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stevesgother · 4 months ago

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Chalkboard Hearts - S.H

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, so much fluff, teacher!steve and mom!reader. No descriptions are given of reader or abbey, other than that abbey has curly hair, steve and reader are the same age (about 24-25), set early-mid 90's

AN - i don’t write for kids often so i hope this reads well and is realistic. i don’t have a clear end for this series in mind, so i’m gonna keep writing it for as long as y’all want it :) feel free to send requests for blurbs for this AU if you so wish and as always, thank you - emma

“Moooooom,”

You hear a tiny voice whisper in your ear. Most mornings started this way, if not all of them. Whoever said getting children out of bed in the morning was difficult had clearly never met Abbey. Every day you peeled your tired eyes open to see the miniature version of them staring back at you, the only difference being they were much wider, and lacking the distinct fog of leftover sleep.

Today her hair was sticking up in all different directions; frizzy curls here and tangled knots there. Your daughter takes after you in many ways, one being that she’s an active sleeper and it shows when she wakes up. Her bed was always disheveled; embroidered blankets strewn across her bedroom floor and little red lines indented in her cheeks where they had been smushed against her pillow.

“Mornin’ Ab,” you say, voice gravelly with disuse. “Have you made your bed yet?” you eye her suspiciously.

You know she hasn’t and she confirms as much when she spins on her heel and dashes for her room down the hall. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less if her bed was made or not, it was merely a guise to buy you a few extra minutes of peace and quiet each morning.

︵୨୧︵

When she doesn’t reappear, you assume she’s gotten distracted and decide to make your way downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. You never ate breakfast before you had Abbey; either for lack of time or because the smell of food so early in the morning made you nauseous. Eating three meals a day was just one bullet point on the long, running list of changes in your routine since becoming a mother.

Two bowls of Frosted Flakes were set out on the table after deciding there was no time for anything more nutritious.

“Abbey!” You call, “Breakfast!”

You hear the sounds of sniffling and small feet padding on hardwood as she enters the kitchen– pouting. You try not to gape at the utter monstrosity of an outfit she's put on. She whines, “I don’t know what I want to wear!”

You sense a meltdown coming already, on today of all days. Pre-school was easy, as Abbey was a fairly agreeable kid. Or at least she used to be. Lately it felt like you had to battle her about anything and everything.

“You look so beautiful, Ab!” you reassure her, attempting to deescalate the impending tantrum. She has on pink corduroy pants and a frilly forest green blouse. For accessories she’s sporting a chunky plastic necklace that definitely came with a dress-up kit, along with a tutu. You have no idea where the tutu came from.

Eventually she decides not to fight you, at least not on her outfit. However, as she climbs into the kitchen chair, she scowls down at the soggy cereal in front of her and asks in the most darling tone she can muster,

“Can I have Scooby fruit snacks instead?”

“How about I pack some in your lunchbox today and you can eat them at snack time?” you try to barter.

Sneaking a glance at the clock, it mocks you with its unforgiving hands– you’re going to be late and your daughter will have skipped supposedly the most important meal of the day. Some mother you are.

“But I want them right now!” Her petite fists bang against the wooden table and she’s a heap of dramatics wriggling in her chair.

“Hey, what did we talk about? Yelling is not nice, even when we’re frustrated. Right?” She acknowledges you with a teary nod along with more crying and petulant moaning that can be heard as you run to the bathroom and grab a hairbrush with two bows. When you return, she’s still moping over her breakfast, but taking bites nonetheless. A win is a win.

You begin detangling the mess of knots and snarls at the back of her head. “Ouch, Mommy!” she cries when you try to comb through a particularly tangled section.

You place one of your hands over the crown of her head like a claw in a poor attempt at keeping her from squirming, “The more you move the longer it takes, sweetheart,”

“Hmph.” she pouts, folding her arms over her chest. When all is said and done, your daughter has her hair parted and tied into two high pigtails, secured with little pink bows, and you’re rushing her out of the front door with haste.

︵୨୧︵

In all the hubbub, you realize you’ve barely gotten yourself ready. Reaching over to buckle Abbey into her carseat, she asks,

“When can I sit up front with you?”

“When you’re this many,” You hold out both your hands to display all ten fingers.

She mimics you with her own smaller fingers, “Ten?”

“That’s right!” You smack a kiss on the crown of her head as you pull back, she smells like her strawberry scented shampoo.

“Watch your feetsies,” you warn and she tucks her legs unnecessarily far into her chest as you close the door.

The ride is filled with the usual nonsensical ramblings of a five-year-old. She beams back at you through the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling and nodding fervently when you ask if she’s excited to make some new friends today. Your social butterfly, the complete antithesis of you.

The elementary school is only a few miles from your home, and before you know it you’re circling a crowded parking lot and preparing to drop your only child off for her first day of kindergarten. The rush of emotions you feel are indecipherable, something like a mix of somberness, excitement, relief, and anxiety.

As you walk towards the front of the building, you’re surrounded by dozens of kids aged five through twelve greeting their teachers and saying ‘Hello’ to friends they haven’t seen all summer. The teachers are holding laminated signs that indicate their name and what grade they teach; thank God for that. Abbey’s little fist squeezes around your index finger and you can tell she’s becoming nervous, despite her previous unbridled anticipation.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You assure, “Look, I think that’s your teacher right there,” you point towards a tall, brunette man standing near the double doors.

A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips when she sees the teacher in question. He’s dressed in a striped button-down shirt and khakis, with a lanyard dangling from his front pocket; the typical teacher attire.The sign he’s holding reads, ‘Mr. Harrington’ and just below that, ‘Kindergarten’ with a little cartoon apple printed next to his name. He looks young compared to the rest of the staff, closer to your own age. This must be his first year teaching.

As you approach him, Abbey treks in front, eager to meet him. Her backpack is adorned with sparkly butterflies and it covers nearly her entire torso; bumping the backs of her knees with every step she takes.

The man crouches down to her level and greets her, “Hey there,” he offers a warm smile, “what’s your name?”

“Abbey,” she says timidly, twiddling her fingers and flashing a toothy grin at him. She doesn’t bother with her last name, honestly you’re not positive that she even knows it.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Abbey,” he holds a gentle hand out for her to shake and she does so hesitantly, “My name’s Mr. Harrington, and I’m going to be your teacher this year. How does that sound?” The way he’s so patient and attentive with her stirs something within you that you haven’t felt in years, but he’s a teacher, for goodness sake. He looks up then, locking eyes with you and rising back to his full height.

This time, it’s your turn to shake his hand. “I’m Steve.” He flashes you a smile directly out of a Colgate ad and you hope you’re not blushing as much as you feel like you are.

You must look nervous because he immediately assures you that Abbey’s in good hands this year. “We’re having an open house tonight, I hope to see you both there,”

You glance at your daughter, “What’d you think, Ab? That sound fun?”

“Yes!” She squeals and almost falls over from the weight of her backpack.

“Okay then,” With that, you crouch down to give Abbey one final hug. It’s clear that she’s itching to go socialize with the other kids, so you try not to delay her with your sappiness.

“Be good today, okay?” you give her a tight squeeze and a smacking kiss on her little cheek, “I’ll be back to get you at two-forty-five.”

“What will the clock say?” She asks inquisitively. Her favorite question.

“It’ll say ‘two-four-five’,” She nods in understanding, “But I bet you’ll be having so much fun that you won’t even remember to look.”

She’s already on her way to the door when she calls, “Love you, mommy!” and blows you a kiss with her lips puckered. You blow her one back and fight the tears threatening to surface. When did she get so big?

A pang of insecurity settles in your chest when you chance a look around and see all the children accompanied by two parents. You begin the walk back to your sedan before the thought has a chance to fester.

︵୨୧︵

Six hours goes by alarmingly fast when it’s spent running around your house in a frenzy, trying to catch up on all the cleaning you aren’t able to do when there’s a rampant five-year-old on the loose, making a brand new mess where you just cleaned an old one.

Before you can even register the time has passed, it's two o’clock and you need to pick Abbey up in a mere forty five minutes. Looking around your house, you feel satisfied with the progress you were able to make on tidying and call it a day.

This time, you decide to try and appear more presentable before visiting the school, and firmly remind yourself that it has nothing to do with how flustered your daughter’s kindergarten teacher makes you. By the time you’re dressed and have pulled your hair up into a halfway decent top knot; it’s time to go.

︵୨୧︵

The line for pickup wraps around the front of the building, aided by crossing guards and supervised by a few teachers. Twenty minutes into waiting, you regret not having gotten here a little sooner. ‘Tomorrow’ you think. Soon, you catch sight of two little pigtails bobbing up and down as your Abbey skips over to you, grinning ear to ear while Steve watches from the doors she just exited.

“Mommy!” she shouts as she bounds towards you. You place the car in park and run around to greet her.

“Hi, Bug!” you exclaim as you bend at the waist to pick her up. She gives you a tight squeeze around the neck, and you catch a split second of Steve’s gaze over her shoulder before he’s disappearing back inside the school

Plopping her as gently as possible into her carseat and fastening the straps over her chest, her mouth is already moving a mile a minute– absolutely ecstatic to tell you all about the activities she got up to while you were gone.

“What is ‘open house’ ?” she asks, kicking her feet like she can’t possibly contain all the excitement inside her little body.

“It’s just a chance for all the mommies and daddies to meet your teachers,” you explain, “And you get to show me around your new school, fun right?”

Her face lights up like a christmas tree at the prospect, “Are we gonna go?!”

“Yes, but first we have to eat dinner. What sounds good?”

Without missing a beat, she yells a little too loudly, “McDonalds!”

You want to say yes, of course you do, but your shifts at the ER barely cover the minimum of your living expenses. Your resolve begins to crumble, however, when she looks at you with those saucer-round eyes, and her bottom lip juts out in the most precious pout. Who knew she could be so harmlessly manipulative?

“I don’t know, Ab. I think we have some chicken nuggets in the freezer at home, though,” you say, with an air of hopefulness that she might accept the compromise.

“Not the same,” she whines, “Please, Mommy! I’ll be extra extra good please–”

And with that, it’s over.

“Okay! Okay, fine,” you feign annoyance through a smile, “We’ll stop on the way home,”

You can still hear her squeals of excitement when you close the door and walk around to the driver's seat.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey dresses a little more cohesively for the open house than she did this morning. This time she’s clad in a thrifted pair of overalls overtop a little purple blouse. She leads you, hand in hand, inside the school like she knows exactly where she’s going– despite only having spent six hours here.

Steve’s classroom looks exactly how you’d expect. The walls are a light, mint green and it’s as if a character from Sesame Street threw up all over it. Abbey leads you to a reading nook in the corner of the room, surrounded by books and complete with several bean bag chairs, and proclaims this is her favorite spot. She shows you where her desk is– right in the very front of the classroom– and on it, a laminated sticker with her first and last name sits neatly near the top. The walls are lined with colorful letters in alphabetical order, accompanied with numbers just underneath them.

“Abbey!” you hear a familiar voice call, “I’m glad you and your mom could make it!” turning to you then, “I’m actually not sure I ever caught your name,” he chuckles awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he doesn’t know it yet.

“Oh, it’s–” and before you get the chance to tell him, Abbey pipes up and tells him your first and last name with a confidence that she certainly didn’t have when it came to her own introduction this morning. You’re relieved that she feels so comfortable around him already.

He repeats your name back to you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you,” You pay no mind to the way your heart beats a little faster in its cage at the sound of your name on his lips. His palm is surprisingly soft when you grasp it in your own.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you grant him a polite smile, “Abbey could not stop talking about you on the way home,” you pinch her side, teasing, and she giggles in that contagious way that kids do.

“Is that so?” he feigns surprise when he looks at her.

“Nooo!” her giggles amplify as she becomes increasingly bashful.

He crouches down to meet her at eye-level, exactly like he did this morning, “Well, that’s a shame, because I think you might be one of my favorite students,”

Now, she’s a heap of laughter and has a blush spreading from the apple of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. You can’t help but feel enamored by how great he is with children, silently wondering if he comes from a big family, or if he has a child of his own.

“Did you introduce your mom to Nibbles?” he asks her when her laughing mostly subsides.

She gasps like she can’t believe she would’ve forgotten such a thing, then she hauls you by the arm over to a tiny cage on a table, presumably for an even tinier animal.

“Mommy, look! This is Nibbles,” She’s peering between the metal bars of the enclosure and encouraging you to do the same, when you lean in closer you see a small, tan gerbil sleeping in a little nest of bedding.

“He’s our friend and he helps us learn, so we have to be very careful with him,” she tells you with a sudden seriousness that's amusing to see displayed on such a young face. It’s obvious she’s parroting Steve.

You turn to see Steve observing from a few feet behind you, both hands shoved in his pockets, “I didn’t think teachers actually had class pets,” you breathe a huff of laughter.

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles with you, “I brought him from home, actually. Figured he could use some socialization. With dozens of children.” he informs you sarcastically. God, he’s funny too.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be a hamster guy,” you tease.

“He’s a gerbil, first of all,”

“Right, sorry, my bad,” you smirk.

“No time for a dog, I guess,” he shrugs, “thought I could use the company,” he’s clearly still bantering, but there’s an underlying melancholy in his tone that you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it for longer than a second, an impatient five-year-old is tugging on your arm and begging to show you the library.

“Okay, alright,” you laugh, “better get to it, the library awaits,” you shoot him an apologetic look for having cut the conversation short. You feel less guilty, however, when you see more parents and children start to funnel into the classroom, busying him in yours and Abbey’s absence.

“See ya, “ he waves.

“Bye, Mr. Harrington!” Abbey yells, already halfway down the hall.

︵୨୧︵

In the library you have to shush Abbey several times, much to her dismay.

“We use our inside voices in the library, Ab,” you remind her for the fifth time. She frowns but it’s temporary when she spots her favorite section: the picture books. Abbey is ahead of a kindergarten reading level now, and it's one of her favorite hobbies, but you can still never go wrong with a good picture book.

You’re about to follow her when you hear someone call your name.

You turn, “Stephanie?” you ask, puzzled.

“Oh my gosh! It’s been forever!” an old friend from your shared high school, Stephanie, pulls you into an unreciprocated bear hug. Squeezing and swaying back and forth for an awkward amount of time.

“Hey,” you draw out the last syllable and try to paint your voice with a nostalgic excitement, “How have you been?” you ask, even though you’re sure you’d rather be shot than continue this conversation.

You don’t know if you could really call Stephanie a ‘friend’, or if you ever could. The only reason she even knew your name being the shared, piranha-esq social circle you both ran in years ago. She reminded you of your past– who you used to be– someone who you’re not particularly proud of.

“Oh, I've been just fine!” She gestures wildly with manicured nails. Her lips are overlined and her hair is still damaged from bleaching and too many perms. Evidently, not a lot has changed. You ponder if she’s still the mean girl she always was underneath all that makeup, or if at some point in your adolescence she decided to mature.

“Todd and I just bought a house over on Maplewood, are you familiar?”

“Oh, no, not really– my daughter and I live across town,” You don’t like how ashamed you feel, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful over there, though,” you attempt to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That was your daughter?” She’s trying not to sound taken aback and failing, “With–?”

“Yes,” Your teeth grit ever so slightly. You hate that she won’t say his name, as if speaking it into existence would somehow break you. Like you’re fragile.

“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened, Hon,” Her sudden sympathetic tone irritates you, whether it’s genuine or not. You don’t need pity, especially not from Stephanie Nettles.

“It’s okay, Steph, really,” losing patience by the second, nothing about it was okay. “It was a long time ago, Abbey and I are doing fine,” you assure her.

“Oh,” she fawns as she presses her bony hands against her chest above her heart, “Can I meet her? Would you mind?" Her tone is saccharine sweet. You figure it can’t hurt, but when you turn around to retrieve Abbey, she’s not where you left her. The spot on the rug that she was previously occupying is empty and her book is abandoned on the floor.

“Abbey?!” Calling a little too loudly for the setting you’re in but you can’t bring yourself to care. You search row after row, it’s not a big library, and after every shelf you’re expecting her to be there– browsing novels and you’ll feel silly for overreacting.

But that doesn’t happen, and you realize with mild panic that she definitely left the library; somehow without you noticing. You suppose this is the safest place for her to go missing, but the thought doesn’t soothe you for long as you still have no idea where your daughter could be.

Stephanie is staring at you with concern, but still making no effort to help you locate Abbey. You don’t speak and neither does she as you rush out of the room and begin to pace the halls, still calling out for her. You check the bathrooms by the gym, a couple of empty classrooms that aren’t locked– she’s not there either.

When you’ve checked every available room and potential hiding spot in the near vicinity and still see no trace of her, that’s when the real dread sets in. What if she’d wandered outside and been taken? Or worse, there had been an accident and she’s hurt? She could be miles from here by now, she could be–

“I think this might belong to you,” a mellow voice rings out.

Steve and Abbey walk leisurely towards you, hand in hand. A complete contrast to the frazzled mess of anxiety you are right now. You hurl yourself in their direction and wrap Abbey up in a hug, lifting her off her feet.

“Oh my God, Abbey,” normally you’d be fuming at her for wandering off like that when you know that she knows better, but you can’t feel anything other than relief in the moment.

“Found her on the swings,” Steve continues, “Isn’t that right?”

Your relief does eventually morph to frustration, “You know better, Abbey Jane. Don’t stray off like that again. Do you understand?”

She succumbs to her guilt and you can tell her short-lived freedom has lost its novelty. “I’m sorry, mommy,” her little eyes well with tears. “The other kids were going to the swings, I wanted to go,” she pouts.

“We could’ve gone, baby, but you have to ask first, okay?”

Her meek response is muffled in the crook of your neck, “Okay,”

She’s still sniffling into your shoulder when you remember Steve is there, and your surroundings come back into focus.

“Thank you for finding her, Steve–”

“--His name is Mr. Harrington, mom,” she corrects like she can’t believe you’d embarrass her like that by calling her teacher the wrong name.

“--Mr. Harrington,” you stifle a laugh for your daughter's sake, sending him a knowing look.

He returns the expression, “Anytime,” he smiles, sweet . “Think that's enough scaring your mom for today, huh?”

Instead of acknowledging with words, she simply nods her head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

“I think someones getting sleepy, might be time to head home,” you drag a gentle hand down her back soothingly.

“Will you carry me?” she asks too adorably to say no, despite her being ever-so-slightly too big for it. Grunting as you pick her up, you say, “Thanks, again,”

“No need,” he ruffles Abbey’s head lightly as you pass, “See you tomorrow, right?”

“See you,” her eyelids are heavy already. You make your way back to the car slowly but surely, arms growing more numb with every step.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey manages to bargain a bath out of you and four books before bedtime instead of the usual two. How you ever say no to her, you’re not sure. By the time you finally tuck her in, it's well past nine o’clock.

“Did you have a good day today?” You ask as you bend down to kiss her forehead.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington is my favorite teacher,” she proclaims drowsily.

“He’s your only teacher, Ab,” You snicker.

“But he’s still my favorite,” she replies in the same cadence one would say ‘Duh’.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to go to sleep super fast tonight so you can see him sooner, right?”

You can practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head like she’s just had a groundbreaking revelation and nods fervently. You tuck her in tight on both sides, and give her a kiss on each of her cheeks and once more to her forehead for good measure.

“Love you, Abbey girl,” you tell her on your way out, “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, mommy,” she says wearily from underneath her princess bedsheets.

The door closes with a soft click and you make your way to the living room. You never had the chance to ask Stephanie what she was doing at the school– from what you knew, she didn’t have any children. Perhaps she was a teacher. It didn’t matter as long as you didn’t have to interact with her again.

As you lounged on your old sectional, you couldn't help your mind wandering back to thoughts of Steve. You wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, what made him want to work with kids, why he needed a gerbil to keep him company. Distantly, you imagined what he was like outside of an elementary school setting. You hoped one day you’d find out.

He was Abbey’s teacher, sure, but what was the harm in a little crush?

taglist - @soulxiez

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

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saturngalore · 7 months ago

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presenting...the Lady Tigra Collection - a collaboration between me & @sims4bradshaw 🐅

this collection is a homage to black hoochie culture and freaknik aesthetics of the 1990s/early 2000s. it was like a dream come true to finally make a maxis match version of such iconic hairs like the one worn by natalie desselle-reid’s character in the iconic movie, B.A.P.S. (1997). in-depth details are below and i hope y’all like what we made! <3

pls download @sims4bradshaw’s side here!

download my side via simsfileshare (sfs) or patreon - ALWAYS FREE

for this collection, i created 3 updos and a nail set: swing my way, freak like me, natalie baps, and my boo nails. the swing my way updo is a simple updo with a curly bun atop of the head and single curl framing the face while the freak like me updo is a longer version but with hair down the back. the natalie baps updo consists of double curly buns with a curly strand underneath each bun. the my boo nails are a 90s-inspired french tip nail set with 11 swatches for 4 different skin color options. the leopard print swatches were designed by sims4bradshaw while i did the rest. it’s my first time making nails so pls keep that mind as the quality is especially low in game when viewing them up close. sorry!

base game compatible (bgc)

maxis palette (24 swatches)

46 swatches for the my boo nail set

teen-elder

fem frame (enabled for both)

not hat compatible (some accessories can fit!)

ear and back clipping might occur especially with the freak like me updo!

custom thumbnails

disallowed for random

all lods

please tag me if you do use my cc! i would absolutely love to see it! also, please let me know if you encounter any issues with my cc! here’s my tou.

tysm to cc rebloggers! @public-ccfinds @sssvitlanz

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earlysunshines · 10 months ago

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asap baby

kim minji x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: hanni and danielle spent months getting you and minji together only to find out you haven't kissed once

warnings: sixth member reader ; they makeout i GUESS muahaha very small tho very short ; if you have a sweet tooth you'll love this one I hope ; loser gf minji I fear (my type) ; not proofread

a/n: LOSER GF!!! muahahahaha also i wrote this in one sitting what

not many things make kim minji weak in the knees, she’s very good at keeping her composure. however, as soon as you were put into her life, all of that was thrown out the window.

you’ve been minji’s member for over a year. you’ve also been dating kim minji, the prettiest most gorgeous girl you’ve ever met for nearly two months now–all thanks to hanni and danielle, your other fellow members.

as happy as they were to get you two together, it was almost dreadful to witness the two of you together. it wasn’t necessarily awkward, but time alone with minji was limited, and you two were stupidly shy and giddy when the girls were around you. the two of you still act like how you did while you were crushing on each other – before the confession – and it’s not entertaining.

you’re much more outgoing and open about your feelings, however, but you’re willing to be patient for minj–even if that means her taking forever to initiate things and show you just how in love she is other than using acts of service and gift giving.

it isn’t until hanni and danielle bug you to death on your whole relationship, itching for more out of the two of you.

–

hanni and danielle sit in front of you, petrified.

“you’re telling me, the most you’ve done is held hands with her and kiss her on the cheek?” danielle gasps, her brows creasing.

you shake your head, blushing. “okay, well, i’ve kissed her hand and forehead too–”

“bro, you haven’t kissed her? you’ve been dating for like, almost two months are you fucking kidding me?”

putting up your hands in defense, you begin, “hey! she’s… shy… i think about kissing her and shit like that all the time but… i just… you know.”

“oh y/n, you haven’t even tried to initiate it? i know her, she definitely wants to kiss you too.”

“well,” you start, crossing your arms. “kissing isn’t the most important part of a relationship. she makes sure i’m healthy and we sleep in the same bed and i like her and care for her and–”

“well yeah you’re right but we didn’t spend five months listening and watching you two drool over each other just for you to end up together and act like an awkward couple in the 90s!”

“hey! we’re not! stop that!” you roll your eyes, then flop onto your bed from where you sit. picking up your phone, you gaze at the picture of your girlfriend on your screen. “i just– we kind of agreed to take it slow.”

“take it slow my ass man.”

“well, everytime i’ve tried to initiate things more… you know, couple like… we always get interrupted! i mean i’ve tried to kiss her but i swear hyein and haerin have some superpower that lets them know when one of us tries to and they end up walking in and ugh!”

you weren’t lying, really. most attempts at trying to be affectionate and bolder were often interrupted.

after two weeks of going out with minji, spending nights together and cuddling as you talked about who knows what, you finally had the chance to be home alone. with everyone's schedules piled up, this rare moment of solitude was perfect.

minji had her arm around you as you both watched a movie, deciding to spend your last hour together curled up beside each other. your thumb gently grazed her hand repeatedly, making her smile and lean her head into you a bit more. it was calming, just being there beside her. the warmth of her presence was comforting, filling you with a sense of peace.

halfway into the movie, you turn to kiss her jawline. she tilts her head slightly, allowing you better access, her smile widening. the simple act feels intimate and precious, a quiet affirmation of the more romantic bond that took months of (mostly danielle and hanni’s) work to happen.

her skin is warm and soft against your lips, sending a flutter through your chest. you savor the moment, wishing it could last forever.

“that tickles, you know.”

“mm, but you’re so cute.”

“you’re so corny,” she says, blushing. she looks at you more closely, tilting her head. “is that my t-shirt?”

“too early to do that?”

minji shakes her head. “nah, you look cute.”

her lips turn up in a smile, and you mirror her. “now look who’s corny.”

“oh, shut up, you’re literally blushing.”

“that’s only because the girl in front of me looks so good right now.” you gently push her glasses up so they sit on the crown of her head. the movie in the background dissolves into white noise, and minji’s breath hitches. your eyes dart down to her lips, making you subtly bite the inside of your own. “so good, kim minji.”

she leans in closer, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours. the moment feels suspended in time, the anticipation building. you can see the sparkle in her eyes, feel the rapid beating of her heart through the closeness of your bodies. everything about her draws you in, making you smirk as your head tilts.

just as your lips are about to touch, you hear the door swing open and a pair of voices fill the air. you and minji quickly part, hearts racing. minji chokes on nothing, coughing as hyein walks into the living room and plops down on the couch between the two of you.

"hey, what's up?" hyein asks, oblivious to the moment she just interrupted. “what movie? no way you’re watching the mario movie without me!”

you exchange a quick, knowing glance with minji, both of you struggling to suppress smiles and calm your racing hearts.

“sorry…” you mumble, turning to hyein and giving her an apologetic smile. “you’ve already watched this movie like three times!”

“still! i can’t believe you left me out…”

minji scoffs playfully, smiling at the two of you. she raises her brows at the youngest member. “you literally had a shoot, it’s not like we can facetime you in the middle of it.”

if that were even possible, hyein would’ve had to witness everything that had happened before. you and minji preferred things to be less… out there. besides, hyein didn’t even know the two of you were more than just members that had gotten super close.

“hey, let’s watch it the next time we’re both free then!” you offer.

“yes for sure! anyway, i’m going to go change”

hyein walks off, leaving you and minji a space away from each other. minji stands up and puts her hand out, you grab it with a teasing smile. your girlfriend rolls her eyes at you and starts to lead you to the room you two share.

the two of you don’t really speak on the incident.

–

it takes a bit of time, a few weeks after the first incident to be exact, before you get the confidence to try again.

the rest of the members and your performance manager have gathered outside to recharge and grab water, leaving the two of you alone. minji sits next to you on the floor of the practice room against the mirror, both of you sweaty from practice.

minji is on her phone, her breath still a bit heavy from the past thirty minutes of repeating and repeating several moves until they were perfect. your eyes soften at the sight of her, knowing how hard-working and passionate she is about being an idol. she's been your main motivation ever since you both were trainees, and the way she caught your eye was also a factor.

you admire her dedication, the way she pours her heart into every dance move and every note she sings. the sweat on her forehead and the tired yet determined look in her eyes only make her more endearing to you. the room is quiet except for your breathing, the air thick with the lingering energy of your intense practice.

gathering your courage, you inch a little closer to her. your heart races, but the desire to share a tender moment with her pushes you forward. you reach out and push away some of the hair framing her face, which makes her turn over to look at you. her eyes smile before her lips do, making you fold.

“tired?” you ask.

“very.” minji admits, putting her phone down and giving you all of her attention. “you’re sweating a lot, you must be too?”

“it’s whatever.” you sigh, leaning against the mirror. you stare at your girlfriend, her eyes drill right back into yours before a smirk plays on her lips.

“you like what you see?”

“my sweaty girlfriend?” you chuckle and push her arm, then bite your lip not-so-subtly. “for sure.”

minji smiles, gums showing a bit. she places her hand on your knee, letting her fingers run up and down your skin. “you’re a tease.”

“kim minji, you look so kissable right now.” the words flow out of your mouth, pausing minji in her place.

she clenches her jaw before scooting closer to you, her hand moving from your knee to your arm and under the short sleeve covering your bicep. her touch is warm, sending a shiver up your spine.

without saying a word, she leans in, her eyes locking onto yours. the moment hangs in the air, charged with anticipation.

“yeah? what are you going to do about it l/n y/n?”

you scoff lightheartedly before leaning closer, time seems to slow down as you move your hand to caress her jawline softly. “wouldn’t you like to know.” you whisper just centimeters away from her lips.

both of your eyes close and just as you begin to close the distance, a group of girls bursts into the room.

you and minji part suddenly, pushing each other away as your cheeks turn crimson. the interruption is jarring, and you can feel the heat rising to your face, matching the flush on minji’s cheeks. the lively chatter and laughter of the group fill the room, making it impossible to continue the moment. you exchange a quick, embarrassed glance with minji, both of you silently lamenting the lost opportunity.

haerin stares at the two of you on the floor as if a meteor had just landed between you, causing both of you to jump apart. there’s now three feet of awkward space between the two of you, and haerin simply tilts her head.

“minji, y/n, you didn’t get water?” haerin asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“not... um, thirsty,” you manage to say, feeling the heat of embarrassment still lingering. minji nods in agreement, her gaze darting away briefly.

haerin’s expression remains unreadable as she continues to observe the two of you, her silence adding to the awkwardness that hangs in the air.

your girlfriend jumps up with energy, clapping her hands and beaming, “alright! let’s continue!” which makes you chuckle. minji looks back at you and you mouth, good save, before sticking your tongue out at her.

–

“i told you we almost kissed! we just... every time i want to and we get close, it gets ruined.”

danielle frowns sympathetically, feeling bad after hearing your frustration. hanni shakes her head, then crosses her arms and nudges danielle closer to her.

“dude, just kiss her,” hanni sighs, then turns to danielle, who looks utterly confused. “like this.”

“woah, wait–”

hanni smiles mischievously at you, then fixes danielle with a serious gaze. “just put your hand on her shoulder like this—” she squeezes danielle's deltoid, making her gasp in surprise. “—then look her in the eye.” they lock eyes, and danielle can’t help but smirk at the absurdity of the situation, struggling to keep a straight face. you chuckle, thoroughly amused by their impromptu demonstration.

“then say whatever lovey-dovey shit and lean in, mmm~” hanni hums playfully, puckering her lips for effect.

danielle smirks back, leaning in slightly and catching hanni off guard. hanni jumps back dramatically, looking at danielle with mock horror as danielle bursts into laughter. you join in, unable to contain your amusement at the whole scene unfolding before you.

“oh, come on, hanni pham~ we have to give her a demonstration!”

“gross!” hanni sticks her tongue out at dani, who’s laughing louder now. “i didn’t think you’d actually play along!”

“don’t be shy!”

“i hate you.”

you smile at the two, rolling your eyes playfully before leaning back and hugging your pillow again.

the thought of minji, right before she’s about to kiss you, fills your mind with warmth. memories of those moments flash before you, making you smile. her lips look soft, and you've imagined how they would feel against yours countless times. they must be heaven, and you can't wait to experience it for real. you don’t want this to just be a daydream you have everyday anymore.

kissing minji is something special, something that has to be perfect. you want it to be a moment you both cherish, not hurried or awkward like hanni's demonstration. you want to approach her with tenderness and sincerity, making sure every detail is just right. it's a moment you've been waiting for, and you want to make it unforgettable for both of you.

“ugh, this is so frustrating.” you sigh, collapsing onto hanni’s thigh.”

danielle thinks to herself, then lights up. “wait, you’ve always been the one to start it, right?”

“i guess?”

“just find a way for minji to do it instead then.”

“and how will i do that?”

"just use your ways, i don't want to think about how i'd get minji to kiss me. that's gross…" hanni interjects, prompting you to push her head lightly.

"okay, minji is not gross, and she’s my lovely girlfriend that i want to kiss very much, thank you." you defend minji with a playful smile, while hanni pretends to gag, earning chuckles from you and danielle.

you start to ponder danielle’s suggestion seriously. how could you make a move on minji? she’s confident on camera when it comes to variety shows, livestreams, or anything of that sort, even playing along with fangirls’ comments. but she’s completely different when it comes to you, her girlfriend, and always reserved when it comes to initiating intimacy. she's comfortable with cuddles and the occasional kiss on the cheek, but you want more.

as you think about it, a plan starts to form in your mind. you recall how she responds to your touch, the way her eyes soften when you compliment her, and how she leans into your affection–but this is all behind closed doors

every nuance of minji's personality and her vulnerabilities flood your mind, and they all seem to revolve around your relationship. you muse over the idea of teasing her playfully to elicit a more spontaneous reaction—like kissing you.

as you think about the dynamics between you, a plan starts to take shape in your mind.

–

the notification on your phone alerts you that minji is live, and since you're done with everything you need to do and nearby, you might as well surprise her.

you stare at the screen for a moment, admiring your girlfriend. she's wearing the leather jacket you bought her before you started dating, a white t-shirt underneath, a cap perched on her head, and the glasses that always make her look even cuter.

"ugh, you're going to be the death of me," you mutter quietly to yourself as you gaze at her image. gathering your courage, you knock on the door to the room she's in. you watch as she jumps in her seat, clearly startled by the sudden interruption.

"hello? who is it?" minji calls out, her voice tinged with curiosity. "hanni, is that you?"

you chuckle softly, turning off your phone and deciding to play along. slowly, you open the door just a crack, peering in with only the top half of your head visible. minji's eyes widen in surprise, and a bright smile instantly lights up her face, showing her gums and top teeth.

“y/n!” minji rolls her chair to the door and opens it fully, grabbing your hand as you step inside. “what are you doing here?”

“i got a notification from phoning and wanted to see you.” you grin, knowing her cheeks are warming up since the live is still going. “i have squid crackers.”

minji pulls a chair beside the two of you and pats it down so you can sit. “yum, let’s eat!”

“okay, okay.”

the live continues on with the two of you bickering over small things, arguing over vegetables and you trying to convince her that they won’t kill her. the comments roll quickly, something tells you that most of the live will be clipped and shared online, not that you mind.

nearing the end of the livestream, you and minji sit close together, your arms brushing against each other as you read through the comments. the phone sits on the desk in front of you, capturing your interactions with your fans.

underneath the desk, where the phone is positioned, minji taps your knee. you subtly glance down and see her hand open, silently motioning for you to hold it. a smile spreads across your face as you turn towards her, interlocking your fingers with hers. you exchange a brief, affectionate look before turning back to the camera, continuing to hold hands as you engage with the comments and wrap up the livestream.

you move your head closer to the screen to glimpse at a few comments, most of them complimenting minji with her glasses on and tousled hair. your lips turn up and you agree, “yeah, the comments are right.”

“what do they say?”

“that you look…” you read a certain comment that makes your nose scrunch as you laugh. “they're saying you look… scrumptious?”

minji chuckles, shaking her head. “strange.”

you lean back in your chair and keep your eyes focused on minji, the whole time as she reads through more comments, eyeing her like a meal. yeah, the comments have a point.

your girlfriend tries to maintain composure as she notices you eyeing her up and down, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek in a playful manner. she turns to meet your gaze, and all you do is smirk at her, glancing down at her lips for a fleeting moment before locking eyes with her again.

kim minji can stay sane for the cameras, she has to.

even when you look at her like that, and in her hoodie.

“minji please be my girlfriend…” minji reads out quietly, making you sit up and move to look at the screen yourself.

“absolutely not.” you retort, bringing minji in closer by the arm. “she’s off limits.”

minji looks at you, trying her absolute best to keep her cool and playing off her nerves with a laugh. “says who?”

“me.” you mumble, turning to face her.

the livestream captures the entire scene: you grinning mischievously at minji, playfully holding onto her arm, clearly enjoying teasing her. she visibly folds a bit internally, swallowing lightly as she glances over at the rapidly scrolling chat. sensing the attention, minji gently unlinks your arms and ruffles your hair, pushing your chair back with a playful eye-roll as a blush spreads across her cheeks.

"okay, that's enough from you, y/n," minji sighs, feigning exasperation but unable to hide her smile. she addresses the screen, her voice warm despite her playful annoyance. "bye bye everyone, stay safe and see you next time!" with that, she ends the livestream as fast as she can, placing the phone down on the table.

as the screen goes dark, you exchange a knowing look with minji, both of you aware of how bold you were.

minji pulls your chair toward her, stopping you in your place right when your faces are a hand’s length apart.

“what was that y/n?” she questions you, narrowing her eyes.

you giggle. “what do you mean?”

“you know what i– ugh, we’re going to be clipped and posted and–”

“and you’ll be watching over it all?”

minji gazes at you in disbelief, her breath catching slightly as she meets your gaze. you return her look, peering at her through lowered eyelashes, a subtle smile playing on your lips. the air between you two is thick with tension, the intensity of the moment palpable.

you begin to stand up, stretching your arms out as you make your way towards the door. however, before you can take another step, your wrist is gently but firmly pulled back. you turn around, surprised, to see minji still seated in her chair, her eyes fixed you, her pupils dilated.

her cap and glasses are taken off before she stands up and meets your level, her hand travels to your waist.

“was this on purpose?”

“what was?”

"don't make me work for it," minji warns softly, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. her eyes linger on yours for a moment before trailing down to your lips. you feel a rush of anticipation as you lick them, waiting eagerly to see what she’s planning to do next.

“someone is eager, huh?”

“shut up.” is the last thing minji says before her lips meet yours, finally.

her other hand is on the base of your neck, lightly adding pressure as she kisses you. her lips are as soft as they look, and they feel even better against your lips than anywhere else.

both of you pull away, then minji looks at you hesitantly. “is this okay?”

“fucking finally,” you sigh right before cupping both her cheeks and kissing her again.

minji's grip on you tightens, her touch indicating the need to hold onto you as the intensity of the moment deepens. the scent of peach and jasmine surrounds you, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. your lips feel like a wish that no genie could ever grant, so hazy and perfect in this moment. as you slide your hands into her hair, the moment feels surreal, as if you're both caught up in a beautiful dream.

she shifts the two of you over towards the small couch in the corner, settling you down and hovering over you. she catches you smiling at her as your thumbs rub her cheeks lightly.

“you’re so cute minji.”

“stop that.”

“are you flustered? aw look at you–” she cuts your teasing off with a kiss, both of you smiling into it. you want this to last forever, just you and minji together, kissing, her lips on yours, hand in your hair and the other trailing down your torso – just the two of you in the moment and nothing else.

your desire is rejected when you hear a squeal, making minji fumble and fall on top of you, her face meeting the base of your neck.

“minji? y/n? what–”

hyein.

your girlfriend gets up, crawling away from you, her face beet red and visibly flustered. she meets the youngest member with a complete lack of composure, while you sit up and watch everything unfold.

“w-why didn’t you knock?” minji scolds her, immediately looking away from hyein because she cannot look her in the eye after she had walked in on both of you.

“are you two together? how long has this been going on? oh my god… why did no one tell me?”

“hyein, listen.”

“i knew something was up.” she facepalms, then looks at you. “sleeping in the same room… being alone together so much– i just though you guys were really close until i caught minji kissing your hand.”

your eyes widen. “what? when?”

“you guys were in the kitchen together cooking and ugh it all adds up…”

minji looks at you and silently pleads for help, prompting you to get up and stand next to your lover. hyein looks at the two of you expectantly, raising her brows as you two shrink under her.

“can we please talk about this with everyone else? they can help sort this out.” you suggest, which only feeds the flame (lee hyein).

“everyone else but me knew this?” she says in shock, then pouts at the two of you. “c’mon! why did you keep the juiciest stuff away from me!”

“because! you’re young! and besides, haerin doesn’t know either.” you desperately try to defend yourself, but none of your words get through her head – or maybe they do and she’s too shaken up to process it.

you and minji look at each other, blushes taking over your faces like a tsunami.

a small breath leaves your lips; hyein had caught you making out with your girlfriend and now you both have to sit her down and give her a little talk as if you were two parents.

but at least you got to kiss your girlfriend after what had felt like forever, so maybe it was worth it in the end.

(plus, that look on minji’s face – yeah, maybe it was slightly worth it even if the kisses got cut short.)

#kim minji x reader #minji x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans minji #kpop x reader #new jeans x reader

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fairyysoup · 2 years ago

Text

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself.

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something.

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you.

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again.

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder.

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway.

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you.

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it.

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does.

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will.

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive.

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again.

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying.

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will.

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him.

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you.

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.”

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience.

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?”

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing.

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth.

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile.

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?”

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night.

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.”

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.”

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.”

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens.

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face.

Steve Harrington is touching your face.

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him.

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile.

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer.

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana.

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it.

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation.

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you.

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.”

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.”

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.”

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?”

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.”

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror.

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself.

You like it a lot.

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours.

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.”

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.”

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?”

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night.

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own.

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?”

“I wish.”

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return.

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted.

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?”

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?”

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away.

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly.

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!”

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?”

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.”

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him.

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.”

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy.

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count.

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.”

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section.

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.”

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals.

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly.

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking.

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers.

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst.

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.”

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack.

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop.

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices.

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant.

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.”

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.”

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York.

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt.

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.”

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?”

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.”

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps.

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date.

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away.

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me.

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel.

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying.

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite.

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones.

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time.

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things.

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve.

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box.

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him.

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box.

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms.

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check.

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day.

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes.

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind.

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you.

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now.

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours.

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco.

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building.

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him.

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?”

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open.

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you.

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.”

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice.

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.”

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?”

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you.

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.”

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out.

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?”

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor.

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open.

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you.

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit.

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom.

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders.

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?”

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours.

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do.

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started.

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning.

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips.

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind.

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline.

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him.

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?”

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?”

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows.

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose.

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?”

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork.

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #roses*

4K notes · View notes

2i1han · 1 month ago

Text

if time stood still, would you?

Rewind.

pairing: musician!taesan x fem!reader │ word count: 12k │ genre: oneshot, angst, romance, nostalgia

tags: 90's au , first love , bandmember!taesan , musicshopowner!taesan , boyfriend!taesan , college!reader , 90's grunge inspired

warnings: mention of accidents/injury , unrequited love , mention of loss/tragedy

synopsis : follows a story about youth, and the passage of time. on your every birthday, you watch an old tape—one you've held onto for decades. in it, a familiar voice from the past makes a promise that was never fulfilled. some things change, but some feelings never do.

playlist : everything/the black skirts , reality/richard sanderson , the last stop of our pain/hanroro , back to the old house/the smiths, no surprises/radiohead , all apologies/nirvana , drain you/nirvana , about you/the 1975 , shower/1968 , silence/sunwoojunga , sunsetz/cas , no.1 party anthem/arctic monkeys , this life/moon sung nam , dream/han hee jung , you&i/kim jong wan , space/the poles

"happy birthday, my beloved y/n."

taesan's voice crackled through the old television speakers, distorted by time yet still undoubtly his. the grainy vhs footage flickered, casting a dim, bluish glow across the room. there he was— forever twenty, wearing his classic nirvana shirt. his face was bright with the kind of smile that had once made your world feel infinite.

"i'm sorry i can't be there today. you know i love you, right?"

your fingers curled tightly around the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white as you tried to keep yourself steady. but it was useless. the warmth of his tender voice, familiar, and you yearn for, sent a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes.

"the first time i met you, it was as if my world pressed 'play' for the first time. before you, my life felt like a song stuck on pause—waiting, and unfinished. but then you came along, and suddenly, everything made sense. you are the music that turned my silence into something beautiful."

the screen flickered as the tape struggled to play smoothly, but you didn't need to hear the rest. you already knew every word, every pause, every soft breath he took between sentences.

"y/n, today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. and don't you worry, next time, we'll celebrate together. i promise it. we'll be together soon."

this message had been meant as a temporary goodbye—a placeholder for the promise that never came.

"i love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow, my dear darling, always."

han taesan. the only man you had ever loved. the only man you would ever love.

a sharp pain formed in your throat as you reached for the remote, pressing the power button with trembling fingers. the tv screen faded to black, leaving only your miserable reflection staring back at you.

a soft knock came from the door.

"come in," you called.

the door creaked open, and your niece, yujin, stepped inside, her gaze immediately landing on your pale face.

"you're crying," she said knowingly, her voice was gentle as she walked closer. "watching his clip again?"

you didn't answer, only swallowing back the lump in your throat as you wiped at your damp cheeks. careful taps, trying not to ruin the mascara you had applied earlier. you turned to the mirror, fixing the smudged edges of your makeup carefully—as if concealing your tears was something you had mastered over the years.

yujin sighed softly. "come on, the guests are waiting downstairs." she hesitated for a moment.

"happy 49th birthday, auntie."

you forced a small, tired smile and turned to her, pulling her into a gentle hug.

"let's go downstairs," you finally said.

as yujin walked ahead, you turned back toward the vhs player. your hands slightly trembled as you ejected the tape, the small cassette still warm from playing. you placed it carefully inside a worn-out box, the edges are frayed but you still refuse to let go of it.

with one last glance at the screen, you followed yujin out of the room.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

the laughter still lingered through the dining area, the hum of conversation echoed through the house. plates clinked in the kitchen, wine glasses half-empty on the white table. the warmth of candlelight flickered across the walls, reflecting orange hues over the framed photographs—pictures of years that passed too quickly.

"going out?" your sister asked as she cleared the plates, glancing at you from the kitchen.

you stood by the coat rack, adjusting the sleeves of your white coat. "yeah, gonna fetch some, uh... more wine from the store." you offered her a small smile, though it didn't reach your eye.

she didn't question it, she already knew.

your sister just gave you a nod, the same look she always did whenever you slipped away. making excuses while you go out.

you turned toward the door, exhaling as you stepped outside. the cold air brushed on your skin, opposite to the warmth of the house behind you. your feet moved instinctively, leading you to your car. but you weren't heading for the wine store. no, this was something else entirely.

a habit of yours from a wound that never healed.

the drive was short. five minutes away from home. a lifetime away from your past that you still keep on returning to.

as you pulled up by the sidewalk, your hands stayed on the steering wheel, looking at the music shop stood just outside, unchanged. a piece of memory frozen in time.

you then stepped out, clutching your coat around yourself as you made your way to the entrance.

the door was the same—beige paint slightly chipped, a large glass pane in the middle. the brass bell chimed softly as you pushed it open, and the scent of aged vinyl wrapped around the room, enveloped in nostalgia.

inside, are the same shelves, the same wooden counters, the same dim lighting that cast an old glow over rows of vinyl records. the walls were lined with faded posters—nirvana, oasis, the beatles. his personal favorites.

your fingers grazed the spines of the records, stopping at the one you always reached for— mtv unplugged, nirvana.

"the usual?"

a familiar voice came from beside you, the shopkeeper—now in his 50s— wore a smile.

you just looked for a moment, then nodded. "yeah... this one's a classic."

"you know, you could always buy it," he chuckled. "you've been a regular here since back then."

you exhaled softly. "no... i'm fine with listening to it here. every week, through that old player."

you nodded toward the turntable in the corner, the needle was worn but still working, still playing the soundtrack of your youth.

the shopkeeper didn't push. he never did. instead, he just gave you a nod before turning away.

and then, the bell chimed again.

a woman walked in, followed by two girls in their early twenties. their laughter filled the room—light, gentle, untouched by the weight of the past.

"hi, dad!" one of the girls beamed, holding up a paper bag. "we stopped by the store. figured we'd bring some snacks!"

the shopkeeper—their father, smiled as he walked toward them, his voice livelier, happier than you'd ever heard it before.

and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look. really look.

one of the girls had his eyes. the same deep gaze you had drowned in long ago. and the other had his smile. that comforting smile that once made your whole life felt complete.

you stood there, vinyl still clutched in your trembling hands, as you watched the scene in front of you. the way they laughed, the way they easily existed in a world you no longer belonged to— you once belonged to.

your vision blurred, but you didn't cry. not yet.

instead, you closed your eyes for a little moment, letting the nostalgia sink in.

and then, the memories rewound.

↺ rewind, to 1994

detention, again.

you sat slumped at your desk, one foot tucked up on the chair, the other tapping impatiently against the floor. the loose jogging pants you had sneakily worn under your school skirt bunched at your ankles, but at least they kept you warm in this freezing classroom.

the culprit behind your punishment?

blasting rock music through the entire school's p.a. system like some kind of teenage anarchist.

the sentence of your crime?

will not trespass in the p.a. room again. written over and over on a sheet of lined paper, front to back, no gaps, no mercy.

you sighed loudly—for the fifth time. maybe sixth. you had lost count.

your teacher, the one who was supposed to be watching over you? passed out at their desk, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.

then, you eyed the window, thinking of an escape plan. but, when you second looked towards it, ryujin's grinning face popped up out of nowhere.

"psst—hey!" she whispered through the glass. same mischievous smirk.

"what now?" you muttered, barely looking up as you kept scribbling.

"new arrivals at mr. han's shop." she wiggled her eyebrows, waving both hands to hurry you up.

your head snapped up. new arrivals?

that changed everything. your mild consideration of escaping turned into a fully thought-out plan in less than a second.

the only problem? you were on the second floor.

but, of course, ryujin had a plan—she always did. she clung to a pillar outside, balancing on a maintenance ladder that neither of you were supposed to have access to. the school had confiscated it multiple times, but ryujin, being the delinquent mastermind she was, had bribed some p.e. students into sneaking it out.

"hurry up, dude!" she hissed, motioning for you to move.

you glanced at your sleeping teacher one last time. and then, out the window you went.

the cold metal of the ladder chilled your palms as you climbed down, ryujin barely holding it steady. both of you hit the pavement without getting caught. bingo.

giddy with adrenaline, the two of you bolted for the front gate, ducking past groups of students as if you were fugitives on the run.

your destination? flannel culture. your sacred safe haven. the best record shop in town.

ryujin had barely finished telling you about the new vinyl arrivals before you were both sprinting down the street, nearly tripping over your own feet in your hurry to get there first. your neatly tied ponytail had come completely undone, strands of hair flying everywhere.

by the time you reached the shop, breathless and slightly messy, mr. han—the owner, was already grinning behind the counter.

"morning, mr. han!" ryujin greeted, barely winded.

"i knew you two would get here before anyone else," he chuckled, arms crossed like he had been expecting this exact scenario.

you barely heard him. you were already beelining for the vinyls.

"sweet! these are fresh off the press!" you gasped, flipping through the stack, fingers gliding over brand-new releases.

"ditto," ryujin muttered, just as focused.

"i'll be behind the counter if you girls need anything," mr. han called out, but you were already in the zone.

your fingers immediately skimmed through the fresh arrivals, heart hammering in anticipation.

"definitely maybe" by oasis.

"dookie" by green day.

"weezer" by weezer.

"holy shit," you whispered, eyes widening as you flipped through the stack.

"jar of bells..." no idea.

then, you found it.

"mtv unplugged."

you had barely muttered the title under your breath when another voice joined in.

"mtv unplugged..."

you turned to find yourself face-to-face with a guy you hadn't noticed before—probably because you had been way too invested in the stack of squares in front of you.

and he was cool. nirvana shirt, ripped jeans, red flannel tied around his hips, short black hair, clear skin, a damn good jawline, and a smirk that only grew as he caught you staring.

your eyes flickered back to the vinyl still clutched in your hands, grip tightening. he was looking at it. he wanted it.

no way in hell.

your grip tightened.

"mtv unplugged. new release," he mused, glancing down at the album still clutched in your hands.

your hold on it locked. damn right, it was.

the boy chuckled, clearly entertained by the death grip you had on it.

"you should go for nevermind first." his voice was casual—like he wasn't trying to steal your vinyl right in front of you.

you shot him a narrow-eyed stare. "i've already listened to every single song on nevermind."

his smirk grew, realizing you weren't going to budge, he let out a short laugh and reached for a cd.

"fine, i'll let you have that one."

he grabbed nevermind instead, the cd, inspecting it with an approving nod.

your heart rate finally slowed down. victory is mine.

as he turned to go to the counter, he glanced over his shoulder one last time. "good taste, by the way."

and with that, he turned his back, leaving you standing there—still clutching your vinyl like your life depends on it.

ryujin strolled back over, a comic book in hand, the corners of her mouth curling into a knowing smirk.

"dude… who was that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice low enough not to attract any unwanted attention.

you exhaled slowly, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck. "i don't know, but he tried to rob me off a good vinyl," you muttered, still clutching the album in your hands.

ryujin snickered. "classic." she bumped your shoulder lightly before pulling out the book, flipping it open to the next page. "come on, let's listen to it."

with a shrug, you led the way to the player, and the two of you settled next to each other, comic books in hand. the needle dropped onto the record, you plugged in the headphone jack. the soft crackle travelling through before the music swelled. for the next few minutes, you both silently absorbed the music through wires.

by the time the last track played, you were practically fighting back tears. it was almost dramatic how much you adored the album.

"that was gnarly," you said, as you carefully set the vinyl back in its case, treating it like the treasure it was.

ryujin nodded without looking up from her comic. "nirvana was the real shit." she shifted, tapping the side of her comic with a finger. "go look for more new arrivals. we haven't even finished this one yet."

you let out a half-hearted groan but couldn't resist. you liked the idea of finding more gems, anyway. but as you strolled back toward the shelves, your eyes caught something familiar.

it was him.

the guy from earlier. he was sitting near the counter now, leaning against the wall with a cd player in hand, his earphones hanging loosely around his neck. his relaxed posture and the way he completely disappeared into the moment caught your attention.

you looked down at the album in your hand, then back at him.

"poor guy…" you muttered under your breath. "if he doesn't get to listen to it right away."

without thinking, you walked over, tapping his shoulder lightly. he glanced up, removing his earphones with a raised brow.

"hey," you said, offering him the vinyl. "i noticed mr. han doesn't have the mtv unplugged cd in stock yet. it'd be a shame if you didn't get to listen to it instantly. it's really good."

the guy smiled, his eyes softening as he accepted the record from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours just for a moment.

"thanks," he said, the gratitude in his voice making you feel like you had done something right for once.

"you can use the turntable over there," you gestured toward the corner of the shop, where the record player sat. "there's a headphone jack available."

he nodded and walked past you, heading over to the turntable while you returned to ryujin's side.

"where was it?" she asked, nudging your shoulder.

you shrugged, your attention still on the guy who was now setting up the record player, eyes already closed as he settled into the music. "let's just play another after he finishes," you muttered, your head leaning closer to ryujin's comic, pretending to focus.

ryujin narrowed her eyes at you, the smirk creeping back. "you're way too generous today."

you flicked her arm. "focus. i don't want to wait for you to flip the page." she rolled her eyes but continued reading, letting you do what you do best.

it wasn't long before ryujin's stomach growled, cutting through the silence between the two of you.

"go grab something to eat," you said, pointing to the door. "i'll wait here."

she shot you a look, rolling her eyes dramatically. "you better not flip through the pages while i’m gone."

"promise nothing," you replied without missing a beat.

as soon as ryujin disappeared out the door, you leaned over and sneakily turned the comic to the next page.

but then, a voice caught your attention again.

"thank you," the guy from earlier said, appearing beside you, looking almost embarrassed to interrupt.

you jumped up, startled. "oh, it's nothing," you quickly reassured him, trying to brush off the awkwardness. "how was it?"

he smiled, almost sheepish. "as expected, it was great." he chuckled softly, adjusting his cd player.

you smiled in return, feeling the familiar rush of excitement when talking about music. "i freaking know, they've always been the best." the conversation flowed just naturally.

"i'm taesan," he said, a hand rising awkwardly in the air like he wasn't quite sure whether to offer a handshake or just a wave. "i'm the son of the owner of this shop."

you froze for a second. internally, you cursed your luck. of course, you had competed over the vinyl with the son of the shop's owner. but whatever, the early bird gets the worm, right?

"jang y/n," you replied with a smile, reaching for his hand. "nice to meet you."

you both sat down, the tension easing as you settled into conversation.

"were you playing nevermind earlier on the cd player?" you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

taesan hummed, his lips pouting as he thought for a moment. "yeah, i was. what's your favorite song?"

you leaned back slightly, thinking. "hmm, probably all apologies. especially the instrumental break. god, i love that song." your voice trailed off as you grinned widely, caught up in the thought of the song.

taesan laughed softly, eyes glimmering with something like amusement. "you're passionate. i like that."

you chuckled awkwardly, hoping the blush creeping up your cheeks wasn't too obvious.

"so," you said, eager to keep the conversation going. "do you go to school here?"

he nodded. "yeah, i'm at a university just one bus ride away from here."

you processed that for a moment, realizing with a small sigh that he probably wasn’t talking about your university. but still, you smiled. "oh, cool."

a comfortable silence settled between you two but that didn't feel awkward at all.

then, the chime of the record store door rang out, and you barely had time to look up before ryujin strolled back in, but her hands were empty. no takeout bags, no snacks—just an exhausted expression as she groaned dramatically.

"where' the food?" you asked, frowning.

ryujin groaned like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. "the convenience store ran out of kimbap, and the cashier was taking a lifetime to restock. let's just go eat at the food court. i need actual fuel if you want me to swing around longer."

"but—" your eyes flickered toward the bench where your bag sat. taesan was still there, his fingers idly drumming against the wooden surface as he looked at you and ryujin, confused. you hesitated, glancing between ryujin and the him.

before you could make a decision, mr. han waved you off with a smile. "go ahead, kid. your stuff's safe here."

ryujin had already grabbed you "move it. you'll live."

you barely had time to turn to taesan and wave. "we'll be back!" with a sigh, you let ryujin drag you out the door.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

you spent the next twenty minutes watching in mild horror as ryujin absolutely demolished two platters of bibimbap and a side of banchan. she didn't even pause between bites.

"you know, for someone who complains about getting broke from buying comics, you sure eat like a king," you muttered, stabbing at your food halfheartedly.

ryujin barely looked up, shoving another spoonful into her mouth. "shut up—'s called survival."

you exhaled, pushing a few grains of rice around your plate.

you wanted to get back to mr. han's shop.

at first, you convinced yourself that it was just because of the new vinyl arrivals. you hadn't even finished browsing yet—there were at least three more shelves to go through, and you hadn't checked if they had any used tapes in stock.

but then your mind drifted back to taesan.

you could still picture his thoughtful expression, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was trying to pick a favorite nirvana song. the way he had smirked slightly when he caught you rambling about all apologies.

you shook your head. nope. it was definitely about the records.

and the moment ryujin swallowed her last bite, you practically dragged her back toward mr. han's store.

but as soon as you stepped inside—taesan was gone.

you scanned the shop, almost hoping he'd just moved to a different section, but his spot near the turntable was empty. the warmth that had settled in your chest earlier flickered out, replaced by something you didn't know what.

you deflated instantly. ryujin barely noticed, already flipping through another volume of the comic she was reading earlier. you debated for a second before hesitantly walking over to mr. han at the counter.

"mr. han?"

the old man didn't even look up from his book. "mmm?"

you shifted awkwardly. "uh… do you know where taesan went?"

that's when he finally glanced up with a smirk. "i knew both of you would instantly match," he said, amusement laced in his voice.

you blinked. huh?

he simply chuckled, flipping a page. "he went back to school for a band practice. he has a packed schedule on weekdays."

you tried and failed not to look too disappointed as you dragged yourself back to the bench where ryujin was sitting.

she barely looked up from her comic. "what was that gloom all about?"

you flopped down next to her. "nothing."

"also," she continued, flipping a page dramatically, "why are you suddenly being all buddy-buddy with that music thief?"

you rolled your eyes. "come on, he's nice, ryu."

ryujin scoffed. "wow, you're saying that like you weren't just playing tug-of-war with him over a vinyl a few hours ago."

you ignored her, pulling out your book from your bag—then froze.

there, stuck to the back of your bag, was a small yellow sticky note.

your eyes narrowed as you peeled it off, fingers smoothing over the inked numbers scrawled in slightly messy handwriting. a pager number. and beneath it, just one word:

—taesan.

you froze, staring at the note like it had just fallen from the heavens, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

your face went from deadpan to pure joy in under three seconds. you had to physically stop yourself from grinning too hard because ryujin would never let you live it down.

carefully, you peeled the sticky note off your book and folded it neatly. you then placed it inside your pencil case like it was some kind of rare artifact.

firmly, securely, so it wouldn't fly away.

ryujin finally looked up, her eyes narrowing. "why do you look like you just won the lottery?"

"no reason," you said quickly, zipping your pencil case shut.

ryujin stared at you for a long moment before muttering, "i don't like the look on your face."

you just smiled, pushing her shoulders.

and, the second you got home, you threw your bag onto the floor and face-planted onto your bed. you rolled onto your back and snatched your beeper off the nightstand like it was holy.

you sat up, unfolded the sticky note, and traced the inked numbers with your thumb.

your heart thumped.

should you page him now? would that seem too eager? maybe you should wait. play it cool.

you glanced at your clock. it had literally been twenty seconds.

groaning, you rolled onto your stomach, kicking your feet against the mattress like some schoolgirl in a romance movie. then, without giving yourself time to overthink—you punched in the numbers and sent a simple message:

"hope class didn't bore you to death. thanks for the sticky note. - jang y/n"

the second you hit send, you muffled a scream into your pillow.

what the hell were you doing? what if he didn't reply? what if he thought you were annoying? what if—

your beeper vibrated almost immediately and quickly scrambled so fast you nearly dropped it.

"would've been worse if i didn't have all apologies stuck in my head. consider this your official music karma. - taesan"

a stupid, uncontrollable grin stretched across your face. you flopped onto your back, rolling around in pure, ridiculous giddiness, nearly sending your comforter tumbling to the floor.

before you could even type a response, another beep flashed across the tiny screen.

"7 pm? dad's store. - taesan."

you froze.

you clutched your beeper like it was a lifeline, rereading the message again. and again. was he… asking you out? no. no way. it was just a hangout. a casual thing between new friends.

you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus, and typed back quickly:

"sure! meet you there. - y/n"

then, you practically leaped off your bed and dashed to your closet. your hands flew across the hangers, eyes scanning every piece of clothing like you were preparing for the most important night of your life.

denim skirt? too much.

plaid jeans? too casual.

then you caught yourself.

you groaned, pressing your forehead against the closet door. why am i even stressing over this? it's not a date. it's not.

exhaling sharply, you grabbed a denim skirt and a brown flannel, slipping them on before you could second-guess yourself.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

you were walking ridiculously slow.

your heart drummed against your ribs, your hands fidgeting with your sleeves. you told yourself you weren't nervous. you told yourself this was just some casual meet-up.

but the second you spotted taesan standing outside the now-closed store, your breath caught in your throat. he hadn't noticed you yet.

earphones in, cd player in hand, his head tilted slightly upward as if lost in the music. his eyes were closed, his expression relaxed—lips barely parted, a faint, smile playing at the edges.

you hesitated, just watching him for a second.

the streetlights cast a soft golden hue over him, making the moment feel unreal—like something out of an indie film, grainy and warm, like a memory you were supposed to witness and never forget.

you bit your lip. then, finally, you stepped forward and lightly tapped his arm.

taesan's eyes fluttered open, turning to meet yours. his expression shifted instantly—calm turning to warmth, like the moment you step into a sunlit room after the cold.

"hey," he said, pulling his earphones out and tucking his cd player into his large pocket.

"hey," you echoed, stuffing your hands into your skirt's pockets. you glanced at the shop door behind him. "so... where to? mr. han already closed the store."

taesan just grinned. then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, dangling it between two fingers. "i'm not the owner's son for nothing."

a subtle laugh escaped your lips. you shook your head as he turned, unlocking the door and pushing it open. the blinds remained closed, keeping the outside world at bay.

inside, the air was warm. the scent of old records and faint aroma of coffee hung in the contained air. taesan flipped the switch, and the shop lit up—not with the bright, fluorescent glare of daytime but with the muted, greenish glow of the overhead bulbs. the only other source of light came from the street lamps outside, their soft yellowish tint seeping in through the cracks of the blinds.

you puckered your lips, stepping in and looking around.

taesan closed the door behind you with a soft click before roaming around the store.

"i have a favorite here, and i want you to listen to it," taesan said as he made his way to a shelf tucked in the corner.

you watched as he ran his fingers over the spines of records. then, with a small, satisfied hum, he pulled one out and turned to you, holding it up to show you.

you leaned in, studying the cover. the title and artist were unfamiliar. taesan noticed your puzzled look and smirked.

"you haven't heard of it, huh?"

you shook your head, but a smile crept up your lips. but that only made you more eager. something new. something taesan liked.

a small smile tugged at your lips. "i've never heard of this one."

"even better." he grinned.

taesan walked over to the turntable by the counter, motioning for you to follow. you stood close beside him as he carefully placed the vinyl onto the platter. the way he handled it—gentle, the kind only someone who truly cherished music would have, made you watch him a little longer than necessary.

"it's reality, by richard sanderson," he murmured, lowering the needle. "me and dad used to listen to this a lot when it first came out. i was eleven."

then, he turned to you, slipping the headphones gently over your ears.

you blinked up at him, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. his fingers barely brushed your skin as he adjusted the ear cups, making sure they sat just right. he was so close that you could see the way his lashes fanned over his cheeks, the way the dim lighting softened his already soft features.

for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

the vinyl crackled. and then—music.

a slow, dreamy melody slipped into your ears. nostalgic, like the kind of song that belonged to another lifetime. your lips parted slightly as a smile crept onto your face.

you let your head tilt slightly, eyes fixed on the wall in front of you, absorbing every note. your fingers tapped lightly against the table in time with the beat, a small, unconscious movement.

and taesan— he just stood there, watching you.

the muffled sound of the song spilled from the headphones, barely audible, but he didn't need to hear it to know exactly what you were experiencing. he saw it in the way your eyes shimmered slightly, the way your breath seemed to sync with the rhythm, the way you looked like you were slipping into some other world entirely.

for a moment, everything slowed.

he should've looked away. should've focused on the music, or the record spinning beneath the needle, or literally anything else. but he didn't.

he just stood there, completely still, watching you as if you were the song itself.

you let your eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the music, letting it paint a scene behind your eyelids. a quiet, hazy film reel of things you couldn't quite place—warm streetlights, cityscapes blurring past, the kind of love that only existed in faded polaroids.

and taesan, he only saw one thing, a whole moment right in front of him.

the song had already started to fade out.

you opened your eyes, expecting taesan to finally move— to lift the needle off the vinyl, maybe say something about the track, but he didn't. he just stood there, watching you, completely still, as if he hadn't noticed the music had ended.

"i loved the song. really." you smiled, still caught in the the melody. "thank you for letting me hear it. it's something special to you, so... i feel honored."

your lips curled into a small, tight-lipped smile as you tilted your head slightly.

but taesan didn't reply.

he only stared, looking at you in that same quiet, unfazed way—as if he was trying to memorize you, to carve this exact moment into his mind so he wouldn't forget it.

you tried looking anywhere else. the wall behind him, the floor, the logo on his shirt, but your eyes kept finding its way back to his.

then, finally, he spoke.

"you're interesting." his voice was low, almost amused, a small, endearing smile on his face.

you let out a nervous chuckle, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. "i am always interesting." you threw in a playful shrug, encouraging whatever thought had just crossed his mind.

taesan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned back to the turntable, carefully placing the vinyl back into its sleeve. "no, i mean it. you are interesting."

you froze for half a second before sinking onto the bench beside the turntable desk, looking up at him. "you just met me."

taesan placed the vinyl on the desk before settling next to you. his head tilted back slightly, gaze drifting up to the ceiling, lost in thought.

"it's the first time someone's ever beaten me to a vinyl," he said with a chuckle, recalling what had happened earlier morning. "the way you gripped onto it with that look on your face—i don't know, i just thought it was funny. interesting. made me wanna know you."

his voice was quieter now, as you carefully listened.

"but then..." he exhaled, his hands resting loosely on his knees. "the way you listened to music—the way you get lost in it, i think that's what really got me."

he turned slightly, just enough so that you could see the corner of his lips quirk up.

"and when you gave me that vinyl, i guess that was it."

you blinked. that was it?

"but, you know," he added with a slight laugh, "your friend kinda stole you away before i could even say anything. then i had band practice, so..."

you remembered something then. the sticky note.

narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward. "how did you even know which bag was mine?"

taesan chuckled. "hmm... let's just say you have a pretty unique in utero keychain hanging from your zipper."

you let out a breath—half a laugh, half genuine disbelief.

"you're observant," you muttered.

taesan's smile faded slightly. "i'm observant when it matters."

he then turned his head toward you, while yours remained far away, simply existing in the moment. the air between you was still, the occasional whoosh of cars passing by outside, blurred and distant. it was quiet, but not empty.

then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned your head—only to find him already looking. but he didn't look away.

"let's go out," he said. his tone was steady, and effortless. no hesitation can be sensed

you nodded, tapping your lap before pushing yourself up to stand in front of him. "let's go?"

taesan let out a low chuckle, shifting upright from his relaxed lean, his eyes still fixed on you. "out." a smirk tugged at his lips, "like, a date."

you stood there, blinking at him, gazing in the way his eyes shimmered—starrier than the sky outside. you didn't think. you didn't need to. it felt like a decision had already been made long before this moment.

"okay," you said. "let's go out."

there was no rush of surprise, no shift in the air—just a mutual understanding, easy and natural, like falling into place. the way you spoke, the way he asked, the way his voice filled the quiet, and the way you both existed in each other's presence. it felt like you had known him in every lifetime before this.

taesan simply smiled, standing up with ease. "it's a date, then. but—" he said, glancing at the store's old stereo, "we're not going out just yet. it's still early, and we've got more music to dance to." he grinned, stepping away to browse through the shelves, searching for the next song.

you watched him move, the way he hopped from one record to another, flipping through them with an enthusiasm that made the moment feel infinite. and just like that, the night went on in your own little world.

two month had passed since you and taesan made it official.

at first, it was almost amusing how natural it felt—how seamlessly he fit into your life, as if he had always been there. after weeks of getting to know him, of late-night messages filled with laughter and quiet walks where words weren't needed, saying yes to him wasn't difficult at all. the only real challenge had been your parents, who—like all parents—wanted to make sure he was worthy of you. they made him chop firewood for grill nights, tested his patience with endless questions, and gave him skeptical looks whenever he came over. but taesan, with his charm and sincerity, had won them over before long. now, he was not just your taesan, but theirs too.

after spending the day hanging out with ryujin and the others, you were heading home. and there he was—waiting at your gate, earphones over his head as always.

even after all this time, the sight of him still made your heart race. it reminded you of the first time you both went out, of how everything had started.

smiling, you skipped toward him and playfully shook his shoulders.

"hi!"

taesan's expression immediately shifted, his cold face melting into the warmest, brightest smile.

"you made it." he beamed. "how was today?"

before you could answer, he wrapped his arms around you, swaying you gently from side to side.

"fine," you mumbled against his chest. "but i'm tired."

taesan pulled back just enough to hold your shoulders, leaning down slightly so your faces were level.

"wanna go for a walk? or stay in?" he reached up, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear.

you smiled. "come on, let's walk."

he would've objected. if it weren't for the genuine excitement in your voice, he would've already ushered you inside and made you dinner.

but instead, he laced his fingers with yours, walking around the quiet neighborhood, hands swaying back and forth.

then, after a few moments of silence, taesan glanced at you.

"i wanna show you something," he said.

you raised a brow. "what is it?"

he only chuckled before moving behind you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and guiding you forward.

"come on. trust me."

and of course, you did. you always do.

as you neared a greener part of the neighborhood, taesan suddenly spoke again.

"close your eyes."

you blinked up at him.

"if you look now, the surprise will be spoiled," he added, a small smirk on his face.

wanting to play along, you let out a soft laugh before nodding and shutting your eyes. taesan's pace slowed as he led you forward, his hands still firm on your shoulders.

your heart beat faster with each step. then, finally, you came to a stop.

you could feel taesan's presence in front of you, towering. his voice was gentle when he said, "open your eyes."

slowly, you did.

as your vision adjusted, the first thing you saw was his glowing smile. and behind him— a tree.

not just any tree, but a large, beautiful one standing tall in the night, its branches stretching over a small wooden bench. fireflies floated lazily through the air, their soft glow twinkled like tiny stars. dimly lit post lights stood around, casting everything in a cozy dim.

it was breathtaking. like something out of a dream. like something you'd only read about in a story, but never expect to see in real life.

and yet, here it was. with taesan.

your chest swolled with joy as your eyes welled up. you turned back to him, voice barely above a whisper.

"this is beautiful..." without thinking, you pulled him into a hug. "i love you, taesan."

for a moment, he didn't say anything.

then, he gently grabbed your shoulders again, tilting your chin up so you were looking into his eyes.

"i love you most, y/n."

then, with a small nod toward the bench, he spoke, "come, let's sit. i prepared something for you."

you followed as he led you to the seat, your fingers still tangled together.

then, you noticed a brown acoustic guitar leaning against the tree. taesan reached for it, settling next to you as he rested the instrument on his lap.

you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"i've sung a lot of songs for you already," taesan said. he let his fingers glide across the strings of his guitar, testing the weight of the moment before continuing. "but this one... this one's different."

you looked up as his lips curved into the smallest smile, his gaze shifting between you and the instrument in his hands. the glow of the streetlamp nearby cast golden light over his face, making him look almost unreal—like something out of an old, forgotten film.

"i started writing this the night we first went out. i add to it day by day," he admitted, his voice hushed, as if the confession itself was fragile. "after we crashed at my dad's shop. i don't know... i just felt like i had to put it into words. and now, i think it's time for you to hear it."

something in your heart ached at his sincerity. the night was quiet, save for the hum of cicadas and the occasional rustling of the leaves with every breeze that passed. the world seemed to pause just for the two of you.

then, the first strum. a comforting sound, followed by the melody that caressed you like a lullaby.

"you're my everything, the light that lingers in my eyes, the whisper in the quiet rain—the warmth that fills my empty skies."

you closed your eyes, letting the music pull you in. each note, each lyric, felt like it was written from the very core of your moments together—the stolen glances, the panicked laughter under sudden rains that caught both of you, the silence in the back of the store just listening to old tunes.

"on rainy days, we lie in silence, no words, just breathing, heart to heart. with closed eyes, the world dissolves—only you and i exist in the dark."

taesan's voice was dreamy, filled with something deeper than words could capture. it wasn't just a song; it was a piece of him.

and then, without realizing, a single tear slipped past your closed eyelids.

taesan's voice softened as he reached the last verse, his gaze never leaving you.

"and if you change, if time should fade you, know i will take you as you are, for even then, you'll be my always, my everything—my guiding star."

the song faded, but the air still hung with its presence. taesan placed the guitar down, his hands immediately finding their way to your face, thumbs brushing against your damp cheeks.

"open your eyes, my love," he whispered.

you did, only to find him looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world worth seeing.

"you're the most precious thing that's ever happened to me, y/n," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "no music, no melody—nothing will ever compare to the harmony you brought into my life."

a soft kiss landed on your forehead, filled with so much meaning.

"happy birthday, beautiful."

you barely found your voice, still drowning in the moment. "but... my birthday isn't for another two days," you whispered.

taesan chuckled, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "i know. but i'll be leaving for gwangju tomorrow. my mom needs me for a while." his voice held a slight hesitation. "just for a week. and when i'm back, i swear, we'll do whatever you want. just you and me."

you wanted to believe those words more than anything. but deep inside, something held you back, a feeling you couldn't describe. as if a part of you already knew—this moment, this song, this night, would be the last perfect memory you'd have of taesan.

still, you smiled, pushing the unease aside.

"okay," you whispered, reaching for his hand, squeezing it just a little tighter.

"i'll wait."

and in that moment, you had no idea that those two simple words would become the cause of your life falling apart.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

morning arrived too soon, and with it, the inevitable farewell. you stood at the station, watching taesan board the train. at that moment, it felt like nothing more than a temporary goodbye—a short hurdle to overcome before he would be back in your arms in just a week.

but now, looking back, the memory plays differently in your mind. the scene isn't just a brief separation anymore—it's the sight of watching your life leave you, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers, no matter how tightly you tried to hold on.

you waited. the two of you depended on a single beeper for communication, and though the messages were short and few, you cherished every one.

then, as the morning of your birthday approached, you found yourself at mr. han's vinyl store with ryujin.

"good morning, mr. han," you greeted, pushing through the door.

"early today, huh?" the old man smiled at you, his eyes kind. "happy birthday, daughter. i'm sorry taesan couldn't be here for your special day, but rest assured, he'll be back by monday."

his words melted in your heart. mr. han had always been more than just the owner of your favorite record store—he had been a constant presence in your life since you were thirteen, and now, he was taesan's father. the thought alone made you feel closer to him, even with the miles between you.

"she can't 'rest assured' anymore, mr. han," ryujin teased. "your daughter-in-law nearly got a fever from homesickness, you know. being away from her home and all."

you rolled your eyes, nudging her shoulder. "shut up."

mr. han chuckled. "here, i'm gifting this to you." he reached beneath the counter, pulling out a vinyl wrapped carefully in plastic.

you took it hesitantly, but as soon as your eyes landed on the cover, your face lit up. "in utero? no way! this is so sweet, thank you so much, mr.—"

"ah," he held up a hand, stopping you. "no more 'mr. han.' call me dad from now on."

"you've been a regular here since you were a stubborn 7th grader," he continued, smiling easily. "and now you're my son's girlfriend. so, no more formalities, alright?"

something in you softened at that. without thinking, you leaned against the counter, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

"i feel like i'm at a family reunion i wasn't invited to," ryujin joked, shaking her head beside you.

mr. han grinned, then reached for another package. "oh, and this—this one's from taesan. he mailed it here yesterday and told me to give it to you today."

your fingers curled around the box, taking it with both hands. "thank you... dad," you whispered, testing the word on your tongue.

mr. han's smile widened. "anytime."

the entire morning passed in the record store, the feeling of missing taesan softened—if only for a little while. and by evening, you and ryujin returned home, where your family had set up a small celebration for your birthday.

fhe two of you found yourselves in your bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tv, the muffled chatter from the living room fading into the background.

"ew, you're nineteen now," ryujin teased, wrinkling her nose. being a year younger, she never missed a chance to remind you.

you rolled your eyes, tossing a pillow at her. "still far away from thirty," you snorted, laughing as you fidgeted with the box in front of you—the package taesan had sent.

ryujin nudged your arm. "what's that, anyway?"

you shrugged. "guess we'll find out."

carefully, you untied the yarn wrapped around it, peeling back the flaps to reveal its contents. a mixtape, a vhs tape, and a stack of cds from your favorite bands sat neatly inside.

you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "he knows me a little too well."

ryujin leaned in. "damn, he really went all out. let's check what's on the tape."

without hesitation, you crawled to the player beneath the tv, sliding the vhs inside before grabbing the remote. the screen lit up to life, static buzzing before clearing—revealing taesan's face.

a bright smile, soft eyes. he looked straight into the camera, and for a second, it felt like he was right there in the room with you.

"happy birthday, my beloved y/n."

his voice crackled through the old speakers, slightly distorted, yet every syllable carried the sincerity of someone who loved you with every fiber of his being.

he smiled, pausing for a brief second as if searching for the right words.

a trail of silence.

"i love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow, my dear darling. always."

he leaned closer to the camera, and then, the screen faded back to static.

you exhaled, with a shaky breath. a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to cry—this wasn't meant to be sad. it was meant to make you feel loved, even from miles away.

ryujin glanced at you, then patted your back. "you okay?"

you nodded, still staring at the screen.

ryujin leaned back against your bed, staring at the ceiling. "damn, taesan really does love you." she grinned, then looked at you. "i'm happy for you, y/n. happy birthday, my guy."

and in that moment, despite the distance, despite the ache in your chest, you felt whole.

you were happy. you really were.

lying on your bed after the long day, you stared at the ceiling, letting the glow of the streetlights outside reflect against your walls. after ryujin left, you stayed up, replaying taesan's message again and again, as if you could carve his voice into your mind, make it something permanent.

the way he smiled. the way he said your name, the way his voice crackled through the old speakers but never lost its warmth.

"i promise it. we'll be together soon."

you pressed your earphones closer, the mixtape he had sent playing, the song he sang for you that night before he left. it felt like he was right there, fingers strumming the chords.

you could already picture it—the week passing by quickly, and then he'd be back. he'd step off that train with the same boyish grin, shaking his head at you for missing him too much, even though he would've missed you just as much. he'd pull you into his arms, teasing you for being dramatic, but still holding on a little tighter, a little longer.

nothing bad could happen.

with that thought warming your chest, you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your lips.

and then, before you knew it, a noise.

the sudden, loud sound of footsteps storming up the stairs. the door swinging open with too much force.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

"y/n!"

you stirred, groggy. you've overslept. the afternoon sunlight streaming through your window, instantly blinding you. headphones still in your ears. for a second, you thought it was just ryujin being ryujin—barging in like she always did, shaking you awake for something stupid.

but then you felt it, the weight in the air. something was wrong.

you sat up, fast, the mixtape player tumbling from your hands. your pulse pounded, a sudden chill creeping up your chest as your best friend stood frozen in the doorway.

ryujin was breathless, shoulders rising and falling in quick, uneven pace. her hands trembled at her sides. but what scared you the most was her face—pale, drained of every bit of mischief and joy she always had.

she couldn't look at you.

"ryu...?" your voice barely came out, your own heartbeat drowning it.

she swallowed, her throat bobbing. she opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. then—

"taesan."

one word. just one. and suddenly, the world wasn't real anymore.

your breath hitched. you felt it before you even knew what it was, a weight pressing down on your chest, curling around your ribs, tightening, squeezing.

your hands clenched the sheets, your mind racing, trying to fill in the blanks. maybe she was overreacting. maybe he just missed his train. maybe his beeper was out of range. maybe—

"taesan, what?" you gasped. barely recognizing your own voice. "what, ryujin?"

she flinched, her lips parting, but she still wouldn't look at you. her fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans.

seconds passed. she finally lifted her gaze, eyes trembling.

and before she even said another word, before she could let the next sentence leave her lips— you already knew.

you can barely remember what happened after ryujin told you. everything blurred together, the world tipping over, voices had muffled, your own heartbeat drowning out everything else.

she had gone to mr. han's store early in the morning, like she always did. but today, instead of the usual quiet hum of records playing inside, she found the store getting closed, with mr. han outside, hands shaking as he fumbled with the keys, his face was pale and stricken with terror.

"taesan... he's caught in an accident."

that was all it took.

the next time you became fully aware of your surroundings, you were already running through the cold, sterile halls of the hospital, barefoot, still in your pajamas. your breath came out in ragged gasps, tears blurring your vision, but you didn't stop. you couldn't.

everything hurt—your legs, your lungs, your head. but none of it compared to the fear clawing at your chest, the paralyzing dread wrapping around your throat like a noose.

left. right. where is he?

your heartbeat pounded in your ears, blocking out the sounds of nurses passing by, the beeping of machines, the low murmur of worried families.

and then you saw him— mr. han.

sitting in the waiting area in front of the emergency room, his face buried in his hands. the moment your eyes landed on him, the final thread holding you together snapped.

"dad..."

the word fell from your lips in a broken whisper as you collapsed onto the chair beside him.

he didn't say anything at first. he just pulled you into his arms, his embrace just as tight, just as desperate as yours.

you both sat there. painfully long hours passed, but time meant nothing.

then, they let you see him.

mr. han went in first. you hesitated at the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe, scared of what might lie before you.

and then you saw himyour heart audibly shattered.

taesan lay in the hospital bed, his face was pale, his body wrapped in layers of bandages. his left leg was lifted, secured in a cast, wires and tubes connected to him like a lifelines. he looked small, fragile. so unlike the taesan you knew—the one who always stood tall, always carried himself with effortless ease, always made you feel safe.

now, he was unconscious. a deep, unmoving stillness. you couldn't step forward. you couldn't bear to get any closer.

"taesan... he went home earlier than he was supposed to."

mr. han's voice was rough, almost a whisper low.

"but i hope you won't blame yourself for this, y/n. it was his choice... an unfortunate one."

guilt wrapped around you like a claustrophobe. he was here because of you.

he was in pain right now because he loved you.

you pressed a trembling hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sob trying to break free. but nothing could stop the way your chest caved in, the way your entire body ached with something so heavy.

mr. han reached out, squeezing your shoulder gently.

"at least he's alive. and he'll be okay."

that was all you could hold onto. that was all you could hope for.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

the first few days after the accident were unbearable.

you visited the hospital every single day. sat by his bedside, hands folded in your lap, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. you had already memorized the sound of the machines, the way the heart monitor beeped in slow, rhythmic pulses. sometimes, you spoke to him—soft, whispered words that never received an answer.

"hey, taesan... it's me."

"ryujin's been making me eat properly, but you know how she is. she doesn't know how to cook for shit."

"i've been playing the mixtape you gave me. over and over. it's still my favorite thing in the world."

but taesan never responded.

his fingers never twitched. his breathing never changed.

he was there, but he wasn't.

and that was the worst part—watching him sleep, watching him remain so still, and not knowing when he would wake up. if he would wake up.

mr. han tried to stay hopeful. "he's a fighter, y/n. he's strong."

but late at night, when the nurses thought no one was listening, you overheard the hushed conversations between doctors. the uncertainty in their voices. the way they said "if he wakes up" instead of "when."

and it terrified you. some nights, you didn't sleep at all.

you sat by your window, hugging your knees to your chest, playing the last recording taesan ever sent you. his voice the only thing keeping you together— cracked slightly as he sang. you closed your eyes and imagined he was still here, still whole, still the same boy who left with a promise to return.

you whispered to yourself, like a prayer. "please come back to me."

and then—

one morning, the beeper went off.

you almost didn't answer. you had spent the entire night awake again, too afraid to close your eyes, too afraid that when you opened them, something worse would happen.

but then you saw it's from taesan's father.

"y/n, he's awake."

the phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

you didn't even bother grabbing your jacket. you just ran.

your legs felt weak as you reached the hospital doors, but the rush of adrenaline kept you moving. every step felt like you were running towards something unreal, something you had spent weeks desperately hoping for.

you imagined it over and over—

taesan waking up, his tired eyes landing on you, his lips curving into the smallest, weakest smile. "you're here," he would say, and you would laugh through your tears, grabbing his hand, feeling his warmth.

you wanted that moment— you needed that moment.

but when you stepped into his room, when his eyes finally met yours, you expected to be greeted with the same eyes you've seen just a month ago, the same smile you saw in the vhs clip.

but his direct, empty, and confused gaze says otherwise.

"dad, who is she?"

your heart stopped, and the world suddenly spun faster. you had prepared for everything—except this.

except for the possibility that when he woke up, you wouldn't exist to him anymore.

petrified, you couldn't do anything but stare at him, your vision blurring, body turning ice cold.

this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"taesan, she's..." mr. han hesitated.

but taesan's confused gaze never flinched. he didn't know you, didn't remember you.

every memory, every moment, every smile, every night spent whispering about forever— gone.

you turned abruptly, stumbling out of the room, your hands shaking so violently you could barely push open the door. the walls of the hospital hallway felt like they were closing in, suffocating you, crushing you under the weight of a new reality you never thought you would have to face.

you pressed your back against the nearest wall, gasping for air.

the nausea hit first. then the dizziness. then the overwhelming, unbearable grief.

mr. han followed you out, his face lined with concern, his voice was comforting when he knelt beside you.

"i'm sorry, y/n."

you shook your head, gripping your arms as if holding yourself together.

"no, no, no..." the words came out as broken whispers.

"the doctor said the trauma to his head was too severe," mr. han explained gently. "he's lucky to be alive. his memory... it's in pieces. some things, he remembers. some things, he doesn't."

you barely heard him.

everything else drowned in the roaring noise in your head. it felt like someone had reached inside you and ripped out your heart, leaving a hollow, aching space behind.

"give yourself time," mr. han said. "i'll help you reintroduce yourself to him—"

"no."

it came out sharper than you intended.

mr. han blinked, taken aback.

"no, mr. han. don't." your voice cracked at the end.

you couldn't do this.

you wouldn't do this.

because the taesan you loved—the one who knew your favorite songs, the one who always hugged you from behind when you least expected it, the one who promised to come back to you— that taesan was gone.

and maybe it was selfish. maybe it was weak, but you didn't want to be just another stranger in his life.

mr. han exhaled slowly, his eyes filled with something close to sorrow. but he didn't argue.

"i understand," he murmured. "but i'll be here if you ever change your mind."

except, you didn't. you never did, and that's it.

the guilt still sat in your chest like a sickness that had no cure, a lifetime illness that never fafrd. you spent the next year drowning in it, avoiding everything that reminded you of him—the store, the streets you once walked together. you kept yourself hidden in the comfort of isolation, blaming yourself until the weight of regret became unbearable. the only constant was ryujin, who sat with you through every sleepless night, listening to your sobs, carrying the same sorrow in her own heart.

but you never wanted to see taesan again. not because the love had faded—no, it was because it hadn't. because it still lived inside you, and that love had nearly destroyed him.

and just like that, in the blink of an eye, you were erased from his world.

two years later, after mr. han's passing, you left. you went overseas, studied, worked, and tried to piece yourself back together. you built a life—a good one, stable, structured. you had everything, everything except the warmth you once held in your hands. the kind of love that once made your heart feel alive.

that emptiness stayed with you for the next 16 years.

▶▶ fast forward, to 2010

the air smelled the same. that was the first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the taxi, suitcase in hand, standing in front of the house you called home. it had been a decade and a half since you last walked this street, yet the scent of the trees, the faint saltiness from the nearby river, and the warm, lingering aroma of your mother's cooking still clung to the air.

your mother was the first to rush out, arms wide open, pulling you into a warm hug. the comfort of her touch was the same, but her body felt smaller, frailer. her hair was streaked with more silver than before, and the deep lines on her face told stories of the years she had spent waiting for you to come back.

"you've gotten thinner," she muttered as she held your face, eyes scanning you as if trying to memorize every detail. "are you eating well?"

you let out a small laugh. "i'm fine, mom."

your older sister, now a mother herself, stood behind her, smiling softly. in her arms was yujin, her six-year-old daughter, peeking at you with curious eyes. she looked so much like your sister when she was younger—same round cheeks, same smile.

at lunch, the dining table was livelier than you remembered. your sister talked about her job, your mother shared neighborhood gossip, and yujin, growing more comfortable, proudly told you about a drawing she made in school. you listened, letting their voices fill the hollow that had followed you for years.

then, the conversation shifted.

"are you settling back here for good?" your sister asked.

you nodded while slicing into your food. "yeah, i've earned enough, but i still took a job at a company nearby. i'll be staying here for a while until i find my own place around the city."

your mother and sister exchanged glances but said nothing. you could already tell they wanted you to stay, but they wouldn't push. at thirty-five, you had already built a life away from home—except,

"y/n, dear," your mother spoke after a pause, setting her utensils down. "when are you getting married?"

you froze for just a second, but it was enough.

the room quieted, only present was the sound of yujin humming to herself. you didn't look up, simply pushing the food around on your plate.

your sister cleared her throat, sensing the tension. "mom—"

"i'm just worried," your mother interrupted softly. "you've been alone for so long."

you sighed, putting down your fork. "let's not talk about it."

she lowered her gaze, nodding in understanding. "we just want you to be happy."

happy.

the word sat heavy in your chest. you weren't unhappy, not really. you had built a life, studied, worked, traveled. you had done everything you were supposed to do.

but happiness? that was different.

"i'll figure it out," you said finally, offering a small, reassuring smile.

your mother let it go after that, but the thought stayed in your mind even as the conversation moved on.

and then, as if drawn by an invisible string, your thoughts drifted back.

to the store. to the past you had locked away.

to taesan.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

after lunch, you found yourself holding on the car keys. the decision to drive to the store mr. han used to own wasn't made on impulse—it had been in the back of your mind since you arrived in town. you told yourself it was curiosity. you just wanted to see if it was still there, if time had been kind to it, if someone else had taken over.

it wasn't about him.

at least, that's what you convinced yourself as you pulled out of the driveway.

the thought of taesan crossed your mind like a wind. once, the idea of seeing him again would have sent your heart into a spiral, would have made you rehearse scenarios in your head. but now? it didn't thrill you anymore. it had been sixteen years. whatever was left of those feelings had dulled with time, worn down like an old photograph left in the sun too long.

or so you thought.

as you pulled up to the familiar street, your eyes brightened. the store was still there.

a small, involuntary smile formed on your lips. it looked the same, almost eerily so—like it had been preserved in amber, untouched by the years that had changed everything else. the sign still hung above the door, its paint slightly faded but still legible. the same large glass windows framed the front, revealing shelves lined with records, just as they had always been. not a single thing seemed altered.

it was as if time had stood still here.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe it had.

your grip on the steering wheel loosened as memories flooded in—memories of you and ryujin, laughing as you ran up the sidewalk, her voice echoing in your ears. you could almost see it, the shadows of your younger selves running past, breathless from excitement, pushing open the door with a little too much force. mr. han would already be at the counter, a cup of coffee in his hands, shaking his head with a grin.

the memory felt so vivid, so real, that you had to blink yourself back into the present.

through the window, you peered inside, searching for a figure behind the counter. but no one was there. the space looked empty.

you hesitated. then, exhaling softly, you stepped out of the car.

the afternoon air was slightly cold, carrying the slight scent of autumn leaves from the ground. your steps were slow, as you walked toward the entrance. the familiar wooden panels creaked beneath your weight as you reached for the door handle.

the store smelled the same—dusty vinyl, aged paper. it wrapped around you like the old times.

your gaze instinctively drifted toward the counter. it was empty.

your fingers hovered over the small bell placed neatly beside the register. for a second, you debated leaving. maybe this had been a mistake. maybe digging through old places would only unearth things better left buried.

but then, before you could retreat, you tapped the bell.

a few seconds passed. and then, footsteps.

a door creaked open at the back of the shop— a man stepped out, taller, and hair slightly longer.

everything went in slow-motion.

you had thought you were past this. you had convinced yourself that all those feelings, all those stupid heartbeats, had faded with time.

but the moment you saw the man walk through that door— looking different, but still painfully the same, everything came crashing back.

taesan.

your fingers curled instinctively, gripping the hem of your sleeve.

he looked more matured. his hair was neatly styled, and there were faint lines around his eyes. but his presence—his quiet, effortless presence was the same.

and he was smiling, but not in the way he used to.

this wasn't the smile that had once made you feel like the world had paused just for the two of you. this wasn't the same expression he had worn that day when he first saw you holding mtv unplugged, standing right behind where you were now.

no, this smile was polite. distant. the kind of smile you give to strangers.

"hello, ma'am. can i help you?"

his voice was calm, and professional.

you tried not to look, not to search for any remnants of the boy you once loved in his still-starry eyes. but in doing so, your own eyes began to glisten with the weight of sixteen years that had passed too quickly, and yet, not quickly enough.

before he could ask if you were okay, the bell chimed again.

a voice called out—

"hi, honey!"

and there it was. the smile. the one you had been searching for.

but it wasn't for you.

your gaze shifted toward the woman who had just walked in.

she had short hair. a soft yellow dress flowed around her frame. her presence was gentle, warm, as she stepped closer in a way that made something in you sink.

taesan's face softened. his entire posture changed.

"how's eunyoung?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"your daughter's been really naughty. good thing her sister's a responsible one," the woman chuckled.

daughter.

your ears rang.

you turned away before you could hear more. before you could process what it meant. before the tight wrap of reality could fully drag you down.

your steps carried you—perhaps instinctively, to the back of the store, where the old shelves stood. the same ones where you and taesan had once stood, side by side, two teenagers who thought the world only revolved around music and endless possibilities.

your fingers skimmed the edges of the records. some were familiar, old classics that had stood the test of time. others were newer, fresh additions to replace old ones.

and then— your hand stilled.

a single vinyl, untouched, tucked carefully between the others.

mtv unplugged.

a whisper of a memory stirred.

"mtv unplugged."

the voice echoed behind you.

you turned, and suddenly, you weren't standing in a record store in 2010—you were eighteen again.

"that's been a personal favorite," taesan said, his voice lighter now. "i don't know why no one buys it."

your lips parted, but no words came.

he glanced at you, but not like before, not with the warmth of love. just as a store owner speaking to a customer.

"gonna buy it?"

"no," you murmured, gripping the record a little tighter. "i'll just rent it."

taesan nodded, unfazed. "great. i'll be at the counter if you need recommendations."

and just like that, he walked away. without a second look. not realizing who you were.

without realizing what this place—what he, had meant to you.

but that didn't matter. you had no intention of crashing back into his life. he was happy.

and for you, that had to be enough.

▐▐ resume, to 2024

your eyes flutter open.

for the first time in three decades, the weight in your chest isn't unbearable anymore. it lingers— like a memory that no longer claws at your chest but merely exists somewhere distant. you exhale, grounding yourself back to the present.

turning back to the shelf, you run your fingers along the spines of the vinyls, their covers weathered by time. you pause, pulling out nevermind, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. then, without hesitation, you stacked the vinyl along with the mtv unplugged in your arms.

the bell above the door chimes again.

you sense taesan's presence before he even speaks, his footsteps light as he steps beside you.

"nevermind too?" he said, amusement in his tone.

you let out a soft chuckle. "yeah, someone once told me i should go with nevermind first."

he hums in approval, the corners of his lips tugging into an easy smile. "sounds like a wise man advice."

you both laugh—softly, naturally.

the moment feels strangely effortless, as if the years between now and then have thinned into something preserved.

then, without warning, taesan reaches for a different shelf, pulling out a cd from a tucked-away spot. you glance at it—reality by richard sanderson.

"here," he says, offering it to you. "recommendation. i listened to this out of pure boredom once, and for some reason, i was drawn to it. it felt like—" he pauses.

you turn to him, waiting.

"...home?" he finishes.

you smile, nodding, taking the cd from his hands. "yeah. some songs do that to you."

a comfortable silence passed between you as you stare down at the album in your hands. then, almost without thinking, you speak.

"do you ever feel like you've lost something important, but you don't know what?"

taesan tilts his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling in thought. he exhales through his nose, contemplative.

"sometimes," he admits. "i get these dreams, and... weird feelings whenever i sense something familiar. maybe old things i should remember."

you nod at his response, lips pressing into a flat line. there's no sadness in his voice, only curiosity—like someone who has long accepted that some pieces of his past are just that: lost, but not necessarily missed.

that freed you.

"well," you say, lifting the cd slightly. "maybe you loved this song in another life."

a small smirk forms on his lips. "maybe."

you adjust the stack in your arms. "alright, i'll take all these. buying them, finally."

taesan follows behind you as you walk to the counter. the transaction is simple—just another routine exchange. but as you take the bag from his hands and turn to leave, his voice stops you.

"you've been visiting here since 2010, if i remember correctly," he says. "but i don't think i ever got your name."

you hesitate. then, with a steady stance, you turn back to him.

"jang y/n."

for a fleeting moment, you swear you see something—a flicker of recognition, a spark of something buried deep in his eyes. but just as quickly as it appears, it's gone, replaced by his usual easygoing expression.

taesan nods, polite, casual. "okay. please take care on the road, ma'am jang. i'll remember you."

you nod back, stepping out of the store for the final time.

▶ ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

tonight— an hour before your birthday ends, the air feels lighter than it has in years.

settling into your bed, you turn on the old vhs player, the usual static rustling before the screen flickers on.

there he is, again. smiling through the grainy footage, his voice carrying through the years like a remnant of your youth.

"today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer."

for the first time, your chest doesn't tighten. your eyes don't glisten with unshed tears.

maybe, after all these years, this wasn't a promise left unfulfilled. maybe this message was never meant to be a placeholder for something that never came.

maybe it was closure all along.

maybe, the answer taesan gave you at the store earlier was the final piece of it—the confirmation that you were never completely erased from his world. buried, perhaps. forgotten in some ways. but never truly gone.

we all exist in someone's life, even if only in echoes. and maybe that truth—that you were once there, that you once mattered, is enough.

you glance back at the screen one last time.

taesan—your taesan is still there, frozen in time, forever twenty, forever smiling. wishing you happiness.

you reach for the remote, pressing the stop button.

the screen fades to black.

ejecting the tape carefully, putting it back in its place, you finally lay him—and the past—to rest.

■ fin.

#bnd x reader #bnd #taesan bnd #han taesan #taesan x reader #taesan #taesan boynextdoor #han dongmin #fanfic #au #boynextdoor #romance #taesan fanfic #han taesan x reader #90s au #90s #taesan angst

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a-hermit-pining · 2 days ago

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LaDS Men Reaction to You as a Parent

AN: I miss my mom 😭 I love her so much. She's sooooo precious.

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

Genre: Hurt and comfort

Ingredients: 90% comfort, 10% angst

My Fav: Caleb and Xavier

Xavier:

He knows the look. The way your hands fuss with the curtains long after sunset, how you peer out the window like the past might knock and ask to be let in. You’re restless.

He doesn’t say anything, he never does. Just watches you pace. Waiting for the triplets. Kassandra, Reagan, and Pam. Twenty-somethings now, but still your babies. You count the days until they return like a soldier marking calendar walls.

And tonight, like clockwork, you turn to him with that same eager light in your eyes. “Shall we sit outside in the yard? Get the firepit going? I got their favorite sweet potatoes.” You tug on his hand like you’re twenty again. “Let’s go, honey. Please?”

He’s already moving. The shawl is in his hands before you finish the sentence. He drapes it over your shoulders, presses a kiss to your temple, and follows you out without another word.

You sit in the yard together, hand in hand, listening for laughter that hasn’t arrived yet. But it will. It always does.

He doesn't need to say it aloud, but in his silence, you’ll always hear it: Watching you love them like this… it makes him love you more.

Rafayel:

You always wanted a quiet life. He remembers how you laughed the first time he said he’d give it to you. “Quiet’s not in your blood,” you teased.

But when Alaric was born, your son with his lungs and your fragile heart, you changed. Or maybe you returned to something truer.

You gave up the Hunter’s Association. The title. The power. You traded it all for hospital chairs, medical journals, and the quiet war of waiting rooms. And he watched you, time and time again, fold yourself into the margins of your son's life just to keep him breathing.

Not once did you ask why this happened. You only asked how to help.

Now Alaric sits in your old chair at the Association. Heart full, future wide. And Rafayel sees it every time you look at him, that flicker of disbelief. Like you still can’t believe you won.

And maybe that's what he admires most about you: you never stopped being a fighter, you just learned how to fight for something smaller, and infinitely more precious.

Zayne:

He sees it before you even speak.

The way your hand hovers above the table, over that one plate you always used to set first. The way your fingers curl in, then pull away, like grief lives in your bones now, like it whispers, not yet, not this time.

Aching to reach for the daughter who slammed close the door to her room. Leaving the dinner untouched.

You never ate without her. Not once. Not since the day she was born. Feeding her was your love language. Her plate was always first, always warm, always right. And now you sit across from him with a smile stretched too tight and a silence that doesn’t quite settle.

“I forgot dessert,” you say, too fast. “We should have something sweet. For your promotion.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just watches you walk to the kitchen, not like you’re hungry, but like you’re searching. Like if you just bake the right thing, if you get it just right, maybe the world will tilt back into place.

Zayne stands and follows, reaching for your hand before you disappear again. His thumb traces the ridge of your knuckles, soft and trembling.

“She’s not mad at you,” he murmurs, eyes steady on yours. “You did nothing wrong. She loves you.”

You blink, and your tears fall quiet, like they always do. Witnessing a drifting relationship once so cherished.

And he thinks, if loving someone is a sacred act, then parenting is its own kind of worship. And grief… grief is the altar where that worship never ends.

Sylus:

You left.

You loved him, but your love for your children outweighed it. And when he wouldn't stop, wouldn't turn his back on the life that had no room for them, you made the only choice you could.

You walked away. From him. From the danger. From the man who clung too tightly to a throne of blood, head of Onichynus, feared in every shadowed corner, yet too much a coward to surrender his power for peace.

You left behind divorce papers, and all the love you once carried.

Because you knew: it would only take one more threat. One wrong name whispered. One misplaced vendetta. And your children would pay the price.

He hated you for it. Said you turned them against him. Blamed the caution in their eyes, the distance in their hugs, on you.

But the truth is, he forgot. Forgot why he found you in the first place. Forgot the lifetimes that led him to your door. Forgot that everything good in him only ever came alive when you looked at him like he could be more.

Now it breaks him, not just that you left, but that you were right to. That you were strong enough to put your children first.

And that he was the reason you had to do it alone.

Caleb: (trans fem child)

He stood in the hallway, unseen. The morning light poured in through the half-open door, catching on your hands as you worked, parting strands of hair with steady, practiced care.

Fifteen years. He’s known her every day of them. His kid. Your kid. Raised together. Held through scraped knees and whispered nightmares. But today, today was different.

Today, you saw her.

Not the version the world forced on her. Not the shape they assigned. You saw her. And you didn’t hesitate. Didn’t freeze. Didn’t look to him for direction. You just met her where she was, as if you’d been waiting to do it since the day she arrived.

"Do you feel bonita?" you asked, voice soft and warm, teasing just enough to draw out that flicker of a smile. He watches her shoulders drop, just slightly. A breath let go. A bit of armor lowered.

She nods. Doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to. In that moment, she is safe. She is known.

And Caleb, Caleb feels something sharp crack and re-form inside his chest. Something quiet. Old. Holy.

Because you didn’t treat this like some revelation. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t mourn what was never yours to grieve. You just braided her hair like it was the most obvious, natural thing in the world.

And gods, that’s what wrecks him. He’s spent his whole life trying to shield her from a world that doesn’t know how to see people like her.

But you? You didn’t just see her.

You recognized her.

And standing there in the hallway, fists clenched and heart full, Caleb thinks: There is no war he wouldn’t fight for this. For her. For you. For the quiet kind of love that makes people whole again.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace headcannon #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #caleb x reader #love and deepspace reaction #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #angst #comfort #fluff #fem reader

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shybunnie20 · 1 year ago

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BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, contains profanity.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute.

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess.

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy, could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha.” You leer at him, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs. “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’." He raps his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight.” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily.

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it.

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.”

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah." Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll." Eddie points the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope.” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously." Eddie reaches for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie grabs the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is." He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," you offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips. “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best.” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There.” You adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah.” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He pulls a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly.” You scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his Casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe.” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together.” His voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as possible. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah.” You maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back.” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?”

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight."

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one." He heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so.” His tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you agree begrudgingly, take it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated.” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing.” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter.

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently.” You barely have the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” you suggest, struggling to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked. “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off. “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve." Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid.” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you.” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong.”

“You’re not and you didn’t. They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault.” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry.” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there.” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch.” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me.” You grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you.” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little.” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful.” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” He nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too.” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Jesus Christ.”

“You can say that again.” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could.” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that." You smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you. “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much." You remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though." You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart." Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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m0chisenpai · 6 months ago

Note

Mochi what do you think about 90s model reader (think brandi quinones) and loumand (they 100 percent watch fashions shows in modern days)?

Its cannon that they like people who capture attention (*coff coff* lestat). I think they would meet her in a show and would send her flowers and letters to court her and all that jazz

Sorry if this is weird :/

vogue

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which your pefermonce off and on the runway catches their attention

author note: I ate this up so much, I literally scoured Pintrest and fell down a rabbit hole and have to fight every desire in my body to do another multipart series for this

The production people move like flies past your eyes while you sit in your regal beauty. Eyes unblinking, legs crossed perfectly, your hair now braided pulled up into a bun with a few pieces falling and curled.

You hold the hand of Armand, his finger runs over and over. You've come to learn this calms not just your nerves but his as well. Louis remains off to the side, he is weary of cameras these days. Preferring to leave you and Armand to such matters.

But when you pout those lips and flutters those ethereal eyes he relents to sit to the sides.

When the interviewer settles in the chair he has your attention and your back straightens.

"Runway, Vogue and Dior, red carpets, music videos. But your most recent appearance in the critically acclaimed rock star The Vampire Lestat's music video put's you back in the public eye when you should look much more...different." That breaks your picturesque facade with a light giggle that crinkles your dark lined eyes,

"That damned name'

'Calm yourself my love.' You catch Louis' fleeting gaze.

"How does the face of the 80s and 90s reappear in the 2000s rained in blood and completely untouched by age?"

"Hmm I think I have my wonderous loves to thank for that, there are only so many things that can hide the thief of the night that is time. But I seem to be lucky to have escaped its grasp." Armand places a languid kiss to the back of your hand while Louis raises his glass from the side.

"I believe the Gift only encapsulated the beauty she had from the moment we first met." Armand speaks up.

"And this would be during your rookie years as an athlete may say?"

"Yes at the beginning of my runway career in my early 20s, though I would not turn till 30. Around the mid 80s I was found by my lovely companions when I was at my lowest. Watching from the sides. And I did everything to ensure not to fall in love."

"Cheeky." Louis coos in your mind.

"Let's go back then, how were you back then? You say you were at your lowest but your face was desired by so many."

"Beauty, fame, money, sex is all so fleeting. And the fashion industry sucked every bit out of you till you were a husk for them to drag along until the needles and knife was needed to hide any evidence of your decline."

Armand will never admit it out loud but he was particularly fond of the 80s and 90s. He loved the fashions o each era, but he fell in love with runway. It was theatre in an entirely new facet. Louis can recall, though his companions face was stone cold, the glimmer of warmth in his eyes that watched each and every model. Catching every small finite detail.

Louis was more than happy to donate and invest in the ocassional piece for Armand who returned the favor. Until one evening they are encaptured by a beauty amount the sea of tall skinny legs.

This angel that graced the runway one evening of Paris Fasion week. It was dull, Armand confided in Louis as they dressed for the show they and and a few exclusive members were invited to.

One by one Armand began to count them like sheep until she entered. A sheer black tube tob pencil skirt dress with a billowy white blouse beneath. Your eyes are smoky and sharp and your lips a bright chery red. When you walk, you lack the stiffness the other girls move with, no no you glide. The runway is your stage, you dance so beautifully.

Armand sits up as you walk past. He neded you then, he neededyou now.

When you are off you brush past the fussy designers who bark orders in French that is too fast and English far too broken. All you care to know is you have a period of relief to indulge in a smoke and soon after a bump from one of your acquaintances.

You slump in your seat, a cigarette warms you up as you enjoy the momentary silence until you are up again. You grow tired, bored of this. You see it boiling in your eyes, past the makeup, the eye liner and rouge.

From your side one of the assistants carefully moves to your side.

"For you ma'am a gift from some of our most generous investors of the arts."

"M' not sleeping with them" you mumble around the still lit cigarette which dangles from your lips as you open the card tucked into the dozens of fresh roses.

"A rose for a rose." You grumble putting out your cigarette on the card and getting up to squeeze into the sheer scandalous dress though you would hardly call it that with the pièce de résistance being an intricate veil that twists and covers and is encrusted with diamonds around your face and binding in the back.

As you go to line up, standing still for any changes and a quick make up touch you are nudged to get in line. But a thought lingers in your mind.

When you walk you can't help but wonder, which one of you wants to sleep and tell the tale, hm?

"On the contrary my dear." You almost falter when you turn to walk back. That man's voice sends shives down your spine as you carefully make sure not to falter. "We would prefer to have you more than just in the flesh."

His partner to the left flashes you a cocky smile. He's lucky you are being watched otherwise you would have scowled.

"Aw, don't scowl like that chere."

They follow you to London. Your picture is in all the tabloids and paprazzi is stationed outside of your hotel where you quckly find the bar. In an act of defiance, and trying to add your flare, you stopped during midwalk to kiss the collar of your mysterious suitor leaving a perfect red stain.

Since then your manager has been bombarded with numerous calls for editorials, spreads, and interviews.

"Another glass for her please."

Your eyes cut to the beautiful man whose eyes look enchanting through the fog of smoke he carefully clows away from your direction. A black turtle neck tucked into a pair of slacks to battle the chill.

But no words can describe the work of art that are his eyes which stare deep into your yours,

"I don't sleep with fashion fanatics, not anymore at least" you mumble into the dirty martini before a new one is placed in front of you.

The corner of his lips twitch into a mix of a smile and a smirk.

"Nah I'm not into the whole art of fashion. Just a simple collector is all," he watches how your luscious lips leave a red imprint along the rim of the glass.

"Oh? And do I fit your collection?"

He hums, "I'd dare to say you outshine it."

"Let me guess," you rest your cigarette in the ashtray to give him your undivided attention. "Your wife wants to watch doesn't she?" Your eyes look pass his shoulder at the women and some of your fellow workers.

"Your far off. Got no wife, but my companion does enjoy to watch ocasionally." Louis leans forward, his chin on your shoulder and his cold lips touch your ear. "And he's been watching this entire time my dear."

Your head quickly turns and sure enough, a man watches at the end of the bar. A gass half filled, his both arms rest on the counter and his eyes remain unmoving on you both.

"Put her tab on my card will you?" Your mysterious heart throb drops a card that clanks and you catch a glimps of the name.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac" you read it to yourself as he stands to walk languidly to the man. Placing a hand don his shoulder and sitting beside him.

You should be unnerved by their constant appearances, but you enjoy this game of cat and mouse. Sharing words at afterparties, drinks at hotel bars, and one night together in the satin sheets of Milan.

Your room is always filled with flowers when you arrive. Champagne and chocolates await by your bedside. You never fail to find their eyes in the crowd, you dare to say this is what love must feel like.

You keep the notes and letters from Armand. His way with words are what bring the light back in your eyes as you walk and model.

Whatever it is, your agent tells you one day, keep it up. because you begin t see a spike in your career and appearances. Leading you to walk your first large red carpet event.

When you step out of the shining vintage car immediately you are met with flashes, clinging to your sur shrug for comfort imagining their arms as you walk and pause for questions and for photographs.

"Can we be under the assumption you have a special someone?" Your interviewer asks over the roar of paparazzi and photographers at a red carpet event.

"Hmm, I guess you could continue to speculate." You give a cheeky grin to the camera as you walk off with a flurry of questions at your leathered heels.

When you enter the museum hosting the charity event they await you. Your drop your shrug into the arms of one of the attendants while Armand takes hold of your clutch. You walk in between them looking at the beautifully restored and donated pieces. The theme is very rococo and you adore it, the artwork, pottery and ceramics and the beautifully restored gowns on display.

"Oh my goodness look at this one, it reminds me of a Monet" you coo as you stand before the water lily pond. Your hand on your chest as you pause. You wish it were yours. Though it is not the original you want it still.

And that's enough for Armand to place a red sticker near the artists name.

"Oh you didn't have to, Armand." you pout at him as he cups your jaw looking into your eyes.

"You clearly desired it, did you not?" When all you do is nod he hums. His thumb begins to stroke the soft skin of your jaw. "Then you shall have it."

"We would travel the cities I was in. And during the off season I spent here or in the comforts of one of our other homes. I believe Berlin will be our destination this year for the holidays, right my love?"

And how can Armand no to those eyes.

They gleam with mischief, golden flakes sparkle in your bright eyes. "Whatever her hearts desires I have assumed the duty to fulfill each ofthem, we both do."

You shush him, had you still been mortal you swear your cheeks would be flushed.

The interviewer

"But I believe this Gift would have to be my most treasured one."

#iwtv x reader #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac x reader #armand x reader #louis x reader #loumand x reader

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theurgists · 1 year ago

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE INEVITABLE PULL ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: on the night of her twenty-first birthday, ellie find herself in the one place she asked jesse not to bring her. a strip club.

warning(s): 18+ smut, modern!au, stripper!reader, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, dudes in clubs being jackasses, jesse being a wingman ( thank you bestie ), dry humping ( a little?? ), fingering ( reader!receiving ),oral ( elle!receiving ), a one night stand, essentially. not proof-read!

a/n: yet another one-shot i'm bringing back. i do have a little 90s ellie drabble in my drafts that I'm working on so definitely let me know if you'd like to see that ;)

You know that feeling you get when you walk into a place you don’t want to be in? A feeling so uncomfortable that it makes you involuntarily bounce back and forth from the heels of your feet to the tips of your toes, eyes darting from left to right trying to observe the situation you were faced with.

Ellie was unfortunate enough to be experiencing it tonight as the blood in her veins thumped into the base of her eardrums, her hands in the small pockets of the denim jeans she wore as her shoulders hunched with uncertainty. The air smelt like immeasurable amounts of liquor and what Jesse described as ‘fun times’.

He had coaxed her out of her apartment and off of the confines of her couch on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, a smile on his face as he landed a pat with an open palm on the back of her right shoulder which rattled her, a grimace curling onto the skin of her lips. Playing the scenario back in her mind now, it seemed as if he considered her feelings which didn’t end up being the case. Sometimes, Ellie would find herself filled with slight guilt for even having the thought of her friend being faintly ignorant — but it oozed out of him as he weaved his way through the teeming club. She was barely one for small parties, preferring to linger in the corners away from unseen eyes, processing what was laid before her in the form of passing bodies.

Finding herself experiencing how it felt to be somewhere more open — more suffocated — made her stomach tie in the tightest of knots.

Blowing a puff of air out of her throat, Ellie felt annoyance creeping up within her as the bone of her shoulder collided with someone else’s.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

Through the tumultuous beat of hip-hop music, those seven gruff words reached the canal of her ears causing the soles of her shoes to squelch on the scuffed polish of the club floor as she turned around. Deep lines formed between her eyebrows as she scowled, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand, teeth gritting together.

“The fuck?”

Ellie didn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that no matter the situation, her mouth couldn’t just stay closed even with multiple attempted efforts. It worked out for her in less violent ways fifty percent of the time. Whereas, the other fifty percent caused adrenaline to pump in her veins so quickly that her body would shake slightly, growing numb as if to prepare for whatever damage would arise.

People tended to underestimate how much damage swirled around her balled fists due to her average stature and the fact that she was a girl. She knew better than to let things progress further, not only for the sake of not wanting to deal with it on her birthday but for the poor patron who’d most likely end up losing if he decided to take the unknown risk of a fistfight. Especially with her.

“You fuckin’ heard me.” The man towered over her, dark eyes riddled with drunkenness and a bubbling fury as she looked up at him through low eyelids, a smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth.

Through her peripheral vision, she could see the stares of other club-goers as they observed the altercation with interest, curious to see who would throw the first punch. It would’ve been Ellie. Seriously, she was so close to cocking her fist back just to swing it into his aging face but Jesse had a knack for knowing when his friend got into trouble because he appeared next to her before she could blink, fingers grabbing at the back of the plaid button-down she wore, trying to de-escalate the painstakingly icky tension as those who were unaware continued with their night.

“Woah.” He dragged out in an airy laugh, snaking himself in front of Ellie in case things went south. “No problems here, right?”

Not trusting herself enough to not utter a single word, Ellie turned and let her feet carry her straight to the bar at the far left corner, jaw tight as she found an empty spot to slide herself into in hopes of getting herself a drink as it had just reached one in the morning. If she had the option to restart the first hour of her birthday somewhere else, she could, but beggars can’t be choosers — and Ellie was far from being a beggar.

Locking her eyes onto her choice of liquor, she let the music creep back in her ears once more as her eyes clouded over, scanning the crevices of her brain for the pros and cons of having a couple of shots throughout the night, or just getting a glass straight-up.

Clearing his throat, Jessie weaseled his way next to her before grabbing the bartender’s attention, his pearly white teething glistening under the neon lights that shone through the darkness, eyes shamelessly roaming across her body as she bit her lip flirtatiously.

Ellie couldn’t roll her eyes, itching to have a drink in her grasp to ease the small jolt of nerves that would pinch her every couple of seconds.

“Can I get angel’s envy on the rocks?” She asked, avoiding looking at the lady behind the bar as she nodded curtly.

“Sure thing, honey.” Turning to Jesse, her back arched slightly as a means to pop her chest in his face a little more. The only thing that was stopping her from leaning closer was the countertop between them as she spoke lowly.

“And for you, baby?” She drawled, voice slow. She already had a couple of drinks, which was evident through her shameless attempt at flirting which the dark-haired man seemed to be into for some reason.

His lips quirked up, arms crossed over each other as he went to rest them on the bartop, eyes boring right into her soul.

“Same thing.”

Ellie took the opportunity to observe her surroundings even further. Eyes moved from the people sitting in small round booths and velvet chairs to the stage that sat front and center, one of the main reasons why she had been brought here tonight. A pole stood upright under the bright white lights, metal practically sparkling, blinding her as if to make its presence more known to her than it already was.

In life, there were a lot of firsts and Ellie had gladly experienced them with pride, diving headfirst. However, this was a completely different ball game that filled her with a small enough amount of discomfort that caused her to scratch at the nape of her neck.

“Y’know, the least you could do is say thank you for having me deal with your shit.” Jesse chuckled jokingly, fingers jutting outward to slide the glass toward her which she took without a second thought.

Although Ellie could sense the humor in his voice, the bitterness she felt seemed to overpower her brain before she could correctly process her words. “The least? You could’ve been a little more considerate when you decided on where to take me on my birthday.”

She leaned closer to him, having to raise her voice to be heard through the music. “A fucking strip club. Really?”

Raising his glass, he just smiled smugly at her which caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head for the second time that night before he clanked it with hers in a toast. “To being twenty-one.” Tilting the chilled cup toward his mouth, he downed his whiskey in one go before shaking his head to rid of the burning in his throat. Ellie followed right after, letting her eyes screwed shut as heat ran into the pit of her stomach.

“God that was fucking awful.”

All Ellie got in response was Jesse’s arm over her shoulder as he stood on the tips of his toes, neck craning over heads as if he was looking for something in particular. Before she could ask, his eyes lit up, her body moving forcefully as he dragged her away from the bar and in the direction of a booth that was mostly empty beside three other people occupying a small section of space. Jesse’s friends.

Truthfully, this night seemed to be getting worse as she watched Jesse slide himself in before moving in his seat, the leather squeaking as it rubbed against his clothes. Ellie licked her lips, tasting a hint of the shea butter chapstick she had applied to them earlier in the night, body growing rigid as one of his friends stared at her with wavering uninterest.

“Who are you again? He slurred, lazily pointing a finger in her direction, swaying in his seat slightly.

Ellie’s reply was simple and cold. “Ellie.”

Jesse slapped him on the back, sending his torso to push forward and some of his liquor to fall out of his shot glass and onto the table in front of them. “Seth shut the fuck up.”

Seth opened his mouth, lips in the shape of an ‘o’ before his face contorted into one of amusement, “Oh” He chuckled.

If Ellie was being honest with herself, she didn’t remember his name either. Jesse’s friends weren’t people she would necessarily surround herself with if she was looking for company. On occasion, she’d stop at Dean’s house ( the name of the only one she bothered to remember, only because he treated her like he would any of his other guy friends ) with him only because she got to smoke for free, and she’d never pass up free weed.

Moving to sit, Ellie lowered herself before breathing in through her nose, the lighting dimming above her almost instantly as the song that was playing came to a pause before another one followed behind.

Confusion grew on her features as the sharp clank of heels could be heard from where she was, just a couple of feet away, in the third row of seats right smack in the middle. She didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t as if she was well-versed in the club universe because she hadn’t been in one before tonight.

She heard Dean hiss behind his teeth before whistling loudly, “Damn.”

Averting her gaze toward center stage, she could feel her cheeks warm as she stared at you. Your hair fell down your shoulders in loose waves, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth before you smiled warmly, red nails gliding up and down your hips before you swayed them side to side seductively, moving to the rhythm of the music. Hoots and hollers filled the expanse of space, bouncing off the walls and directly into her ears.

“Fuck, she’s hot.”

Ellie was thankful for the darkness that enveloped the room as the crimson flush on her cheeks darkened in color even further. She shuffled back into her seat, keeping her gaze locked on your body as you spun around the pole, the string of your black thong hiking up your hip just a little higher, something she swore only she noticed.

With her gaze boring into your frame, she watched as you swung one leg over the other, spinning on your heels before lifting yourself off the stage using the pole, your grip tightening as your feet moved in place.

This feeling in between her legs, the ache she got from just seeing you was otherworldly, she felt wrong about it. She didn’t even know you ( as badly as she wanted to now ) to be feeling the way she did. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered so aggressively that they felt as if they were crawling out her throat as her breath hitched.

When the money appeared, adorning you as if it was rain falling, she melted into the leather of the booth. Her eyes widened before a cough emitted from her throat, her heart picking up its pace as your eyes darted across the crowd and she swore you were staring at her as you crawled on all fours in front of the stage.

So, the only natural thing for her to do was stare right back at you, keeping her gaze locked on your low-lidded eyes before letting someone lift the band of your thong to place a wad of cash, their fingers lingering on your bare hip for longer than necessary before you gracefully danced away.

You were a goddess, clad in her most seductive armor that nobody could lay a finger on. Ellie could tell by the way you carried yourself, head held high and body swinging low as cash surrounded you. As awkward as she felt, she sure hoped she didn’t look the part because your eyes were still on her.

A small smack to her arm caused her to twist her head in Jesse’s direction, a frown on her face as she tried to stare at him through the darkness. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, lips pressed together to keep himself from laughing aloud. “It’s okay you know, to stare, that’s why we’re here.”

Putting the palms of his hands out, he gestured around him as if to prove a point.

Ellie tutted before she grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, grabbing at the new drink that miraculously appeared ( he must’ve grabbed it off of one of the guys ) before gulping the rest of its contents down, lips puckering as her lungs developed a burn that only Hennesey could give her.

“This is the last time I’m letting you drag me anywhere without telling me first.” She huffed, blowing out a breath that caused her cheeks to ache slightly. She averted her gaze to you again, this time watching as you left the stage, signaling the end of your set as people cheered and whistled.

“That was something, I’ll tell you that.” She heard Dean say, his hands traveling down to his pants to try and conceal the very noticeable boner that had tented.

Ellie pulled her lips back in a snarl, teeth out in the open as an uncomfortable expression reached her features, skin near the corners of her eyes creasing as she narrowed them in his direction. Men were fucking gross — and the way he sat there, licking his lips hungrily as if he’s made up his mind to go after you tonight — only furthered that thought into the front of her mind.

The leather seat dipped slightly when Jesse took the initiative to scoot himself closer to her, leaning down to yell, “Was I right?”

Ellie glanced at him through low eyes as the scent of weed hit her nose, merely shrugging in response before lifting herself and pulling down the ends of her shirt, the cotton material having ridden up.

Se suddenly found herself staring at the bar a couple of feet away from her, coincidentally landing her green eyes on the dip of your back, the bands on your thong littered with cash still. You looked fucking amazing. Your hair was now bunched up in your right hand as you fanned your neck with the left one, your crimson-painted lips moving quickly as you spoke to the bartender she felt herself loathing after their earlier interaction. If you could even call it that.

A high-pitched whistle beside her pulled her out of whatever thoughts consumed the spaces of her mind. It was none other than her friend, moving his head to stare at who she’d been eyeing. Finally, he saw you in the crowd of people squished at the bartop, and then his brown eyes moved toward Ellie’s face. He knew she wasn’t going to approach you willingly, even if the desperation to speak to you was written across her face in big, bold, lettering. So, he decided to be the devil — or the angel — on her shoulder.

“Go talk to her, make a move.”

Ellie wanted to laugh. The urge bubbled up in her throat like bile, and she let it go. Giving him the most genuine chuckle she’s given him all night, shaking her head from side to side. “I doubt she’s into girls.”

For some reason, considering that as an option made her mood dampen slightly. Anyone here could see the confidence that exuded from you, it lingered in your sweet perfume when you’d pass by people and she was pretty sure she was falling victim to it.

Shrugging, Jesse let his lips pull into a frown, urging her further. “You don’t know that.”

That was true, she thought as she shamelessly stared you down, her sweaty palms at her sides as she tried to inconspicuously wipe them on the denim of her jeans. Relenting, she felt her heart quicken as her feet carried her toward where you were standing under the neon lights of the bar.

You looked even prettier up close, your unique features burning into the part of her brain where long-term memory was, trying to soak you in before you noticed she was there.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Ellie was a goner. Your voice was sweet and sultry, low with a hint of fatigue weaved in between them as you kept your eyes down, your nails tapping against the glass in front of you.

Ellie cleared the blockage in her throat before answering. “Uh yeah, it was nice.”

Licking your lips, you still kept your head low but she could see you staring at her from the corner of your eyes. “You were staring.”

So you did notice her looking at you, which meant that you were indeed looking at her as you danced flawlessly on stage. At least she wasn’t going crazy.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for what was the tenth time, she stuttered, trying to look anywhere, the confidence she once had evaporating as your light laughter reached her ears. “Everyone was staring.” She managed to spit, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I wasn’t looking at everyone else though…”

This made her smile, slightly bashful that you had said those words to her. Maybe you were just naturally a flirt, seeking thrills on sweet-talking club-goers only to leave them wanting more once you left. Oddly, she decided to entertain you by twisting her neck in your direction, the tattoo on her arm taking all the attention as your eyes burned into the skin peeking from under her jacket.

You continued, “You stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s okay. I like seeing new faces.” Sliding your glass in her direction, you watched with curiosity as she picked it up, swirling the contents in the glass, ice cubes clinking against each other before she let the rest of it slide down her throat.

Ellie wasn’t a big drinker and she was sure she’d feel the consequences of her choice in the morning, but being next to you — talking to you, was worth whatever hangover would greet her in the morning.

Pushing for a conversation, you asked her a question. “So, did your friends drag you here or something.”

Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly the case which she confirmed by nodding. A dry laugh came from her mouth, causing her to cringe at just how fake it sounded but you didn’t seem to mind. “Uh, yeah, that’s exactly it.”

You turned your body toward her fully, lifting at the strap of your lacey bra, your breasts moving upward just an inch but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie as her eyes landed on your chest for a fraction of a second before she was looking at your face again.

‘How’d you know.”

“You look uncomfortable. This isn’t your thing?”

With that question in mind, Ellie felt the vibration of the music in the soles of her sneaker-clad feet, so loud that her body hummed along with the music, the smell of weed burning the hairs in her nostrils as giggles bounced into her ears. “Not really, it’s my birthday so my friend brought me.”

Your eyes lit up, pearly white teeth contrasting against the dark tint of your lipstick. “Happy Birthday to you then,”

Ellie moved her mouth to reply with a small ‘thank you’ but the bartender appeared in front of the both of you before you asked her for a shot which she gave you quicker than she had taken Ellie’s drink order. She watched as you slid it in her direction like previously, a smirk decorating your lips as she made eye contact with you, putting the rim of the shot glass between her lips and letting it snake down her throat, the sensation of the burn causing a sharp intake of breath.

Goosebumps littered your exposed skin as you felt a sudden dull ache grow between your legs. The tension was bouncing between you, deflecting off of the invisible barrier that loitered, cracking just a tad before you backed away. “I have to go now, but it was nice talking to you…”

“Ellie.”

Giving her one last smile, you nodded. “I hope I’ll see you around soon.”

She waved with a hand, lips pursed as you turned on your heels and disappeared behind a metal door labeled ‘staff only’.

Usually, every girl Ellie’s ever had an interaction with ended up with her itching to move away from the situation she dragged herself into, jaw tight and teeth grinding together. It was different this time, probably because it was you. The fact that she had no clue what your name was, intrigued her beyond the point of no return. She found herself stuck on you despite having a conversation that lasted all but five minutes — which felt like thirty seconds.

Sighing, she made her way back to Jesse and his extremely drunk friends. Dean and Seth were shoving each other like fucking five-year-olds bickering over something stupid, their faces inches apart that Ellie felt like she was intruding on a private matter.

Sitting down again, Ellie let herself endure the two hours in silence next to Jesse as the night wasted away, more drinks being spilled, annoyance growing. She didn’t know how long she was glued to that seat when she made her way outside the double doors, breathing in the fresh air that she took for granted, sighing as she ran a hand through her short auburn hair, the rings on her fingers clattering together as she did so.

At this point, it was just nearly three in the morning. The dim street lights illuminated the empty street, the leaves on tree branches swaying with the wind in the direction it whipped in. An occasional leaf swayed to the ground as she sat on the curb, the skin of her palms peeling from the roughness of the concrete.

“I’m fucking serious, Willow.” Moving her head in the direction of the voice, her heart skipped a beat as you stood there with your jacket in hand. You have changed into more comfortable clothes. Your thong is now replaced by pink sweatpants, baggy as they hang low on your hips, and a tank top in place of your bra. Glancing down at your shoes, she could see the white Nike socks keeping your feet warm from the cold, a pair of slides on your feet. You were arguing with someone, that much was obvious.

The girl in front of you towered so high, it was almost threatening but you didn’t falter in your stance. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she spoke with malice. “You don’t think I’m not? You can come here and dance half naked for some fucking cash but can’t text me back.”

You scoffed, clicking your tongue while taking a small step back. “This is my job, I’m obligated to come here.” You gestured toward the club with a finger, wilding pointing before jabbing the same finger into her chest. “I don’t need to text you. You’re not my girlfriend, remember?”

Licking her lips, the gears turned in Ellie’s brain as she weighed her options. She could intervene, ask what the problem was, be your knight in shining armor — but she decided against it. Her palms grew sweaty once more as she continued to watch the interaction.

The girl breathed through her nose, nostrils expanding as she took in a deep breath before balling her fists at her side, something you didn’t seem to notice as you stared into her eyes with what could only be described as hatred.

“Fine, have it your way then.” She walked away, angrily stepping toward her car a couple of feet away from you, opening the door with such force that it nearly broke off. “Don’t expect me to take you back when you come crawling with those fake tears of yours.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your jacket closer to your chest as you watched her get in her car, tires squealing loudly as she peeled out of the parking lot, leaving tracks on the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Ellie staring at you but still pressed against the curb as you walked over toward her, embarrassment creeping up on you in the form of warm cheeks and pressure behind your eyes. Tears.

Rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand, you gave her a tight-lipped smile before bending down to join her. “Did you see everything?”

She could see just how embarrassed you were as you pushed the nails on your finger toward your mouth, biting at them nervously. Nodding, she spoke lowly, “Yeah, was that your ex-girlfriend?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded curtly. “Sadly,”

Not knowing what else to say, she just sat there in silence, enjoying the quietness of the outside world with you next to her. The silence wasn’t awkward — quite the opposite as she no longer felt nervous or out of place as a couple of minutes passed, glances to each other being shared throughout.

Ellie was growing tired, eyes riddled with a hint of sleep and the extended feeling of desperation urged her to take herself home. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she pressed the side button as the screen lit up, the clock on her home screen reading 3:15 am before she turned it back off again. With a yawn, she lifted herself off the curb, stretching her limbs as some of them cracked at the sensation of no longer being hunched over uncomfortably.

Turning to look down at you, she saw that you were already staring up at her with doe eyes, lips etched into what seemed like a permanent frown. “Do you have a ride home?” The words left her mouth before she could process them and she wanted to smack herself right after.

Nodding, you jerked your head toward the black double doors, “My friend’s a bouncer, he usually walks me home since I don’t live far.” You don’t know why you said the last part, internally face-palming at the fact that you gave her a slight hint as to where you lived.

She didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask if she could walk you home. Even thinking about asking you sent her heart racing wildly inside the expanse of her chest. But, tonight was full of risks and she liked to consider herself a risk-taker — so she bit.

“I can walk you if you want.” She spoke quickly, rushing to explain her thought process. “I’m just saying because it’s like three in the morning and -”

You laughed loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth after it had left you. “I’m sorry, I'm just laughing because it’s kind of cute when you ramble.” You expressed, nodding as you rose to stand next to her causing her to scratch the back of her neck before tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “But yes, I’d appreciate it if you did.” She promised that if she were able to turn into some form of mush, she would’ve in that very moment that you said her name.

The walk was nice, to Ellie at least, as you talked to her about your job and the other girls that worked there. She listened with interest although she wasn’t a big gossiper, asking you questions about certain things to let you know that she was listening to every word you said, hanging onto them. She saw how your steps slowed after walking around four blocks before coming to a complete stop in front of a lone door, the redness of the metal sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the street.

All she did was stand there with her hands in her jeans pockets as you fiddled with the knob, wedging your key inside before pushing it open.

“This is me.” You sighed, stepping inside the dark hallway, turning to face her as you leaned your cheek against the cool edge of your front door, fluttering your eyelashes. “Do you want to like… come in and have a drink? I know it’s almost four in the morning, but I feel bad for taking up your offer of walking me home since it’s your birthday and all.”

Ellie knew that if she declined your offer, she’d find herself on her bed, wishing she had taken you up on your offer for another drink. Like she said earlier, tonight was all about risks. She’d greedily take this one.

The nod she gave you sent shivers up your spine, her body moving inside your house as a means to shield herself from the chill night air. The temperature difference made her realize just how buzzed she was as she stood in the darkness of what she assumed was your living room.

From behind her, she could hear the little ‘plink’ of the light switch as you flicked it on, light flooding the room.

“You can place your coat here if you want.”

She turned, raising her eyebrows to see what you were talking about until she saw you hang your jacket on a hook near the door, a hand behind you to take hers from her. She shrugged it off quickly before handing it to you, watching as you stood on your toes to hang hers on the hook above the first one hammered into the wall.

Moving past her into the kitchen, she had no choice but to follow as you lit the room once more, the small island catching her attention immediately due to how messy it was.

As if you were reading her thoughts, you spoke with some embarrassment in your voice. “I would’ve cleaned up if I knew I was going to be bringing guests over.”

She eyed the items around the small area before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay, this allows me to scan for conversation topics.” Was it weird that she said that? Well, you didn’t seem to think so as you laughed heartily from your stomach, hands pulling at the fridge handle, browsing at the limited options of liquor.

“Uh… do you want a shot of tequila or a glass of Rosè?” She heard your muffled question to which she answered quickly.

“Tequila.”

“Alright, my kind of girl!” You exclaimed happily, setting the bottle down on the island and grabbing two shot glasses from one of your wooden cabinets.

Twisting the lid off, you poured the liquor into the small glasses which caused her to stand across from you, drunken eyes watching as you handed her one. She took it before staring into your eyes once again, hungrily this time, as you rubbed your thighs together under her gaze.

The both of you tilted your head back in unison, downing the shot quickly before you waltzed to where she was standing, eyes never leaving hers as you brought your face closer.

You didn’t know why you did what you did, and neither did she quite frankly as she stood, stiff and with ragged breaths as you closed the small gap between the two of you. She immediately returned the kiss, her back digging into the edge of the island counter, as you pressed against her, grabbing the shirt she was wearing, tugging it with need.

With a hand snaked around your back, she moved the other to grab the back of your neck, forcing your teeth to clash against hers as her tongue made its way into the deliciousness of your mouth. You moaned, entwining yours around hers wetly, her warm breath mixing with yours.

She met you all but four hours ago, and here she was, in your house kissing you as if her life depended on it.

Her hands moved to your ass, squeezing through the material of your sweatpants as hard as she could when you ground your hips against hers, wanting to dissipate the aching throb between your legs.

Noticing this, Ellie moved her hand to the front of your sweats, fingers dancing down your naval and onto your folds, opening them slightly to rub at your clit. You whined, pressing your forehead against hers with a hand on the nape of her neck, squeezing slightly. The action caused her to rub at your swelling bud even faster, keeping note of the way your face contorted into one of pleasure, your eyes in the back of your head.

“You like that, hm?” Seeing you like this, your body pressed against hers leaving little to no space to even breathe made her the wettest she’s ever been.

You only put your head in the crook of her neck as a response, teeth grazing at the skin below her ear as she shuddered, your slick pooling into her hand when a finger entered you, stretching you oh-so deliciously.

A sob ripped from your throat, your teeth digging into her neck as you bit to keep yourself from being too loud. Ellie couldn’t help the groan that escaped her when she felt you nipping at the base of her neck, stomach tying into knots at the thought of even just getting to fuck you.

“Oh, my g-god.” You stuttered, paying extra attention to the finger that was moving in and out of you quickly, grinding yourself onto it lower, with such haste that you just had to scream out.

“C’mon, baby, I know you can say more than that.” She slurred encouragingly into your ear, the hand on your ass pulling you even further into her as she shoved a second finger in without warning.

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” You were boarding on tipsy at this point, and not just on alcohol, but the feeling of her fingers as they wormed their way back inside you relentlessly.

You heard her chuckle, “That’s it, that’s right.”

Her breathing in your ear, chanting praises, the sensation of white heat building up in your stomach became overwhelming as you clenched around her fingers, releasing all your built-up sexual tension. Or so you thought because when Ellie slowly put her fingers that were previously inside you into her mouth and sucked them dry, you went almost animalistic.

“Sit on the counter.” You purred, eyelashes fluttering at her, your lids low with arousal and drunkenness.

Ellie wasn’t one to find herself obeying others, especially in sexual situations, but for some reason, she found herself doing exactly what you said with a slight tint to her cheeks that wasn’t just from the excessive amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night. This hangover was gonna be a bitch.

You loomed over her, arms on either side of her, palms pressed against the counter. “Let me taste you.”

The pattern of her breathing changed, making her chest rise up and down quickly before she uttered something almost incomprehensible to you. “I’m not the one usually receiving.”

The smile that you gave her was devious as your hands toyed with the button of her jeans, “Please?” You found it pathetic at the way you begged her, but you didn’t care, not one bit as she nodded her head, letting you unclasp the button before you tugged them off along with her black briefs, throwing them somewhere in the kitchen to find later. She felt the cool marble of the countertop against her bottom as she grasped at the edge of the counter with her ringed fingers, looking down at you with so much lust behind her eyes that you could’ve just come for the second time right then and there.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” You hushed, kissing the inside of her thighs with fervor before swiping your tongue over her cunt, lapping at her juices as they leaked onto your tongue. You sucked harshly at her clit causing her to sob once, hands digging into your hair as she ground her hips into your face further.

“Mhm,” You moaned into her core, feeling her throb against your mouth, tongue flicking quickly at her clit, her arousal mixed with your spit sending her mind to an entirely different planet as her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

You were staring at her the entire time, your arousal wetting the material of your underwear, making them stick to your folds as you shuffled your hips to move into her more, feeling her shake above you.

“O - oh my god, fuck.” She whined, lip quivering as her legs shook, an orgasm so intense that she grew numb, letting her spend get sucked onto your tongue before you removed yourself, dabbing at the sides of your mouth with a finger.

Ellie Williams was completely fucked and love-drunk on you, and she didn’t even fucking know you.

#ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams

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beautifulfaaces · 2 years ago

Text

Alyah Chanelle Scott

Facts

July 3, 1997

American actress

Filmography

Whitney [The Sex Lives of College Girls: 2021-2022]

Timberly [Reboot: 2022]

McKenna [Walk off: 2019]

Appearance

Black hair

Curls

Brown eyes

Roleplay

Playable: young adult

Icons: The Sex Lives of College Girls

#Alyah Chanelle Scott #fem 90s #fem american #90s fem american #the sex lives of college girls #reboot #walk off #black fem young #90s fem black #curls fem young #90s fem curls #brown eyes fem young #90s fem brown eyes #young adult female

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Note

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f #mafia au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

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lolitalovess · 2 months ago

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lipstick, lies, and lesbians. 8teen. honey blonde curls. the 90s. pretty girls. arcane. patterned tights. hibiscus flowers. mascs and mascara. carabiner in the middle. the coast. lockets. leather jackets. ari abdul. dapple grey horses. purple eye shadow. the perks of being a wallflower. history. silver jewellery. caitlyn kiramman. the renaissance period. autumn. lace bras. hot fem online, loser lesbian irl.

masterlist ♡

19 y/o loser vi

loser vi w a mean reader

loser vi who cums too early

loser vi humping her pillow

loser vi needing you as study motivation

loser vi humping the strap harness

loser vi hcs

bsf loser vi

vi as your wife

wife vi (and cait) showing up to your work

house wife mechanic vi

rockstar vi

more rockstar vi

best friend vi who loves your nails

hockey player vi

cowgirl vi hcs

fingering vi

arranged marriage w cait

vampire cait

taglist. i will not write about topics like incest, racism, any type of non-consensual actions, smut for characters under the age of 17, male characters, nor will i write for g!p (i'm happy to write about trans characters, just not smut). these are all out of my comfort zone and you will be blocked if you repeatedly ask me to write about any of these, though don't be afraid to send a submission about any topic that isn't one of these. i write at my own pace and won't write every submission i get. under 16's please don't interact with my freaky shit.

#masterlist #asks #headcannons #fics #♡

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jungkakes · 11 months ago

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Make Me Water | JiKook x Reader

pairings: jikook x fem!reader, smut, fluff, established relationship with jk and reader.

warnings: threesome-f/m/m, oral, double penetration, fingering, anal, creampies (by bofum lol), squirting, unprotected sex, dirty talk, implied consensual rough sex, cuck jk, just pure smut really, jungkook calls reader 'mama', aftercare, sweet talk.

words: 19,827

summary: It's a hot, sticky summer in Seoul. Heat warnings are in effect. But when the night falls and breeze begins to blow, what better way to cool off than have some fun poolside with your man and his bestfriend?

also cross-posted on ao3

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　

Stepping out onto the terrace, you slid the door that led out to the private pool closed behind you with a quiet shut, “Hurry and join us, baby.” You hummed, turning back to give your partner a final smile from over your shoulder right before you closed the door.

Once outside, the warm breeze from the summer night’s air fanned over your skin. The gentle sounds of flowing water filled the open air. Soft, steady waves from a stream echoed through the space you had been standing in. Splish, splish, splish. It was calming. Relaxing. You could use it as a form of asmr even.

It had been scorching hot outside today. The temperatures steadily crept to an alarming 90 degrees Fahrenheit by midday. Calling for a heat warning and advising all citizens to stay indoors to try and keep cool in any way they could. And stay cool, you did. Lounging for most of the day near the air conditioner in the living room. A novel in hand and your body curled up comfortably on the single couch. Eyes crossing every now and then to watch your man and his best friend keeping themselves entertained with video games for most of the day.

Now, it was well into the night. Safe for you to step outside for some much needed fresh air. The sun had long cleared the sky. Bidding your time zone a good evening with rays of light so beautiful with glimmers of orange and yellow sunlight shining across the horizon and then saying goodnight when the dark hues of blue and green from night befalling faded into a pitch black night sky. Stars speckled the once blue sky now. The moon shining at its highest. The gentle noise of crickets and the buzzing of cicadas alike sounded through the air. All a telltale sign that summer was at its peak.

The air was still sticky and warm but the breeze that blew every now and then made the difference. The trees and bushes in the distance ruffled when the wind blew. Large leaves on the trees above your head fanning you almost. The cool night’s wind blew a kiss against your face. Into your hair. Gently caressing your skin as a silent hello from the earth. Telling you that the sun was gone for now and it was finally okay for you to step outside for the first time of the day and inhale the night’s air.

From your side, you could hear the gentle lull of a waterfall from a fountain that led to the terrace pool. That’s the direction you were heading in. Taking a step onto the cobblestone concrete, you noticed that even the interlocking patterns of brick were still warm from the heat today. It was a nice contrast. The warm concrete on your bare feet and the breeze blowing through the oversized t-shirt you wore made you remember how much you loved the summertime.

Tonight was the perfect night.

You couldn’t have asked for anything better than this.

“The water isn’t getting any less wet, beautiful. Come on in.”

Or could you?

“How’s the water?” You asked your friend who was already wading in the pool, your hands in front of the hems of your t-shirt, “Not too cold, right?” You hummed, turning around so that your back was facing your friend as you easily pulled the material of your shirt upwards to tug it off from over your head, tossing it over onto a chair as you shook your hair out, letting the locks fall over your shoulders and down your back in a mermaid-like style,

“It’s perfect.” He responded and you could feel the smile in his voice, “Just the right temp.” He mused and you turned around to face him. Eyes falling onto the creamy skin illuminated by the soft lights fluoresced around the pool. He glowed almost. Sparkled. Park Jimin was absolutely gorgeous.

Suddenly, your hands flew to your chest because yes… you were half naked.

Standing there with your hands covering your bare chest, you hardly heard your friend calling for you. The soft octave of his voice slowing and dulling to a reverb that you couldn’t hear while you lost yourself staring at the way his skin radiated.

“Did you hear me, hun?” You heard him better now as his voice began to cut through the ringing in your ears and you looked out towards him, knees trembling with a new found nervousness as you watched your friend floating around the pool with a seeming carefreeness while he awaited you to join him in the water.

“What was that?” You asked, “I zoned out.” You mumbled more to yourself than him.

“I’m feeling quite lonely the longer I float here by myself. The water might just turn cold from my unending loneliness.” Jimin’s voice drooped sadly from the other side of the pool, his body bounced lightly within the water he floated in. His dancer-like form swaying around freely in the water as if he were a real life mermaid.

“I’m good over here.” You swallowed hard, your teeth gnawing on the inner part of your cheek. No, you weren’t good. You were salivating at the thought of joining Jimin in the water but the side of you that had a smidge of shame left said otherwise. Making you unable to move from the spot you were standing in. Jimin made you nervous to be shirtless in front of him. Nervous of him perceiving you. Nervous to be doing this with him.

A big part of you wanted to dive head first into the pool he was waiting for you in. You wish you could go back to the person you were a mere five seconds ago. The person that was giddy with excitement to do this.

That shameless part of you wanted to shake off any anxiety you had bubbling in you and just jump. But the more you stood there… The more you watched this man that was practically ethereal wading around in the water as if he was a deadly siren waiting to lure you in with the sweet melody of his voice, the more you hesitated. You turned back to look at the door where your partner was still busy in the kitchen and you sighed quietly to yourself. Silently pleading for your muse to hurry and come outside to join you.

Jimin let out a noise of displease from your stalling and sank backwards for a moment into the water, head tilted backwards to wet the shaggy black hair on his head. You watched the bob of his Adam's apple move up and down when he swallowed. Eyes studying the strength of his jaw that you could see perfectly from the way he tilted his head back. He knew what he was doing without even acknowledging it. Just like the siren he was. You shifted on your feet as you practically watched him seduce you into the water,

“Hm.” He huffed before he lifted his head out of the water and shook his soaked hair out. The silver highlights he sported in his hair flung to and from. Water from his hair sprayed around his form and trickled from his neck length hair to his throat, chest and finally disappeared into the water rising steadily, “Please?” He whined, a sad pout forming along his rosy, plump lips while he watched you.

You stood there with your arms crossing tighter over your chest. Wispy hair flying from the way your head shook with hesitation, “Are you sure you didn’t pee in the water and that’s why it’s so warm?” You teased, the sarcasm prevalent in your voice because did fairies like Jimin even pee? Probably. “Let’s see.” You hummed, taking a step closer to the edge of the pool, stretching your foot out and dipping the tip of your toe into it, “Yah, it’s cold! You lied!” You whined, body recoiling from the water temperature, “I’ll just watch you swim around from here in case you don’t drown.” You nodded with a smile, quick to turn on your heels to retreat back towards the safety and comfort of the chairs lining the swimming pool.

You never had any intention to be in the pool but it was a hot summer night and the water looked inviting to say the least. How you managed to get Jimin to agree to this was beyond you. It wasn’t as if this part of the house hadn’t already been explored by you and your inquisitiveness. For example, you might have enjoyed a few swims or two in the early mornings during your visit here when the member’s slept in because the night prior’s crazy antics (video gaming and karaoke sessions) had gone well into the early wee hours of the morning and they were far too tired to join you.

And what was this place exactly? This was a vacation home for you all. A place where you had frequented to spend special moments together. Away from the public. Away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Away from… everything. The Soop House was a place you cherished being in. A place everyone considered as their little getaway.

The first time being here was in the wintertime years ago. Taehyung’s birthday. What a memorable night it was. A special night that you would hold close to your heart until the end of time.

You’ve visited this house many times after that. Sometimes with the members to celebrate birthdays and other festivities. Sometimes with your partner when the two of you just needed some time away from life’s busy schedules. Or with your girlfriends for a little weekend girl’s trip getaway.. And sometimes alone when you just wanted to get away to enjoy the beauty of experiencing the Soop all by yourself.

This was a special place.

And it wasn’t special because it was nestled away in an isolated forest that was guarded at all times by private security.

It was special because it was only for BTS and you.

You didn’t think your zany idea of skinny dipping in a pool at midnight would be taken so eagerly by your friend. It was simply a thought you blurted out during dinner. Something that came to your mind under the influence of a few glasses of wine and how good Jimin looked while being as relaxed as he was today.

Perhaps it was the enthusiasm that had you thinking second thoughts. I mean. you were down for taking a dip into the pool with your friend while your man watched from afar. That was until you realized Jimin and your man were both equally into the idea of doing it. Of course they were! To think that they would be against such an inviting idea was silly of you. You must have forgotten who you were dealing with tonight. This was Park Jimin and Jeon Jeongguk for crying out loud.

You truly thought Jimin would at least politely decline out of respect for you (and the fact that you were in a relationship with his best friend) but oh no, honey. Did you truly believe that? Did you actually think Jimin could and would ever say no to you? Clearly you did not expect anything from Jimin until you caught onto him inching his way to the doors of the house that led to the private pool once he had finished helping your man clean up after dinner.

Even Jungkook’s own eyebrow raised in question when he noticed his hyung had barely hung around to chat and instead, booked it straight to the pool after dinner. Claiming he wanted to enjoy the last night in the Soop House’s pool before he had to jet off to Japan the next day. Pfft. Yeah, right. You played along though and so did your man. Nodding with enthusiasm as he told you to run along and join Jimin while he prepared the three of you something delicious to drink.

You clearly were not quick enough to realize Jimin had been waiting for your offer for a very… long time. And you clearly were not quick enough for Jimin now who had swiftly made his way from one side of the pool to the spot where you stood, his wet hand reaching out from the water and grabbing you by the ankle just as you were about to turn away,

Barely having a chance to register what was happening, you only had enough time to let out a shriek as you felt yourself get pulled to the water. Thankfully, your body fell backwards into the pool rather than forward. Otherwise, falling face first into the pool’s ledge only to be pulled in by the hungry water monster named Jimin would have been extremely painful and… embarrassing on your part.

With arms flailing in the air, you fell pathetically into the pool. Body crashing into the water and almost body checking Jimin’s wet form with your shoulders like a superstar football linebacker as he dragged you into his arms. You were never an elegant faller and could even compare your clumsiness on a Namjoon level. Surely, you would have seen this coming.

Jimin spared you no time to react or at least prepare yourself to be pulled into the water. Turning your back away from him was your first mistake, “JIMIN!” You yelled, body thrashing around in the water as you tried to find your footing against the floor of the pool, “My hair!” You yelped, feeling the back of your head get splashed with water and soak the hair you had freshly straightened just a few hours prior to this night, “I’m gonna kill you, I swear.” You threatened, finally being able to find your balance now that you were no longer floating on your back in the water,

“Had to get you in somehow.” Jimin only responded between his airy chuckles, “I’m sorry. I had to.” He didn’t sound apologetic in the slightest and your eyes narrowed in annoyance,

“Seriously. I’ll choke you out.” You twisted around in Jimin’s hold at once and glared at him, wet hands coming up to clasp around Jimin’s neck, not fully choking him (although you wanted to). “You’re gonna die, Park Jimin.” You announced with confidence, giving his neck within your hands a playful squeeze,

“Do it.” He challenged, “Maybe I like that.” Jimin flashed you his signature toothy smile and you felt the goosebumps raise on your skin from his shamelessness.

“Gross.” You muttered, hands dropping from his throat in defeat.

One thing about Jimin was that he hardly ever felt embarrassment around you or any of his fellow members. He was comfortable and confident around you all. Often blurting out random things that he would never on this green earth utter in public.

“What? You don’t like being choked?” He questioned with a menacing grin and suddenly you felt his firm palm that was resting against your hip to ensure your fall into the water wouldn’t be too catastrophic. He was so close to you right now. Too close. So close that you could smell the lingering scent of his cologne still on his skin mixed with the chlorine from the water. So close that the hand placed on your hip felt heavy and strong against your skin. His touch felt searing. As if he could expel fire from his very palms.

Feeling exposed under his overwhelming gaze, you quickly realized you were standing there in nothing but your bikini underwear. Knowing you were tits out in the water like nobody’s business made your hands fly once more to your chest to cover yourself as if Jimin hadn’t already snuck a glance. “Stop staring at me.” You spoke with a crack in your voice and felt the burn in your cheeks flow from your face straight down to between your thighs, “You’re making me nervous.” You confessed with a glum whisper, lips pressing together tight in regret as soon as you spoke. You sounded so stupid.

Jimin’s gaze softened immediately when you spoke and the playful gleam in his eyes he had all this time prior to this moment had long disappeared, “Hey, pretty… if you’re not– If you changed your mind. We don’t–” He started, hands moving up and away from anywhere close to your body to give you space, “I can go grab you a shirt.” His eyes scanned over your head towards the poolside to see if the shirt he had stripped off was still hanging off the chair he had tossed it onto, “Just wait here–” He had already began to back away to cross to the other side of the pool and you shook your head quickly,

“No.. don’t do that. It’s just–” You gulped then took a deep breath, finally allowing your gaze to meet Jimin’s eyes,

Jimin’s lips pursed lightly before he titled his head to the side in confusion, “What is it?” He asked, “Are you feeling okay?” The worry in his voice was clear and now he had begun to think you were starting to get sick,

“No… It’s just you’re so.. you.” You mumbled, “This is like, fuck, I don’t know.. the second time in the history of our friendship that you made me feel nervous.” You let out a quiet laugh, head hanging in embarrassment, “You’re just so… fucking hot.” You finally said the words you had been chanting in your head the entire time you had been standing along the poolside watching Jimin’s effortless attempts at luring you into the pool, “I can’t believe this is happening.” You started to laugh more as you realized how silly you sounded,

Perhaps you were imagining things. The close proximity you both were now in surely made your mind hazy. So hazy that you hallucinated the fiery chemistry of his body close to yours. You didn’t even notice he had his hand placed on your hip before not because he was a creep but to make sure you didn’t sink too much into the water when he had pulled you in. And although he was no longer touching you, you somehow still felt the tingling on your skin where his hands were once placed.

Jimin let out a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling into pretty little half moons when they closed, “Oh, love.” He took a breath between laughs and shook his head, “You’re flattering me too much.” He rolled his eyes and let his body float closer to you, “I’ve never seen you like this.” Jimin hummed out with please, “It’s pretty cute.” He nodded, leaning in close to your ear, “But you have to understand, the only person here who’s…” His voice dropped to a hushed mumble, “....fucking hot is you.” His voice sounded almost too seductive for your comprehension and suddenly the water felt boiling hot, “That’s just my humble opinion but I assure you, anyone would agree with me.” Jimin smiled confidently at you. A sparkly grin that made your knees buckle under you at once,

You wobbled and lost balance from his words. Wanting to kick yourself for how easy it was for you to fold for sweet talk. Actually, scratch that. You hardly ever reacted to anyone flirting with you unless it was your man. But something in the way Jimin spoke. With that lowered Busan accent. That surety. The confidence. The way he spoke with such honesty. He meant what he said and Jimin never crossed you as a liar.

No wonder your legs feel like jelly. And suddenly you felt your foot slip from under your body. You were shorter than Jimin and the water was already up to your shoulders. Your feet were already barely touching the bottom of the pool. He didn’t want you to lose your footing again and slip under. Not like you would drown or anything but getting water in your nose and down your throat wasn’t the greatest experience on earth, was it. So, he grabbed you when you struggled to balance. Hands circling around your waist with one resting along the small of your back and the other against your hip in the same spot it once stayed.

“Careful.” He mused and you nodded dumbly. Your mind and body already feeling weak from his presence alone.

“Right.” Was all you said when he caught you again and made sure you didn’t gulp down a mouthful of pool water when you slipped, “Thank you.” You muttered like a goof, still at a loss for words. Your mind was racing at a million miles per hour. Heart thumping wildly in your chest as you attempted to process what he just said to you. Your vocabulary had dwindled to just a handful of words at the moment but that was good enough for Jimin. He never seemed to mind silence.

With Jimin’s soft gaze on your face and the silence falling comfortably between the two of you, he took his chance to admire your face. He took in the glitter on your eyelids from your makeup. The soft curve of your lips accompanied by the pink gloss you wore. The light blush staining your cheeks. So, so, so cute. This shy persona of yours was growing on Jimin and he couldn’t help but smile giddily from it. “Don’t say thank you. Just believe me.” He nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. Much like he always did to you whenever he could.

Embracing the soft touch of Jimin’s lips on your forehead, you nodded a silent acknowledgment towards him. Your hands were still covering your chest and now your palms felt foreign. As if they were never meant to be there. Taking a careful breath, you slowly dropped your hands from over your chest as you looked at Jimin. He tried not to immediately lower his stare to your chest but failed and took a glance.

Now, yes, Jimin was a flirt. It was universally known that he had a little bit of a promiscuous side. However, a gentleman is what he stayed no matter what. However, in this moment? When the most obscene thoughts began to swarm his mind? He had to keep his words to himself because you were absolutely perfect. That’s all he could think. Damn perfect. The voice in his head corrected him.

His lowered gaze made you feel isolated under his stare but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling in the slightest. If anything, your nervousness now had seemed to begin to disappear thanks to his reassurance, “You’re so gorgeous.” He breathed out coolly, “Really.” He nodded quickly, lips spreading into a smile, “Jungkook, you lucky motherfucker.” He grumbled which made you let out a giggle,

“Shut up.” You gave his shin a jab with your foot from under the water, “He knows how lucky he is. Trust me.” You hummed, “I make sure he knows. Everyday.” You smiled confidently at Jimin, feeling more comfortable now.

“So,” Jimin began to smile wider in response. His playful side back as if it never left, “You didn’t answer my question.” He reminded you with a nudge, “You like being choked out?” He asked again and you grunted,

“Freak.” You muttered under your breath and thought about actually strangling him for real this time. But instead, you found yourself immediately lost under his gaze. He swallowed you whole with his stare. Pretty brown eyes illuminated by the night sky’s reflection against the water making him look absolutely unreal, “I’ll tell you what…” You began, hands moving from within the water to place onto your friend’s bare shoulders to make him focus on just you, “Why don’t you try to find out?” You asked with a challenge in your voice, “I’ll allow it.” You mused nonchalantly as if you were both sharing a casual conversation,

Jimin felt his breath get stuck in his throat and now it was his turn to be shy. Your hands holding onto his shoulders now felt like bricks weighing down on his back. Your nails pushing lightly into the trap muscles along his skin felt as if they would leave etches in his skin tomorrow and you were barely touching him. The attraction between the two of you might just be stronger than you and Taehyung. Now Jimin understood why he was never asked to join you and Jungkook the first time. Now he understood why Taehyung was the one lucky enough to have you with Jungkook that night. The energy you and Jimin shared could light up thousands of city nights, really. It was so sexy. He could hardly handle it,

“I’ll tell you what…” Jimin leaned in towards you, his lips now brushing against yours when he spoke, “I’ll definitely find out.” He grinned, hands that were set on your lower back and hip now circling confidently around your waist to tug you firm against his chest.

He was stronger than you thought. Don’t let his dainty, fairylike body fool you. He was lean and sturdy in all the right places. You curved into his hold almost too perfectly. Fitting snug against his chest. Wet bodies pressed together and all.

Heaving a deep breath, your eyes fluttered the closer Jimin got to you. Your gaze was stuck on the smooth of his chest. Droplets of water dotted along his skin. Steam from the warmth of his body hitting against the cool evening air dissipated into the darkness surrounding the two of you. The limelight cascaded against his features and made him look like he was molded by the Greek Gods. From the milk of his skin tone creating a perfect surface for the black ink from the tattoo across his ribcage to show even through the water. All the way to the faint pink appearing along his neck from soaking in the pool for as long as he did. Jimin was absolutely ethereal.

You truly couldn’t help yourself but to stare at him. Moving your gaze from his near flawless skin, your eyes trailed upwards from his collarbones to those lips of his. If you had to describe the beauty of Jimin’s lips it would be with 3 words. The 3 Ps. Pink, plump and perfect.

And when he leaned into you like this? When he closed any space that happened to be separating the both of your bodies and circled his arms around your waist like this? Careful fingers boldly running over the material of your underwear to run faintly over your ass? The minty air from his breath fanning across your face when he inched even closer? Yeah, there was no way you could focus on anything but him.

See, there had always been chemistry between you and Jimin. He was one of the first members of BTS aside from Jungkook that you grew a fondness for and the easiest for you to warm up to. He was funny. Flirtatious. Pretty. And charismatic. He knew the right words to say. Knew the things you liked without you having to tell him. Knew exactly where to massage the spot on your shoulder that always ached without you needing to show him. Knew just what to say to make you flustered and overwhelmed. Jimin just… knew. It was as though he had been living in a corner of your head. As though he knew you for ages. You trusted him. Trusted your friendship. He was worth more than just words to you and the feelings only solidified when he finally closed any left space between the two of you and kissed you.

Feeling his lips press against yours was something you didn’t think you would feel again. You recalled the first time you ever shared a kiss with him. In the dimly lit space of the club you were in with the rest of BTS. Sweaty bodies pressed together while you danced. Music blaring through speakers. Alcohol in your systems making your mind’s cloudy and hazy with lust. Jungkook and you hadn’t been dating for long then but it was long enough for you to willingly kiss his friends when the drunken stupor you were all in got to your head's. It was a long time ago. A time you had moved far along from. But when you felt Jimin’s lips press against yours again. So soft, smooth and full of want just like the first time… all of the memories came swimming back.

“Mm.” You hummed against his lips and inched closer, hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers caressing under his chiseled jaw to bring him into you. The touch of your fingertips resting against his delicate skin made Jimin shiver and the kiss progressed further with you quickly leaning forward to find his lips against your own again. You kissed him eagerly thanks to his positive reaction and Jimin didn’t hesitate to return the passion. He wanted this. Waited for this. It wasn’t like he fantasized everyday about his homie’s girl. He was a busy man and had plenty of attention to fill his needs.

However, there were times where you crossed his mind. Times where he found himself daydreaming about what could have been if it were him and Jungkook with you that night at the Soop house those years ago as opposed to Taehyung. What would have the outcome been if he was the one to share you with Jungkook? Probably nothing would have happened if he had to be honest. Jungkook was yours to the death and that was made very clear.. very early in your relationship.

Still, the pang of jealousy harbored in the deepest pit of Jimin’s heart and although, he would have been fine to live the rest of his days pleased with the way things were now, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to join the two of you. This time, at your own request.

Let’s get one thing straight though, you and Jungkook weren’t exactly in an open relationship. At least it wasn’t open to everyone like a free for all. And it was clear that Jungkook didn’t want to fuck anyone else but you either. It was complicated to explain to people that weren’t you and Jungkook. Besides, you didn’t owe anyone an explanation. You both just had your… likes. And that included Jungkook simply having a thing for watching you with his band members. And you simply… wanted everything he wanted. You wanted to ride for him. To die for him.

Call it crazy but, Jungkook was everything to you. He made you want to do things you’ve never done before. Made you want things you never wanted before. Your decision to partake in these escapades were yours and yours alone. He never pressured you into anything you never wanted to do. Never forced you to do anything you didn’t agree with. Wanting to act out each and every fantasy your man had was your choice. And your choice was the exact reason that he was your man, your man, your man. And everything about your man turned you on.

Your relationship was yours and no one would ever understand it but that was the beauty of your love. No one had to get it. They were either with it or against it and that’s all that mattered.

“Jungkook’s taking pretty long with those drinks, huh?” Jimin commented between kisses, “Almost as if he’s doing it on purpose.” He hummed low, “Almost as if he knew how much I’ve been waiting to kiss you again.” Jimin snorted quietly, a hand moving to your back, fingers trailing down your spine and making you shiver,

“Then stop talking and kiss me.” You whispered against his lips and Jimin said less. A wet hand reaching up to cup under your jaw and bring you into him again so that your lips could meet once more. He started off by giving your lips a gentle peck. Felt the gloss from your lips transfer onto his own and then realized he had been missing this more than he thought.

No more words needed to be said and soon, the soft noises of your lips moving together in sync filled the silence. Lips blending against one another with ease and fluidity. Your arms looped over his shoulders, fingers from one hand tangling into the back of his shaggy hair, Combing through the layers then burying into the thick locks. Letting the black and silver strands curl around each of your fingers. While your nails on the other hand moved to glide down his chest, feeling over the toned muscles lining his pecs and then inching downwards to his abs all while your lips melted against each other.

The hand he had resting under your jaw had soon moved to clasp around your throat. Delicate fingers giving your neck the gentlest squeeze every now and then that you almost never noticed what he had been doing until you began to feel the pressure after each kiss. “That feels so good.” You confessed and Jimin smiled triumphantly into the kiss,

“Told you I’ll find out.” He mused with confidence, making your face flush hues of pink at how easy he did uncover your secret enjoyment.

You hadn’t realized Jimin was backing you into the wall of the pool until you felt your back pressed into the solid surface. You simply floated there under the spell that was Park Jimin. His persistent kisses started to deepen and then his tongue was pushing into your mouth to taste you, “So perfect.” He whispered into your mouth, a hand roaming upwards along your hip to your torso while your tongues touched again and then once more before he broke the kiss to look into your eyes, “Can I touch you?” He asked, the hand that was wrapped around your neck removing and dropping to float over the stream of water surrounding the two of you,

“Of course.” You breathed, nodding encouragingly, “Please.” You spoke more confidently now that you had caught your breath, “I want you to.” You confirmed, reaching down into the water and taking Jimin’s hands within yours, guiding his palms to your chest. You placed his hands over your breasts. Making him cup them while you watched the way his palms barely covered the plushness. He had dainty little hands but if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t mind feeling them massaging over your breasts… or wrapped around your throat again. “Just like that.” You sighed out in relief, your gaze dulling the moment Jimin replaced your hands with his own. Warm palms carefully squeezing over your breasts to feel you,

“Damn.” He muttered. Soft hands squeezing and massaging over your flesh, making your head spin and cloud with desire. Jimin was going to be honest and say he snuck a glance or two of your boobs a few times whenever you were around him. He couldn’t help it. His eyes just happened to gravitate to them. If you were asking Jimin what he thought about them well… was the word perfect overused already? Because that’s what they were. But hey, in Jimin’s eyes…. All boobs were perfect. he never discriminated. It’s just that never in this lifetime did Jimin think he would be touching yours now.

“Fuck.” You breathed, head tilting back to expose your throat as Jimin leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck. Kissing and mouthing over your damp skin while licking away the droplets of water that collected along your neck. After attending to your throat, he leaned up and gently nibbled over your jawline. Teeth nipping your tingling skin before pressing a kiss to your jugular then finally dipping his head lower, plush lips decorating your collar bone and soon enough your chest with airy kisses,

“So soft.” He complimented your skin, his voice coming out closer to a moan than a sentence, “So sexy.” Your body physically responded to the sound of his voice. Back arching up into his hold. Wanting to hear more of him. He sounded so sexy with the sure need and lust laced in his words. Making him sound sultry and simply filthy with desire.

His breath coasted over the bud of your nipple when he spoke and you knew you were doomed at that. Feeling the sensitivity from just air blowing against your flesh had you depraved,

“Hah, fuck.” You swore, your head flopping back and resting against the wall of the pool, body sinking a bit into the water as you felt the plumpness of Jimin’s lips ghost over your nipple. You braced yourself against the wall, preparing yourself for the feel of his tongue on your burning skin. And then you felt it. Felt his warm lips close around your nipple. Felt his wet tongue flick over the skin. He sucked over the sensitive flesh. A freehand reaching up to cup over your other breast. Making sure both were being given as much attention as he could.

“Feels good, angel?” Jimin checked in with you as his lips removed themselves from your nipple, mouth trailing to the other nipple while his hands switched to your other breast, siren-like eyes silently seeking your approval.

You nodded, teeth gnawing over your lower lip as you met his gaze, watching the way his tongue trailed over your skin with the glimmer of hope in his eyes as he peeked up at you from where his face pressed between your breasts, hands reaching up to squish them against his face before he kissed along your sternum,

“Yes.” You barely managed to answer before you mewled with pleasure. Chest pressing up to meet Jimin’s mouth. Your body searching for more friction. More feeling. “Feels so good.” You encouraged him, “So fucking good...” You whispered, your leg slowly raising and hiking upwards, wrapping around Jimin’s waist and making him press into you while your hands found their way into his soaking wet hair, fingers smoothing through the strands and tugging firm at the locks.

He hummed in satisfaction when you pulled on his hair. Moaned against your skin when you praised him too. And when your thigh draped over his hip, he didn’t waste any time to press his pelvis against yours either. He lowered his clothed cock right up against where you ached the most. Fitting himself perfectly against your body. He rocked his hips slowly. Teasing. Dragging the movement out as if he was moving in slow motion. Letting you feel just how much he was enjoying and savoring every second of this moment.

“More.” You whispered, the heel of your foot pressed into Jimin’s lower back and you gasped quietly feeling the throbbing bulge within his swimming shorts pushing against you, “Jimin…” You whispered his name, hands gripping his forearms as he pressed you harder against the wall of the pool, hips rocking ever so slightly into you, making you feel every inch of him, “Oh… Shit.” You moaned, your head dropping forward to rest against Jimin’s shoulder, the muffle of your moans stifling as you buried your face into his skin. The feeling of his cock grinding into you sent a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. Making your skin erupt with goosebumps,

Hearing the frenzy of moans and whimpers he was putting you in was music to Jimin’s ears. Adding to the streak of cuteness you were exhibiting, Jimin had to note that even your moans were cute. Taehyung was lucky to have heard this? Jungkook was lucky to get a load of this… this perfection whenever he wanted? God, Jimin had been missing out. He might actually be jealous. “Fuck, I wanna be inside you so bad.” Jimin grumbled, head shaking as the pent up aggression threatened to make him explode,

“You have to wait for Koo.” You instructed him, fingers caressing over his upper arms, “He should be here soon.” You started to smile, your hands moving from his arms to his cheeks, cupping them and leaning in to press a light kiss against his lips, “Patience.” You whispered into the kiss and Jimin hummed low, eyes closing as he kissed you back,

“I’m not a very patient person.” Jimin whispered back, sighing into the kiss, “Tell him to stop creeping from the window and join us already.” He joked and you silenced him at last by kissing him deeper. Your hand pressing against the nape of his neck, and pulling him in closer to you by the hair that curled at his nape. The kiss soon turning more desperate. More passionate. Your lips and teeth hitting against each other the sloppier it grew.

Jimin was about to continue. Was about to grind his cock into you more just to hear the delicious noises you were making before but alas, the trois in your ménage à trois finally decided to join you both, “Here comes your dude. Right on time.” Jimin grumbled against your lips, pulling away when he heard the sliding door of the terrace open followed by the light patter of footsteps,

“He knows when it’s time.” You giggled at Jimin’s frustration, eyes peeking over towards the figure making his way down to the pool. You laid the back of your head against the wall of the pool again, sighing out softly as you watched the tall, hunky man you called yours meeting your gaze the second he felt your eyes on him.

Warm, intense brown eyes gobbled you up with his stare. Making your stomach flip over like a pancake. Stark black hair reaching his chin tousled from left to right as he walked. The bouncy locks looking extra yankable tonight as he had just washed his hair this morning. The more you watched Jungkook, the more you ogled his entire existence. With his shockingly tall height. Long limbs. Strong… So strong body. Tattoos against tanned skin. Two lip rings glittering under the night sky. Jawline locked tight. Showing off the perfect angle that it was. The dark, moody look resting on his face contrasting against soft, delicate facial features.

You knew your man had been staring out the window watching and waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt. No matter how much he would try to deny it, you knew him better than that. He was snarky like that. Not wanting to be missing out on the action but also not wanting Jimin to get a taste of most of the fun before it even began.

However, from the way he looked at you right now, you knew you had him worked up. He looked as though he was going to devour you. As if he was starved and dying for a drink of you. You knew he wasn’t going to just watch tonight. He was going to join right off the bat. The heat and fire that burned within his veins in the form of longing was too much for Jungkook to just sit and watch this time and you didn’t mind it one bit.

“Starting without me, I see.” Was all Jungkook said. Balancing the tray of drinks easily with one hand as he made his way over to the two of you. His eye contact with you finally breaking as he turned away to set the tray lined with three drinks onto a table close by.

“Don’t act like you weren’t watching the whole time.” Jimin sighed out as he pulled away from you, still lingering close by but no longer invading your personal space. You found his hand before he waded away, taking his hand within yours to keep him close to you, your fingers lacing together as you turned to face Jungkook,

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to steal my girl.” Jungkook smirked in Jimin’s direction as he plucked one of the drinks up off the tray and crossed over to the ledge of the pool to hang Jimin the cocktail he made, “You know I had to take my time and make these drinks. No, I wasn’t looking out the window.” He lied. Just like you knew he would. Of course, he might have snuck a peek once or twice. Just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything while he let you and Jimin get… acquainted with one another.

“Mmm.. stop being like that, baby. No one’s stealing me.” You smiled cheekily at Jungkook, catching his lips twitching into a smile when you spoke to him, “We were just having some fun.” You let go of Jimin’s hand and turned around to face Jungkook, staring up at him from the ledge of the pool as you propped your elbows up against it, “Why don’t you come join us?” You questioned him, eyeing the drinks on the tray as Jimin leaned against the pool’s ledge as well, his arm sliding around your waist as you moved to make way for Jungkook,

Watching Jungkook intently, you leaned into Jimin’s hold around your waist, cozying up to his friend and feeling much more comfortable now with your body reacting to the attention of these two men with nothing but pure positivity.

Your man wasted no time. As eager as always. He was already shirtless. Deciding to leave the shirt had been wearing during dinner behind because he wouldn’t need it here anyways. Sporting just his swimming shorts that fit him oh so perfectly. Showing off his delicious V-Line and the smooth of his pelvis as he moved to the edge of the pool. The strong muscles along his arms bulged and rippled with every move he made when he picked up the drinks for you and himself. The sight of his muscles made your mouth water. As if it were your first time seeing him. You’d never get over it.

“Water ain’t even that cold. You two heated it up enough with your makeout session.” Jungkook joked, stepping down confidently into the pool and slowly sinking into the water, both drinks in hand as he steadied his balance, “For you, mama. Something fruity and light.” He held the cocktail out to you as he joined the other side of you, “And for you, my brother. I made us something strong because you’ll need your stamina tonight.” Jungkook gave Jimin a snarky smile when he leaned over to look at Jimin who was on your other side, “Cheers.” He held his glass up to the two of you,

You and Jimin let out soft laughs, “Cheers!” Three three of you said at the same time, glasses clinking together in perfect unison before you took long drinks, a pleased hummed of satisfaction leaving your lips as you tasted the perfect combination of tequila, grapefruit and lime. Jungkook just knew how much you loved your Palomas, didn’t he.

“Perfect like always, babe. Strong though.” You noted to Jungkook, slowly moving through the water so that you were standing in front of him, freehand holding onto his forearm as you fit yourself against his body, lips leaning up to place a chaste kiss against his cheek, “Thank you, baby.” You smiled, lips wrapping back around the straw of your drink to take another long sip. You felt the effect of the alcohol too quickly. The warm, fluttery feeling of liquor hitting and settling in your stomach. Making your face and body instantly feel hot.

He was going to get you drunk off one drink. You weren’t a sloppy drunk in the slightest. But you definitely were a horny drunk. Jungkook knew what he was doing whenever he made your drinks. One sip and you could immediately feel it in your pussy. You should have known better than to leave him alone in the extensive liquor cabinet of this house. Taking another long sip out of the straw, you were already halfway through with it before you set the glass down onto the pool’s ledge, far away so that you wouldn’t knock it over,

“Anything for you.” Jungkook meant it when he said it. Years of your relationship telling the tale that yes, he would do anything for you. He didn’t even have to go into specifics. The shit you two have been through in the past was testament to the phrase ‘standing in the fire next to you.’

Smiling happily up at Jungkook you tiptoed up as far as you could reach and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips this time to which he responded happily to, the hand that didn’t have his drink within it reaching up to cup your chin with his index finger and thumb. You kissed each other briefly. Lips lingering and the heat burning between the two of you.

The kiss didn’t last longer than a second. Not wanting to display your utter obsession with each other in front of your guest. But it was enough for Jungkook to feel his heart skip a beat or two. You both could kiss each other until the end of time behind closed doors. Right now though, you were with company. You couldn’t leave Jimin out, could you?

“And thank you, Jiminie.” You pulled away from Jungkook and made your way over to Jimin who welcomed you into his arms. Feeling Jungkook’s gaze on the both of you, you smiled to yourself. Knowing he was watching intently, “Thank you for everything.” You hummed, making him place his drink down as you draped your arms over his shoulders then wrapped around his neck, bringing his face down to your height so that you could press a kiss against his lips, “Thank you for being here.” You whispered cheekily to Jimin who smiled in response,

Jimin was quick to set his drink down and away as you made your way over to him. He practically chugged the thing anyways. Making a distasteful face after he swallowed the last bit of the mixed drink so strong and potent. Damn, Jungkook would be the greatest bartender in the world if he could. Jimin was already tipsy thanks to that cocktail. Welcoming you into his arms, Jimin broke out into a smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the booze and his body felt just the right amount of happy thanks to the liquid courage.

“Oh.. don’t you do that, princess.” Shaking his head in protest, Jimin’s arms slid around your waist, hands roaming to rest over your ass as he corrected you, “Don’t you thank me for nothin’.” He gazed into your eyes, a hand reaching up to move a wet strand of hair away from your face, “Thank you for having me, pretty girl.” You smiled at him as you brought him into a kiss and Jimin welcomed your lips against his. Feeling no type of way over the fact that Jungkook was just inches away watching the two of you. That’s what your man liked anyways. Jimin had no problem giving him a show if that’s what he wanted, “Beautiful little thing.” He mused against your mouth while you two kissed, the hand resting over your ass giving it a firm squeeze, “With a nice ass too.” He complimented smugly, making your ass jiggle after he grabbed it, “Fuck, I wanna put you on my tongue. Wanna taste you.” Jimin hissed quietly, making you laugh into the kiss,

Jungkook watched and listened intently to Jimin. Feeling the chub in his swimming shorts beginning to tent the harder he became. He could visualize the things Jimin wanted to do to you so clearly and seeing the thoughts infiltrate his head in perfect clarity made Jungkook dizzy, “We can make that happen.” He interjected with a quick nod, his eyes turning to look at you as you pulled away from Jimin’s lips at his suggestion, “If you’re ready, baby.” He raised a brow and you smiled happily, head nodding enthusiastically,

Jimin looked towards you for confirmation and you smiled knowingly, having been waiting in agony for this moment, you were beyond ready,

“Always ready.” You mused, wading over to Jungkook who’s big, strong hands grabbed hold of either side of your waist to hoist you out of the water and onto the ledge of the pool. You landed onto the ground with a loud, wet plop. A soft laugh leaving your excited lips from his display of strength, “Hurry, Jimin.” You demanded, your body leaning back and legs spreading as Jimin moved to where you sat and helped you prop your feet along the ledge of the pool,

“Who’s being impatient now?” Jimin teased, his hands resting along your inner thighs as he pushed them apart,

Jungkook hummed out at Jimin’s teasing and he clicked his tongue, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, brother.” A smile began to turn at the corners of his mouth, “Don’t keep her waiting. She gets mean when she has to wait.” Jungkook commented with a nod, his eyes lingering on your wet skin dripping with water, “Don’t you, baby?” He asked with a smirk along his lips and you ignored him,

You inhaled shakily, throwing Jungkook a look as he called you out for your impatience. Like it was your fault for being turned on by these two men with undeniable attractiveness, “I can’t wait any longer.” You whispered breathlessly, “I’m so wet.” You announced, hips raising as you felt Jimin’s fingers hooking around your underwear to pull it down and off you, freeing your thighs from the wet material and letting it dangle carelessly from one of your ankles. The three of you too overcome with desire to bother taking it fully off you,

“You don’t have to wait anymore, angel. We got you.” Jimin hummed, lidded eyes staring up at your pretty face as he sank into the water between your thighs, “We’ll take care of you now.” He nodded and Jungkook made a noise of agreement with his friend as he propped himself up against the ledge of the pool closer to you. Empty drink glass in hand, you hardly noticed Jungkook too had downed his drink. Eager to start the show you guessed,

"Just trust us." Jungkook mused, leaning up to capture your lips into a kiss as Jimin’s own lips roamed along your inner thigh. Jimin’s hot breath fanned out over your skin. Over the sensitivity of your exposed clit. Over your wet entrance. You whined out desperately, legs twitching in anticipation as Jimin loomed over your leaking pussy, “Relax, mama. You’re shaking.” Jungkook instructed you in between kisses, feeling you practically vibrate beside him in anticipation, “Thatta girl.” He whispered when your body began to still, his lips serving as a form of comfort to calm you down when you started to grow impatient, “You have to let Jimin enjoy this too, baby. Let him get a nice look at how beautiful you are. He’s not like me, you know.” Jungkook cooed to you, “He likes to take his time. Likes to worship.” Your man nodded, cupping your chin so that you could look only at him, “Likes to give you the princess treatment.” Jungkook hummed, licking into your mouth.

Your hands curled into the stoned ground below you, “You know I hate being treated like a princess.” You could hear the pout in your voice, nails scratching over the bricked surface as you met Jungkook’s tongue with yours and tasted the strong liquor off his lips mixed with the faintest taste of cigarette smoke. He had smoked just before joining the two of you, you were sure of it, “But fuck, you’re both so hot. I don’t even care.” You whispered to Jungkook, catching his lower lip and pulling on his lip piercings with your teeth shamelessly before you broke away from him to let out a soft groan,

Feeling Jimin’s fingers brush over your entry, your entire body shivered, forcing you to pull away from Jungkook at the sudden feeling of intrusion happening between your thighs, “Oh God.” You whispered, legs threatening to close and trap his head in your space. You were so sensitive and nothing even happened yet.

“You really are dripping.” Jimin commented with a groan, his lips watering at the way your entrance glistened with your juices leaking out, “Fuck, that’s sexy.” He leaned in close to your folds, his breath blowing over your clit as he spoke.

You struggled to contain your composure. Not wanting to be mean like Jungkook mentioned but you were about to grab your friend by the head and grind on his face yourself if he didn’t do anything soon, “God.” Your voice hitched in you throat, feeling Jimin’s mouth kissing over your folds, “Fuck, please.” You whispered, lips quivering as you glanced down to your friend mouthing over you,

Jungkook’s lips found their way to the side of your neck, “You sure you don’t want the princess treatment tonight, babe?” Jungkook snarked, “She wants to be treated like a whore, I think.” He nodded to Jimin, “Tell him, baby.” Jungkook smiled proudly, his face invading your space to press a soft kiss against your temple, lips trailing downwards to your cheek and jaw, “Tell Jimin how well your man knows you.” He murmured against your skin, the cocky smile on his face never faltering,

“Yes. That’s what I want.” You almost begged, “Jungkook knows what I want.” You spoke as if you were entranced under a spell. Like a puppet. “He knows what I like.” You nodded quickly, struggling to take a breath as you forced yourself to wait.

Jimin didn’t tease you any further after that. He wasn’t much of a tease anyways. Not like Jungkook who didn’t give in to your pleading no matter how much you begged sometimes. Jimin wanted to give you anything you wanted and more. He wasn’t hard to sway when it came to your moans.

With his lips pressing against your flesh, you sighed out in relief, almost bursting out with tears when you finally felt the soft suction of his lips attach against your clit to kiss it. “Fuck.” Jimin cursed under his breath at the taste of you, body dipping down lower until he was sinking more into the water, his tongue flicking over your clit then dragging downwards to your entrance, his own lewd moan muffling against your body as he lapped up your wetness,

Your jaw locked tight, eyes staring up blindly at the dark sky above you as your head dropped backwards, “F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You kept the swears rolling, “Holy fuck.” You cursed the moon, the stars, the clouds and just about everything in between. With your eyes finally closing, you let out a soft whimper, your shaky hand reaching down between your thighs to press against the back of Jimin’s head, guiding him as he worked on you,

“You sound so pretty.” Jungkook commented from beside you, clearly enjoying your reaction towards his friend, “See what I mean when I told you every hyung’s different?” He mused as if you could even focus on his words, “That’s why I want you to experience every unique thing my brothers have to offer.” Jungkook smiled, fingers moving your sopping wet hair away from your shoulders as he pressed heated kisses along your skin, teeth digging into the flesh along your neck and sucking the skin into his mouth,

Jungkook always knew Jimin was next on the list to fuck you and the years between when Taehyung did it first and now gave Jungkook enough time to calculate when would be the right time to ask Jimin. See, these things didn’t just happen lickity split. Good things take time and Jungkook was never in a rush.

After all, it did once take Jungkook every ounce of courage he had to even share this fantasy with you. And when it came to sharing you with his friends, he needed to make sure they weren’t just goofing around whenever any of them happened to mention wanting a night with you and him. When it came to Jimin though, Jungkook was very sure out of all his hyungs, he wanted you most. It was just a matter of playing the waiting game and biding his time before he could initiate anything. Lucky for him though, you mentioned taking a dip in the pool with Jimin on your own tonight. Making it easy for things to fall into place without Jungkook having to orchestrate anything.

Jungkook could tell Jimin wanted one change with you from the way his friend simply looked at you. He only needed to make sure Jimin wasn’t all just talk because if he could recall correctly, the night Jungkook met you for the very first time at the club you worked years ago, Jimin did happen to be the one that noticed you first. However, when it came down to who was going to buy a dance from you that night, Jimin backed out at the last minute. Leaving Jungkook to have you for himself… just like now… All these years later. Oh how Jungkook wished he could bet fat bills on how much Jimin had kicked himself that night for missing his chance.

You were too busy to even acknowledge Jungkook whispering in your ear. Even though you could hear every word he said, nothing registered. Nothing stuck. You were too engrossed in the feelings of pleasure dancing along your skin in the form of tingles, “I know.” You moaned out to Jungkook, “You’re all so..--” You squeaked a moan out when you felt Jimin’s tongue dip into you, losing your train of thought for a moment before you spoke again, “You’re all so- fucking good to me.” You purred, fingers pulling on Jimin’s hair, hips starting to grind over his mouth and face as he fucked you with his tongue,

Jimin grunted in response to you when you began to grind over his face, “Yeah, use me, love.” He pulled back to whisper between breaths, “Use my face.” He nodded with encouragement. Lips, mouth and face pressing back between your thighs, your clit grinding over his nose as his tongue dived back into you, lapping and sucking up your juices as if he had been without water for days,

“Yes…” You said the word maybe ten times already, “Fuck yes.” Okay, maybe 11 now. You just couldn’t articulate anything else to say. Your brain simply wouldn’t let you process anything else except feeling the pure heaven coursing through your body at the moment. Especially when your clit ground over Jimin’s mouth. Or when the little flicks of his tongue moving up every now and then came to meet your clit as his tongue moved in and out of you. You were sensitive beyond belief. Feeling the clench in your abdomen. Feeling the pulsating of your clit. Feeling the rush of wetness soaking your entrance the more closer you got to your orgasm,

Jungkook’s lips moved leisurely over every inch of your body he could reach. From your jawline to your neck and all the way down to your shoulder. A large hand cupped over your breast to play with your sensitive nipple too. He was slow. Took his time. Not in any rush to do anything except soothe you with his kisses until he felt your focus begin to stray. You were getting close to the peak and Jungkook knew this one was going to take a lot of energy out of you. So what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t help you get there even faster?

“Don’t go.” You whined when you felt Jungkook start to slowly pull away from where he was kissing on your neck. His hand that was playing with your breasts moved to grip onto the pool’s ledge as he sunk himself into the water instead,

Jungkook simply kept his eyes on you as he lowered himself into the pool, “Just trust me.” He nodded, a coy smile on his lips when he joined Jimin between your thighs. He kept his gaze locked on yours, eyes lowering to a smoldering stare while his friend felt the motion in the pool and pulled away from your throbbing pussy to move to the side and make space for Jungkook to join him, your man leaning in and wasting not a single second further. He took hold of your foot barely holding your body upright, pressing a kiss against your inner ankle and then moving his lips along your calf. Letting you feel his lips rings roaming over your skin before he placed your foot back onto the ledge of the pool and finally settled with his face at your pussy, “Fuckin’ soaking.” He cursed and then pressed his nose into your clit. In the way only he knew you liked. Making your eyes roll shut, mouth going slack and dropping open to let out a lewd moan,

“Oh… oh shit.” You gasped, your feet that were propped up onto the ledge of the pool nearly slipped and set your leg into the water when you felt Jungkook take over from Jimin’s spot and dive in between your thighs, his tongue flattening immediately over your clit, drawing circles around the sensitive flesh while Jimin took a moment to catch his breath.

“Shit, baby. Just like that.” You nodded, feeling your thighs begin to shake when his finger probed at your entrance, “Yes, fuck me, please.” You begged, breath panting when he began to slide his middle finger into you, his lips pulling away from your clit only for him to spit right onto it, letting his saliva drip from your clit to your entrance then he leaned back in again, tongue rolling and gliding between your folds freely, finger angling upwards as it moved in you to touch your entire soul.

Your body moved on its own. Using whatever strength you had left to lift yourself a bit to meet Jungkook’s finger each time he pushed it into you, “That’s my girl.” Jungkook husked as you lifted your hips and grounded yourself over his finger, “Fuck yourself like that on my fingers, baby.” He hummed out proudly, “She’s such a good girl, isn’t she, Jimin?” He asked his friend who agreed. Their voices sounded so far away. And you were too fucked out to even hear them talking by now. You couldn’t care less about anything else except chasing that sweet release you could feel building up anyways,

“Move over a bit, Kook.” You heard Jimin say and as shameless as Jimin was, he truly caught you off guard this time when he leaned down as well next to Jungkook. Going back to his previous position only this time, sharing the space with your man.

He didn’t care. Jungkook didn’t seem to either. They were both too drunk on lust to give a fuck that they were basically kissing each other as they both ate you out. And when Jimin’s tongue joined Jungkook’s? Taking over the spots that your man missed. His tongue flicking over your clit while Jungkook licked at your entrance the same time as he fingered you. You swore on your life this was the hottest thing you had ever experienced. So hot that the fucking feeling started to make you jolt and cry above them,

“Fuck, I’m- I’m.. gonna cum.” You squeaked out, “No, fuck, I’m gonna–” You actually started to cry now, feeling your stomach’s muscles contract and that familiar feeling of pleasure start to prick along your skin. Making you feel as though you were going to explode. And explode you would. “I–I- I think..” You couldn’t speak anymore, your words getting stuck in your brain as you attempted to get their attention,

Jimin’s mouth moved from your clit to your inner thigh, letting Jungkook take over again so that he could talk you through your reaching orgasm, “Come on, angel.” Jimin urged you, his sleek brown eyes looking up at you as if he was begging, “Wanna feel our slut cream all over us.” He hummed, lips tracing along your inner thigh and then he was helping Jungkook by reaching down and pushing his index finger into you. You let out a gasp at the feeling of his finger entering you. And then the realization that both men were fingering you hit you like a truck, making your hips writhe in pleasure, “Just like that, honey. Keep going.” Jimin instructed you when you began to rock your hips against their fingers inside of you. Two different fingers from two different men. The sensations were throwing you over the edge and suddenly you felt the impending doom named your orgasm suck you into a void,

“--I’m gonna squirt!” You finally managed to get out. almost screaming in ecstasy but they ignored your warnings. Urging you to meet that climax as they swapped positions without you realizing, Jimin’s finger now pushing into you alone and Jungkook’s mouth now at your clit again. It was all too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. And with one, two, three more whines, you lost control. Squirting on the two men between your legs with a cry.

Tears leaked out of your eyes as you shook and shivered above them. Sobs of pure bliss leaving your lips as you gasped for air, “Oh my god.” You cried, the orgasm shooting through your body and making you squeeze your eyes closed so tight you saw white behind them, “F-Fuck.. Fuck.” You continued, legs going limp and your chest heaving for air as your body worked through the orgasm. Your man and his friend didn’t relent. They didn’t move out of the way. Didn’t duck and grimace at you for squirting. They fucking loved it. Only slowing their movements to help you through the climax, letting you ride it out on their faces, fingers and tongues. Each of them wanting to get a taste of you. Both battling to get a drink of the nectar that was you.

You felt like water. Flowing, free and intense.

⋆⭒˚☾⋆.˚

“Look at her. Little fucking slut.” Your man spoke through clenched teeth, his hand burying into your wet hair and holding your head still, “Let me fuck your mouth like that.” He kept you in place, hips rocking back and forth to make you swallow down his cock, “Good girl. Take it. Keep looking at me.” He commanded and you obliged willingly. The gloss in your eyes making you look as fucked out as ever while you looked up at your man,

You gagged on his length but Jungkook didn’t have any worries about it. He always made you choke like that and you loved it. Loved the thought that tomorrow you’ll wake up with a hoarse voice. Loved the tears welling up in your eyes and making your mascara run down your cheeks. You must have looked crazy. With your makeup smeared and tear stained cheeks. This is what you loved. To be used like this. To be completely at this man’s disposal. Only Jungkook could be like this with you. Only he could be this rough and this cruel. That was the difference between letting someone into your sex life. He made it known through the whole room who you belonged to and Jimin never tried to overstep that boundary.

“Mmf.. Baby..” You gasped for air when Jungkook let you breathe, “You’re so big. Making me choke.” You complimented him and saw the way his chest puffed up, all confident from your commentary. You knew how much he loved when you praised him, “Feels so good.” You hummed, lips lazily dragging along his length, your tongue tracing the curve of his cock before you wrapped your lips around him again,

“Don’t forget about Jimin, baby. You’re slowing down.” He tsked between moans and you whimpered with his length in your mouth. Eyes shutting and a tear leaking out of your eye as he continued to guide your lips along his cock.

After the earth shattering orgasm you had at the poolside, the guys needed to help you back into the house. You couldn’t keep yourself sitting upright after that and they decided it was best to continue in the bedroom. They were sweet and attentive. Making sure you drank some water. Making sure you were okay to keep going and then helping you into the room like the gentleman they were but pushing you onto the softness of the bed and letting you charge up as they slipped out of their swimming shorts.

You only needed a second to recuperate. To get your legs that felt as though they were stuck in a permanent jello-like state to come back to life. And then you were back at it. Begging for the two of them to put their dicks in your face. So here you are now. On your knees at the edge of the bed while Jungkook and Jimin stood in front of you, your lips wrapped expertly around the length of your man’s cock and your hand wrapped around Jimin’s own. Sucking your man off and pumping his friend at the same time. Switching between them after taking a breath and then continuing the motion all over again. Making everyone in the room sigh out and fill the place with pleasurable noises. You thought your man’s moans were sexy but the two of them together? Oh, you were doomed.

“She’s so good.” Jimin was fighting to control the weak moans leaving his lips, “Love this pretty mouth.” He whispered to you, a gentle palm caressing over your cheek, “Such a good fucking slut.” He spat the words out to you despite touching you so gently.

That was such a Jimin thing, wasn’t it? Being soft spoken and sweet but also being filthier than anything. It made you want to do more. To go deeper. And so you did. Your hand around Jungkook’s cock twisting while your thumb rubbed over the tip of him, a silent reminder that you would never forget about your man even though you had Jimin’s length down your throat. It was easier to deep throat Jimin anyways and you knew Jungkook knew that. It wasn’t as though he was smaller. Size never mattered anyways. He just wasn’t as girthy as your man. He was the perfect size and made it easy for you to gag and choke on him without feeling as though you were about to die the way Jungkook’s length would make you do,

With your lips running over the length of Jimin’s cock, your tongue moved along the underside of him, sucking over the veins pulsating and then you were letting the tip of your tongue flick over the head of his cock, lapping at the precum beading at the tip, “Shit.” You moaned at the taste of him, “Tastes so good.” You whispered to Jimin, reaching up to stroke him as you pulled away,

“I want both of you in me.” You whispered with tears on your lashes, “Raw.” Your hope filled eyes stared up at the faces of the two men in front of you as you panted for air and without a second thought, the two of them were climbing onto the bed, Jungkook's firm hand at your shoulder pushing you backwards so that you were on your back,

Jungkook was the only one that’s ever fucked you raw. He wasn’t too keen on letting anyone inside of you without protection. But tonight, he was feeling generous. “You know I don’t always agree to that.” He grunted, “But you’re being such a good girl.” He nodded towards his friend, “And I’m makin’ an exception because it’s Jimin.” Jungkook hummed out low, leaning over the edge of the bed towards the nightstand where he kept a bottle of lube just for moments like this, “On your knees, baby. Gotta prep you for me.” Jungkook commanded and you were already springing into action, a permanent smile on your lips as you rolled over,

“Lay down, handsome.” You beckoned Jimin to lay in the spot you were just in, guiding him with your hands on his shoulders as he collapsed onto the bed with an exhausted grunt, “Tired already?” You pouted at Jimin who only laughed, his hands at your waist to help you as you climbed over onto him and planted your bare body into his lap,

“You tire me out, yes.” He confessed, voice low and deep with desire, “But that’s good. Means I’m working overtime for you.” Jimin smiled up at you and you let out a giggle, your hands resting along his chest before leaning down to press a gentle kiss against his lips,

Smiling triumphantly into the kiss you shared with Jimin, your lips moved lazily against each other for a moment before you began to pull away, your hand resting at the base of his throat as you sat up, “Rest now. I’ll do the work.” You nodded, giving his throat a squeeze that made Jimin’s eyes flutter from the feeling, “Oh.” You moaned after scooting yourself back a bit so that your pussy was pressing down on his rock hard length. You rocked your hips, gliding your clit over his length and shivering from the feeling. You were still too sensitive down there. Too sensitive to give your clit any attention for now.

Jungkook took a seat on the side of the bed in front of you and next to Jimin, lube bottle in hand as he observed you and his friend with intent in his eyes, “Actually, I wanna watch for a bit.” He mused, a smirk playing on his lips, “I’ll join when you’re ready for me.” Jungkook nodded to you, an encouraging smile on his face although his dick was throbbing in agony for release.

This moment was more important than his own self. Your moment and satisfaction was important to him and Jungkook knew how bad you wanted someone inside of you. He knew putting his cock inside of your ass right away would be too much for you and so, he decided to wait. To watch and wait until you were in pure bliss.

Lost in Jungkook’s eyes as he spoke, you felt yourself getting warped into his stare. That endless deep sea of chocolate coloured eyes made you feel as though you were the only person in the room. As if he could see right into your soul. This whole time you had been on a high. A high you didn’t want to come down from. Your body moved on its own through it all. Feeling the slick between your thighs from your own mess. Letting yourself chase hungrily after the attention these men gave you. Your mind was in a different state. A state that made you possessed with lust. You felt as though you were in an alternate reality. As if this wasn’t really you. But one look at Jungkook. One look at him reminded you that this was very real. This was happening. The realization made you begin to tremble with excitement and you smiled knowingly at him. Knowingly because you knew he felt it too,

“Whenever you’re ready, princess.” Jimin cooed and you nodded, wasting no more time, you took a deep breath and lifted yourself up. With the help of Jimin, he took you by the hip with one hand and reached down between your legs with his freehand, making his cock press into your entrance. His teeth clamped down shut feeling the heat of his dick pushing at your entry, “Fuck.” He grunted under his breath and you moved his hand away from his length as you positioned yourself above him on your own, grazing your folds over the tip of his cock before you slowly let him insert himself into you,

Your head dropped back at that. Teeth trapping over your lower lip and biting down onto the flesh as you lulled your head to the side and gasped, eyes fluttering as you listened to the wet sounds your body made as you sunk down onto him, “Sh–Shit.” You stuttered, a hand holding over your breast while the other rested along Jimin’s abdomen, long acrylic nails digging into his skin. You could feel yourself being stretched open by him. Could feel the twitch and throb of his cock filling you up. Your legs quaked, the all too familiar feeling of jelly coming back into them as the stimulation of his length inside of you made you shake, “So big.” You breathed out, feeling the curve of himself in you as you sat down on his cock, your hips rocking to help you adjust yourself to his size,

Jimin stared wordlessly as he watched the way your pussy swallowed his dick up, “She’s so tight.” He blurted, head shaking in dismay because after all that creaming and squirting, you were still putting his length in a vice grip, “Oof.” He husked out breathlessly, eyes looking up at your face as you began to rock your hips against him, “You okay, princess?” He asked, hands resting over your thighs and giving them a squeeze, “Move whenever you’re ready. Don’t force yourself.” He was so sweet.

Jungkook on the other hand was in another world. Getting a full view of yourself lowering onto his friend’s cock shouldn’t have made his dick twitch the way it did. The painful throb in his length returned to slap him in the face and bring him back to reality as he watched on with hungry eyes.

This part of being a cuck was always the worst. Having to watch and feel himself slip into his delusions. Having to sit and just… watch. Watch the way you stretch out onto someone else’s dick. Desperate whines leaving your lips as you forced yourself to take it all. It was agonizing having to keep his hands to himself. How could a person that yelled about someone separating perilla leaves for you have a kink like this? Was it weird to be a jealous person by nature but also love to see your girl get fucked by his mates? Questions like this plagued Jungkook’s mind but he didn’t even want to try and figure it out. This is what Jungkook liked. This is what Jungkook wanted.

“Oh, Jimin.” The way you said your friend’s name made Jungkook focus. His gaze growing dark and desperate as you began to move. Hips rocking side to side for you to find the right angle and then you were bouncing. Lifting yourself up and pushing back down. Making his friend fill you up with his cock each time.

Jimin watched you with a slack jaw, one hand resting over your thigh and the other hanging onto your waist, guiding you up and down on his length with his hand squeezing over your skin. He closed his eyes briefly. Just for a moment. Taking the second to relish in the feeling. The feeling of your walls closing around him each time you sank down on his cock. The feeling of your warmth and tightness taking more of him each time you bounced, his lips letting out deep grunts as your skin slapped against each other, “Jungkook, you lucky fuck.” He cursed between breaths, eyes opening to glance over to his friend at his side, “No wonder you stay buying her a new car every. fucking. month.” He grunted the last three words out in time with you bouncing on him, “No wonder she has her own black card.” He hissed out, head dropping back against the pillow under him,,

Jungkook's lips involuntarily spread into a proud smile and he nodded, “Anything she wants. She gets.” He confirmed, “Nothing is too much when she’s bouncing on me like that. She could make me do anything she wants.” He started to chuckle, eyes on the way your breasts bounced along with your movements,

The two friends spoke about you as if you weren’t in the room and it made you start to giggle at their honesty, “S-S…Sounds like you’re– ah,” You moaned, “Like you’re enjoying yourselves.” You whispered out quickly, slowing your movements so that you were grinding over Jimin with his dick in you, “Fuck, I could cum from this.” You purred, “You feel so fucking good in me.” You gazed down at your friend, taking your hands within your own and bringing them to your chest, “Touch me.” You instructed him, your waist rocking in a way that made his length rub against that spot deep inside of you that made you see stars, “Fuck me.” You continued, making him raise his hips to fuck into you as you stilled yourself from moving,

Jimin did as told. Hands cupping over your breasts and massaging over them as he gnawed over his lip, “I won’t last if you keep doing this.” He confessed, “I’m gonna nut so fucking quick.” He shook his head, fingers tweaking over your nipples and making your head drop back as you moaned. Planting his feet down onto the bed, he used the mattress as momentum to raise his hips and begin to thrust up into you at your command, hands dropping to rest over your ass, palms squeezing and making your ass clap as he pushed himself into you, “Like that?” He husked out, your body leaning down towards his chest as he held you close to him,

“Harder.” You commanded… demanded.

And harder he went. Holding you in place as he began to thrust with more force up into you, making your body jolt and shake from the feeling. He used the strength in his thick ass thighs to pound into you, making you entire world flip upside down as you moaned into his shoulder, your face burying into his neck and hands gripping over his shoulder, “Fuck yes, harder. Harder.” You whimpered into his skin, teeth grazing over his flesh and digging into him, leaving indents of your teeth on his neck,

“Damn.” You heard Jungkook breathe out and he shifted with discomfort next to the two of you. He was dying at this point. The tip of his dick pooling with precum and his fists balling into the sheets of the bed, gripping over the material and trying not to rip into it as the agonizing pain in his angry cock started to make him dizzy, “You’re driving me fucking crazy.” He grunted, making your eyes flash open so that you could look at him,

“Koo…” You groaned your man’s name while Jimin continued, making Jungkook’s head snap up like a dog hearing its owner at the sound of his name dripping out of your lips like sweet honey, “I need you now.” You nodded fast, “Need you inside me too, baby.” You could feel Jimin’s cock throbbing inside of you and you knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was close. But he felt so good. You didn’t want it to end, “Don’t you cum yet, Jiminie.” You begged, “Not yet.” You hummed out although your hips kept moving to meet his thrusts, “I-...” You felt your stomach start to clench and shook your head, trying to focus on anything except climaxing, “I want you, Koo.” You breathed out through your nose and Jungkook stood up all too quickly at your statement, snatching the bottle of lube off the bed with a grunt,

“I’m here, mama.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

With teeth gritting, Jungkook heaved a breath. Barely making an inch into you before you were already trying to push back against him, your ass moving with fervor. Needing more of him before he was even fully inside of you. The feeling was indescribable. The bed he knelt on felt like a plank under him although the mattress was softer than anything. The weight of his body felt dull and heavy. Your body felt so far away. Jungkook’s mind was spinning. Losing oxygen in his lungs because he was holding his breath. This action wasn’t all that new to your relationship. Anal. But this position was entirely new. Double penetration.

Jungkook wasn’t even sure you would be able to handle it. He clearly underestimated you with the way you were searching for more feeling from him even with having his friend’s cock deep inside of you already, “Easy, baby” Jungkook’s hand pressed at your lower back, “Don’t wanna hurt you.” His jaw flexed while his hand on your back snaked its way up to grip onto your hair, pulling the locks into his fist while the other hand slowly guided his cock into you.

Using the width of Jimin’s chest, you placed your palms down onto him to keep yourself from falling forward. You used him for some much needed support as you attempted to relax. Stray pieces of your hair were stuck to your forehead that was dotted with sweat. Your back glistening with perspiration too. You were exhausted and your body was working overtime to accommodate the width of your man’s cock inside of you. The initial stretch hurt as he pushed the head of dick pass the ring of muscles in your ass. Feeling as though he might split you in two but you were stronger than Jungkook knew. You could take him and that you were sure of.

“H..Hah..” You whimpered, The squelching noise of lubricant filling the room with your quiet groans as your man pushed the tip of his dick against your ass. Even though he had prepped you for as long as you could hold off for, the pressure was still borderline unbearable. And here you thought Jimin stretching your pussy apart was too much. But your man’s cock so wide and girthy as it was, had the pleasure rushing up your back and fanning out across your shoulders, taking the life out of you, “H-Hi.” You managed to breathe out as you came close to Jimin’s face, your lips ghosting over his own as you looked into his eyes,

“Hi, honey.” Jimin started to smile, “You okay, princess?” He whispered to you, his dick inside you still raging hard even though you were no longer bouncing on him, “Breathe.” He instructed you, fingertips reaching up to brush the tear trailing out of your eye away, “Try to relax, okay? It’ll feel better soon.” He cooed, his head leaning up to press an airy kiss against your lips, “The calmer you are the easier it is for Jungkook to fit. Don’t you want to feel good?” He smiled as you nodded through shaky breaths while you kissed each other, “Good girl. Almost there.” He hummed out softly into your mouth, his voice sweet and calming. Making it just a smidge more easier for you to relax.

Thankful for his friend’s encouragement to you, Jungkook was able to push more of his length into you. He couldn’t even speak or offer calming words himself because he had his teeth digging into his lower lip. Trying to refrain from hissing out from the way your ass hugged his cock so tight and perfect. You both weren’t avid anal doers mostly because the prep work was far too time consuming for two people who liked to get down and dirty fast. But whenever the special occasion did arise, it was always a good time. “Beautiful.” Jungkook finally whispered, the last of his length sliding all the way into you, making your back arch and mouth hang open as a muffled moan left your lips and got swallowed by Jimin’s mouth. Jungkook's hand in your hair gave the locks a firm tug, “Ready when you are, mama.” He exhaled, freehand coming up to wipe the sweat from his neck,

Jimin was right. The more pliant you became, the quicker it was for your body to open up to Jungkook and welcome his size into you. It wasn’t easy though. Not even with three fingers inside of you could prepare just how big Jungkook felt. You swore you could feel even the veins on his length inside of you. Rubbing against your walls and filling you up in ways that will definitely give you a wobble in your step tomorrow.

You sighed out with a satisfied groan, your lungs feeling easier to breathe now that he was finally all the way in. There was truly nothing better than feeling the man of your dreams filling you up in the way Jungkook could. It was like he was made for you alone, “M..Move, baby.” You nodded, pulling away from Jimin’s lips to brace yourself for what was coming,

With one thrust as a test, Jungkook moaned out under his breath, his head shaking as it dropped back to look at the ceiling. He closed his eyes for a second. Thanking God for blessing him by bringing a woman like you into his life. Dude didn’t even believe in religion but you had him praying anyway. “Shit.” He bit the inside of his cheek and then made one more thrust, his friend underneath you aiming his hips up right after Jungkook’s thrust to push into you himself.

The shock of electricity that shot through your veins almost knocked the wind out of you. You gasped out loud. Nails clawing into Jimin’s chest, your hand wrapping around his throat to hold onto him as they took turns thrusting into you. Jungkook made the first and Jimin followed. You were thankful for them being careful. The two of them being the more level headed ones out of the three of you. It wasn't your fault that you were so cock hungry for these two men. The things they did to you just had you wanting to be the greatest slut for them. Still, you were grateful for their attentiveness. Grateful that they took their time. Choosing your comfort and pleasure before their own. Now, thanks to all the prep and patience, the feeling of having both your holes filled made you think as though you were dying and coming back to life again. With each thrust the two friends made, the pitch of your voice grew higher. Turning into squeaks and pleas for more.

Dancers were always quick to find rhythm when music played. Jungkook and Jimin were no different in the bedroom. They followed the beat of your body perfectly. With their eyes trained on you. Reading your body language and following after you like two hungry animals. They chased the feeling. Thrusting deeper, harder and faster when you asked. You begged them to use you. To do whatever they wanted as long as they both released into you. You were nothing but a vessel now. The only thing you needed to do was hold yourself up and let yourself feel. They put in all the work. Cooing to you and telling you did such a good job being a slut just for them.

“Harder.” You mewled out, “Make me hurt.” Tears pricked your eyes and you struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. A sob of ecstasy threatening to break free from your lips. You didn’t want to walk tomorrow. You wanted to wake up tomorrow and be sore all over. That’s what you craved every time and right now was no different. You wanted a reminder every time you sat down. Every time you walked. Every time you bent. With both your men obliging to your requests, you could feel yourself desperately searching for that sweet spot your body craved to experience the most. You didn’t dare touch your clit. Knowing that stimulation paired with the rest would definitely send you over the edge. You didn’t even know if you could after the ravaging it went through by the pool. Instead, you let the seconds tick on. Let the minutes progress while you pushed back against Jungkook and pressed down on Jimin, hips circling as you yearned to feel the tips of their dicks so deep inside of you hitting the perfect spots.

“Can you take it?” Jungkook grunted to you between thrusts, his hand fisting tighter into your hair and giving it a nice, harsh pull, “Talk to me, baby. Tell me how you feel.”

“Yea–” You tried to speak, knowing your man loved to hear you, “Yes…– I can take it, baby.” You nodded, your forehead resting against the center of Jimin’s chest, “Feels so– fucking good. Both of you.” You whimpered the words out, hearing your friend laugh under you,

“Such a sweet girl.” Jimin cooed into your ear, hands roaming over your waist as he pushed himself upwards into you, “Can’t wait to bust inside you.” He nearly growled the words out. Making your skin start to burn at the sound of his voice. The gentle, soft octave no longer existed. Jimin’s voice was raw with desire. Low rumbles leaving his chest each time he spoke, “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” He continued, the rhythm of his flow starting to lose momentum as he grew closer and closer to release,

Jungkook grunted in response, freehand giving your ass a slap to make it bounce against his length, “Baby, this ass is looking like a masterpiece.” His Busan accent was making its feature the more drunk with pleasure he got and usually, the more turned on Jungkook got, the more unhinged his thoughts became as well, “Wish you could see this, Jimin-ssi. Maybe–” He took a pause to catch his breath, “--Maybe next time we can switch.” Jungkook huffed, chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his sweat trickling from his neck to slide between his pecs, “How do you want me, babe? On your back or inside you?” His hand that rested on your ass roamed up your sweaty back to grip onto your shoulder, a firm tattooed hand grabbing over your skin and leaving a trail of fire along your back wherever he touched, “Tell your Koo what you want.” He spoke between thrusts,

You pondered Jungkook’s question but your mind ran a blank each time you tried to come up with an answer. How did he expect you to respond with his dick ramming into you like this? Having him nut inside you would be a real mess to clean up and you knew you’d be sitting in the shower for a long time to get clean after. But the feeling. Fuck, the feeling of having both these men releasing inside of your holes had you answering without a second thought, “In me.” You pleaded, “Want you to cum inside me.”

And there it was. The moment you had been craving the most. Your soul left your body at the unexpected feeling from Jungkook’s new angle. The force of him using your shoulder as support while he drove his length into you made Jimin raise his hips higher to compete with his friend’s thrusts. Your friend pressed into your g-spot. The curve of his dick pushing at it and making you start to tremble. Your walls closed around Jimin’s cock and your throat went dry. Unable to tell your men that you were going to cum. They knew anyways. Knew your body by now. Knew that when you seized up and your legs began to shake meant you were hitting that peak. Only now it was more intense than ever. With the added sensation of your man in your ass, you could only hide your face into Jimin’s sweat slicked chest and cry out pleas for them not to stop.

You died. You had to. Died and came back to life. Or as the french would call it, la petite mort. You had to put this shit on the top 10 climaxes of your life that’s for sure.

You collapsed onto Jimin with your arms giving out but he caught you and held on, arms snaking around your body and hushing your babbling with soothing words although his hands that rested over your ass, started spreading your cheeks wider for Jungkook to keep thrusting, “That’s our girl.” He coaxed the orgasm out of you, “Do what you need. Hurt me, I don’t give a fuck.” He hummed out as you bit over his collar, your nails scraping down his chest to his abs.

The sensation of you creaming on his length made Jimin’s breath begin to accelerate. Your walls gripping around the base of his cock and trapping him inside of you. His mouth began to water. And he could feel how sweaty he was. The realization that he was close made him more aware of his surroundings now but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. His stomach clenched and filled with heat. His dick twitching and while you rocked your hips to ride the climax out, Jimin knew at that moment he was done for.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jimin announced, making Jungkook snicker out from behind you, “Shut up.” He spat to Jungkook who, although he couldn’t see, knew had a stupidly cocky grin along his lips.

You begged for him to cum inside of you and Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. Making one, two more thrusts and then he stilled, head dropping with a thud against the pillow under his head as he released into you. His cum shooting right up inside of you and filling you up. He let out a deep moan, groaning your name lewdly as he held you up and thrust himself into you while you mustered strength to meet his thrusts, helping him to ride the release out the same way he helped you, “Don’t pull out.” You whispered to Jimin, soft fingertips gliding over his rosy cheeks as you pressed your forehead against his, “Stay inside me until Jungkook finishes.”

Listening to you begging Jimin to cockwarm you made Jungkook delirious. He wished so badly to be a fly on the wall just to watch the scene unfolding. But his own view wasn’t too shabby if he had to say so himself. “Fuck, I’m dying.” He groaned, sweat dripping from his hair and making him feel sticky. He didn’t care. No one did. That was the beauty of sex. You both liked it nasty. Like it sweaty. After all, that’s what showers were for, right?

And for all that laughing Jungkook was doing at his friend earlier, he shut up immediately when he felt his own balls start to swell with the need to release. Hearing your cute little whines and cries from the sensitivity of your orgasm and his friend nutting inside you was enough to push Jungkook towards the end. His lips pressed together tight, hips stuttering for a moment and then he was pushing you downwards, raising your ass and pinning you against Jimin,

“Fuck.” He cursed out loud and you beckoned him to fill you up, your hand weakly reaching behind you to grab over your ass cheek, spreading yourself and backing up to reach his pelvis, “Stay that way.” He instructed you to which you had no problem obliging, “Fuck, like that.” Jungkook nodded with a breathless whisper as you backed up on him, making his cock burying deep inside of you, “Shit, babe–” Was the last thing he said and then he was spilling into you. The obscene sounds of his groans, his cum shot and the lube noises were filthy. So sexy.

The release made Jungkook dizzy. The pressure made the blood rush to his head and caused him almost to lose balance for a moment. He pressed his face into your back as he came, lips and tongue trailing up your spine. Swiping the sweat on your back away with the tip of his tongue and then he was sinking his teeth into your flesh, body quivering and moans muffled against your body while he rode it out. Rode it out until the head of his cock tingled with sensitivity. And then he was pulling out of you, leaning back and holding your ass apart to watch his cum start to trickle out of you,

“Fuck, that’s gorgeous.” He groaned, letting you go as the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion took over at once, “Come here, my love.” He called out to you, collapsing onto the bed next to Jimin with a huff. He pushed a hand through the sweat soaked hair on top of his head, fixing the disheveled mess and running his fingers through the locks to get it out of his face, “You alright, baby?” Jungkook questioned you, tired eyes inspecting over your face to ensure that you were okay,

Weakly, you peeled yourself off Jimin. A small whine leaving your lips as you pulled your body off from where his cock stayed nice and snug inside of you. Clenching your walls to keep his cum inside of you, you scrambled over to Jungkook and curled up on your side between the two men and let Jungkook pull you into his arms as he glanced over to Jimin, “You good too?” He asked his friend and Jimin nodded limply, eyes glazed and fucked out as he turned over to face the two of you, his hand reaching over to trail over your waist,

The two friends exchanged a look. One of… appreciation. One of… thankfulness. And one of… never to mention this interaction to anyone. Not in fear of judgment but in fear that the other’s would grow jealous because there was no chance in hell they wouldn’t feel some type of way knowing something fucking intense and exhilarating as this took place.

“That was amazing.” Jimin commented with a tired sigh and he leaned over, moving your hair away to press a kiss against your shoulder. He lingered over your body for a few moments. Face pressing and nosing over your skin before he reached down towards the blankets half hanging off the mattress, his form sliding out of the bed as he pulled the sheets over your body to cover you up, “I’ll go shower first. You two get your rest.” He announced and Jungkook nodded, eyes on his friend’s back as he exited the bedroom on wobbly legs,

“Don’t fall asleep, mama. You gotta shower.” Jungkook hummed out low, arms sliding around your sticky body and bringing you against his chest, “Need anything?” He asked, fingers moving freely through your hair and wrapping the locks that stuck to your back around his wrist and away from your skin in effort to cool your body down, “Want some water?”

Sleep was all you craved now. Your body feeling as if it weren’t connected to your head anymore. As far as you knew, you were already asleep. The daze of getting plowed into by two men making your eyelids heavy. “Not sleeping.” You mumbled and pushed your face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck and shoulder, eyes closing in bliss. You were quiet as Jimin left the room, a longing to have him stay making you want to tell him to wait but the need to be glued to Jungkook’s side was stronger, “Just need you.” A soft whisper mumbled into your man’s skin, “Was I good?” You asked, lifting your head slowly to peek at him.

Hearing the shower in the bathroom turn on in the distance, the noises of water falling made Jungkook sleepy himself. He had his eyes closed, an arm resting behind his head as he laid on his back, soft tufts of air leaving his lips as his breathing stilled, “More than good.” He opened an eye and glanced over to you when he felt your gaze on him, “You were perfect, baby.” He nodded, turning a bit so that he was facing you now and coming closer, his arm snaking around your waist, “Did you ever doubt yourself?” He started to smile, eyes wrinkling cutely and his teeth spreading into a blissful smile, “I never doubted you for a minute.” He nodded, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek, “Thank you for doing this.”

You leaned into Jungkook’s embrace, eyelashes fluttering as you nuzzled his palm with your cheek. Feeling the warmth of his love radiating through his skin and transferring to yours. Sinking into your flesh and injecting into your veins like the finest drug in the world,, “I love you.” You hummed quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips, “Thank you.” You smiled more, “Can you shower with me?” You asked, eyes rounding into your signature puppy-eyed look because you knew if your pussy couldn’t make you get your way (which it did all the time, don’t kid yourself), this look would make Jungkook fold in seconds,

Jungkook began to laugh, starting to sit up a bit as he nodded, “Baby, I don’t even think you could walk right now. Let alone stand in the shower by yourself.” He joked, “Can you even feel your legs?” Your goofball of a man was back and it made you roll your eyes tiredly, “Of course we’re showering together. Jimin can change the bedsheets.” He smiled triumphantly,

“Hey– I heard that.” Jimin grumbled as he made his way back into the bedroom after his shower, hair sopped wet from and dripping down his shoulders as he walked into the room with his towel wrapped around his waist, “You’re making us breakfast in the morning if I have to change the sheets..” He declared, arms folding confidently over his chest as he stood before the two of you,

“Deal.” Jungkook agreed with a beam, “I’ll make sure to cook you a nice, hearty breakfast if you do us this favor.” He nodded enthusiastically, grateful for his friend to help with the chore of stripping the bed. It was the least Jimin could do from the way he sweat right through the sheets anyways, “Now help me get our girl to the shower.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　　　　　　　　

Feeling soft lips roaming over the side of your neck made you stir in your sleep. A tired hum leaving your mouth while you felt the pair of lips kiss against your collar bone then your shoulder and finally over your bare chest, “Mm… Baby, it’s too early.” You thought it was Jungkook bugging your ass for some early morning loving, “Tomorrow, please.” You grumbled tiredly, “You almost broke me yesterday. I need a day to recover.” Your voice was laced with sleep but the kisses continued, a sweet laugh coming from your side that did not sound like your man’s.

“Jungkook?” You questioned, still in a sleepy daze but slowly realizing that the kisses being placed on your skin were not from him at all. The lip rings you always felt pressing into you were missing.

At that, your eyes slowly fluttered open and you peeked to your side. Not feeling an urgency to panic over who the mystery person was because you knew in this house, you were safe no matter what, “Oh..” A tired smile formed along your lips as Jimin greeted you, “Morning, Mimi.” You slowly turned onto your side to face him, your cheek smushing into the pillow under your head, “I thought you were Koo.” You murmured apologetically, leaning into his palm as he reached over and caressed along your cheek,

He was already fully dressed for the day and sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. Wearing a loose sweater that covered his hands and a pair of lounge shorts, “Morning, princess.” He smiled at you, bare skin rosy and fresh from his shower and hair falling delicately around his face, “Jungkook told me I could wake you up. He’s making something for you to eat downstairs.” Jimin chirped, “I already ate. It was really delicious.” He tapped over his stomach with his freehand, his fingertips stroking along your cheek now moving to run over your back, his adorable crooked tooth appearing as he smiled wider, “Did you have a nice sleep?” He rubbed over your back, warm palms against your bare skin starting to wake you up,

“I slept like a log.” You let out a soft giggle, rubbing your face against the pillow as you blinked away sleep, “Passed out after showering and didn’t move an inch until now.” You nodded, feeling more alert and awake now when you recollected the memories of the prior evening’s activities, “I had a lot of fun last night.” You started to smile at Jimin, beginning to sit up.

You felt the ache in your muscles as you collected the blanket draped over your naked form and hiked it from where it was wrapped around your waist to your chest now. The pain in your body was a silent reminder of how eventful your night really was. Your whole body hurt like a bitch but it was a nice hurt. It was a dull sore in your back. In your shoulders. Your chest. Your ass. Your knees and even your thighs. You felt refreshed if you had to be honest. You know the feeling of having a really good workout? That.

“What about you?” You asked, covering your body with the duvet and wrapping yourself in its softness, “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept like a baby.” Jimin began to chuckle, “But I have to get ready for my flight soon.” He grumbled as if he didn’t want to leave, “I’m going to be thinking about you guys for the entire flight.” He joked but you knew he was telling the truth, “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Jimin looked towards the door as if he was hoping Jungkook would come upstairs and help him through what his question. He hesitated for a moment and you quirked a brow, wanting to ask him to just spit it out, “Well…” He sighed, giving you a sheepish look, “I wanted to ask–”

“Do you wanna go with him to Japan?” Jungkook interrupted from the doorway, his smile radiating into the room from the door. He too was looking refreshed and clean. The sweaty hair that was stuck to his forehead last night was no longer there. Only soft, bouncy locks draped around his face like luscious curtains now.

Damn, how long have you been sleeping? What time was it?

“I mean, do you want us to go to Japan with him.” Jungkook was heavy on the us because even though he had let his friend have his way with you last night, he wasn’t about to just let Jimin whisk you away into his arms and disappear to a different country. No, sir. He had his fantasies, yes but this wasn’t about to turn into a regular occurrence… unless you wanted it to, of course.

You looked at Jungkook with shock on your face and then at Jimin, your head shaking in disbelief, “Wha– why?” You asked, “What are we gonna do there?” You began to question them even though you were already thinking of what outfits you needed to pack. Where were those cute sneakers Jungkook just bought you? You would definitely be needing them for all of the cute themed cafes you’d be dragging the boys to. Your mind began to wander and you almost didn’t hear Jungkook speaking as he walked further into the room,

“Eat. Drink. Sightsee.” Jungkook hummed, a steaming cup of tea in his hands as he sunk onto the bed with one knee, placing the cup down onto the nightstand next to you before he took a seat, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his warm embrace, “What else do people do in a different country, silly.” He snickered at your questions, fingers moving up to smooth your bed head away and fix the tousled locks that were sticking up around your head, “It’s a little last minute but I figured that we could use the getaway and Jimin could use the company, right?” He looked at Jimin who nodded eagerly,

“Eating ramen alone in the middle of the night just isn’t fun anymore.” Your friend drooped sadly, his puppy-kitty like eyes swallowing you up as he gave you a convincing stare, “It sure would be nice to go on a trip with my friends.”

You weighed the pros and cons in your head. Pros… it was fucking Japan. Cons… the flight was leaving tonight. You had to pack and prepare! These goofs really thought they could give you such short notice? Ah, fuck it. “I mean… it is quite lonely eating ramen alone. You have a point there.” You reached for the cup of tea Jungkook had brought you and blew on the liquid as you brought it to your lips, feeling your stomach grumble as the appetite opening smell of the herbal tea wafted to your nose, “Wait… can I eat first?” You pouted, “Okay yes, fine. Yes, but I need to go home and pack too. Fuck, where’s my passport?” You looked at Jungkook as he began to laugh, his shoulders shaking when he chuckled at you, “What?”

“Can I eat first.” He repeated after you, “That’s the first thing she asks…” He snorted, shaking his head, “Of course you can, baby.”

“And one more thing.” You gave the two of them a deadpan look after you took a sip of your tea, the two both equally looked at you with curiosity, “We do whatever we did last night again.” You nodded and both Jimin and Jungkook exchanged a glance between each other. One of disbelief. Shock and…. Interest.

“Fuck yes.” Both Jimin and Jungkook blurted at the same time, making you smile coyly.

“Who else has a free schedule?” You suddenly asked, “Maybe… someone else wants to join.” You weren’t even sure of what you were asking, hoping the two men in front of you could catch your hint, “Like you said… eating ramen alone just isn’t fun.” You gave Jimin a smile at the hidden meaning of what you were saying and Jungkook hummed out lowly,

“Namjoon said he’s free.” Your man announced, fingers tapping over his phone quickly, “Just asked him.”

“Namjoon...” You pondered his name, thinking of all the times you’ve spent with him. There weren’t many. And the ones you did remember were mostly spent in comfortable silence next to each other doing your own things while the other members were off playing games or other rowdy activities together, “Does he.. uh, like ramen?”

“Oh, he loves ramen.” Jimin nodded, “Has a big appetite for it.” He orchestrated with his hands and the three of you laughed together.

“He said he’s in. Will meet us at the airport.” Jungkook concluded, the smirk on his lips never swaying as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against the side of your head, “Let’s go eat.” He ended the conversation there but the butterflies beginning to flutter in your stomach only started.

This might just be the start to something… amazing.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jimin fic #jimin smut #bts fic #bts smut #smut #f/m/m #jikook x reader #jikook x you #jikook x y/n #fic

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fartfather · 1 year ago

Text

Audience of One pt.3

Satoru x fem!reader x Suguru

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Word count: 6.5k

Series Summary: When Suguru first walked in on you and Satoru having sex, it was an accident. But he couldn't say the same about every time after that. He's under the impression that this habit of his is a secret. But you and Satoru have known this whole time and didn't plan on letting Suguru know anytime soon.

pt.3 Info: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, PiV sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, threesome/throuple, cuck Gojo, hair pulling, morning sex, squirting, praise/degradation kink, spanking, begging, pet names (princess, baby, love, etc), established relationship w Gojo, aftercare, basically 90% porn 10% fluff, Gojo teaching Geto how to fuck you, Geto is no longer shy

pt.1 pt.2 pt.4

˚₊ · »-♡→ I know I said I'd post pt.3 yesterday, but I panicked and rewrote like half of it (oops lol). BUT- I'm much happier w this version 🛐

Also not sure if this would be a good place to end?? or if more parts would be wanted ¿ I would be more than happy to turn this into a series and I even have a pt.4 in the works, but I also don't want this to feel dragged on yk. Please lmk your thoughts because I am incapable of making my own decisions (ノ ° 益 °) ノ

Early hours of the morning came, and the first one awake was Geto. He looked down at you and his breath caught in his throat.

You looked so peaceful.

So angelic.

He couldn't help but press a soft kiss to your forehead.

His mind wandered to last night and he smiled. Everything was perfect. The feeling of your bare body was warm and inviting, and having you pressed against him sent sparks down his spine. Geto had never felt this way before.

He could get used to this.

"Hey," a sleepy voice whispered from beside him, startling him out of his trance.

Geto turned to see a very disheveled Gojo looking at him through half closed eyes, "Hey,"

Gojo’s attention shifted to your resting figure, still curled up against Geto's chest. He couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face.

"She's really out," he whispered with a small chuckle.

"Yeah," Geto replied, "we wore her out."

"Damn right we did," Gojo smiled proudly, "I'd like to see how long it takes to wear her out next time," Geto's eyebrows raised at the mention of a 'next time.'

Seeing the surprised expression, Gojo smiled and reached over, and landed a playful punch on Geto's shoulder, "I meant it when I said you're welcome anytime- In fact, I was thinking, would you want to do this again? Not just the sex, I mean, I that part too, but like, all of it. Hanging out and stuff," he clarified, a hint of embarrassment in his voice, “It just seems like there’s good chemistry between us,” he added trying to explain his reasoning with a gesture that circled the three of you.

Geto thought for a moment, contemplating his answer.

Last night was the best night of his life. And he didn't want it to end. He wanted to be able to feel your warmth against him again and again. To be able to see your beauty, and to experience all the joy and happiness that came along with it.

The events of last night unlocked something deep within him. His desires had surpassed mere lust, and turned into something more. Something deeper.

Something genuine.

And with that revelation, Geto decided to take a leap of faith. "I'd like that," he replied, a bit of nervous enthusiasm coming out in his tone.

Smirking, Gojo nodded and moved to brush stray pieces of hair out of your sleeping face. "Great. Well, I guess we'll have to have a real conversation about this once she's up," he nodded down at you, "but for now, we should probably get some more sleep."

"Yeah," Geto nodded, a smile creeping onto his lips.

With that, the two men fell back into a comfortable slumber, their arms gently wrapped around you.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

A few hours later your eyes began to flutter open, thick with blurriness from the heavy sleep you were just in.

Once your vision cleared, you were met with the sight of Gojo's sleeping figure beside you. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction. The sunlight was peeking through the curtains, casting a glow on his bare skin.

Turning to your left, Geto lay fast asleep. His features were relaxed, and his mouth hung slightly open. You couldn't help but admire his beauty.

You couldn't believe how lucky you were. Laying between these gods that walked among men.

You didn't want this moment to end.

Lifting yourself slightly to yawn and stretch, you accidentally hit Geto in the face, waking him. "Oops- I’m so sorry!" you giggled and flashed him an apologetic smile.

"It’s okay, beautiful," seemingly unphased by your elbow making contact his forehead, he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek, “Good morning,”

The gesture was unexpectedly warm and sweet. Not that Geto had never been sweet to you before, but this just felt… different. Like it carried a new weight behind it.

You smiled and leaned into the kiss, "Morning," you murmured back, your voice still laced with sleep.

Geto's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your smile. He just couldn’t get over the warmth you radiated.

You felt a hand slide up your side and rest on your waist. "And what about me?" Gojo pouted.

Turning to face him you placed a soft kiss on his lips and mumbled into it, "Hello, baby," He hummed in satisfaction and scooted in closer, not wanting to leave even the slightest gap between you.

“How did you sleep?” Geto asked while massaging your neck that was tense after the events of last night.

"Mmm, so good," you replied, letting out a small sigh as the tension left your shoulders. You could practically feel the aches melting and your muscles turning to malleable putty under his touch.

"I'm glad," he smiled, continuing to rub his thumb into the knots of your skin.

"And you?" You asked, turning to look at him.

"Wonderfully," he smiled, his hands not stopping their massage. You couldn't help the way your cheeks heated up from this simple interaction.

God, his man was truly a treasure.

Gojo watched the interaction and felt a warmth spread through his chest. He liked seeing that you brought out Geto's soft side, and he knew that you enjoyed it too. The three of you stayed like that for a few minutes, silently enjoying each other's company.

Then, Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, and broke the silence.

"Hey, so," he started, looking between you and his friend, "Suguru and I talked earlier," Your brow furrowed at the tone in his voice. He sounded nervous.

Perking up, you raised a brow at him, "Oh?" You questioned.

"Mhm, we had a very productive conversation," Gojo continued, "while you were asleep," he clarified, "and, we think that, well, we- um, the three of us should hang out. Like, outside of sex. Or during. Or after. I mean- not like a requirement, just an option, if you're comfortable," he rambled.

You blinked.

Your face twisted with confusion as you tried to process his words. "Toru, what are you talking about?" you questioned, needing clarification.

"I want to date you too," Geto cut to the chase, his voice surprisingly steady and confident, "you would be with both of us. At the same time."

You stared at him.

Your brain was blank.

You breathed out a surprised, "Oh," The thought of it was interesting and foreign, though, not unwelcome.

"Only if you're comfortable with it," Gojo quickly added, "we know it's a bit... unconventional."

"A bit?" you asked sarcastically with a small laugh.

Gojo laughed and nodded, "Okay, a lot," he admitted, "but, we talked, and we agree. We want this," he said, motioning between the three of you, "Geto has clearly developed something for you, and vice versa. And I figured what better solution than adding Suguru to our relationship?"

You sat in silence for a few moments, mulling over the situation.

"It wouldn't be weird to you?" you asked Gojo with a concerned expression, "sharing me with your best friend?"

"Not if it's Suguru," he replied without hesitation, "we know each other well, and I trust him with my life. Plus- if it was, I would have never been able to enjoy the sight of my best friend eating out the woman I love, right?" he added with a teasing smirk, referencing the events of last night.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "Satoru!" you scolded.

Gojo laughed and pulled you in for a quick kiss. "It's true," he whispered against your lips.

Turning to Geto, you gave him a questioning glance, "And you're okay with this?" you asked, wanting to make sure he was certain.

"Yes," he answered without a moment of hesitation.

"You would really want this?" you questioned, "It wouldn't be weird for you?"

Geto let out a chuckle, "I wouldn't be offering if it was weird for me. I'm not going to lie, it's a little unconventional," he stated, "but, I would love the chance to be with you- even if it's not the traditional way," his confession caused a wave of butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

You thought for some time. The two men waited patiently, knowing that you would need a few minutes to process everything.

Assessments of the situation swirled in your mind. You loved Gojo and the life you had with him. And you wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. But they both seemed so certain. They said they trusted each other, and if that was the case then why shouldn't you?

And on top of that, you couldn’t deny how Geto made you feel. Last night was clearly more than a one time deal. It was deeper than just sex, it was intimate. The way he touched you and admired you all night had chills running down your spine from just thinking about it.

The more you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.

Being able to be with both of them was a dream come true. They were both kind, generous, and made you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

"If you aren't comfortable with this-" Gojo began, but was quickly cut off.

"I want to," you said quietly, "but what if something goes wrong?"

Gojo and Geto exchanged a quick look and burst out laughing.

That was certainly not the response you were expecting when airing your worries. "What's so funny?!" You asked, a bit irritated that they were laughing at your valid concerns.

"Baby," Gojo chuckled, "have you not seen the shit we've been through together? We'll be fine.”

Crossing your arms in defense you Looked between the two of them, "But still- What if you guys get jealous, or something goes wrong and we stop talking, or- or-"

Pressing a finger to your lips, Gojo silenced your anxious ramblings, "Shh, baby," he whispered sweetly with a reassuring smile, "We've got each other's backs. Plus, I'll kick Suguru's ass if he makes you upset," he joked.

Geto laughed and nodded, "I'd do the same," he added, causing a small giggle to slip past your lips.

You gave them an unsure smile, "I know you say that nothing will happen, but what if something does?" you countered, looking between them for an answer.

Gojo took your hands in his and looked you dead in the eyes. "Nothing will go wrong," he said, his voice now serious and full of promise.

"I'll make sure of it," he stated, a fire in his eyes, "Suguru will too."

A heavy sigh escaped your lips and you turned to Geto with a silent question in your eyes. "I'm not gonna let either of us fuck this up," he affirmed, reading the concern behind your gaze.

"We want to make this work," Gojo added, "And besides, do you really think I would put the best pussy of my life at risk?" He squeezed your side, making you let out a giggle.

You gave him a playful shove, "Shut up, idiot,"

"It's true!" He laughed and caught your wrist, pulling you in and placing a kiss on your temple.

"He's right though," Geto smirked, "last night was the best experience of my life. And that’s saying a lot considering I didn’t even fuck you."

Your cheeks heated and you let out a flustered laugh, "So you're in this for the sex, is that what I'm hearing?" you teased, poking Geto in the ribs.

He caught your hand and pulled it to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "No, sweet girl, its more than that." he said, looking down at you with a tender smile, "I'm in this for you- you know that."

The way his tone softened and his eyes gleamed was enough to make you melt.

And without wasting another moment you looked between the two men and nodded, "I'm in," you stated confidently, "if the two of you are."

Both their faces lit up at your confirmation, and the smile on their faces was bright enough to blind a person.

"Hell yeah!" Gojo cheered and wrapped his arms around you, "we're gonna make this work," he said, placing kisses all over your face. Geto smiled and joined, littering kisses down your neck.

And just like that all previous worries were melted away from the tingles that rippled across your skin after each new kiss. You giggled and melted into both sets of arms that caressed and embraced you gently.

Slowly, their sweet kisses began to get more rough. More hungry.

The way their hands roamed your body and their lips nipped at your flesh sent a spark of excitement through you.

"You're gonna be all ours, aren't you, princess?" Gojo purred into your ear.

A small whimper slipped past your lips as his breath fanned your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "Mhm," you hummed, your eyes becoming heavy with lust.

Geto's fingers traced your collarbones, moving further down and stopping just above your breast.

"And I'm gonna take such good care of you, give you everything you want," Geto promised, "you're mine too now."

His possessive words sent a jolt of heat straight to your cunt and you arched into his touch.

"Yours," you mumbled, too drunk off their affection to register what was being said.

They both let out satisfied hums.

Gojo's hands slid down your body, his fingertips grazing your nipples, before resting on your waist. "Our perfect girl," Gojo murmured and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "you're so beautiful."

Geto's fingers dipped down into your cleavage, squeezing your breasts gently, and his lips found yours. "So obedient," he mumbled into the kiss.

You whimpered against his lips. The feeling of their hands all over your body and their praises filling your ears was intoxicating.

"Mm, fuck," Gojo groaned, grinding his erection on your ass.

Gasping into the kiss, your eyes widened and turned to him "Satoru," you whined.

"Shh, Princess," he shushed, his hands gripping your waist, "be a good girl and keep kissing Suguru while I play with you,"

Your breath hitched, but you nodded and turned back to Geto, who was looking at you with a dark lust in his eyes. And instantly, Geto's warm lips were back on yours. They felt soft and plump, like velvet pillows, and you couldn't help but melt into the sensation.

"Good girl," Gojo praised, his hands moving further down your body.

You whimpered when his hands came into contact with the bare skin of your thighs, his touch sending chills through your body.

Gojo leaned down and planted a kiss on your shoulder, then continued peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, "We're gonna keep you nice and happy, baby," Gojo promised, the vertebration of the words on your neck tickling you lightly.

Your mind was blank. All you could do was moan and let them explore your body. Geto's tongue was slowly swirling around your own. His movements were slow and gentle, taking the time to savor the feeling.

Rocking into Geto's thigh, you chased the pressure, hoping it would satiate the throbbing in your cunt.

Geto's grip tightened on your tits and he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss and allow a string of spit to hang between your mouths. "This desperate already?" he smirked, his thumbs rubbing circles into the hard buds of your nipples.

"Always," Gojo smirked, "she's such a needy little slut,"

You whined and rolled your hips, the need between your thighs growing more apparent with every passing moment.

Geto's eyes flicked down to your mouth, which was parted and breathing heavier, then back up to your eyes. The sight made his cock twitch, and his gaze darkened, "Fuck, that's so hot," Geto groaned, his dick already hard. His hands moved downward to your hips, gripping to hold you still, "Be patient for us, princess."

Gojo continued his kisses along the length of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms. "She loves hearing us praise her," Gojo smirked, "she's always so desperate for any sort of validation. Drives her wild,"

The truth in his words made you whine and looked at Geto, who was staring down at you with lust-filled eyes. "Is that so?" He asked, his hands moving to cup your face.

"Yes," you breathed, leaning into his touch.

His attention turned back to Gojo, "And does she like to be degraded too?" He asked, curious, but already knew the answer.

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off from a whimper that escaped your lips. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you avoided their eye contact.

A mischievous smirk formed on Geto's lips, "Oh?" He tilted your chin up and looked down at you, "Look at me," he demanded.

You did as instructed, your heart skipping a beat when you met his gaze.

"Tell me," he began, his thumb running over your bottom lip, "do you like being treated like a little slut?"

His question caused a rush of heat to run through your body. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, and you could swear that your arousal was now dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

Gojo couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips. Your obvious reaction to Geto's words was adorable.

"I'll take that as a yes," Geto smirked, his eyes not leaving yours as he pushed his thumb past your lips. "Although, I guess I shouldn't expect anything more from the dirty slut who would let me watch her boyfriend fuck her for months."

The humiliation that coursed through you was overwhelming, and yet, you felt more aroused than ever before. You closed your eyes and took Geto's thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit and letting out a moan.

You were helpless to the words coming from Geto's mouth, and there was nothing you wanted more than to be completely submissive to him. It was clear to them that this new way that Geto spoke to you was making you dizzy with lust.

"Oh, you like how Suguru is talking to you right now, don’t you, princess?" Gojo smirked, watching your reactions, "He's always so polite, so gentle with you. It's a nice change, huh? Seeing him be a little mean."

You nodded and moaned around Geto's thumb, which was still resting on your tongue.

Gojo was right, you did enjoy the new change. The way Geto looked down at you with a dark glint in his eyes, his usually sweet and caring demeanor nowhere to be seen, was driving you crazy. You wanted nothing more than to be dominated by him.

To be completely and utterly destroyed by him.

"What do you think, princess? Should we have Suguru fuck you? Let him see what a dirty, slutty, cum dump, you are firsthand?" Gojo cooed, his hands roaming up and down your thighs.

You whined, and Geto withdrew his thumb, a string of saliva still connecting it to your lips. "Is that what you want?"

”Please," you begged with an embarrassing urgency, "please, please, please, let him fuck me." you turned to Gojo, who was already beginning to stroke his cock with his free hand.

"Please," you repeated, looking up at Geto with a pleading expression, "I need it, please."

"Oh, you need it, do you?" Geto cooed, "Such a pathetic little slut, begging for my cock, and you don't even know how good I can fuck you," he teased, looking down at you with a patronizing smirk.

You whimpered and looked up at him, desperation clear on your face, "Show me," you begged, "please, show me how good you can fuck me."

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Well, since you're asking so nicely," he said, "Get on your back. Now." His demanding voice took you by surprise and you immediately followed his instructions.

You untangled your legs from his and laid back, looking up at him with wide, innocent, eyes.

"Good girl," Gojo praised, sitting beside you. He pushed your legs apart and dipped his fingers between your folds. He rubbed his hand sloppily, for his pleasure only, the goal being to collect your juices. Then, he brought it to his dick, using it to help his jerk off.

"So wet," he said, pumping his dick with your slick.

"Toru," you pleaded, arching into his touch that was no longer there.

"Shh, just sit back and let me watch Suguru fuck you, princess," Gojo soothed, his thumb running circles around his slit, mixing your wetness with his pre-cum.

The room felt like it was spinning around you, and the only thing grounding you was getting touched in the place you needed it most.

Geto positioned himself between your legs and placed his cock on your clit. You could feel the hot, throbbing, length rest on your sensitive bud and it made you shudder.

Geto's hand gripped your thigh and he spread you wider, taking in the sight before him. "God, I'm never going to get tired of that view," Geto sighed.

"Just wait until you're in her," Gojo smirked, admiring your glistening slick rub onto Geto's shaft.

He let out a hum and slid his cock between your folds, coating his dick in your wetness. You moaned, your breath hitching as the head brushed against your entrance.

Seeing how needy you were getting, Gojo moved his free hand down and spread your lips, exposing your dripping hole for Geto's viewing.

"So pretty," Geto praised, his tip prodding at your entrance.

You were soaking wet and more than ready for him, and when he slowly pushed in, a loud groan ripped through his throat as he inched deeper into your warmth.

"Oh, god, so tight," he praised, his hips pausing halfway to give you time to adjust, "so perfect."

Your hands balled into fists and you moaned loudly, the feeling of him filling you up was so overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

"Isn't she?" Gojo asked, leaning in to press kisses against your neck, "you're perfect, aren't you? The perfect little fuck toy for us, and us only- Say it."

As he continued to slowly slide in, Geto kept his eyes trained on yours, not wanting to miss a second of your reactions.

Heat rose to your cheeks under his gaze, embarrassment evident in your expression. "I- I'm," you stuttered, a small whine slipping past your lips before you could get the words out.

"Use your words," Geto commanded through clenched teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening as your cunt pulsed around him.

You whimpered and nodded, trying to collect yourself. "I- I'm a perfect fuck toy," you choked out, a mixture of craving and shame washing over you, "yours- just for the two of you,"

"Fuck- Yes, you are," Geto praised, bottoming out and giving you a few moments to adjust. You whined and clenched around him, feeling fuller than ever before.

After your muscles relaxed, you rocked lightly against Geto's cock, to show you were ready for him. Though, just that small movement had you seeing stars as his tip hit your g-spot.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream and your nails dug into the sheets, gripping tightly.

"Oh, did I find it already?" he asked patronizingly, his voice laced with sarcasm, "You must be so sensitive," You could do nothing but whimper and nod, not being able to form words.

"Fuck, do that again," Geto demanded.

You followed his instructions and rocked against him, moaning at the sensation. "Holy shit," Geto gasped, his eyes rolling back as you squeezed his cock.

Gojo watched with wide eyes, his hand slowly stroking his cock as he watched the scene unfold before him. "How does she feel?" Gojo asked with a chuckle. He already knew the answer.

Geto moaned, slowly starting to roll his hips, "Fucking heavenly," You felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you, knowing that Geto was enjoying your pussy just as much as you enjoyed his dick.

"So warm and tight," he added, picking up his pace, "I could fuck her all day,"

"Please," you whimpered, "fuck me all day,"

A satisfied smile crossed Geto's face, and without a word, he started to thrust into you at a steady pace. You gasped, feeling his cock fill you up with each push. Your walls tightened around him, trying to pull him deeper.

"Fuck," Geto groaned, "Such a greedy fucking pussy, doesn't want to let me go."

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His hands grabbed onto your waist and his fingers dug into the plush flesh. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your moans and whimpers grew louder and louder.

"Mm, look at her," Gojo cooed, "she's so fucking desperate."

"Mhm" you breathed out nodding and looking up at Geto, who was watching your every move. He looked absolutely breathtaking. His hair was a mess, his face was flushed, and his eyes were filled with desire. The sight of him looking down at you like that made your heartbeat quicken.

"You love having my cock buried deep inside of you, don't you?" he asked.

You nodded vigorously, unable to form any words, but the way your hips met his every thrust and the sounds that came out of you told him all he needed to know.

"Oh?" Geto smirked, "You need more? Fucking impatient little slut- You need me to fuck you harder?"

"Yes, please, please, please," you begged, your head falling back against the pillow.

"Such a good girl," he praised, his hand moving to rest on your lower stomach, "such a polite little whore for my cock."

He pushed lightly onto your abdomen while fucking deep into you. The pressure from his hand was foreign and had you squirming and whimpering, biting your lip to hold in your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, there! There!" You screamed, "Please, don't stop!"

Geto smirked and leaned forward, "Look at me," he demanded, his voice firm.

Your eyes shot open, not even realizing they had been closed. You stared up at him and his lust filled eyes, a look you had never seen before on his face. The sight made you instantly moan and your eyes began to roll back involuntarily.

"Keep your eyes on me," he commanded, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust.

Your jaw fell slack, and a strangled moan slipped past your lips as pleasure coursed through your veins. "S- sorry," you stuttered.

Gojo groaned and his fist picked up pace, jerking his dick in tandem with Geto's movements. "It's okay, baby, you're doing so good," he whispered, leaning forward and brushing the hair out of your face, "so good for us."

Geto's pace continued and the heat in the pit of your stomach began to build dangerously fast. "Fuck, Sugu- I- I-" you stuttered, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"You're so close already, aren't you?" He cooed, his eyes not leaving yours.

You nodded, and a loud whine slipped past your lips as Geto's hips started to pick up speed. "Fuck," he groaned, "fuck, you're squeezing me so good, baby,"

"Gonna- Gonna cum," you managed to say through heavy breaths and muffled moans.

In response, the hand on your stomach pushed slightly deeper, and that's what threw you over the edge. The pressure had your toes curling and your back arching upwards followed by a strangled scream on your lips as you came hard.

Your vision went white, and a ringing filled your ears.

"Oh, fuck," Gojo groaned, watching your legs shake and your face display your ecstasy.

"Shit," Geto groaned, "keep cumming for me, baby, just like that- fuck!"

Gojo smirked and leaned back, admiring his two lovers. "God, the two of you are so fucking hot," he said, his hand working furiously to match the pace that Geto was now setting.

You could barely register what he said, too overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure crashing through your body. The warmth from deep in your core had overflowed, somehow finding its release- and soaking everything around you in the process.

Geto moaned loudly and looked down at your pussy, Gojo eyes followed, widening and jaw dropping.

"Holy shit," Gojo breathed out, "She's squirting," he said in awe, "fuck- I didn't even know she could do that."

Your juices were flowing freely, coating Geto's cock, balls, and the bed beneath you in a thick layer. It was as if a flood gate had opened and your arousal was pouring out of you.

"Oh, god, oh, god," Geto repeated, "you're squirting on my cock," he groaned and picked up his pace, fucking you through your orgasm, "so good, fuck- So fucking perfect."

Your mind was blank, all you could do was babble and moan, letting Geto fuck you as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Geto growled, his hips began to stutter. "Go on, Suguru," Gojo urged, nearing his own climax, "cum in her."

Geto looked down at you, the glazed over expression on your face was enough to send him over the edge. With a final thrust he bottomed out and painted your walls with his seed, the sensation pulling a long moan from both of your lips.

You could feel his warmth spill into you, filling you up and coating your walls, and causing a brain numbing tingle to run up your spine.

Gojo wasn't far behind, his own cum coating his hand and abdomen. He pumped his shaft as the last few drops landed on his stomach. "Holy shit," he breathed out, leaning back and letting the orgasm wash over him.

"Fuck," Geto groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. Both of you were completely spent, not even bothering to move or say a word. The only sounds in the room were the heavy breathing and racing heartbeats.

You could feel Geto's warm breath against your skin as he took a few deep breaths. You brought a hand up and gently ran it through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

The gesture was simple, but it made his heart melt, grounding him from the high he just experienced.

"That was fucking hot," Gojo praised, "You're both so fucking sexy. I loved seeing you two together."

"So good, my beautiful, perfect, angel," he continued, placing kisses on your forehead and cheek, "you did so well,"

You turned to him and smiled lazily, enjoying the praise. Geto looked up and admired your blissed out expression. "You look so pretty like this, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "so gorgeous."

You leaned into his touch and hummed, your eyes fluttering, half lidded in tranquility.

Gojo chuckled and placed a kiss on your temple, "Don't get too comfortable, princess, we still need to clean up."

"I'm not leaving this bed," you mumbled, closing your eyes completely and nuzzling into the pillow.

"You're so spoiled," he chuckled and turned to his friend, "Help me out here, man."

"Sorry, baby," Geto apologized, kissing your nose, "he's right, we need to get you cleaned up," You groaned and nodded, accepting defeat. Geto slowly pulled out and stood up.

"Come here, my sweet, precious, girl," Gojo said, lifting you off the bed, bridal style, "Let's go take care of you."

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. "M'kay," you replied, resting your head on his chest. Gojo carried you into the bathroom, and Geto followed closely behind. He sat you down on the toilet and you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes.

Once Geto entered, he turned on the bath faucet and waited for the water to warm.

"Do you wanna use a bath bomb, princess?" Gojo offered, reaching into the cabinet under the sink. "Ooh yes, please," you nodded opening your eyes with a tired smile on your lips.

A bright grin spread across Gojo's face from seeing you perk up, "Okay!" He exclaimed, grabbing one of your favorites and tossing it into the bath.

The sweet smell of citrus quickly filled the air, and the sight of the bubble bath and colorful fizzies had you feeling relaxed like never before.

Geto shut the water off and walked over to you. He knelt down and cupped your cheek, his thumb running over the soft skin. "How are you feeling, sweet girl?" He asked, a small smile on his lips.

You hummed and leaned into his touch, "Amazing," you replied.

He chuckled and kissed your forehead, "Good."

After all of the residue made its way out of you, you cleaned up and Gojo lifted you into the bath. He settled in behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you back to his chest.

"Is the temperature okay, princess?" Geto asked, sitting in the opposite side of the tub.

You hummed, closing your eyes and resting your head on Gojo's chest. "Perfect,"

"Good, we want you to be comfortable," Geto said, smiling.

"Thank you," you mumbled, snuggling into Gojo's chest.

It was a little crammed and you guys probably should have showered beforehand, but in that moment it was perfect and everything you could ever need.

The three of you had become comfortable and content.

As if that's how things had always been

Gojo was playing with the bubbles and making shapes with them on top of your head, while Geto was helping to wash the sweat off of your skin, his fingertips running gently along the curves of your body.

It felt so normal and domestic, and that's exactly what you had always wanted.

"So, how does this feel?" Gojo asked, reaching behind him to grab a loofah, "Is it weird? Being the meat in a Gojo and Geto sandwich?"

You choked on your breath and your eyes shot open, "Ew! It wasn't weird until you said that! Gross," you said, giggling and shaking your head.

"Yeah, Satoru, why'd you have to word it like that?" Geto asked, chuckling and chastising his friend.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. It was funny!" Gojo laughed, running the loofah across your back, "Now answer the question."

"No, it doesn't feel weird," you replied, a smile on your lips, "I mean, yeah, we haven't done a lot yet, but I'm happy, and I like being with both of you."

"Yeah," Gojo agreed, "it's different, obviously, but, I'm glad it's the three of us. I love the dynamic, it feels like... home. Like the three of us were always meant to be together. Me and my two favorite people!" He threw his arms around your neck, his hands falling just above your chest.

You looked at Geto and he had the most genuine, loving smile on his face. "I couldn't agree more," he said, reaching out to take your hand in his. His hand was warm and comforting, and the way his thumb was rubbing circles into the skin had a warm tingle running up your arm.

Gojo was right, it did feel like home.

A warm, safe, comforting, home.

It was a strange situation, one that you never would have imagined yourself in. But at the same time you knew that the three of you would be able to make it work.

The three of you stayed in the bath for a little while longer, laughing, teasing, and joking, and eventually Gojo and Geto switched places. When the water began to get cold and the bubbles began to disappear, Gojo lifted you out of the bath and brought you back to the bed.

He gently laid you down and dried you off, pressing kisses all over your skin.

Geto emerged from the bathroom and watched the two of you. He could see how much Gojo cared for you, and how you trusted and loved him. It was a sight that made his heart flutter and he could only hope to have that deep of a connection with you one day.

"You're so cute," Gojo cooed, placing the towel over your head and rubbing it gently.

"Toru," you whined, the feeling tickling your scalp, "you're going to make my hair frizzy!"

"Shhh, let me enjoy this," he chuckled, moving the towel and planting a kiss on your forehead, "I love taking care of you, and seeing you so relaxed. Plus, I think your hair is adorable no matter what, and I know Sugu does too,"

Turning to Geto in the doorway, you pouted and tilted your head to Gojo, "Help me out here," you pleaded.

Geto couldn't help but smile. "He's right, sweet girl," he chuckled, walking towards the bed, "I think your hair is gorgeous no matter what," He pulled you into his chest for an embrace, but then scruffled your hair, catching you off guard.

"Hey!" You yelped, pulling away from him and trying to flatten your hair, "not you too!"

They both let out a laugh. "Sorry, baby," Geto apologized, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Traitor," you mumbled, earning a chuckle from Gojo and Geto.

"I'm gonna get dressed, I'll be right back," Geto said, reluctantly pulling away from the scene, "then, how about I make us a late breakfast?" You nodded and gave him a small smile.

"I knew there was a good reason to keep you around," Gojo teased, earning a slap on the shoulder from Geto before he walked off, "Ouch! Hey!"

Laughing you shook your head at Gojo's dramatic performance of pretending to be hurt by rubbing his shoulder, "I'm so wounded," he joked, flopping onto the bed beside you, "you're gonna have to kiss it better," he winked with a smirk.

"Maybe later," you giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Fine, fine," he scoffed, rolling his eyes and sitting up.

He smiled as he jumped off the bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants, "Come on, baby," he said, holding a hand out for you, "I'll pick out an outfit for you." You happily accepted and followed him over to your dresser, ready to start your day.

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