, here?” he asked gently, running a palm over the inner of your thigh. No one had ever touched you there, so the action made you shiver since the area was surprisingly sensitive.

“Sure” you said quietly, watching his every move with wide, curious eyes. You were sure the wet spot on your panties had grown tremendously due to the way you felt dripping down the curve of your ass, thank god for that towel when they come off or my sheets would probably soak through by the end of this. He started at your ankle, leaving gentle pecks and putting your manicured foot on his shoulder as he continued his journey of kissing up your shin, over your knee, not leaving a single part unkissed. If this is what sex was about, you totally got why all your friends were raving about it, because you were being driven absolutely wild and it hadn’t even really started yet. 

He kissed up to your thigh, laying down in between your legs. His forearms were wrapped around the plush of your thighs, hugging them as he left kisses over the waistband of your panties. The action made your stomach muscles clench at how good he was making you feel. You needed something to touch you, though. That was the only thing on your mind, but before you could ask - he beat you to it. “Would you be ok with me kissing your middle here?” his voice was husky, breathy. He was gripping your thighs so his hands wouldn't shake, he was fucking panting like he just ran the mile in P.E. and he wasn’t sure why. 

His mouth was watering at the smell of you, he had to fucking swallow a mouthful of spit before he could say something. He felt like a fucking starved animal, but he was gathering every polite, gentlemanly fiber of his being to remain kind, gentle. “Please do” you said and without hesitation, he was essentially making out with your cunt through your panties. The sight was filthy, but so sexy it was making your head spin. 

Whines and moans were leaving your throat you weren’t even aware of as you watch him, slack jawed and sucking at the fabric of your panties, grunting and moaning at the flavor. “T-take em off…please-” you weren’t sure where the bedroom voice that came out of you came from, but he seemed to like it at the way his eyes rolled and fluttered shut at the way you were begging for him to eat you out. 

He sat up just enough to get your panties pulled off, shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans before laying back down and resuming his position. “Taste so, so good, squish, better than I imagined” he said before kissing your mound. The wet clicking sound of your pussy clenching at his words made heat rush your cheeks in embarrassment, but it made his dick twitch against his jeans. “Can I kiss your clit?” he asked, the casualness of his tone made your head fall back on the pillow, covering your face with embarrassed hands at the vulgarity of it all.

“Go ahead, Bear” you said, smile lacing your voice. 

“I liked it when you were lookin’ at me, just so you know” he said, spreading you out with his fingers and looking for just a moment, he found it easily as it had grown nearly twice it’s size, peeking out of its hood. He attached his lips to it, just like the book he’d read said to do, and lightly sucked, before flicking his tongue lightly over it. Your hand clamps over your mouth to stifle the cry that left your throat, hips jerking and you grab his hair with your other hand, not even meaning to but tugging. 

This caused a moan to leave his throat, which in turn caused his lips to vibrate, and you looked down at him, vision hazy like a dream at the sensation. “God- oh god- feels so good Bear - wow- you’re so good at this” you said, breath heavy and jaw slack “uh-huh” you whine when he pads his tongue over your clit in wide, wet drags. The sounds his mouth was making as he sucked and kissed and lapped at your juices were absolute sin, the hottest shit you’d ever heard. 

“D’you like it more when I kiss your clit like I was doin’ or when I run my tongue on it like that?” he asked, sucking at your folds and nose nudging your clit as he waited for an answer. 

“Both - Both- everything feels good - you feel so good” you praised, pushing his bangs from his face. He smiled into you proudly, continuing to lick, and suck, and swirl his tongue. It had been a knot building for a while, and it had been about 30 minutes of him doing this, when you felt it. But, all the activities you’d been engaged in the conversation you had before you started slipped your mind. “Fuck- fuck - sorry- I gotta pee” you told him and tried to tug him off

“Y’dont, trust me, just trust me” he said determined, he had told himself before going into this that if he could make you cum, that it would be his prize because per the books he’d read one of the main complaints with women was that their male partners didn’t bother to be sure they finished, so if you never wanted to do this again - he’d pride himself internally forever on be the very first man to ever make you cum. 

You whined, back arching to the ceiling and hips dipping back into the bed. You didn’t want him to stop, so you weren’t sure why you were subconsciously trying to wiggle away. Your eyes had been closed for a few moments, and you felt a hand on your stomach, dancing fingers following it. You opened them to see him looking up at you, and his eyes flicker to his hand that was laying palm up on your belly before meeting your gaze again, in a silent ask for you to hold his hand. 

Without thinking, you did so, needing to be grounded in that moment. His thumb rubbed soothing strokes on the back of your hand as he built up the speed of his tongue, running it back and forth and up and down, flicking it, sucking on the sensitive nub until your brain turned to mush, and stars filled your vision. 

“Carmy Carmy- Oh shit- Yes” 

The grand finale only lasted about a minute or two, but by the end your thighs were shaking and you were gasping for breath. “Y’need to breathe, did you forget humans need oxygen to live?” he teased. You’d usually give him a light punch on the shoulder for that, but your whole body felt like warm jelly. 

“Shut up” you pant, looking down when you feel your clit twitching every few moments “I think you broke it its like.. Having a seizure or something” you said and you both burst into giggles. After a few moments of comfortable quiet you nudge him with your foot “Hey” he looks up at you “Its your turn now” you said and his brows raised

“Y-you don’t have t’do that, that was sex, so - congratulations we are both not virgins” he wiped his chin on the inside of his arm and sat up. You furrowed your brow

“No- I want to, I can make you cum, too ” you said, in your mind, it was a challenge - and when it came out of your mouth you realized how it sounded.

“Are you… asking me for permission to suck my dick?” he looked at you carefully. Shyly, you just nod. For whatever reason the nature of the room and this particular situation had the two of you acting out of traditional character roles, and he was the one being bold. “I want you to say it, then you can suck my dick” he said and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and looking at you, brows raised expectantly as he waited for you to do as he asked.

Your throat suddenly felt dry, and you were starting to drip on that damn towel again. “Bear, I wanna suck your cock, Can I please?” you asked, tone innocent yet laced with a confident determination. His breath got caught in his throat, you swore his eyes could have fallen out. He didn’t know the word cock was apart of your very colorful vocabulary, he could have creamed his boxers with the way that the word rolled off of your tongue. 

“Sure” he said all too casual and tugged off his jeans, kicking them to the side. He laid down with you, like how he was while you were making out and you got on your knees tugging the waistband of his boxers until his cock came out and kissed his navel, the tip glistening with pre. 

“So-” you look at it, mouth watering at the sight. You had never done this, but you were sure that you knew one thing for sure, Carmy had a really pretty cock. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he said 

“S’not gonna suck itself, squish.” 

Oh, right, that was what you were doing. You grab it and he hissed “Fuckin’ hell- y’tryna rip it off? A little nicer, please” he chuckled a bit and you felt your cheeks heat, loosening your grip. 

“Sorry…” you said sheepishly, bending over and licking the tip of it, one slow drag from the back of your tongue to the tip of it, flicking your tongue over the slit your nose scrunching slightly at the new flavor. The action though, had Carm seeing stars and his toes curling.

“Hhhhnnn- oh my fucking god” he rasped. You figured that was a good thing, so you did it again “Squish I-” and again, “yes- fuck” and again, “Squish i-i’m gonna mmmmmffff” he whined, his cock twitching in your hand and leaking pre in a near continuous drip. You had no expirience, so you had no idea what this meant, or that he was trying to warn you. With 3 more slow sensual ball to tip licks, he was shooting cum all over your nose, upper lip, tongue, and chin. You squeak in surprise, sitting up and licking your lips. “Oh- hmmmmfuck- gimme a sec” he groaned, taking over for you and stroking himself, the remainder of his load shooting over his stomach. 

You watched in awe as he got himself off, back lightly arched and head fallen back, eyes closed as sexy pants and moans left his lips, along with soft “fuck - thank you, thank you” It was literally the hottest thing you had ever seen. He stopped after a moment, finding his breath and looking up at you, when he saw your milky white chin it both made his softening dick twitch and drew a chuckle from him. “When I keep saying im gonna do something and my dick is leaking like a broken sink it means open up er get out of the splash zone” he joked and grabbed his shirt, wiping your chin and neck. 

You laughed, laying back down and sighing contently. “Noted for next time” you said and he fixed his boxers, sitting up and stroking your calf. 

“There can be a next time? I mean…. I was hoping so that was really fun, felt really good” he said and you nod, smiling a bit 

“Sure, I mean, yeah… but it doesn’t mean we stop like- doing friend stuff, right?” you questioned. As much fun as you had, you could never give up something as treasured as your friendship for something as trivial as sex. 

“Oh, absolutely, who else is gonna wait w’me to get the new spiderman comics? And whos gonna feed you when your parents are out of town?” he teased and you rolled you eyes playfully, smiling and shaking your head. 

“Love you, dork” you bit your lip as he brought your other ankle to his lips. 

“Love y’too, Squish. Can I?” he looked down at your glistening core, before back at you. You bit your lip lightly, you weren’t sure if all men were this enthusiastic about eating pussy - but you were thankful that he was because your mind was still swimming from the last time and you had to experience it again. 

“Mmhmm” you spread your legs wider for him and he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he got to work. You had found quickly that when you tell him something feels good or he’s doing a good job that it really got him going. It was cute, truly, how he loved being praised, so you made sure to do it whenever you could get something out that wasn't a babbled, coherent mess since the pleasure he was providing was causing your brain to short circuit.

An hour and a half and 3 orgasms later, after about 10 minutes of trying to catch your breath and cool down since you were boiling from the blood coursing your system like an F1 racetrack, you sit up. “M’gonna go get cleaned up” you said, going to get up on wobbly legs.

“No! No, I got it lay down don’worry” he said and made his way to the bathroom. He came back with babywipes and a wet wash cloth, as well as a dry clean towel to wipe off with after. He helped you wipe up and knowing your bedroom by heart, he went over to your dresser and got you a fresh set of panties and a tshirt, as well as a pair of his sweatpants so you could both be comfortable. After you had both gotten dressed, he laid in your bed after bringing the towel downstairs to the wash for you both as well as your dirty clothes, and you cuddled into his chest as you turned on your little tv, playing the next episode of Glee and he hands you a granola bar after being sure you had a few sips of water to replenish.

“To no longer being virgins, hm?” he smiled a bit, holding his bar up in a silly idea of a toast. You tap yours to his with a grin

“To no longer being virgins”

Part 2 here

[rowretro]

𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪

♡taglist: @firstclassjaylee @laurradoesloveu

♡Warnings: slapping, idk what else.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

✧CHAPTER 1✧

Saturday morning, 11am. Rowan was still deep asleep lost in her strange dreamland. She never wasted her mornings waking up early like a positive healthy person who studies at 6am and gets on her parents good side. She simply can't. Why waste the only 2 days you get to sleep and take a peaceful break on being productive?

Compared to the 5 days she wakes up early, zooming around to freshen up, doing her makeup and going to school, especially these recent days as exams are nearing, and the stress starts taking a toll on her feeble state. 

That's right, exam season, the season I must say all students dread it's insane how a paper of useless questions that won't even be helpful in the future, can cause her to cry, lash out at her laptop every time it takes a while to load, and cause her to lose weight at an unhealthy cost. 

She wasn't going to wake herself up the one time she was sleeping soundly when all these nights she spent cramming and revising, highlighting notes, and trying to solve confuzzling formulas. She preferred her zombie apocalypse dream, where she was eating marshmallows in a rundown building's attic.

"Row! it's 11:47 get your ass up!" Jungwon yelled, no answer "Rowan. You'll have plenty of time to sleep later- we need to go to the mall" Jungwon reasoned as he softly opened the door, peeking in, hoping he's not walking in on anything awkward. To his luck she was buried under her thick duvet, snuggled up against another pillow, and sound asleep.

There's only one way to get her to wake up and come downstairs, all dressed and ready to go outside. "Row- get your fucking ass up now! Heeseung is waking up!"Jungwon finally said as he shut the door of her room, grinning mischievously as he heard her get up, rushing about here and there.

. . .

"I'm ready let's go-" Rowan froze mid sentence as she saw Heeseung sitting on the sofa, Newspaper at hand, Steaming hot tea, in the delicate, expensive teacup on the table before him. He eyed her up and down, eyebrows scrunched at the centre, s if scrutinizing her look.

Hee tended to be pretty protective, of course he was all for her style and love for fashion, but sometimes, all he could see was his little baby sister. Row bit her lip, nervous, hoping she didn't have to change. she was wearing a pretty tight pink top, flounce sleeves with a nice white ribbon in the centre, a rather ballet core top, with a short white skirt to match.

"Where are you off to?" he asked coldly, eyes piercing into her as he studied her makeup, not too natural, heavy on the eyes, visible manga lashes, so definitely not a date. "Jungwon, and I have to buy a few things at the mall-" she said as she turned to Jungwon who just grabbed his car keys. 

Heeseung nodded as he turned to Jungwon "Alright. take care, be back by 6 Won, we have a meeting at 6:30." Heeseung simply said as Jungwon smiled saying ok as he led Rowan out the door.

. . .

Sunghoon hummed to himself as he dried his hair, white t shirt somewhat sticking to his abs, and a nice dark denim pair of jeans that suited his stature very well, practically everything suits him. He smiled to himself as he sprayed a crazy amount of deodorant around himself. 

"ma im heading out with the boys ill be back very late don't know when so don't worry about me ok?" he said as he was about to walk out the building "Why would I worry about you?! im more worried about your sister." she said as Sunghoon playfully pouted "Favouritism much.... "

"No it's not like that... Sunghoon your sister's been getting bullied the past week... since she's joined high school, it's one of those things I was worried about... can't you go ask her what's wrong? like I don't know solve her little issue?" She asked as Sunghoon groaned.

He didn't defy. He couldn't, he'd feel guilty anytime he didn't do something his mother wanted, she wasn't strict or anything, just... she's his mom after all.  "Oi. tell me who he or she or they is." Sunghoon said as he sat beside his sister. Siyeon frowned, taking off her ear piece, as she folded the page.

"Why do you suddenly care?" she asked as Sunghoon shrugged "You're my sister- and I have the power to scare people so just tell me-" he said as the girl rolled her eyes "Fine... her name's Leiko, she's in a few classes above me and she thinks im going after her man- whoever he is... she often wears pink and hangs out at the Hera mall on Saturdays-" She added, waving around some cash as Sunghoon narrowed his eyes.

"give me a description and your problem will be solved within seconds. That girl won't even look in your direction my dear sister~" Sunghoon said with a smile as Siyeon smirked "Black hair, around 5'2 or something, she's probably wearing pink, and she'll most definitely stand out in a crowd." she said as Sunghoon rushed off.

. . .

"You wait here- I'm going to head to the men's room quickly kay?" Jungwon said as Rowan nodded. She stood by a bench, smiling as she admired her newly done nails. The school wasn't too keen on makeup and nails, but her brother's Heeseung so the teachers don't care. Row softly flicked the dangling heart charm on her nail as she could see a dark-haired, charming male heading her way.

She's seen plenty pretty boys before, never one this pretty. Dark, perfect eyes, perfect jawline, plump pink lips, and a very pretty nose, a few moles here and there. Then she realized he was actually heading in her direction. Stopping right before her, his glare piercing, as she froze in her spot.

Just like that. One hard, stinging slap around her face, his big watch making it all the more painful. Sunghoon didn't even have the slap planned when he was going to threaten the said girl... he just felt so... mad. The girl stumbled back, her heels not having mercy on her balance. 

"Come near my sister again and I swear you'll never see the end of this." Sunghoon said as Rowan gasped, annoyed, mad, confused. Before she could even ask, the male had already walked off. Who's sister? why? what did she do? What the fuck? "Fuck Row- your face... who the fuck did this to you?" Jungwon asked, noticing the reddened mark on her face "Let's just go home..." she said, exhausted.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, energy is tenseee

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE (partially written! wc: 1.4k)

You sigh, placing your phone next to you as you slide down further into your pillows. Time is running out to ask Minho, you know that, and Lily has been pressing too. The deadline for offering interviews lingers sooner than when they start. With a groan, you swing your feet over the edge of your bed and slip them into the bunny slippers previously kicked off at the end of your bedframe, trudging to your door.

Minho is already pouring a cup of coffee into a dark brown mug when you enter the kitchen, wearing his normal work attire; a tight black t-shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt. Sometimes you were jealous of the simplicity. He doesn't notice you lean on the island, back facing you. When he does turn around, he startles, the tiniest drop of hot coffee running down the side of his mug and seeping under his hand. He doesn't hiss at the burn, doesn't even flinch, just puts the mug down and wipes his hand on the cloth hanging off the oven door.

"Dont sneak up on people, it's not nice," he says, replacing the cloth.

You perk up at his voice. "We're talking again, good, that's good. Listen, I deeply apologize for what I said and I don't even believe that, you know? I'm sure your ex loved you a lot. There was definitely a really good reason for her to hide her husband from you. Maybe he sucked! In any case, you're a great guy, so why wouldn't she choose you?"

Taking a deep breath, you refocus yourself. Minho is staring at you from above his mug, blowing gently on the hot liquid. There's still tension between you two, the air thick and hot.

"Was there a point to all that?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes, um. This is bad timing, but have you decided if you're doing Lily's thing or not yet...?" He sets his mug down with a sigh. "Of course, it's okay if you don't want to! Deadlines are coming up though so she needs an answer whether you're doing it or not."

He takes his time answering, sipping his coffee, running a hand through his hair, stretching. Part of you is getting frustrated. How hard is it to say a simple yes or no? Either he's doing it or not, there's not exactly a grey area.

"I'll do it," Minho finally answers, and you barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You run around the island and hug him, nearly knocking over your stool in the process.

It's short-lived, pulling away to see Minho's face painted red, no doubt mimicking your own. Clearing his throat, he nods at you and grabs his coffee, turning away from you. You're about to leave when you remembered what prompted you to seek him out in the first place.

"We're having a game night tonight if you want to join? It's just gonna be the boys, Hyun, NingNing, and I invited Soobin too." You lean against the wall of the hallway leading to your rooms, waiting for a response.

"Ah, I might be working late again, but I'll see what Jeongin is up to. Is it okay if I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, forget that. I'll either see you or I won't."

"Okaaay," you give him two thumbs up, but immediately put them back down when he gives you a weird look.

-

Game night is in full swing by ten with snacks and drinks taking up the island and bodies filling up the couch. A pile of UNO cards sit messily in the middle of the table, NingNing taking it upon herself to tidy it up every so often, even if it only stays like that for a couple of turns. You're so close to calling UNO, smirking as you place down another pick-up-4 card and watch as Soobin's head slowly turns to look at you with fake disdain. He keeps eye contact as his hand reaches for the deck, barely containing his own smile as he glares at you, and you can't help but giggle.

All night has been like this- teasing Soobin and getting him used to your friends now that you've become a bit more serious. His training under you has finally ended, so you feel less guilty about the whole thing. The only thing is that you still haven't shared it with your boss, but that's a problem for another day. Right now, all you can think of is the way Soobin has his free hand over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand and only taking it away to place a card down. He fits in nicely with everyone, almost like he's always been there... which makes sense seeing as he was already friends with Beomgyu.

"UN-" you're attention turns to the two bodies walking through the front door, "-oh."

In comes Minho with a girl you don't recognize hanging off his arm, in their own world as they kick their shoes off and laugh at something she whispers in his ear. Neither seem to notice the big group around the table until the girl gives a little, and uncomfortable, wave. Minho has his arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and you follow his gaze to where Han and Beomgyu sit. On their faces are matching angry stares, Han with his mouth open slightly.

"You're kidding," Beomgyu scoffs. "Tell me you're kidding, Min."

"I forgot you were having a game night," Minho shifts.

"Don't ignore the question." You look at Beomgyu, anxiety crawling up your throat. "Why is she here? And why are you acting so... couple-y?"

Han stands, and you can see his hands are shaking. "You got back together?"

"Oh, come on," the girl speaks for the first time, a look of annoyance on her face. "We always get back together."

"I wasn't talking to you-" Han points a finger at her, then directs it to Minho. "You, explain."

"No," Minho sighs. "I don't think I need to. If you're unhappy with your own love lives, you don't need to project onto me. None of you can say shit about relationships here. You're sneaking around because you're ashamed, and Y/n is only with Soobin because she can't get over her ex. Just to name a few."

You avoid eye contact with Soobin, a pang of hurt in your chest, glaring at Minho.

"I'm not unhappy," you say, feeling Soobin squeeze your hand. "You have no right to comment on my relationships because you're jealous."

Hurt flashes over Minho's face for a millisecond, quickly covered by a stoic expression. "Why would I be jealous? People can change-"

"Like hell, they can." Beomgyu stands now, circling around the table and past the couch to get into his personal space. "You said it yourself you don't believe that! And what about your husband?" He looks the girl in the eye and you hear NingNing gasp; you forgot to tell her. "What does he think of all this?"

"We're divorcing," she answers quietly, looking down at the floor. "He wasn't good for me. Not like you'd understand, or even take the time to try and understand."

Her voice turns watery at the end of the sentence, orange hair shielding her face as she curls into Minho's chest. From the shudder of her body, you can tell she's starting to cry. You almost feel bad for her. Taking in her words, you feel there's more to the story than what you know and what the others are willing to listen to, but you're already to upset to care. Han joins Beomgyu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"And maybe he should leave, take his princess back to her tower," Beomgyu spits.

Minho's eyes turn dark, jaw clenching. He's holding back hurtful comments, just barely. After another moment of tense staring, Minho breaks eye contact and leads the girl- his ex- back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he helps her with her own when her hands prove to be too shaky to tie the laces. When he leaves the room is completely silent, Beomgyu taking a seat next to Hyunjin on the couch and Han walking away down the hall, the sound of a door slamming following his departure.

-

notes -> maybe we were quick to judge his ex...? maybe.......?

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