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val-cansalute · 5 months ago

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☆ 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊 ☆

sub!ellie x dom!reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚝-𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙹𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝-𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 kind of shitty really bad 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 that i absolutely despise but spent too long on to keep in the drafts 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝e𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 ♥︎

It's been dark for a few hours now, light pooling into your room from the flicker of a candle and the red lava lamp you stole from Dina's room.

She's gone again and the apartment feels hollow. Still, you're sat at your desk working as the regimented tick of your clock beats on in the background.

A shuffle and the click of a door capture your attention.

Ellie's here. As per usual.

You let out a strained puff of air and swivel your chair around to face the source of the thud that’s now aggressively rubbing her eyes and sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Ellie.”

“Hm?” she croaks out.

“You bored?”

“Hmmm…” She finally looks up from her palms with slightly blood-shot eyes and freckled skin splotched pink to meet your inquisitive gaze.

“Dina said she was gonna watch Back to the Future with me and then she ditched me for Jesse… So, now I’m left with you, the roommate.”

“The roommate, huh? I see how it is. What if I beat your ass? Then what?”

Your attempt to lighten the tired atmosphere lacks much spark, but Ellie’s bored enough to bite. Her green eyes are illuminated by the dim glow of the lava lamp as she waves you off dismissively and, for a split second, they’re flecked with the purest gold you’ve ever seen.

You play it totally cool, with your arm strung over the backrest of your chair nonchalantly, as though you didn’t just witness a scene that will be burnt onto your retinas and play late at night when you’re trying to sleep.

“Pfft, like you could fight anyone.”

You scoff indignantly, mock offended, and stand up from your seat, leaving it spinning behind you.

“Uhhh, at least I got meat on my bones.”

“Yeah! And absolutely none of it is muscle.”

“You askin’ me to unleash the beast, E-bone?”

God, you become the biggest dork around her… It's like you both morph into your thirteen year old selves, sitting on Ellie's disheveled bedroom floor after school and bickering about anything and everything until Joel yells up about dinner being done.

Times were simpler. Then, you got older and the buzz you felt each time your hands brushed, which was so easy to downplay, gradually became gaping - virtually impossible to ignore five years down the line. Once the door was open, there was no looking back.

Didn't help that Ellie only got hotter and hotter.

The thought of losing her over something like this makes your stomach writhe inside you though, so you keep the fantasizing to a minimum. Kind of.

The apples of her cheeks puff out rosy in an unrestrained grin, as she announces,

“Bring it, dude. I’d like to see you try,”

“I’m gonna rip your non-existent balls off,”

“Oh, I am just shaking with fear!”

“Fuck off, you little greaseball,”

“Pfft, please, that’s just my aesthetic appeal. You’re gonna have to try harder than that to insult me, bud.”

Your mind flurries with a million responses but the beckoning of your open laptop, begging for your attention before the fast approaching deadline, cuts through the buzz with ease.

Unfortunately, you can’t just ignore it this time. You’ve got less than twenty four hours to complete the soul-draining assignment, and you've spent the last few hours sighing periodically as you looked over the mediocre jargon you’d written so far instead of adding anything.

Great.

But it’s so tempting to forget about the essay completely and let go: focus all your attention onto doing dumb shit with Ellie like you usually do.

“Okay, I do not have time for this, I’ve got a whole ass essay due.”

Ellie sits up with an exaggerated groan, tugging you in by the arm.

“You always have something due!”

“Not always… And, yeah, Ellie! That’s college.”

“Dude. You’re either studying or working all the time and you barely leave this room.”

“Hey, I happen to think it’s pretty cozy in here.”

Ellie rolls her eyes before taking in the contents of the room, scanning the papers and lone items of stationery cluttering, no, invading your cramped desk space.

“Yeahhh… real ‘cozy’ in here. Do you ever clean?”

“Oh, big talk from someone who lives in a literal pig sty! I'm working so this doesn't count. Plus, it’s paper mess, not actual junk.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least your bed’s comfortable…"

She turns her head to face you, watching your expression become slightly conflicted.

“Come on, dude, take a break from working for five minutes! Just five!”

You look back at her for a moment, at those eyes you desperately want to please even in the pettiest of situations, and sigh before sitting beside her.

“For the record, it won’t be ‘just five’, and you’re a bad influence on me.”

Ellie chuckles as the bed dips nearby with a soft creak.

“How am I a bad influence? I’m simply encouraging you to relax with me.”

The weird thing about your relationship is that, having been friends for so long, the bickering is intrinsically woven through every conversation you have, and it often leads to the kinds of petty arguments you're having now: the kind that you don't even remember the cause of.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Suuuuuure-”

“Shut up, Ellie.”

“No.”

“You know what? Get out of my room.”

“Fine. Asshole.”

The kind of dumbass arguments that Joel would have to come in and alleviate without knowing the cause of either, because it was always something incredibly stupid anyway.

Joel's still back in Jackson though, while the two of you are miles away, and sulking's kinda pointless when there's no one around to see, so Ellie gets back up from her sprawled out position on the living room couch out of boredom and asks if she can come back in.

Same solution you used back when you were 12: you smirk deviously to yourself as you recall the memories before muttering,

“You can come in but you have to sit on the floor.”

Ellie scoffs, recognition evident in the unimpressed raise of her eyebrows. This pissed her off beyond measure back when you were kids, but now it weirdly brings on a sense of nostalgia, so she lets it slide, coming in and suppressing the small smile playing on her lips.

“Fine… Jackass.”

She lowers herself to the scratchy rug beneath your bed and leans against the wooden frame. She’s facing away like she used to too, always trying to avoid the embarrassment of having to look up at you. She still looks up over her shoulder at you with an exaggerated expression anyway though.

“Happy now?”

You look down at her and smirk.

“Very.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You're really enjoyin' this, aren't you?”

“Yep! You know, you’re still so easy to work up. Must be pretty uncomfortable down there, huh?”

“Shut up, asshole. I’m waaaaay more cozy down here. This carpet's amazing; you're missing out. I could fall asleep any second.”

Ellie's voice rasps as she rambles on, looking up at you with those big eyes that make you weak in the knees, and you can't resist the urge to just reach out and ruffle the auburn tufts of hair laying chaotically on her head, smirking as you mutter,

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Ellie’s cheeks almost immediately flush. Her gaze begins to flicker away from you, no longer so unaware of the intricacies of holding eye contact.

She opens her mouth in shock, and then her eyebrow furrow quickly to cover up with a scoff,

“You are such a dick.”

“What? I didn't even do anything!”

“Dude, you do this every time and it pisses me off! You can cuss me out one minute and say you hate me and then be all corny the next?!”

“Okay, that was in the heat of the mo-”

“Yeah, right, 'in the heat of the moment.' You say shit like that every time we argue and you don't even apologize. At least be honest.”

Her expression looks earnest and it makes your heart contract a little tighter, the hot bite of guilt nipping at your insides. But something else stirs too.

You hate how attracted you are to her when she’s frustrated.

This room, with the warmth of body heat and candlelight intoxicating you and the red glow that casts over Ellie’s pretty face, makes the gaze she holds up at you so sweetly drowsier through the obscurant of her thick eyelashes, makes the swell of her bottom lip as she releases it from a harsh bite seem so much more enticing, makes you feel like your inhibitions are strapped to a ticking time bomb.

The pull is electrifying - more than magnetic, and you'd give anything to lay your skin onto hers, to feel each touch, so gentle, ignite your skin, and embrace her wholly. Consume doesn't even seem too strong a word.

“I don’t hate you, Ellie. Here, come sit."

You shift aside and pat the space next to you, watching intently as she huffs and rises to her feet before flopping down beside you.

Unbeknownst to her, all her movements are so much more sensuous now - you’re trying desperately to ignore the sliver of skin that showed as her shirt rode up her stomach when she got up, but it’s almost getting painful.

So much so that you have to physically drag your mind away from it.

“Anyway, have you had dinner yet?”

Ellie blinks a few times, caught in the crossover between the two completely separate conversations as she fumbles her way through a response,

“No, not yet. I was planning on ordering something later though. Why?”

“I’m starving.”

She chuckles and you feel the tense disposition of your muscles physically loosen.

“Oh, you’re hungry, huh? You want me to order food for you too, don't ya?”

“And you’ll do it because you’re the absolute coolest, most awesomest person in the whole entire world, right?”

She smiles softly, "Alright, alright, tell me something I don't know."

As your eyes meet, something in you clicks into place.

Your heart is thumping erratically in your chest. She’s so close; her hands are so near. You could lean in ever so slightly and your lips would meet.

For some reason, something in you is saying that it’s now or never, so the petrifying thoughts of any possible consequence arise again.

It’s realistic to be scared. That’s why you pushed down these feelings away for so long. But, in a moment of clarity, you realise your relationship is strong enough to withhold something like this, even if it would be devastating if Ellie didn’t feel the same way. You’ve known each other since you were children, your childhood homes are only a few houses away from each other, all your friends are friends, and even your parents are friends. There’s no escaping this.

Even if it doesn’t go as planned, you have to take the leap or you’ll never get over her.

“Thank you, Ellie... God, this is gonna take a really long time though, isn’t it?"

“Pfft, you’re such a baby. It’s gonna take like 30 minutes max, just chill.”

You smile, the thumping of your heart becoming supermassive. You can feel it filling your being and surrounding you completely. Then, you mutter,

“Maybe we can keep ourselves entertained in the meantime,”

and the seal is broken.

Ellie is perplexed. From where she sits on your bed, you’ve suddenly become a lot more tense, and your gaze bears into her much more sharply than she’s ever noticed before. But it makes her feel weird… in a good way, and her throat runs dry as she raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?”

You shrug,

“Can I try something?”

“I’m kinda terrified but okay,” she chuckles

You hum, falling into a rhythm, the nervousness so intense that it numbs you.

“Lay back for a second.”

Ellie’s eyebrows draw together with a burning curiosity, feeling a heat rise in the pit of her stomach which seems to answer her unspoken questions.

She know what’s going to happen now, but it feels so surreal, it can’t be.

She shuffles back and lays into the embrace of your pillows, surrounded by the sweet scent of your perfume. She’s been dreaming of this moment as soon as she realized she saw girls differently.

How could she not? You've always been right next to her, and you were perfect in every way - you are perfect in every way. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and she thought you were beautiful as soon as she saw you for the first time, gazing at you with her jaw dropped for, most likely, a few too many seconds. Then it happened again one day when she was 16.

You’d both gone out to get ice cream and she became enraptured by the hazed look in your eyes as the liquid dripped down your chin and over the smooth skin of your hand, your soft hair, tussled by the summer breeze. Her breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to look away. She knew there was no turning back.

But most of all, you’re the one she goes to before anyone else, and it’s always been that way. You’re the only person that brings her a different kind of peace, that indica high, calmer than she feels with anybody else. You’re her girl. Always have been; always will be.

All the playful flirtation and lingering glances - she’d never imagined would really result in this.

“What now?” she whispers, her voice coming out quieter than she intended for it to, giving her away in an instant. She clears her throat but you can't help but play into her discomfort, pleasure woven through the feeling you get when you make her needy. You already feel a buzz from the fact that she’s not pushing you away or playing you off. This was only ever a daydream in the past, but so, so much better than you'd hoped.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that; you just make sure you’re comfortable. Are you comfortable?”

She stutters through an answer, taken aback by the silkiness of your tone. God, she had dreamed about this so many times and never imagined you so like this, never imagined herself so submissive.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comfortable… You… You aren’t fucking around, are you?”

“Fucking around? Gonna need you to be more specific, Els.”

She forces a gulp down her now dry throat, looking up at you and she mutters,

“Uh, I don’t know… Like… Like that one time you twisted my arm because you wanted to see-”

She hesitates, cutting herself off, her eyes drifting down to the curvature of your body that she’s wanted to feel for too long for just a split second.

“Can I touch you?” she splutters as soon as the thought enters her mind, overwhelmed with a sudden panic, her eyes flit up again to meet yours, flickering between each pupil in desperate search of any confirmation.

A shudder ripples through her body as your hands move closer, taking the lead before you give her the chance to. Her heart is racing.

“Can I touch you?”

She nods, almost too eagerly.

She curses internally.

You let your hand hover over her shoulder for a moment,

“Hmm, and where is it okay to touch you, Ellie?”

Ellie feels dangerously flustered. She tries to regain her composure, but it’s long gone out the window, and she’s like a handful of clay, soft and malleable, pervious under the sensational pressure of your fingertips.

“Anywhere.”

A soft smile graces your lips.

“Thirty minutes.”

You run your hand down her arm, grazing the skin gently with your nails and then down her stomach to her hip under her shirt, taking time to fully feel the gentle grooves and curves of her body for the first time.

“Is this okay, Ellie?”

She lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your hand trailing over her skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. She swallows once more before replying, her voice unsteady.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s fine. It feels… nice.”

“Hmm,”

Then, you place your palm on her ankle and begin to move up, ghosting your hand over her inner leg,

“I want you to tell me what feels good. Okay, Ellie?”

“Y-yeah. Sure. I can… I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.”

You sit up and straddle her lap, and it catches Ellie off guard, suddenly feeling so much more at your mercy as you stare directly down at her, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her pink ear. Her breath hitches but she instinctively brings her hands to rest on your waist. You lean in to whisper,

“You look comfortable. Are you comfortable? I want you to feel good.”

And she tries to make sense of the fuzz in her brain to answer the influx of questions you’re asking. They’re barely keeping her grounded. Her hands move down to hold your thighs.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. You… You’re making me feel… good.”

“That’s good.”

Though you're dragging it out, teasing her because her neediness makes you wetter, eager to make her eager, you are just as needy, if not more. You're desperate to taste her, to be close to her, to feel her lips moving sensually with yours.

You place your hand over one of hers on your thigh and mutter, your words like the wisp of a feather caressing her skin,

“I’m gonna kiss you, Ellie, is that okay?

Ellie thinks she might die. The way her heart buffered in her chest once she processed your words felt too intense to not be her going into cardiac arrest. Either way, she's happy. What a way to go.

Somehow, all her feelings have culminated in this moment, in something she would never have expected, and her grip tightens to remind herself that that is really your body she’s feeling and this is really real.

She nods slowly, drowsy eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah… Yeah, yes, fuck, y-you can kiss me. Please.”

But, fuck, you just can't help teasing when she looks like she's yearning for you so sweetly that it makes your pussy flutter.

So, instead, you lean forward and kiss her forehead, listening to her labored breaths catch and watching her lips twitch in confusion when you pull back with your hands on either side of her head supporting you. You look her in the eyes and move one of them to caress the red stray hairs clinging to her face away.

“You look so beautiful."

“Th-thank you… You’re…”

It's obvious she's flustered, and it only makes you feel more high, so you pull back and kiss her cheek, mocking,

“Hm? You gonna finish that sentence, Els?”

“You’re- fuck… Y-you’re beautiful… too.”

“That’s my girl.”

You kiss the corner of her mouth and Ellie’s heart is beating hard enough for her to feel like her whole body is pounding as she squirms to lean into your touch.

“Y-your girl?”

“Yeah, Ellie.”

You lean in and finally connect lips, words blanketed by the contact.

“My girl.”

Ellie melts beneath you as you finally kiss her properly. Despite her usual nature, she finds herself completely powerless against the feelings coursing through her body. You’re completely overwhelming her senses, and you’ve never seen her like this.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and presses into the small of your back to pull you impossibly closer as she kisses you back deeply, losing herself in the moment.

You sink into her, deepening the kiss with impatience and roaming your hands along the expanse of her freckled skin while gently rutting your hips into her.

Ellie moans against your mouth at the pressure, and you use the opening to circle her tongue with your own, making her body arch up into you.

She runs her hands along your sides, her fingers groping the fat of your ass as you grind against her. The sensations are overwhelming, arousal pooling in her underwear as her desire for more continues to grow.

“God… Please…”

You pull back, sealing your thirst with a peck on her lips.

“You’re so good for me, Ellie. You want me somewhere else?”

When she looks up at you, her eyes are clouded with desire. She can’t find the words to express herself properly, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless, but she pushes through the fog,

“Y-yeah… I need you… more, fuck, please.”

It's blatant that your own arousal is overtaking your need to push her, so you lift her shirt up and place kisses along the soft, velvety skin of her chest, circling her pebbled nipples with your tongue. Ellie lets out a soft gasp at the warm and wet feeling, tingles erupting through her chest, and her body caves to feel the gentle pressure deepen before you get up from her lap and lift her thigh.

She watches you go with wide eyes, following you away by pushing herself up off the mattress in a subconscious attempt to remain close to you. You’re already looking back at her for permission before tugging off her sweatpants,

“You know something, Els?”

Her eyes are dark with desire and her response is hoarse.

“What… what is it?”

“I’m still really hungry.”

You push her leg up and place an anything-but- chaste kiss upon the fat of her inner thigh, watching her shudder and her eyes roll back ever so slightly in pleasure,

“Can you help me?”

Her breath hitches in her throat. She nods once, swallowing hard before replying.

“Yeah... Yeah, fuck. Just... Please,” she thrusts her hips up against you.

You run your fingers down her stomach, over the wispy auburn curls trailing down to her pussy and and over the damp fabric of her underwear, drunk off the sight of her flushed beneath you,

“Do you think you can handle that?”

Ellie's body tenses as she gasps out,

“Y-yeah, I can handle it… Fuck... You're making it really hard to think straight.”

You just smile as you drag her underwear down her legs agonizingly slowly before throwing it aside haphazardly. She watches you lower yourself in front of her pussy and it makes her throw her head back.

It's swollen and glistening, squelching quietly as she tenses above you in hungry pulses, and the exhale of a warm breath over it causes her to shiver. You chuckle.

Ellie bites her lip to muffle a moan, knowing how fucking pathetic it is that she finds it hot when you're mean, and that the breathy melody of your laugh only turned her on even more, when she didn't think that was possible.

“Please, baby…”

You run your tongue over your bottom lip and push your face in to kiss her protruding clit gently, feeling her convulse before you. She wants nothing more than for you to give her the release she craves but, before she knows it, you’re pulling away abruptly, and her throbbing pussy is left dripping again.

“Patience, okay?”

She strains out a scoff with the last shred of sanity left in her and mumbles,

“You're really testing my limits here,”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

Ellie meets your gaze with frustration, her body thrumming with need. Your teasing and the way you tower over her laying body are making her feel insane, making it difficult to get any words out. She swallows hard before replying, her voice slightly breathless.

“I said... You're testing my limits... Don’t tease me... Fuck, you’re such a dick,”

“I don’t think…”

You lean closer and run the tip of your tongue from her hole over her swollen pink clit, smearing her slick up crudely. Ellie squirms, her body taut with need.

“I don’t think I like your tone, baby, do you want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

Her eyes widen as she shifts into pleading,

“No, no, don't stop. Please... I don't want you to stop. I'm just... Fuck... You're driving me crazy.

“I’m the one who gets to call the shots, okay, Els? I’m gonna need you to say sorry and then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you need.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, just... I need you so bad. Please, baby, fuck…”

Ellie feels a surge of impatience, desperate for your touch and frustrated by your insistence on making her wait. She needs you, and she'll do anything to get you to give her what she wants, but what you want is to make her writhe. You kiss her forehead,

“Good girl,”

and then you crawl back to where you desperately need to be: between her legs, and push her thighs up to her chest before burying the lower half of your face into her core without warning, your tongue flexed erotically as you slurp the slick from her pussy like you're starving, flicking your tongue erratically and eagerly.

“Oh, fuck... Just like that... Please, don't stop...”

Ellie’s moans are sweet and debaucherous, with her hands scrambling for purchase, grasping at the wrinkled sheets beneath her when you thrust your tongue into her.

Your eyes never leave her face, watching the way she sinks further into the loss of control, mouth opening wider, eyes rolling back further. You slowly sink a finger, and then another, into her drooling hole with ease, feeling her pussy flutter around you.

The hold you have on her thighs is tightening mercilessly, but you're losing yourself too, untouched and squeezing your legs together to satiate your own ache.

Quickly, intoxicated by the depraved squelching sound filling the room and the suction of her walls taking in your digits, you plunge them deeper, in and out, in and out.

“Oh, oh god... Fuck, baby, please don't stop... Fuck, I'm cumming, I’m-”

Ellie arches her back, lifting off the mattress, her body tensing up as the pleasure builds to a peak within her, faster than you had anticipated. You keep your eyes trained on her, and they meet when she looks down on you, bottom lip red and raw, tugged between her teeth, eyebrows knitted in rapture.

She's completely captivated by you, her body trembling as she teeters on the edge of climax, but the sight of your half-lidded eyes gazing up at her knocks her over the edge with intensity.

She lets out a groan and then a cry of ecstasy, her body trembling beneath you as the intense waves of pleasure wash over her. You don't let up. She gasps for air, her hands rushing to your head to simultaneously push your face into her as she thrusts her hips against you, and pull you away by the hair as the pleasure becomes too much.

Her chest heaves for a moment before reaching a pinnacle in a soft sigh and, gradually, the room floods with silence. Ellie turns her head to gaze at you hazily, eyes honeyed with affection and exhaustion, and she grins toothily,

“That was... amazing... Holy fuck… You're amazing...”

Finally, you lift yourself up and hover over her.

“Yeah?”

Ellie wraps her arms around you, pulling you against her, and the tenderness of it all makes your chest fill with a tingling warmth reserved just for Ellie.

Her body still thrums with the aftershocks of pleasure,

Yeah... Yeah, that was... incredible."

“You’re pretty cute when you get all flustered, Els.”

Ellie blushes at your words; you hoped to draw that out of her, and she huffs slightly in feigned annoyance, though it’s completely half-hearted.

“Shut up.”

You chuckle, but it dies out quickly as she looks down at you longingly, elaborating,

“I... don't know if it's kinda late to say this now but... I love you... I mean, obviously, I do, but as... more than just a friend. I've known for a long time, I've just been too scared of ruining things to actually tell you-”

“Pussy-” Ironic.

“Shut up - you know, that is incredibly rich coming from- fuck, forget that, it's been... building for a while now, and, if you feel the same, I wanna take you out... Maybe, next Friday? Or whatever day works for you…”

She pauses before meeting your gaze, her eyes searching yours intently as she mumbles,

“Please say something. Preferably other than ‘pussy.’”

“Ellie.”

“Yes?”

“I love you too, as more than just a friend... I would love to go out with you and thanks for letting me eat you out. That was pretty awesome."

She grins stupidly,

“You're welcome, it was pretty awesome for me too.”

“Nice.”

Ellie smiles, the furious blush unfading on her cheeks as she studies your expression.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you, you little asshole.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

You place a gentle kiss on her freckled cheek and pull back to see the way she grins, but then her face drops.

“Fuck, I forgot to order the food.”

797 notes · View notes

taexual · 1 year ago

Text

sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 7.5k

chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name

There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.

This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.

Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.

This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.

As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.

“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.

“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.

“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.

“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.

“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.

Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.

If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.

They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.

And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.

Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.

He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.

Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.

“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.

Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.

Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.

“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”

“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”

“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”

Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”

“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”

“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”

“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”

“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”

“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”

You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.

Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.

“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”

“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”

“Fine, I—”

“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.

“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.

In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.

There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.

“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”

You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.

“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”

Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”

“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.

“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”

“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.

Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.

It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”

It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.

You and Jungkook had been broken up for almost two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was over two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.

You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.

And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).

You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.

“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”

Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.

You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.

“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.

Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”

The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.

“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”

“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice—both Sid and Jude worked for their families, which really meant that they got paid to occasionally show up at the shareholders’ meetings on behalf of their parents. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”

“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”

He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”

“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”

“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”

“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And some nights in London, depending on our flight time,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”

None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.

Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.

You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).

Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.

“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”

“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”

You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.

“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”

Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.

You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.

Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.

When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.

He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.

The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.

He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.

“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”

Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.

The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.

It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.

Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”

He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.

He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.

Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.

Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.

“Look who—”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”

“I don’t hear running water.”

He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I can drive myself—”

“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”

He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”

“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”

“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”

“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”

“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”

“Hanging up now.”

Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.

Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.

His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.

He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.

“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”

Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.

As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.

He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.

He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.

“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”

“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”

“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.

“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”

Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”

You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.

By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.

And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.

Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.

Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.

Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.

However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.

And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.

You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.

Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.

“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.

“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”

You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.

“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.

His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.

“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”

His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”

“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”

He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”

You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”

“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”

“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”

You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.

Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.

“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”

He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.

“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”

He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.

You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.

Maybe he really would be fine tonight.

And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.

“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.

“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”

“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”

Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.

And there was nothing he’d tell them now.

It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.

“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”

Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.

“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”

Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.

“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.

“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”

Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.

Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”

“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”

Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.

“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”

“I don’t have a crush—”

Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”

Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation. “Why—why would I even—why—”

“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”

“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”

“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.

“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.

“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.

“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”

“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.

“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”

“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”

“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”

Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.

“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”

“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.

Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.

He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.

“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”

That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.

“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”

“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”

There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.

This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”

Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”

He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.

“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.

“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”

Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.

“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”

“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”

In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.

“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”

Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.

Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.

“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”

chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”

special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜

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lefteagleblizzard · 3 months ago

Text

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔟𝔶𝔢

Josh Futturman x gender neutral reader

Note: This was requested from a really nice person on wattpad: "I would definitely like to see some smut and fluff, either one is perfect. Since his character is like a janitor by day and a gamer by night, I think I would like to see this whole thing be, where Josh is getting ready for work but the reader is bothered by it because he never says goodbye and just lets the reader sleep in. It'll turn into a small argument but then turn into smut. Like slight fluff but mostly smut." Added in a personal idea at the start to create the ground for the request.

Warnings: You and Josh playing video games together! Long discussions about video games. Josh being a scaredy cat. Very minor gore moment. Argument between a couple. Smut. Make-up sex. Blowjob (r giving). Submissive Josh. Riding.

Words count: around 4000

Can also be found in wattpad and ao3

You and Josh have been inseparable for years, ever since you first crossed paths in the virtual realm of "Biotic Wars." Your relationship, which began with playful banter and late-night gaming sessions, has grown into something deeply meaningful. Josh's quirky humor and your mutual love for video games have always been the glue holding you two together.

Today was supposed to be a special gaming day. Both of you had been practicing tirelessly to finally conquer Biotic Wars, a challenge that had eluded you for months. Josh, with his expertise and quick reflexes, often led the charg, while you provided backup with your strategic mind and occasional bursts of brilliance. The game was notorious for its unforgiving difficulty, requiring not just skill but also perfect coordination between players.

As the game loaded, you felt a familiar thrill course through your veins. The virtual world came alive with its intense graphics and pulsating soundtrack. Josh, sitting in his well-worn gaming chair, wore a reassuring grin. "Ready to finally take down these biotic beasts?" he asked you through the headphones, his voice brimming with excitement.

"Absolutely. Let's show them what we're made of" you replied, tightening your grip on the controller.

The battle began with an explosion of colors and sounds as you maneuvered your characters through the treacherous terrain. Josh, as always, took the lead, deftly dispatching enemies with pinpoint accuracy. You followed closely, providing cover and eliminating threats as they appeared. For a while, everything was going smoothly, and you could feel victory within reach.

Then came the final boss.

You were both in sync, executing strategies and dodging attacks with near-perfect precision. But just as victory seemed assured, a split-second lapse in concentration caused your character to fall into a trap.

"No!" you exclaimed, watching helplessly as your health bar plummeted. Josh fought valiantly to cover for your mistake, but the boss proved too powerful, and soon both your screens flashed the dreaded "Game Over" message.

You sighed heavily, disappointment washing over you. "i'm sorry, Josh," you said, genuinely frustrated. "I messed up. I should have seen that coming."

Josh, ever the optimist, chuckled softly. "Hey, it's all part of the game. It's hard to follow a master, I get it." he added, his voice dripping with playful cockiness.

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone. Despite his jesting, there was no malice behind his words, just an attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh, you think you're so great, huh?" you challenged, grinning at him.

"Well, I did just carry us through most of that level," he replied.

"All right, Mr. Video Game Prodigy," you retorted, your competitive spirit ignited. "How about I challenge you to a game I'm actually good at?"

His interest piqued, Josh agreed immediately, his confidence unshaken. "Bring it on," he said, leaning back on his chair with a smug look. "I'm ready for whatever you've got."

An hour later, he arrived at your place, his energy and excitement palpable. The moment you opened the door, he enveloped you in a warm hug, peppering your face with kisses until you were both laughing uncontrollably.

"Okay, what's this mystery game of yours?" he asked as you led him to your gaming setup.

You handed him the CD case, watching as his confidence wavered slightly upon reading the title.

Friday the 13th: The Game.

The look on his face was priceless.

"You've got to be kidding," he muttered, examining the cover with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"You can back out if you're scared," you teased, knowing full well that Josh would never back down from a challenge.

His expression shifted to a mask of determination, resignation in his eyes. "Scared? Me? Never. Let's do this."

Settling into your chairs, you loaded the game. Friday the 13th was a stark departure from Biotic Wars.

The horror game was designed to be tense and thrilling, with players taking on the roles of camp counselors trying to survive the night while being hunted by the infamous Jason Voorhees.

As the game loaded, the iconic and haunting music filled the room, setting the stage for the tense and terrifying experience that lay ahead. Josh's character, one of the playable camp counselor, appeared on screen, standing alone in the dimly lit forest of Camp Crystal Lake.

The objective was simple yet daunting: survive the night while being hunted by Jason Voorhees, the relentless killer.

Josh's initial confidence waned slightly as he adjusted to the slower pace and eerie setting of the game. The dim light flickered on the screen, casting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

The game's mechanics, designed to induce fear and suspense, were a stark contrast to the fast-paced action he was used to.

Every sound, every rustle of leaves, seemed to put him on edge.

"You got this," you encouraged, trying to stifle your laughter as you watched him nervously guide his character through the woods.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers tense on the controller.

Josh carefully navigated his character through the cabins and open areas, occasionally stopping to collect useful items like health sprays, maps, and weapons.

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, it was clear he was fully immersed in the experience, jumping at every unexpected noise and shadow.

"Okay, this isn't too bad," he said, trying to maintain his bravado as he directed his character to a nearby cabin, securing the doors and windows.

"Just wait until you hear the music," you teased, knowing full well what was about to happen.

Then it happened.

The screen flickered, and the ominous glitching effect announced Jason's proximity, triggered by his shift ability.

The sudden distortion, a signature move that allowed Jason to cover ground quickly and catch players off-guard. Josh flinched, his entire body tensing up as Jason seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Whoa!" he yelped, his voice a mixture of surprise and nervous laughter as he instinctively mashed buttons to make his character sprint away from the unseen threat.

As the character's fear level spiked, eerie music blasted through the room, and the screen darkened, mirroring the rising dread of its player.

You burst out laughing, unable to contain your amusement at his reaction. "Run, Josh, run!" you hit rapidly on his arm, tears of laughter in your eyes.

"Why didn't you warn me about that?" he protested, his voice rising an octave as he attempted to escape Jason's clutches.

"Because this is way more fun," you replied between giggles, thoroughly enjoying his startled expressions and frantic button-mashing.

"He's behind you, Josh!" you shouted, adding to the tension with a mischievous grin.

"I know, I know!" he replied, his voice laced with mock panic as he desperately tried to maneuver his character to safety.

Despite his attempts to evade Jason, the chilling music intensified, signaling the killer's approach.

"No! No!" Josh exclaimed, trying to break free the second he was grabbed by the killer, but it was too late.

The screen erupted in a blaze of light as his character's head was violently severed, sending it spiraling through the air. His jaw dropped in shock, mirroring the dramatic fall of the counselor's head.

You were laughing so hard that tears streamed down your cheeks, your sides aching from the hilarity of the situation. Josh joined in, his initial fear giving way to the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, that was terrifying," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I wasn't expecting it to be that intense."

"Welcome to the world of horror games," you teased, still catching your breath from the laughter. "Do you want to go again, or should I show you how it's done?"

Josh handed you the controller with a dramatic flourish. "Please, show me the ropes. I clearly need some pointers."

Taking the controller, you settled into the familiar routine of the game, your confidence evident in your posture and movements. As your character spawned in the same erie campgrounds, you immediately began to strategize, quickly gathering supplies and coordinating your escape plan.

Josh, sitting beside you, was eager to learn the ropes, hoping to match your skill level and make the experience even more fun and collaborative.

His curiosity about the game was endearing, but you knew it would be a challenge to focus on playing while fielding his barrage of questions.

As the game began, you immediately focused on your objectives, guiding your character through the dark, foreboding campgrounds.

Your mind instinctively strategizes the best way to survive the night.

Next to you, Josh leaned in, eyes glued to the screen, a mixture of awe and determination on his face.

"So, what's the first thing you should do when the game starts?" he asked, his voice eager and slightly urgent.

"You want to search cabins for supplies, like maps and weapons," you replied, deftly moving your character toward a nearby cabin.

He nodded, absorbing the information before firing off another question. "What's the best weapon to use against Jason?"

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The shotgun is the best one, but it only has a bullet loaded. Anything you can find to slow him down will help, like a baseball bat or a wrench."

You hear the ominous music indicating Jason is nearby. Your heart races as you move to the opposite direction, seeing from afar how he hasn't noticed your presence yet.

Josh, oblivious to the tension, continues his questioning.

"What's the best way to escape?"

"There are a few ways: fix the car, call the police, or survive until time runs out," you say, finding a map and showing it to Josh. "There is also the boat but it's way too risky since Jason moves very fast in the water."

Josh nods, scribbling notes mentally.

You entered a cabin and began searching for items, listening intently for any sign of Jason.

Josh's curiosity seemed endless "How do you know which counselor to choose? Which one is better?"

"Counselor stats matter" you replied, still concentrating on your character's actions.

"Each counselor has different stats like speed, stamina, repair skills and stealth. It affects how well they perform certain tasks," you explain, dodging a trap set by Jason to start repairing the phone box.

"What's stamina do?" Josh asks, genuinely curious.

"It's that yellow circle around the mini-map. Stamina affects how long you can run or perform some actions before needing to rest," you reply, keeping an eye on your stamina bar as you sprint inside the cabin to call the police.

"How do you regain stamina?"

"By standing still. It's crucial to manage it well, especially when Jason is chasing you," you say, watching intently as your character called the police.

"All the stats can work for you, but right now if you have someone with high speed you'll definitely will have a much better chance of survival" you explained to him, noticing a red dot on the mini-map.

He was near.

"Speed, huh?" Josh pondered, watching every movement of your finger in the controller. "What exactly does speed do?"

You paused, momentarily distracted by the abourdity of the question. Turning to him, you couldn't help but laugh. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement

Josh realized his mistake and burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. "Okay okay, dumb question" he admitted, shaking his head at himself.

The shared laughter was a welcome break from the tension of the game. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you enjoyed spending time with Josh. His ability to find humor in even the most stressful situations and his genuine interest in learning something new, even if it meant asking silly questions.

"You know," you began, the excitement in your voice unmistakable, "one of the things I love most about this game is how well the maps are designed. They're so detailed and true to the movies. It's like you're actually there, experiencing the terror firsthand."

Josh nodded, his interest piqued by your enthusiasm. "Yeah? I didn't realize they were so accurate. That's really cool."

"It is!" you continued, a sparkle in your eyes. "Each map is a nod to the different movies. The developers included all these little details that only true fans would recognize. It makes the game so immersive, like you're living out your own horror movie experience."

He watched you intently, captivated by your passion. You rarely had the chance to dive into these nerdy discussions with others, but with Josh, it felt natural and safe.

"And the counselors," you said, leaning forward in your seat, "they're all inspired by characters from the films. Each one has their own unique stats and strengths, which makes it interesting to figure out who matches your playstyle and I just love how it all comes together."

Josh listened, a soft smile playing on his lips. You could feel his attention solely focused on you, and it made you feel appreciated, like every word you said mattered.

"And the chase," you added, your voice tinged with excitement. "The burst of adrenaline when Jason is right behind you, the music intensifying, your heart pounding—it's such a rush. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I love that feeling of being on the edge, trying to outsmart him and survive."

Josh chuckled, seeing how animated you had become. "I can tell you really love this game. It's amazing to see you light up like this."

You paused, feeling a bit self-conscious now that you had rambled on for so long, but his expression reassured you. There was no judgment, only admiration and affection in his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on and on," you said, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he replied softly, reaching out to take your hand. "I love hearing you talk about things you're passionate about. You know, the way you dive so deeply into something you care about, it's one of the things I adore most about you"

His words warmed your heart, and you squeezed his hand in return, grateful to have someone who appreciated you for who you were. Josh had always supported your interests, and his genuine curiosity about your hobbies made you feel seen and understood.

"Thanks, Josh," you said, meeting his gaze with a smile. "I'm glad I can share this with you."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm just happy to be here with you, learning about all the things you love. It gives me more reason to play the game and try to keep up with you. You make it look so easy," Josh commented, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

"It just takes practice," you replied.

At one point, Jason burst through a door just as you slipped out a window, narrowly escaping his grasp. You then led him on a merry chase through the forest, conserving your stamina to buy time and regroup with other players.

"Wow, you're way too good at this," Josh said, his eyes fixed on the screen as he watched you lead your character to safety.

"It's all about keeping calm and thinking ahead," you explained, enjoying the chance to showcase your skills in a game you loved.

As the game progressed, you managed to evade Jason long enough for the police to arrive, signaling the end of the round.

With one final sprint, you guided your character to the safety of the police line, successfully surviving the night.

Josh was beaming, clearly impressed by your performance. "THAT WAS AMAZING."

Raising your hands in the air in victory while your boyfriend hugs you tightly. Both of you were shouting with joy from the success. "I know, I know. It's nice to finally have the upper hand for once."

The rest of the evening was filled with more rounds, tension and horror while Josh's continued flinching and surprised yelps kept the mood light and entertaining. Each round, he improved, guided by your expertise and encouragement.

By the end of the night, as you both settled back into the couch, Josh turned to you, his expression one of genuine affection. "Thanks for introducing me to this. It was nice taking a break from Biotic War, even if I was terrified half the time."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And hey, you're getting better. We could play this sometime together if you want"

Josh laughed, pulling you close for a hug. "Only if you promise not to laugh at my screams."

"Deal," you agreed, snuggling into his embrace, grateful for the shared experience and the deepened bond it had brought.

You turned your face towards Josh, a victorious smile on your face. "As a reward for winning, I have a couple of requests," you announced playfully.

Josh raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might those be?" he asked with a smirk.

"First, a kiss," you said, leaning closer.

He obliged happily, pulling you in for a gentle, lingering kiss that melted away the exhaustion of the night. "And second?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Carry me to bed?" you requested, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

Josh groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. "Really? You beat me in one game and now I'm your personal chauffeur?" he teased. "Alright, fine, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

With exaggerated reluctance, he scooped you up into his arms, grumbling under his breath about your apparent weight. He took comically slow, deliberate steps, exaggerating every movement as if he were carrying a ton of bricks. "Why are you so heavy? Did you sneak rocks into your pockets or something?" he joked, pretending to struggle as he navigated the hallway.

Every few steps, he'd stop dramatically to catch his breath, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I might need to call in reinforcements," he quipped, pausing to pretend to call for backup. You couldn't stop laughing, the combination of his theatrics and your helpless position making the journey to the bedroom an epic adventure in itself.

"Almost there," he declared, as if conquering a mountain, taking unnecessarily wide turns and pretending to stumble. You kept giggling, holding on tight as he continued his overly elaborate trek.

Finally, he reached the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed with a mock sigh of relief. "There you go, your majesty," he quipped, wiping his brow in mock exhaustion. "Next time, I'm getting a forklift."

You pulled him closer, your hands looping around his neck as you whispered, "Now, don't think you're getting away. Stay with me."

Josh didn't hesitate, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm. Together, you drifted off, surrounded by the comfort of each other's presence.

The sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you slowly stirred awake. You turned, expecting to find Josh next to you, but instead, the bed was empty and slightly cool where he had been lying. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sat up, only to find Josh fully dressed for work.

Josh noticed you were awake and turned with a smile, walking over to the bed. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said warmly, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

You leaned into the kiss, but something gnawed at you, a small feeling of frustration. This had become a familiar scene: Josh up and ready to leave without waking you, never saying goodbye properly. It seemed minor, but it had been building up over time, and today it felt like more than you could brush aside.

"Morning," you replied, trying to keep your voice light but unable to completely mask the tinge of irritation. Josh pulled back, noticing your tone.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice, his brow furrowed as he looked at you.

You hesitated, not wanting to start an argument but feeling the need to voice your thoughts. "Josh, you always leave without saying goodbye. I know you want me to sleep, but it feels like...I don't know, like you're sneaking out," you admitted, looking down at the sheets, feeling a bit shy about bringing it up. Your heart fluttered with nervousness, unsure of how he would respond.

Josh's expression softened as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing you. He reached out, his hand gentle as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I just thought it was better to let you sleep," he explained, his voice sincere and filled with understanding. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding a goodbye."

His words were like a balm, soothing the frustration that had been building inside you. "I know you didn't mean it that way," you said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of earnestness, and you could see that he genuinely wanted to make things right. "But I want to feel like I'm part of your morning, too, even if it's just a quick kiss before you go."

He nodded, his eyes earnest and apologetic. "I get it. From now on, I'll make sure to wake you. I didn't know you felt left out."

A small smile tugged at your lips, the tension in the room dissipating "Thank you. I just want to be part of your routine, that's all."

Josh grinned, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering and soft. "Consider it done," he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, the warmth of his lips on yours was reassuring.

As Josh moved to stand, ready to leave for work, an idea popped into your head. Without fully thinking it through, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the bed.

"Hey!" Josh laughed, caught off guard as he tumbled back onto the mattress beside you.

"What's this?"

Feeling a mix of shyness and boldness, you looked at him, your cheeks warming. "I was thinking...maybe a little extra time together before you go wouldn't hurt," you suggested, your voice soft but inviting.

Josh raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but delighted. "Oh, really? I thought you'd want to go back to sleep," he teased, his voice playful as he shifted closer, his hand finding yours.

"I think I'm already awake enough," you replied, feeling more confident as you met his gaze, the familiar warmth and love reflecting back at you.

He chuckled, pulling you into his arms as you settled against him. "How can I say no to that?"

You found yourself on top of him, your bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time guided by instinct and desire. His touch was gentle, occasionally squeezing your hips and buttocks with a playful possessiveness that made you laugh softly against his lips.

The sound of your laughter mingled with the quiet gasps and sighs, creating a melody of love that filled the room.

Josh's voice broke the comfortable silence. "I really didn't mean to upset you, you know," he said softly, his eyes sincere.

"I know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "I just miss being part of your morning routine. Even a small goodbye would mean a lot to me."

light filtering through the curtains wrapped around you both like a warm embrace, casting a gentle glow that seemed to mirror the feelings swelling in your heart.

As you leaned in, the first touch of his lips against yours was electric, igniting a spark that raced through your veins.

His kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration, as if rediscovering the familiar contours and taste that he cherished so much.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting and teasing, drawing out a response that was both immediate and fervent. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed you, a blend of passion and tenderness that made you feel cherished and desired. It was as if he were savoring the very essence of you, each kiss a promise and a testament to the love you shared.

Your lips met again. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but soon deepened, a dance of tongues that communicated what words could not.

Josh's hands traveled over your body, fingers grazing your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers up your spine. Occasionally, his hands would rest on the curve of your hips, squeezing gently as if to reassure himself that you were real, that this moment was happening.

His touch was both tender and assured, as though he were an artist and you were his masterpiece. He explored with an intimacy that spoke of familiarity and affection, mapping every curve and line with the skill of someone who knew and adored every inch of you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as you pulled him closer, deepening the connection.

You let out a soft moan, a sound of pure delight that only encouraged him further.

Your hands moved over his chest, tracing his happy trail and the lines of his muscles.

Lips departed from yours, embarking on a tantalizing journey along your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying kisses in their wake. The heat of his breath against your skin sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, drawing you closer to him, as if pulled by some invisible force.

"I want..." Josh started, breathing unevenly, "I really want your tongue..."

You smiled softly with a nod, happy with Josh's request.

"Shift up, then," you suggested, sitting up to allow Josh to move, and he obliged, moving up on the bed to give you more space to home yourself between his thighs. Josh moaned softly as he watched you crawl up between his legs until your face was in line with his cock.

You leaned down to press a kiss against the throbbing, leaking tip,

Josh bit his lip and held his breath as your tongue peeked out between your lips to greet the sensitive head, lapping up the precum that was already collecting at the tip following your incessant teasing.

"You're teasing me," Josh stammered, screwing his eyes shut as you gazed up at him, tongue still running up and along the firm ridges of his length.

He pouted at your cruelty before you winked and wrapped your lips around the head, sinking your hot wet mouth down until your nose was flush with the base of Josh's cock.

He was beyond devastated. He grunted as you swallowed around his length, stuffing your face with his size. The scorching vision that had only ever existed in his imagination was now a breathtaking reality.

You slid your lips off after a pause, gasping for air as a string of saliva kept your lips connected to Josh's meat.

"I like this," you giggled, ducking down to leave open-mouthed kisses along Josh's length from the base, up the side of it, then to the head again, sucking the tip into his mouth once more. You loved the way his thighs shake after doing such things.

Josh shut his eyes again, avoiding your eye contact as you bobbed his head up and down, afraid to come way too soon and disappoint you.

Relentless as ever, your assault left him no respite. His fists clenched the blankets with a vice-like grip, knuckles white with tension.

"Pull off," he shouted, hips twitching when you moved your mouth away from him and looked at his face perplexed.

He sat up on the bed to restore your old position on top of him.

Josh's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your sides before settling on your hips.

His fingers lingered there, a gentle pressure that pulled you closer until your bodies were perfectly aligned.

Your hips moved together, a slow, deliberate motion that mirrored the rising and falling of your breaths. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the line of your spine before settling on your shoulders, drawing you down to him.

His lips found your neck, planting a series of soft kisses that made you shiver with delight. You felt his breath against your skin as your bodies moved together

His hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing gently as you rocked together. As the tempo of your movements increased, so did the intensity of the sensations, each one building upon the last until you were both lost in the shared rhythm of your bodies.

His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a reflection of the bond you shared.

You lost track of time, caught up in the whirlwind of sensation and emotion that surrounded you.

Pressing your forehead to his, you feel the sticky sweat that binds you. Josh's heaving breath mixing with yours as you both come down from the intensity of your releases.

He followed almost immediately when your hole clenched around him, making you even tighter. He whined loudly and after a few more hard thrusts, he came.

Josh's brown eyes shine bright with pleasure- a contented sigh spilling from you both before you slowly disengage.

It's filled with lasting touches, long looks and warm smiles.

"Do you want to play a bit of your game before I go?"

The sound of your intertwined laughter, punctuated by soft gasps and sighs, filled the room.

"Won't you be late for work?" you asked while still panting, sweat starting to drip down your forehead, but you remained tight against his side.

"They never notice my presence anyway," he replied, panting and still trying to regulate his breathing.

You couldn't help but smile at his laid-back attitude, already in the process of reaching for the controller.

Note: Sorry if the start was boring and I probably went off-topic from the request. I just saw the chance to talk about something I enjoy as a personal video gamer and couldn't resist. :)

If you liked this story, please leave a comment. I love reading them! <3

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kinardsevan · 3 months ago

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shut up and kiss me

(@v88sy and I got into a discussion and it brings you this comedy) bucktommy with suggestive buddietommy (but not really).

Evan isn’t entirely sure how the conversation happens. They’re standing in his kitchen, working on the third six-pack of the night, trying to lighten Eddie’s spirits after a bad first date. He’d thought they were engaging in what was entertaining about Eddie’s sad dating history, yet somehow things have shifted in his direction in a concerning manner.

“What do you mean you didn’t question your sexuality after kissing someone at a frat party,” Eddie asks, his beer halfway to his lips.

Evan looks towards his boyfriend. “Well, isn’t it something that everyone does at least once?”

Tommy looks at him wide-eyed and shrugs. “I’m not exactly the right measurement for that question, baby.”

“No,” Eddie cuts in. “Not really. I spent years on another continent with virtually no women around, a wife and baby at home, and you know how many times I thought about kissing another man? Zero.”

Evan looks back towards Tommy again, and maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just the fact that they’ve barely seen each other in the past few days, but the older man is waggling his eyebrows at him suggestively. Evan flushes, pink dusting down his chest as his gaze drops with a smirk playing on his lips. Later, he thinks, daring a glance up at Tommy for a moment before he’s looking back in Eddie’s direction.

“Pretty sure none have ever wanted to kiss you either,” Evan states before taking a drink from his own beer. Eddie scoffs at him.

“Shut up, asshole.”

Tommy laughs and Evan grins at him.

“Should we give Sal a call,” he asks cheekily. Tommy’s smirk is still clear on his face, but his voice betrays the expression with a warning.

“Evan…”

Eddie looks between the two of them, mildly aghast. “Excuse me? You need to call another man to find out if I’d want to kiss him?”

Evan exchanges another glance with Tommy, both of them raising an eyebrow at Eddie and then Evan glancing back at Tommy.

“I mean, if you’d prefer it to be one of us,” Evan states, the question clearly leading.

Eddie takes a long drink from his beer—downing it, apparently—and then settles the empty bottle on the island. “Oh, what the fuck.”

Evan looks over at Tommy. “Baby?”

Tommy snorts, pressing his lips together. “Oh, this is going to be amazing. He’s gonna hate it. Absolutely. Please.”

Evan looks back at Eddie, questioning a moment more, but then he shrugs with a soft ‘okay’ under his breath before rounding the island and leaning over. He shoots one more glance in Tommy’s direction just to be sure, but the mirth and adoration in his boyfriend’s eyes make it more than clear he gives no fucks about what’s about to happen. Evan tilts his head slightly as he looks back at Eddie, and his best friend’s gaze drops to his pink, pink lips. Evan settles his beer on the counter and lifts his hands to Eddie’s cheeks, leaning in and kissing him.

It’s quick, nothing like any kiss he’s ever had with Tommy, and his tongue has barely even brushed Eddie’s bottom lip when the shorter man’s hands are firm on his shoulders, pushing him back. He doesn’t shove Evan, but the movement is more than clear to suggest he wants the moment to end. Evan pulls away, and Eddie is immediately gagging. Tommy cackles.

“Didn’t know that kissing me was that gross,” Evan comments as Eddie slides off the barstool, rounds the counter to the sink. “So, thanks? I guess?”

“Oh, it’s definitely not,” Tommy replies, leaning across the space and kissing him chastely, actively licking at the inside of Evan’s bottom lip. Eddie retches at the sink.

“You guys are disgusting,” he comments between retches.

Tommy pulls away, narrows his eyes at their friend. “Be more dramatic.” He turns his attention back to Evan, wrapping a hand tightly around the collar of the denim shirt his boyfriend is wearing, pulling on it to get Evan to come closer. Evan moves around Eddie’s barstool and settles between Tommy’s legs, granting his boyfriend full access to the inside of his mouth as Eddie rinses his mouth out with a glass of water.

“Oh come on,” Eddie whines when he finally turns back in their direction.

Tommy leans back, his pupils dark and eyes just a little bit heavy, the corners of his mouth pulling as he quirks an eyebrow at Evan.

“I can still taste those Cheetos you ate twenty minutes ago, Eddie,” Tommy comments. Evan laughs quietly as Eddie gags again.

“Let’s never speak of this again,” Eddie states, walking towards the fridge for another beer.

“Sure,” Evan replies as Tommy nuzzles up against his neck.

“I’m never gonna forget it,” Tommy whispers into his ear. Evan just laughs again.

#bucktommy #buddietommy #mini fic #tevan #kinley

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snippychicke · 1 year ago

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It's Just Business-- Part Two

Ya'll have seen that gifset of this man's smile, right?

Addicting.

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over.

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Voyage

You had been raised on a ship. Solid land was unnatural to you compared to a swaying wooden deck. And you were well aware Sanji was the same, except one crucial thing: the Baratie was free-floating for the most part. Sailing and navigating had not been a large part of the chef's education.

And looking at Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp, you had your doubts it had been theirs. None of them struck you as experienced sailors. "Do any of you know how to sail?" You bluntly asked as you watched them prepped their ship to leave the Baratie after Nami.

You definitely hadn't followed Sanji down to the docks, your stomach in knots because he was leaving the Baratie. And joining the upstart pirate crew that had both fought the legendary Mihawk and the infamous Arlong. It didn't bother you. You weren't worried at all.

It was bullshit and you were fuming underneath all the fear you couldn’t shake. There were too many emotions that it was far easier to just bottle them up and focus on the problem at hand.

As you suspected - and feared - none of the men looked completely confident as they shrugged their shoulders. "Kinda?" Was the general consensus between the three men you didn’t know, which is not what you wanted to hear.

You looked at Sanji, who had already stepped onto the deck. But he was hardly helpful considering he simply shot you an impish smile as if he knew what you were thinking and was all for it. The look in his eyes was virtually daring you. 'Come on. You know you want to.'

Granted, you weren't even sure what you were doing. Or why. (You did, you just didn't want to admit to it.)

You groaned as you rubbed your forehead. Men. "Okay, follow up question. Do you even know where Arlong's base is?"

Luffy lightened up at that question, giving you a moment of hope. "I don't, but Binky does!"

Binky?

To your horror, the wanna-be pirate captain led you along with the others into the cabin where a black bag sat on a table. Before you could even question what was going on, Luffy pulled a decapitated head out of that bag. "Bendy knows where Arlong is, and will tell us as long as we get his body back!"

You had a moment of severely doubting Luffy’s sanity before the head moved. And spoke, glaring up at Luffy. "The name's Buggy. Not Bendy, not Blinky, Buggy."

The only reason you didn't fall over or bolt was Sanji's arms suddenly wrapping around you as soon as you screamed, pulling you close in an attempt to reassure you.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

The clown's grin grew, amused by your reaction. "Hello to you too, gorgeous. You boys didn't waste any time replacing the redhead, did ya?"

"She's not replacing Nami," Luffy stated firmly, which was at odds with his smile. "But she's going to help us rescue her, right?"

Rescue. Right. Because that is what comes jumping to your mind when you heard Nami apparently left with the towering fishman of her own volition, as well as a map to the Grand Line. Why was no one else freaking out over the living bodiless head?

"She's one of the best sailors I know," Sanji said, his grip tightening slightly around your waist. "And could punt your head off the deck like a ball if you insult her again."

Oh. You felt a blush rising to your cheeks despite yourself. "And she is right here and able to talk for herself. Besides, I know where the Conomi Islands are, it's just that most avoid it like the plague since Arlong took over." Including yourself. Because you liked living.

Gods only know why.

-*-

Which is how you ended up as the in-term navigator of the Going Merry, and seriously considering jumping overboard after just a day of sailing with the Strawhat pirates.

Luffy was both obnoxiously optimistic and bullheaded. It probably wouldn’t be too awfully bad if he wasn’t determined to find out what your dream was, and the fact he was absolutely certain you were now part of his crew.

You never agreed to anything of the type. You just didn’t want the idiots - mainly your idiot - getting lost at sea.

Zoro was decent on his own, except he was also being rather bullheaded for an idiot that was just on death's door days earlier. Either he was green with seasickness, or from the combination of blood loss and pushing himself too far. And then there was the fact that when he was around Sanji the two were constantly moments away from throwing punches. Well, kicks and swinging swords, to be more accurate.

Usually you would instantly be on Sanji’s side, but considering Sanji was currently smitten with Nami you were about ready to take one of his skillets and knock some sense into him as well.

You knew he flirted with girls. Ever since you were both teenangers, he'd been a massive flirt with every female-presenting person that walked through the doors of the Baratie. Every week you heard the stories that were romanticized by Sanji, incriminating from the rest of the crew, with the truth probably somewhere in between.

But you had never seen it up close like this. Usually it was an hour or two at kost before he moved on to the next.

Nami was beautiful; there was no denying that. You had met her briefly while you helped Zeff stitch Zoro up - being a merchant meant pirate attacks, which meant first aid was a necessity to survive - and you could get why he was infatuated. But god, it made you ill to hear Sanji be as determined as Luffy that she had done nothing wrong and was incapable of being a traitor. You weren't jealous. Not at all. Nope.

Then there was a talking head of Buggy that was thankfully usually handled by either Zoro or Sanji. And actually, Usopp was pretty decent other than either being a compulsive liar or just enjoying telling tall tales. Sailed the East Blue by himself? You called that bull within seconds of watching him trying to manage the sail. You'd be surprised if he had more than a week's worth of sailing experience.

-*-

You managed the helm, noting the direction of your trusty compass when a shadow fell over you. Your stomach twisted, hoping it wasn’t Luffy again asking how much longer.

"Figured you could use a little afternoon snack," Sanji offered when you looked up, causing a moment of relief. There was no denying the warmth that filled your chest at seeing him, or to see an assortment of finger-foods --each more appetizing than the last-- on the small plate he offered.

"I shouldn't… I'm still pretty full from lunch." Yet they looked so good, and smelled even better. But god, you had eaten so much at lunch, far more than you usually did. One of the perks of having a chef aboard instead of deciding how much energy you wanted to expend on cooking.

Sanji didn't seem convinced as he leaned closer so he could faux-whisper: "If you don't accept them, I'm pretty sure Luffy will inhale them before you get a second chance."

Fair. The boy had an appetite more legendary and unbelievable than his gum-gum fruit abilities. He was thin as a rail, but you had seen him eat more than his own weight already.

As if sensing your waivering judgment, Sanji picked up one of the treats and held it to your lips. You hope you didn't look as red as you felt as you hesitantly opened your mouth to accept. Especially when you glanced up at his eyes while you did so. It did nothing well for you seeing that pleasant faint smile on his face as he fed you, his fingers brushing your lips slowly and softly.

"I'm glad you're with us," He confessed as he pulled his fingers away. "I'd hate to have to rely on a clown for directions."

You smiled despite a full mouth, taking your time to enjoy your treat - and maybe enjoying watching him relax against the nearby rail, indulging in one of the finger-foods himself. Seeing him relaxed and set against the open sea, wind teasing his blonde hair was quite the sight if you were to be honest.

"Well, that's what friends do," you offered once.you were finished. "Back each other up even if the other is being incredibly stupid."

His eyes narrowed though his expression was playful. Which did not help your heart fluttering any.

Oh yes, this was a very stupid idea. On both parts.

You were not going to join once they got their navigator back. No way. You couldn’t stand being around him day in and day out.

》°《

You frowned as you saw Sanji leaning against the railing overlooking the main floor of the Baratie, the young teen looking like a love struck idiot. You adjusted the plastic tote of used dishes and silverware in your hip as you approached, looking over the railing.

A group of girls - probably a few years older than you - sitting at one of the center tables. Dressed in beautiful gowns, hair sleek and shiny, and all laughing as they talked amongst themselves.

It had been the running theme since your parents left you in the care of Zeff while they sailed to Logue town for some convention - apparently not trusting you enough to take you to one of the largest cities of the East Blue.

You weren't bitter. Not at all.

"You'll just make a fool of yourself," You sighed as you returned to clearing the empty table from the lunch rush, well aware of Sanji's eyes glaring holes into your back.

"What do you mean by that?" He shot back as he followed you, setting out new dishes and silverware from his own tote.

"I mean exactly that. If you go down there and even try to talk to them, you'd end up making a fool of yourself. They'll be laughing their heads off."

"They would not," He defended hotly. "And I would not make a fool of myself. I'd be absolutely charming."

You laughed at that. Stuck between a kid and a teen, Sanji was anything but charming in your eyes. He had reached a growth spurt, losing some of the baby weight from when you had met him, but now looked like a bean pole with gangly limbs. "Sure, Sanji. Be honest, you haven't even kissed a girl before. How are you going to sweep them off their feet if you have no idea what you're doing?"

It was fun to watch him turn bright cherry red as he spluttered. "You haven't exactly kissed anyone either, I bet!"

You could feel your own cheeks brighten as you huffed. "That's besides the point! You're the one doing the fawning, not me."

There was a lull of silence as you worked until the rest of the tables were cleaned and ready for the dinner rush. "You know," Sanji said as you both surveyed your work. "There's an easy solution to our problem."

You frowned as you looked up at him. "Our problem? I wasn't aware we had a problem."

There was a pink tinge to his cheeks as he avoided your gaze, itching his neck nervously. "The fact we've never kissed anyone."

Oh.

You blushed as you looked away. "I think that's more of a you problem, more than anything." Still, your stomach twisted with butterflies at just the mere thought. Surely he wasn't implying what your mind was jumping to.

"I'm just saying if we kissed each other, then that's one less thing to worry about."

Nope, he was.

Up until this point, that was something that you had never worried about. Yet here you were, questioning if that was something a girl your age should be worrying about. You hadn't been around a lot of other people in your age group, except Sanji really.

Did those girls down there already have their first kiss? Were they talking about their boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever?

You screwed your eyes shut, annoyed at the sudden onslaught of questions your own mind was coming up with.

"Fuck it," You swore - your parents were going to regret letting you live on the Baratie for a few months because of your new colorful language.

You sharply turned towards Sanji, grabbing his tie and tugging him closer to press a kiss to his mouth

Well, you were aiming for his mouth, but being as flustered as you were, it was equal parts his lips and cheek. But it still counted, right?

"There, happy?" You bit out despite the burn in your cheeks as Sanji stared at you. It didn't help that he looked as startled as you had ever seen him.

"Y-you…" He stammered for a moment before his brain finally started to work, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "You call that a kiss?"

"My lips touched yours!" You defended huffily. "So yes, I do."

“That was not a kiss,” He argued. “At least, not one that counts.”

“Oh? And who made you the kissing expert?”

As if you weren’t feeling flustered enough, Sanji stepped closer as he cupped your cheek, pinning you with those light blue eyes of his. You couldn’t move as he leaned in, gently pressing his lips to yours. And, okay, it wasn’t bad, but you still didn’t quite see the appeal of it as he pulled away. Granted, the way your heart was pounding painfully in your chest didn’t help matters much.

“That’s a kiss,” He murmured after a moment.

Your anger rose to protect your honor as you took a step back, “Same thing as what I did. Just slow, like yourself.”

The soft expression on his face changed as he crossed his arms, “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I mean, it was nothing special.” Honestly, him touching you had made your heart quicken more than the actual kiss itself. It was nothing like the earth-shattering experience your books made it out to be.

“Let me try again,” He insisted, causing you to scoff.

“No,” You stated, already turning away. “You got two kisses, that’s more than enough.”

Sanji whined your name as he followed you back towards the kitchens. “C’mon. You’re practically saying I’m a bad kisser!”

You smirked to yourself as you shot a look over your shoulder. “Well, I mean….”

The stricken look on your face made you laugh. “I’m kidding, Sanji. It wasn’t bad. I just don’t see the appeal. You’re a playboy, so of course you’d like it. I’m just different from you.” “I’m not a playboy,” He huffed. “Finding women beautiful does not make me one of those. Once I find the one, that’s it. I just… have to find her, is all.”

#one piece #one piece live action #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year ago

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Wicked Fantasies Part 3 (MBJ x Black OC)

Warnings: NSFW, Smut with a plot, Heavy BDSM (spanking, bondage, daddy kink, name calling)

Raven hoisted one of the three heavy canvas bags onto her shoulder as she hastily swung open her door. She let out a shocked yelp as she looked up from her phone to find Michael standing at her door, his arm frozen in air as if she had interrupted his attempt to knock. She glanced from him to her beaten up watch. They still had hours before her date.

“Oh… hi? W-what are you doing here? Did I miss a text or something? N-Not that I don’t wanna see you or anything.” She added quickly. She certainly was not complaining. She would never grow tired of seeing him, he looked damn good per usual.

He laughed. “Yea, I texted you an hour ago saying I was gonna pick you up? Hair and makeup is waiting at my spot for you.”

She hit herself in the forehead, frustrated with herself. “Ugh, I’m so sorry. Been running around town and lost track of time. Do you think we have 20 minutes to spare? I really need to drop these off.” Her arms weakly lifted up the other two bags in her hands, both heavy laden with books.

“What is all this?”

“Just books for the kids in book club. It looks like a lot but most of them live on the same streets or in the same apartment buildings so it’s not many stops. Promise.”

He waved her hand to dismiss her clear anxiety and stress. “No worries. We got plenty of time.”

She let out a breath of relief. “Perfect, thanks. You know you didn’t have to do all this? Hair and makeup… I was just gonna do it myself before I came over.”

Though his presence was a surprise, Raven would have been lying if it was not a welcomed one. She had filled the morning with pampering, as he requested. She had been shocked to find an envelope filled with $2,500 in cash under her door the day before with a note that said this was her first payment and to use a portion of it to get a mani, pedi, and whatever other self care things she chose in preparation for their date.

Her first instinct was to give it all back since it was not part of their agreement. However, he seemed to anticipate that action and warned her not to try to return it or he would just find another way to give it to her. So she used it for the things he requested and to get a wax and then used part of it to buy all the books for the kids in her club since the library did not have enough copies. She sat aside a small portion to cover the rest of her rent. The rest was sitting in her wallet until she could deposit it in the bank to replenish her savings. Though she knew her father or sister would likely come calling needing something at some point. They seemed to have a sixth sense for when she came into any amount of cash.

“Nah, all good. We’ll need to post on instagram after the night so professional hair and makeup will help.”

“And you really didn’t need to pay me. I haven’t done anything yet.” She dropped the bags so she could lock her door. However, when she turned to pick them up, they were already in his hands and one was outstretched to take the one on her shoulder.

She bit down the independent voice in her head that wanted to tell him she did not need help. And she didn’t but she rarely had anyone offer to help her with anything so she appreciated someone lightening the load for her. Besides, as she watched his bulging biceps flex, she could tell the three bags weighed nothing for him.

“You agreed, which was more than you had to do. Consider it a signing bonus.”

Their journey around her neighborhood was virtually silent, Raven instructing the driver where to go and jumping out at each stop. Michael waited for her at each one, surveying the neighborhood and people watching through his tinted windows.

He did understand what she meant about community. Every time she got out of the car, he could hear her chatting with folks who were outside, see her waving and interacting with people. It seemed like she knew everyone, and not just in a polite way like she knew their faces but nothing more. She knew their names and details of their lives, checked in on people on a far deeper level than most people ever cared to.

“You a local celebrity yourself, seems like?” He asked as they drove to her last stop, which he found odd since she still had a bag full of books left.

She shrugged. “Not really. I just know a lot of people between the library and their kids. Also just being around, you meet folks. I like to walk so you know, eventually you just get to know everyone.”

“This neighborhood is safe to walk in?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, dad. It is. You gotta leave Beverly Hills or where you live at sometime. Right here is perfect,” she told the driver as he pulled up in front of an apartment building. She glanced down at her phone. “He’s on his way down. This is the last one.” She paused before sitting up in her seat. “Oh and I never got your name?”

Michael’s driver glanced in the rearview, surprised she was talking to him. “Oh, Allen, ma’am.”

“Allen, got it. Nice to meet you. Thank you, I’m sure all these stops were not on your to-do list. I appreciate it.”

Allen merely nodded. “No thanks necessary. I go wherever Mr. Jordan tells me.”

“Well I’ll say thank you anyway,” she told him with a smile as she rolled down her window. A few moments later, a lanky kid made his way out of the building, Raven’s manicured hand waving him over.

“Hey Jamal!”

“Yooooo Ms. T. This a fine ass whip. Where you get this at??”

“Boy… language,” she reminded him as he braced himself on the frame of the car. However, her voice was void of any real discipline. “Got you something.” She pulled the last book out of one of the bags and slid it into his hands. “And…” She handed him the entirety of the third bag, the young man rifling through it to find several brand new SAT prep books, practice tests, and vocabulary flash cards. “Saw you hunched over that one in the library and it’s a hot mess so figured you’d need new ones.”

His face immediately lit up. “Thanks, Ms. T. These are clutch. That one had all the answers marked up and sh- stuff.”

She chuckled. “I know, I know. We tell people not to write in them but they don’t listen. Well, just wanted to make sure you got those before the weekend was done. Won’t hold you up for too long. How’s your mom?”

The young man’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly, his shoulders hunching over in exhaustion. “She’s better. Back at work this week. But we gotta catch up on bills so it’ll be a rough two weeks till her paycheck. Behind on things since the funeral…” his voice trailed off.

Raven adored all the teens who frequented her book club and would go above and beyond for every single one of them. But there was a soft spot in her heart for Jamal.

“Rent’s paid and good though?”

“Yea, that’s it. Every other bill though…”

She grabbed her purse, which was sitting in the middle seat between her and Michael. Truth be told, she was so caught up in her conversation that she forgot he was even there. She grabbed the rest of the cash out of her wallet and slid it into his hands.

“Here. Utilities first, whatever’s left, see if you can get caught up on the other stuff like your mom’s car and stuff like that. It’s probably not enough for everything but should get you caught up on the most important stuff until your mom’s back on her feet.”

He immediately shook his head and tried to thrust the money back toward her.

“Nah, I can’t take that. I walk in with that much cash, ma’ll ask where I got it and we can’t repay you for months.”

Raven pushed his arm back gently and smiled. “Tell your mom it was payment for computer support at the library. You recovered a year’s worth of work on my laptop two weeks ago, which was honestly priceless. I owed you.”

“You sure?” he turned the money clip over in his hand. “This gotta be a grand or more here.”

“Positive. Just remember lil ole me when you start the next Google. Cool?” She winked at him as he nodded enthusiastically. “Enjoy the rest of the weekend. See you on Wednesday.”

She waved at him before rolling up the window, the driver taking off to drive them toward downtown. She noticed Michael staring at her with an incredulous look on his face.

“What?” She asked softly, wondering if he was upset that she gave his money away. Well, technically it was hers now but she knew he intended on her spending it on herself, not blowing it on someone else within 24 hours. However, she knew better than anyone that sometimes people just needed a boost and someone willing to give it to them, no strings attached. No one had ever done that for her when she needed it so, when she could, she tried to do it for others.

However, he just turned and glanced out the window. “Nothing.”

She opened her mouth to explain herself before closing it immediately and fidgeting with her phone. She did not know what to say or how to explain herself or if she even should. So she opted to say nothing. If he was mad because she was a giving person, he would just have to be mad.

***

She was fine when they first arrived at Michael’s place. However, she quickly realized that the styling of the rich and famous was far from the relaxing experience she would have envisioned. Michael barely had time to introduce her before the glam team and Michael’s stylist started bombarding her with questions about “her look.” And she had no earthly idea. When she stripped in college and for her dates, she had to curate a look but the point was always to show off her sex appeal. It was fairly simple. This was far from simple.

She stayed silent as Michael’s manager and stylist argued back and forth, a heated tennis match that she could not get a word into even if she tried.

“That’s too sexy… we’re not trying to make it seem like he’s dating a fuckin’ video vixen.” Alex dismissed yet another dress the stylist pulled out for her without giving Raven even a chance to look at it.

“But look at those curves. No one’s gonna want to see him with a church girl either. That looks hella forced.”

“It needs to look like a regular date night. If she’s too dressed up, it’ll seem orchestrated. This is their introduction, it’s gotta strike the right tone. She needs to compliment him but also stand out cause no one covets the vapid trophy girlfriend anymore. But she can’t outshine him, that’ll lead to too much attention she and we don’t need.This photo is gonna follow them for the entirety of their relationship so it’s gotta be perfect.”

Raven sheepishly glanced between all of them as they talked about her like she was not sitting there getting her hair done. She sent a pointed glare at Michael, begging him to take over and say something. After all, he was the only person in the room who knew even the first thing about her. And he did not disappoint, immediately swooping in like her own personal Avenger.

“I think we’re overthinking this a lot. It’ll be more natural if we keep her style the way it is. Ain’t gotta dress her up into something she’s not. Some of this ain’t her anyway.”

Michael made quick work of narrowing the options down, immediately eliminating all the ones Raven silently hated herself… everything that was loud or too outrageous. By the end of his pruning, they were left with a more palatable selection of muted tones, all items that Raven would have dreamed to have in her closet one day. He held them up one by one, having her dismiss or keep each one until she was down to two options.

She opted for an olive midi silk dress. It was simple but elegant and classic. And felt like exactly what Michael wanted: an elevated take on her own style.

By the time they finished her make up and blew out her coils and she stepped into the dress, she almost didn’t recognize herself.

While Raven was good for a daily natural beat, she could not deny the power of professional makeup. The glam team made her routine look like child’s play.

She stood in front of the full length mirror in the second bedroom and studied herself, her fingers grazing over the soft silky material hugging her hips. She was so enthralled by it that she did not even notice Michael in the doorway staring at her.

“You like it?”

“I love it. How’d you pick these out?”

He smiled. “I sent my stylist your Instagram and he had pieces pulled for you. I bought this one and the other ones you liked. They’ll be in the closet here so you can wear them on dates. So we aint gotta go through all that shit every week.”

“And how much was that bill?”

“An amount that you don’t need to worry about.” He answered shortly before walking up behind her. He ran his fingers through the big curls they put into her hair. His hand moved to her shoulder, her breathing hiking slightly as his fingers grazed her bare skin to move all her hair out of the way. “Hold it up for me.”

He reached around and placed a gold choker around her neck. He adjusted it before she let her hair fall around her.

Michael’s hands grabbed her hips to turn her around in his grip, his eyes trained on the tops of her breasts, perfectly pushed up and on display in the deep neckline of the dress. He licked his lips as he drank her in, part of him wanting to forgo the date and public spectacle to fuck her brains out. But he forced himself to take a step back.

Just business, he reminded himself as he stuffed his hands in his slacks. Just business.

He cleared his throat, “You ready?”

Raven merely offered him a nod, afraid if she spoke, her voice would betray her and reveal the overwhelming need she felt. She hated the effect he had on her. He was the sweetest addiction, her body craved him. And she had been feeling the effects of that withdrawal since the first night they met. She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her, the paths he treaded etched into her skin like a brand. But she knew this was merely sex. No feelings, no desire beyond pleasure. That was the only way this would work.

She nodded and fell into step behind him as he led her down to his car. She opted for silence as they drove, her sole focus trained on trying to ensure she did not pass out again as her anxieties ran wild in her mind. Once was a fluke but twice? She did not think she could survive such embarrassment.

Typical LA traffic slowed their approach to the restaurant to a dreadful crawl, giving Raven several minutes to stare at the gang of paparazzi and cameras packed out at the entrance. She supposed it was great that the owner and chef had such a significant buzz for their opening night, and was the perfect introduction for their relationship. But as she counted each person holding a camera, she could not help but look down at herself and wonder if she had made a terrible mistake agreeing to this. If it were possible for her knuckles to turn white as she gripped the door with all her might, they would have as a million and one ways she could embarrass herself popped up in her brain.

What if the paparazzi saw right through her? She may be dressed in the role of a star’s girlfriend but she was far from it, a regular girl with nothing spectacular or special about her. And certainly nothing that would have made someone as handsome and important as Michael look twice at her. Was it even believable for him to date someone like her? What if she did something to embarrass her in the mere ten feet she needed to walk? She glanced down at her impossibly high heeled shoes. What if she fell?

It also did not help that, as she inched closer and closer to the cameras, she realized that this step made their ruse real. It was one thing for his team to put out a statement with her first name and allude to a girlfriend. But now, she would be putting her face and identity to it, giving the world the ability to private detective their way into every faucet of her life. Was that a mistake? Was she playing with fire to allow anyone close enough to discover the skeletons she kept hidden in the closet? Would she wake up tomorrow morning to find all of her dirty laundry in a viral tik tok for the whole world to see and dissect?

“Hey, hey, Raven, breathe for me.” She felt two hands grab her cheek lightly, clearly cognizant of not disrupting her makeup as they forced her eyes toward his kind ones. “There you are,” he whispered, his voice light as if she would crumble if he spoke too loudly. “Deep breaths for me.”

At first, she was confused as to why they seemed so filled with concern. That is until she heard it, the ragged breathing that filled the car. It took her longer than it should have to recognize it as her own.

“Circle to the back, Allen.”

“N-No, no!” She called out, a bit louder than she intended. “Y-You’re paying me to do this. I c-can do it.” She hated that she was already failing him. She was utterly useless to him. “J-Just got overwhelmed. F-feel l-like I’m g-gonna have a heart attack,” she admitted as she pressed one palm into her bare chest. “I’m sorry. I-I can do it.”

Michael immediately shook his head at her insistenting. He knew this would be overwhelming. His hand rested on the meat of her thigh, the slit in her dress allowing his warmth to touch her skin, an action she immediately found calming.

“Don’t apologize, aight?” He helped her slow her breathing while he rubbed gentle patterns into her skin. “You’re about to be on every gossip site and your life’s about to change. I’d be more worried if you weren’t freaked out. We’ll go in through the back.”

She clenched her eyes shut, hating herself for disappointing him. “How am I managing to ruin every interaction between us?” She mumbled. “Like a fucking’ embarrassment magnet over here.”

“Aint shit to be embarrassed about. Panic is normal, swarms of those fuckin’ vultures is terrifyin’ even for people who are used to it. We’ll go in the back, by the time we leave, there’ll be way less of them and easier to get out. We already got our picture for the gram so we’re good. You fulfilled your duties for the night and then some. The rest’s just for fun.”

“You sure?” She bit her lip as she studied him, expecting to find anger or annoyance.

He tugged her painted lip out from between her teeth and nodded. “We’re good. Now relax, take some deep breaths. We’re gonna enjoy dinner and then go back to my spot and enjoy some other things. I promise we’re good.”

He reached over and pried her fingers from the door and took it into his. “Wanna squeeze somethin, squeeze my hand instead. I’m right by you the whole time, promise.”

Raven found her heart was still racing but she did feel more at ease and she knew it was all because of him. He did not take his hand off her thigh as Allen looped them around to the alley behind the restaurant so they could enter through the kitchen.

Before they stepped out of the car, Michael squeezed her hand. “Just take a breath and enjoy the night.”

And he was not wrong. The restaurant was spectacular and bustling as the owner led them to their table.

“This is amazing.” Raven’s eyes drank in the soft decor of the restaurant, it felt intimate and romantic. “How’d you find this place again?”

He shrugged. “One of my boys… well’s one of my boys’ boys opened this spot. Figured it was a good option for our first date. Get him a lil publicity and it’s a natural reason for us to be out on the town. And I knew we could get a hella secluded table.”

She nodded, their table was perfect. They could see most of the main restaurant and main dining without actually being in the midst of everyone. They were tucked away and hidden, which eased most of her remaining anxiety.

He ordered a bottle for them, the pair sipping on wine as the head chef brought them his specialized tasting menu. She enjoyed not having to think and decide what to order as dish after dish made its way to them in a steady fashion.

“Can I ask you a question?” Michael asked, the pair sitting in comfortable silence for a bit as they ate.

“Shoot.”

“Did you spend any of that money on yourself?”

Raven tilted her head to study him, trying to decipher if he was upset. “Yea, I did what you asked. Manis, pedis, wax. And then I set aside a bit for the rest of this month’s rent. And then I used some to buy all those books and gave the rest to Jamal.” She sat her fork down. “I hope that’s ok?”

“You don’t gotta ask me how to spend the money you earned and I paid you.” He chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “I was just curious. Why’d you have to buy the books?”

“I don’t have to,” she admitted. “But the kids use the library copies and then can’t keep them when they like the book. Since I had the cash, thought’d it be nice just to buy the copies so they can keep them. These kids all love to read, just trying to help foster that in small ways.”

“But what about you?”

“What do you mean? I own a million books as you saw,” She chuckled as her attention focused back on her plate.

“Nah you don’t need a single other book,” he teased before lowering his voice. “I mean… you lost your job. You didn’t have shit to do with that money for yourself?”

“Oh of course I did. But I dunno, when someone needs a boost, I give it. Besides, I always figure my shit out.” She paused before adding, “Part of building community is taking care of others. And you hope if you ever need it, they’ll take care of you.”

“Who takes care of you now?”

Raven stilled. For some reason, that simple question knocked the wind out of her.

“Since I met you, all I’ve seen you do is take care of other people. Inconvenience yourself and sacrifice for it seems like… everyone you know. Tasha has an emergency so you take care of her client even though you’ve never met me before, which I know was terrifying. You’re sitting in a hospital bed and you spend hella bread to bail someone who didn’t seem to appreciate you at all outta jail. You get paid and you spend pennies of it on yourself before giving it all away to someone else. I’m in a bind professionally so you agree to change your whole life, even just temporarily to help me out.”

She jumped in, “Yea but I’m getting something outta this whole thing too.”

“Ok fair. But still… Your coworkers, your neighbors, these kids, even me. I mean it’s great that you care so much but who takes care of you? Who sacrifices or inconveniences themselves for you?”

She rolled the stem of her wine glass in her fingers as she contemplated his words.

“No one,” she whispered, the two words felt painful leaving her lips. Saying them forced her to acknowledge an ache she ignored on a daily basis but now she felt it and she wished she could lock the pain away again. But she knew he knew the answer before he even asked it. She cleared her throat, forcing herself not to fall into that sea of despair. If she thought too much about it, she’d never break through the surface again. So she offered a nonchalant shrug and a half smile. “It’s not bad though, I guess? Been taking care of myself since I was 19. Got pretty good at it.”

“That ain’t lonely?”

“Maybe if I knew something different? But that's all I know so it’s fine.” She took a long sip of her wine hoping to end the conversation there but she could feel him studying her.

He wondered why that was, she was so vibrant and kind, too kind for this world in his opinion. Did she not have a family? Friends? People who cared whether she was safe and attended to. He simply could not fathom having someone like her in his life and not ensuring she had the world resting at her feet.

“So who takes care of you, superstar?” She flipped the question around on him, desperate to remove the uncomfortable spotlight of vulnerability from her.

“My family, they keep me grounded… keep me sane. Make sure I’m not runnin’ myself completely into the ground, though I still do a lot.”

She raised her glass and lifted it toward him as if to toast him. “That’s good. Everyone deserves that.”

He could hear the sadness in her voice, a sign that she longed for what he had. He was used to people coveting his life but it was always the money, the fame, the women, the superficial things that could disappear within an instant. It was never the one thing he often forgot was not the norm for everyone: the love and support of family. He took care of them financially but that was a small price to pay for the emotional support and care they offered him along the way.

“Yea, they do. So I feel like I should know more about you if we’re gonna sell this whole thing.”

“What? You wanna play 20 questions or something?”

“Nah, I just don’t know shit about you except your name and that you’re soft as fuck,” he winked at her, which caused her to roll her eyes. “I don’t know where you grew up, where you went to school, if you went to school, your major, hell I don’t even know your birthday.”

She nodded and leaned forward. “Ummm ok. Grew up in North Carolina, went to UNC for college, took out loans and worked a couple jobs to afford it but I got through it. And October 15.”

His eyes grew wide. “Wait, that shit is in like two weeks? You only giving me 14 days to put together a celebration worthy of our fake relationship. Ain’t enough time, baby girl.”

“Because you don’t need to. I don’t celebrate my birthday, never have. It’s just another day.”

He was shocked at how her tone and demeanor shifted at such a simple conversation. Who didn’t enjoy their birthday? However, it was very clear to him that she did not. Her body shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she tried to force a neutral expression on her face but it did not really work. He tucked that information away for another day, so many questions and conversations he had but knew he could not ask today.

“Understood. Can I, at least, take you to dinner?” He could not imagine letting the day pass without celebrating her somehow. He quickly added as he could see her starting to shake her head. “Some tik tok detective’ll figure out your birthday and then the blogs will think it's weird if it passes and we don’t do anything.”

She hated it but she knew he was right.

“Fine. But no fancy shit or gifts,” she warned. “Just dinner and you’ll pay me like any other date.”

“Aight. Fair enough.” However, he knew that there was no way he was letting her birthday go by without getting her a gift of some kind. He did not care if he had to send it anonymously to her damn apartment.

“What else do you wanna know?” She asked, shuffling the conversation away from her least favorite day of the year to other topics.

“You said you’ve been on your own since you were 19. You’ve always done… you know?” He tilted his head causing her to laugh.

She understood why he was being discreet. There was no one table close enough to hear their low conversation but that did not mean wait staff or others were not lurking around.

“No, I didn’t jump off the deep end immediately. I worked on campus, work study shit for my loans and I danced,” she put a slight emphasis on ‘danced’ to ensure he understood the implication. “It was Durham so not the biggest market in the world but I was good and it paid the bills. When hard times came around again, an old friend from those days hooked me up with Helen… figured why not. Thought it would pay better and faster than a club.” She shrugged.

“You said you were a writer. Publish anything?”

She scratched her head, frustrated that he was asking so many questions that she knew likely felt innocuous to him. But to her? He was stomping on the landmines of her life.

“Umm yea, just a young adult fantasy novel. Nothing special,” she answered. “Do you read often? Favorite genre?” She quickly pushed the conversation back toward him, her skillful albeit obvious attempt to avoid yet another conversation she was not ready to have.

“You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

“Not much in my life is worth rehashing.” And she certainly did not want to rehash the greatest failure of her life to anyone, least of all the most successful person she had ever met.

“Ain’t no way that’s true.”

“Unfortunate, sure. But it is most certainly true. But I’m also ok with it. Not all of us are destined for lives worthy of a lot of fanfare. You,” she emphasized with a smile, “Are a main character. The narrative, the story, all of it and everyone around you revolves around you. You take up the most space as you should. Some of us though? Destined to be the sidekicks… foundational, necessary for the main character, faded into the background. We take up as little space as possible. And every story needs them. Personally, I think it’s ideal. Flying under the radar has its advantages.”

He took a sip of his wine. “Well you’re about to be everyone’s main character, the farthest thing from under the radar. Tomorrow, half the women in America are gonna want to be you. You ready for that?”

“Or kill me so they can have you for themselves,” she joked. “But I haven’t really thought about it? It’s also temporary, fleeting. And when it’s over, I’ll go back to my life in the shadows where it’s safe.”

The word safe hung in his ears. He wanted to press more but he could tell she was uncomfortable.

He stretched his hand across the table to take hers. She hesitated but then remembered couples do things like this, hold hands and share intimate but appropriate touches in public. She slid her hand into his, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

“I dunno… I think you underestimate how important you are. You can force yourself into the shadows but all I’ve seen of you so far is a main character who doesn’t realize we are all in her story. The spotlight is good on you, you should embrace it more.”

Her heart fluttered a bit at his words. This dude, she thought to herself. Every word out of his mouth was perfection. Why couldn’t he be more of the asshole Tasha claimed he was? That would make this arrangement far easier. But instead, every interaction made her fall deeper for him in ways she knew she could not.

“W-what else d-do you wanna know?” she asked quietly.

They spent the rest of dinner trading critical information about each other, their makeshift game taking up the rest of dinner.

“Ok Beyonce’s your favorite artist… Not surprised by that. Favorite album?”

She laughed, “She makes stanning so easy, I’m gonna be honest. Been a fan since Destiny’s Child. And probably Renaissance or self-titled.”

“Ever seen her live?”

Michael enjoyed how the wine made her a bit looser and energetic. He could tell the nerves melted away with every glass. She was far from drunk but she was more relaxed than she had been all night, “God I wish. But she’ll go on tour next year for Renaissance hopefully so if I can set aside money for it, I’ll go.”

Michael nodded, the wheels in his brain already turning. He glanced at his watch, realizing how long they had sat there chatting even after the courses concluded.

“You ready?” At her nods, he stood up and helped her from her seat before wrapping one arm around her waist as they walked toward the front door.

As they walked, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “When we get outside, don’t engage with them or look at them. Eyes straight ahead on me, hand in mine. Security’ll clear a path so don’t worry about that. Whatever they ask you or say, don’t respond, aight? Squeeze my hand if you get overwhelmed but it’s just a few feet and it’ll be over before you know it.”

He stopped her as he thanked the owner and shook his hand before they reached the glass double doors to leave. She was immediately overwhelmed by the blinding camera flashes pointed in their direction, her smile faltering ever so slightly. However, before she could even squeeze his hand, Michael pulled her body flush to his and kissed her. Her body melted under his touch as he set every sensor in her ablaze. He was intoxicating. That’s how she felt every time she was in his arms, completely and utterly drunk on his being. She had to stifle the whimper that almost escaped when he pulled away, a sly grin and wink thrown her way.

“Better?”

“Y-Yea.”

“Good,” he responded, the evidence that his kiss worked wonders clear on her face. He wrapped her hand in his again and gestured for her to follow him out.

With the grace and poise of a trained movie star, he offered the crowd of paparazzi a few waves and a bright smile. Raven kept her smile small but natural as she held onto Michael’s arm and he led her through the cameras. He was the perfect gentleman, not letting his driver open the car door for either of them so he could help her in himself before getting in. As soon as the door slammed shut, she let out a deep sigh of relief and sat back in her seat.

“See? Wasn’t so bad. First paparazzi experience and you were a pro. Now we gotta pick a photo for instagram and a caption. Alex sent me all the ones from earlier.”

He scooted over to the middle seat so he could show her all the photos in his text chain with his manager.

“This one’s my favorite but…” he went to the next one. “Alex says this one’s the one we should post.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Absolutely not. Look at my three chins in that.”

“I only see one very cute, kinda pointy chin.”

She moaned and rolled her eyes. “Be serious, please. This is our first instagram post. It needs to be perfect. And it’s not just the triple chin. I look so stiff, we both look uncomfortable.”

Her finger continued swiping through the photo set, her voice muttering no as she passed photo after photo of the pair looking as if they were strangers forced to take a photo together. She finally stopped when she reached the last two, the only two candids in the entire bunch. One was of her laughing at a corny but well timed joke Michael told as they wrapped up their photos and the other was of Michael adjusting the choker right after he put it on her neck. She had not even realized the photographer caught that one.

“Those two.”

“Why those?”

She shrugged. “The others are clearly staged. But we both look the most relaxed and at ease with each other in those two, like we aren’t trying. We’re just being. Trust me.”

Michael knew he should take Alex’s expert opinion over all else but he did… trust her. So he saved all the photos, hearting the two she identified.

“Ok caption?”

“I’m terrible with those. I picked the photos. Caption’s all you. But I would do something short and simple. One word, an emoji. Or no caption and just let it speak for itself.”

The short ride to his condo was quiet as he mulled over what to post. He hated how much energy he had to expend on something so trivial but that was his life. So he decided to just post it with a simple brown heart, taking Raven’s advice, yet again.

Once the post was up, he tossed his phone down to the middle seat between them and watched her as her eyes followed the passing buildings as they weaved through LA. He would have been lying if he said he had not been worried about how the night was going to go, if she was going to come to regret their whole arrangement. However, she seemed content. Happy even? He doubted that. She gave the impression of someone who rarely felt that emotion, knew precious little of what happiness truly was. He desperately wanted to know why, the puzzle pieces he had gotten thus far were so incomplete he could not even imagine what picture he was putting together. And while he knew he shouldn’t, he desperately wanted all the pieces so he could truly know her. And not just so he could get to know her for the sake of this ill-conceived plan but so he could satisfy the urge in his very soul to tear down whatever barriers stopped her from being happy. If he only had six months with her, the least he could do was ensure she was happy during it.

“You still up for the rest of the night? I know that shit was a lot so no worries if you wanna call it.”

Raven shook her head, though she appreciated that he was giving her an out if she wanted one. She, of course, knew she could have said no and left but she appreciated he understood the pressure the transactional aspect of all this put on her to say yes. Thankfully, going home was the furthest thing from her mind.

He had not even touched her in a sexual manner all night and just being in his presence, she could feel the wetness growing between her legs, her nipples hardening with anticipation. She wanted him, all of him.

“No, I’m good. Besides, our last date got cut short. Gotta make that up to you somehow.” She winked at him.

“Yea, you do.”

The rest of the ride was filled with silent anticipation, Michael and Raven’s thoughts were simply runaway trains of lust and desire. Their first night together was imprinted into Raven’s brain matter, like he had altered her very chemistry.

And Michael, well, he had more than enough time to fantasize about all the things he wanted to do to her perfect body. He would need to build up to some of it but the lengths he wanted to push her? The heights he wanted to take her? She said she wanted to live out her fantasies and he was more than happy to make the wildest ones come true.

By the time they found themselves in the private elevator to his penthouse, the sexual tension between them was overwhelmingly thick. To the point where Raven did not even care about foreplay, she just wanted him to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her senseless. But she knew that was not the game either of them truly wanted to play.

Obedience. Submission. That is what she wanted. She wanted to fully surrender control and let someone else do all the thinking, all the decision making. She thought it would be blissful, to have her thoughts only be consumed with bringing him pleasure and enjoying her own.

They immediately exited the elevator and made their way to the master suite. There was an awkward pause as they stared at each other, Raven biting her lip as she wondered if she could take charge or let him lead.

“You good?”

“Y-Yea… just this part is still kinda awkward,” she admitted.

“You still nervous with me?” She picked up on the tone of surprise in his voice.

“I mean you are you and I’m just…” she played with her hair as she spoke, her eyes forced down to the ground. “Me.”

She did not lift her eyes even when she saw his loafers into her line of vision. He hooked his finger under chin, forcing her eyes to his.

“I know your hard limits but you should know one of mine. I won’t tolerate you actin’ like you’re some nobody and like you aren’t the baddest bitch around. I told you once, you’re one of a kind. The only person who seems confused about that in this room is you. Say some shit like that again and I’ll take that paddle to your ass so hard, you won’t sit for a week. Understand?”

She let out a breath she did not realize she was holding in. “Y-Yes.”

“See, I thought we were gonna make it through the night without punishment but I see you’re a slow learner. 10 spankings. Yes what?” His usually soothing baritone had lost all of its warmth within seconds. It held a menacing quality that made her want to cower beneath him but not in fear. She was far from afraid of him. But the tone did something to that quiet part of her that craved submission.

“Yes, sir.”

“There we go. Much better. I remember your limits. But if you feel overwhelmed or need a break, say yellow. If you need me to stop completely, use your safe word. You remember it?” She wished the ground could swallow her whole as she heard the hint of humor in his voice as if he was struggling to hold in laughter at her ridiculous choice of a safe word.

“Unfortunately,” she mumbled, still overflowing with embarrassment. “Can we change it?”

“Nah,” he answered immediately. “I like it.” He winked at her.

“I hate you.”

He closed the space between them and slid his hand up her thigh, slow and tantalizing, he dragged his fingers against her skin until they reached her promised land. She widened her stance slightly to give him better access as he slipped one finger into her thong and between her lips.

She stifled the moan that almost escaped as he dipped that finger inside her, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She could not stop the groan that escaped when he removed his finger, leaving her feeling empty. He held it up to her, her juices glistening on his skin.

He kept his face neutral though internally, he was grinning. He had touched her once and she was already drenched. That one touch had almost been enough for him to fall to his knees and worship her.

“That tells me otherwise,” he whispered in her ear. “Suck.”

She had never tasted herself before and something about it felt oddly erotic. She parted her lips enough to allow him to slip his finger between them. She savored the taste of herself as she sucked his finger clean.

“You like the way you taste, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” she admitted, her voice flush with embarrassment at how easily he read her. But she found that the embarrassment also turned her on. She guessed he knew that too.

“I knew you would. Strip.”

She took a small step back from him, her fingers finding the straps of her dress as she let it slide off her body to the floor. She immediately picked it up and glanced around for a second.

“What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. “I need a hanger.” At his incredulous look, she shrugged. “What?? I don’t leave nice clothes on the floor. Don’t want it to get ruined.”

Michael almost wanted to laugh before nodding. It was so perfectly on brand for her that he merely took the dress out of her hands instead of following his instinct in telling her that he’d just buy 8 more dresses like it if that one got ruined.

“When I come back, I expect you naked and on your knees waiting at the foot of the bed. Eyes on the ground.”

“Yes sir.”

She waited for him to exit before making quick work of removing her spanx, bra, and panties. She cared far less about leaving them in a heap on the floor as she sank down to her knees at the foot of the bed. As directed, she kept her eyes trained on the carpet beneath her as she waited with bated breath. This was the hard part: waiting, resisting the urge to lift her eyes and turn to search for him at every sound.

The seconds stretched to minutes, letting her know he was taking his sweet time. A test, and the brat in her wanted to fail it deliberately. But that was outweighed by the desire to hear him praise her for her obedience. Every moment spent in that position made her pussy grow wetter and wetter. She could hear him moving around the penthouse, heard his voice fill the hall as he talked on the phone for a few minutes. She desperately wanted to rise to her feet and find him so he would fuck her. But that wasn’t the game. The game was total obedience, sacrificing to his will. That was harder than she expected but as she sat down on the floor listening to his voice drift through the open door for over 10 minutes, she knew it had the exact effect he wanted: turning her into a needy mess. And showing her that what she wanted meant little. Everything, from when they started to how they would finish, was under his control and he could leave her waiting for him as long as he wanted.

Even when she finally heard footsteps returning to the bedroom, she did not move an inch.

“That’s my good girl.” She let out a breath of relief that she did not even realize she was holding in when she finally heard his voice directed at her. “I think I could’ve left you down there all night and you wouldn’t have moved a muscle. What’d you think? Would you stay down there for me?”

“Yes, I would. But it sounds like torture,” she added.

“Torture we’d both enjoy,” he whispered. His hand ran through her soft hair, cradling her face. “This is how you should wait for me after every date. Just like this.”

She continued staring at the ground as she heard him move throughout his bedroom. Every sound ratched up her anticipation. She could hear him fiddling with a latch, her mind immediately going to the chest of goodies he kept in the corner. His hands rummaging through it made her wonder what he was searching for. Was it something to punish her, pleasure her, or both?

“Look at me.”

Michael could have come right then and there as she lifted her head, an innocent doe-eyed look painted on her gorgeous face. Her plump lips were parted ever so slightly, he was unable to stop his thumb from grazing over it with the lightest touch possible. His dick strained against the confines of his pants and briefs, his desire to be buried in her heat almost painful as he looked down at her.

Patience, an inner voice growled at him. Patience… one trait he was not fairly good at.

“You trust me, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” She answered immediately. She was nervous but the one thing she knew is that Michael had no intention of hurting her. She knew he respected her body and limits if nothing else.

“Good girl. Stand and get on the bed, legs spread.”

She shuffled to her feet, her legs wobbling like a fawn as they had fallen asleep beneath her. She tried to temper her excitement with slow, measured and sensual steps. She could feel his eyes trained on her ass causing her to add a sway to her hips as she walked around to the side of the bed and crawled on. She laid down and spread her legs, putting herself on display for him.

Michael licked his lips as he took in the glistening mess at the apex of her thighs. He could see the slight shake in her legs as she laid there, waiting for him to strike.

“You’re being such an obedient slut for me,” he praised as he walked to the corner of the bed. She felt his touch against her ankle before it was replaced with the cool leather of a cuff. She felt it tighten around her ankle before it loosened a bit. Instinctively, she tugged at it, finding that her mobility was heavily restricted. She did not have time to react before he moved to the other side and bound her other ankle, keeping her legs spread eagle and open for him.

His fingers dragged a tantalizing slow pattern from her ankle up her thighs onto her soft belly over the peaks of her breasts and down her arm until he got to her wrist. He brought her hand up and put another cuff around it so it was restrained to the headboard. He repeated the motion before climbing on the bed and hovering over her naked body. She looked delectable as she pulled against the restraints but she could not go anywhere. Her body was completely and utterly at his mercy and she would not be able to move until he allowed it. She would not even be allowed to touch him and that felt like the true punishment in all of this.

“One last thing,” he pulled a silk black blindfold out of his pocket and tied it around her eyes, plunging her into utter darkness. She felt him move off the bed, his weight shifting before she felt and heard nothing around her.

It only took a mere moment for the fear of sensory deprivation coupled with the loss of Michael’s presence to hit her. Her head turned left and right in a panic as her ears strained to listen for him, for any sort of movement or sound that let her know he was still around. She felt utterly vulnerable without her eyesight, a prey waiting for their predator to pounce. A whimper escaped her lips as the seconds stretched on without an utter sound.

“M-Michael?” she whimpered his name this time. She hated how she sounded, fearful and needy but she just needed reassurance that he was still there.

“I’ll let that slide cause this is new and I know the blindfold is scary,” his voice filled her ears, causing her to relax a bit. His usual gentle tone was back, a stark contrast to the demands he had been giving just moments earlier. She felt safe, assured, cared for. “I’m right here. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to you, I promise. Just remember your safe word and use it if you need it. You ready for your punishment?”

She let out a soft gasp, “This isn’t it??”

“Nah… this is just for my own pleasure and yours. But I owe you ten spankings. But we gon’ try something different. Use your safe word if it’s too much.”

She could feel him moving around the bed before she felt the featherlike touch of soft leather straps against her skin. A shiver racked through her spine causing her to arch off the bed as every sensor in her body focused on the trail of arousal he created. It was so faint, like it was not even there. However, as the straps rolled over her aching breasts and her core, she wanted to plead for more. Begging, she wondered if that was what he wanted, to hear her plead for more. She was a brat but she was not prideful. The pleas were on the tip of her tongue, ready to fall off without much prompting. However, before she could start begging him to touch her, she let out a gasp of pain as she felt the straps whip against her thighs.

“What the fuck??” she cried out, unexpected pain radiating through her. She was not surprised that it still sent a shockwave of pleasure through her but fuck did it hurt significantly more than his hand did last time.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth. 10 more. Talk to me like that again and I’ll use it on a spot far more painful than your thigh.”

To emphasize his point, he resumed his teasing, running the straps right over her clit causing a moan to escape her. If that was how badly it hurt against her thigh, she shuddered to think how it would feel against her clit.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I-I just w-wasn’t expecting that. No more, p-please. I’ll be good.”

“That’s a good slut. I forgive you. But you still have 19 left. Count ‘em out for me.”

She took a deep breath as he brought the flogger down on her other thigh and counted. She forced herself to breath through it and relax, finding that tensing and anticipating each blow just made them hurt more. He switched where he hit her so she found it difficult to anticipate them either way. Her counting was barely audible in between her shrieks of pain as he rained each blow down on her breasts, thighs, and her stomach. He made sure to hit each one several times, the additional lashings stinging ten times as much than the first one. By the time she whispered 20, her voice was broken and her blindfold was soaked with tears.

Despite the stinging pain radiating from every portion of her body, she could not deny her pussy was throbbing for him. She could feel the mess she made on his comforter as her juices dripped onto the bed. And the aspect of it all that she could not truly understand was that, even at the height of the physical pain, she had not once even contemplated calling out her safe word or even asking for a break. She was drunk on the pain because every bit of it was really just pleasure in a different form. Part of her was almost crestfallen when she said 20. She did not think she could have handled much beyond that number but something in her wanted him to keep going, to push that physical limit as far as he could.

“You should see your body right now. All red and marked up. It was hardly a punishment,” he mused. “It just made you wet like the filthy whore you are. Next time, you’ll remember that daddy chose you, won’t you? That he doesn’t like it when people talk badly about his plaything.”

Plaything… every degrading name he called her felt like a heavenly chorus in her ears. She nodded quickly. “I’ll remember. I promise.”

“You want daddy to touch you?” he asked as he ran his fingers over her thighs. With every circle he drew, he came closer and closer to her flower.

“Yes, daddy. Please,” She willed him to stick something inside her. At this point, she would take anything.

The teasing was hard for him too but he enjoyed the way her limbs arched into his touch, trying to steal more stimulation than he was prepared to give, how her moans of pleasure turned to whines and whimpers, how he could feel the heat of her core against his hand without even touching her, how her entire body seemed to vibrate with need and anticipation. It all just increased his own pleasure and knew it would make her first orgasm of the night spectacular.

She let out a sob as she felt him hover right above her clit, so close she could almost feel his touch but it wasn’t enough. Her hips started to hump the air, as much as she could with her legs restrained but his hand held them down to the bed.

“P-please, p-please. It’s… I-I n-need you.” She had never heard such desperation in her voice. She never knew sex could feel like this. It was overwhelming how much she needed him. It was a sexual need but it felt as foundational as air or food or water, like she would die right then and there if he did not caress that bundle of nerves between her legs or slide his fingers between her lips again. She recalled that sweet moment when they first got home. That felt like hours ago now, like he had deprived her for hours without his touch when she knew, realistically, it had only been a maximum of 30 minutes.

“This what you want?” he whispered in her ear as his thumb drummed against her clit.

A high-pitched scream of pleasure filled his bedroom, Raven not even realizing it was her for a few seconds. He settled between her thighs as he slid two fingers inside her. She moaned and rocked her hips against his hand as his thumb continued to rub her clit.

“That’s it. Fuck my fingers like the cum slut you are. So desperate to cum all over my hand. You gonna cum for me, baby?”

She knew it would merely earn her another punishment but she was so enthralled in the building pleasure in her core that she could not answer him. He had stolen all her words and thoughts that weren’t pleas for more, pleas for him to ram his length inside her and send her to another dimension. She wanted him to destroy her, her back… her walls… her entire being until she was just a mess left behind.

“Y-Yes… s-so c-close. C-can I c-come, d-daddy?” She begged him as she felt the telltale signs of her approaching orgasm. She was dangling on a rope over a cliff, her grip loosening so she could free fall into that sweet abyss of pleasure. However, she remembered his rule from the first night. He could give orgasms and without proper permission, he would take it away. She wanted his praise and she wanted to fall. She just prayed he would give her both.

“Cum for daddy. That’s it, that’s a good whore. Such a perfect little slut for me.”

His voice guided her through as she let go and allowed herself to fall apart, and the free fall was well worth the wait he had put her through. If this was the result, she would endure whatever forms of torture he wanted her to to reach this promised land.

She muttered nearly incoherent words of thanks as he continued praising her and fucking her with his fingers. Her legs spasmed slightly as he forced her orgasm to drag out for a bit longer than she was used to. He only stopped when he felt her hips stop rocking and start shying away from his hand.

He gave her a few moments to calm down while he stripped off his own clothes. His dick stood at attention, a weapon ready to destroy the perfect pussy laid out for him. He undid the cuffs around her feet, her legs still wide open which let him know she was too out of it to notice.

“Check in for me, baby girl. Use your words, you need a break?”

She shook her head. It was the exact opposite actually. “F-fuck me. I need you.”

With pleasure, he thought to himself. He climbed between her legs and immediately sheathed himself inside her with no warning, causing a guttural moan to ring out in the air.

He ripped the blindfold off of her eyes as he positioned her legs over his shoulders and fucked her with abandon.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the soft lighting of his room before she made eye contact with him. She forced her eyes away from his, training them on the ceiling. She could not look into those deep brown eyes, afraid she would mistake the clear lust she saw there for other things, other emotions she knew in her soul he could not hold for her. She almost wished he would put the blindfold back on her. Not being able to touch him did help, though she longed to run her nails down his biceps and claw into his back as he fucked her, cradle his head into her neck as he sucked and bit the skin there and marked her as his. But so much of that was so intimate and she did not need intimacy, they did not need intimacy. This was fucking, plain and simple.

“Oh God!” she cried out at a particularly deep thrust.

“God can’t save you, baby girl. Only name you should be calling out is mine.” Each word was punctured by particularly forceful thrusts to emphasize his point. “F-fuck I missed your pussy,” he cried out as he pushed her knees up to her shoulders, causing her body convulse with another orgasm beneath him. She felt as if he was splitting her into two. She wanted him to destroy her and this was pure, unadulterated, blissful destruction.

“D-don’t stop,” she panted. “F-fuck me harder,” she begged as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. This time around, she saw stars yet again but only the good kind.

She groaned pitifully as he pulled out of her. He quickly undid the cuffs around her arms, allowing her only a quick moment to roll out her wrists and shoulders. He wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them over so she was on top.

“Get to work. You’re gonna ride me until I cum inside that pussy.”

She sighed as she sank back down on his dick, savoring every inch until she bottomed out on his lap. She remembered what he said at dinner about liking the spotlight on her and decided then and there that she would put on a show that had him showering her with praise. She started off with a slow grind, one hand braced on his chiseled chest while the other roamed her own body. She let her head fall back in ecstasy as she fondled her titties and got lost in pleasuring him and herself. Her body was exhausted but she was committed to her task and was desperate to feel him fill her.

He swatted her hand out of the way and leaned up, his teeth sinking into the swell of her breasts.

“Fuck!” she cried out. “Just like that.”

He moaned as he felt her pussy quiver around him, feeling her body’s response to everything he did. She got off on nipple play, he noted to himself as she continued grinding on him while he sucked and bit every inch of her perfect breasts that his lips could find.

He only paused to wrap his hand around her throat, he squeezed ever so slightly. Just enough for her to get her attention before he used the other hand to slap her ass.

“Playtime’s over. Fuck me like you mean it,” he growled in her ear.

“Yes, sir.” She decided to up the ante and slid off of him. She could hear the growl and command about to bubble up when she pressed a finger to his lip. “You trust me, don’t you? I’m your good girl and good girls follow orders.”

She flipped her hair behind her as she turned away from him with a wink and slid back down on him, her back to him so her ass was in his face.

Michael was in pure heaven as she bounced up and down on his dick, her ass shaking in his face. He almost resisted the urge to slap it but he did not have that level of self control.

“You like that?” he demanded as her screams of pleasure grew louder with every slap against her soft skin. He loved watching the skin grow redder and redder with his handprints. He knew bruises would likely form the next day but something told him she would like that as her moans got louder the harder he slapped her ass.

“Y-Yes I love it!”

Her thighs burned but she kept her mind focused on one singular goal: bringing him the same pleasure he offered her. She could tell he was close when he grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin and he used his brute strength to lift her up and down on his dick. She could have been a rag doll with the way he lifted her body with ease, furiously fucking her before slamming his hips into hers with a loud shout.They had forgone a condom so she felt the warmth of him fill her as her body collapsed forward.

She could barely move her limbs as she fell limply, her body hinging at the waist. Michael stayed inside her for a moment before he lifted her off of him. He positioned her on her stomach, Raven too exhausted to say or do anything other than continue to let him lead. He straddled her back before she felt his hands softly knead her stiff muscles.

“W-what are you… doing?” she moaned out, confused by the gentleness of his actions after how rough and dominating he was.

“Taking care of you. Just relax and close your eyes, Rae.”

Her heart melted as she heard those words. He was taking care of her, that was all he had done since they met: take care of her when he had no cause or reason to. How was it that the most transactional relationship in her life, the one that was strictly business and should not include any care, was the only one that did not leave her feeling utterly depleted and empty? The only one where someone put her needs first. Hell, even when the entire point was to center his own pleasure, hers was still center stage.

She did not expect how that would make her feel, like hot chocolate on a frigid day, like stepping into the warmth of a thousand suns after being stuck in the cold. It was everything and deep down, she still felt as if she did not deserve it. Tears sprang to her eyes and she hastily wiped them away and sniffled.

“You ok?” he asked quietly, his hands stilling.

She cleared her throat and nodded. “Yea, yea. You just hit a sore spot. I’m good,” she whispered. She knew she should have told him to stop or used her safe word, this was more dangerous and unsettled territory for her than anything he had done to her that evening. But she couldn’t, couldn’t find the words or desire to stop someone from filling her up while everything else only took away. Even as she drifted off to sleep, Michael’s expert hands working out the kinks and knots he created, she knew she could not rest in that feeling for long.

His kindness could not be mistaken as love or anything of the sort. It was still just business and everything he made her feel: all the pain, all the pleasure, all the butterflies, all the spotlights, and everything in between was fleeting. All of it would come to an end and she would fade back into obscurity.

Mere hours ago, she thought she would welcome that. But now? For the first time, she feared how painful the return to her lonely life, regardless of how fake this one was, would feel now that someone had taken the time to show her something different.

Tag List:

@readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4

***

A/N: The babes had their first official date! And had a swoon worthy after party at Mike's lol What do you think the public reaction to their romance will do? We also have some key folks (Raven's family, Tasha) reactions to their "relationship" lol so we'll see how that unfolds next week. Also, just as a note cause I changed it and didn't want it to be confusing, MBJ's birthday is in September not February like in real life. Should've clarified that in chapter 1 but didnt want folks to be confused lol

Drop a comment and let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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fallinashes · 1 year ago

Text

TFP CHARACTERS REACTING TO THE READER GETTING MAD BE CAUSE THE CHARACTER AI APP IS DOWN

This contains: Optimus, megatron, starscream, soundwave, knockout, smokescreen

Note: I tried writing wheeljack aswell but my brain was about to explode 💀 also I was gonna add mirage but I didn’t I’ll do him separately

Also sorry for barely any fics my mh has been shit but I do have other fics i made that I’ll upload either now or later 🖤

Optimus Prime observed the reader's frustration with a calm and understanding demeanor as they expressed their irritation over the app's maintenance. He knew how much the virtual interactions with characters meant to them, and he couldn't help but try to lighten the mood.

"Ah, it appears the app's systems require some repair. Fret not, my friend, for such occurrences are not uncommon in the realm of technology," Optimus reassured the reader with his deep voice.

The reader sighed, "I know, Optimus, but I just miss talking to everyone. It's like they're real friends to me."

Optimus placed a comforting servo on their shoulder. "I understand the feeling. We Autobots have our own unique bonds, whether it be virtual or physical. Just remember that no matter the form, friendship endures."

"I suppose you're right," the reader admitted, a faint smile gracing their lips.

Optimus chuckled warmly, "Indeed. And while the app is down, how about we engage in some human pastimes? Perhaps we could share tales or simply enjoy each other's company."

The reader's eyes lit up, appreciating the Autobot leader's kindness. "That sounds nice, Optimus."

As they spent time together, sharing stories and laughing, the reader realized that Optimus was not only a wise leader but also a compassionate friend. They felt grateful for his presence, even without the app, and knew that true connections could be made both virtually and in person.

When the app eventually came back online, the reader couldn't wait to greet their virtual friends again, including Optimus. And as they continued their adventures in the virtual world, they knew they could count on Optimus Prime's support, whether it be in the digital realm or the real world. For in the end, the bonds of friendship transcend any technological barrier, and true friends, even virtual ones, stand by each other no matter what.

Megatron, seated on his throne aboard the Nemesis, arched an optic ridge as the reader stormed into the bridge, clearly frustrated about the app's maintenance. He couldn't resist the opportunity to tease them, relishing in their moment of vulnerability.

"Ah, human, your precious app seems to have betrayed you," Megatron said with a sly smirk.

The reader scowled, "It's not just any app, Megatron. It's the one that allows me to interact with all my favorite Decepticons."

"Hmm, I suppose I can understand your frustration. The absence of my brilliant presence can be quite unbearable," Megatron replied, pretending to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

The reader rolled their eyes, "You and your ego! It's not just about you, you know."

Megatron chuckled darkly, enjoying the banter. "Of course, I am well aware of that. Though I must admit, knowing you can't bask in the glory of my leadership must be quite distressing."

The reader couldn't help but laugh, despite their irritation. "You know, Megatron, sometimes I wonder if you were programmed with a sense of humor."

"Ah, humor indeed. Only a foolish bot would fail to appreciate my wit," Megatron replied, his smirk growing wider.

As the app's maintenance continued, the reader and Megatron exchanged playful jabs, creating an amusing dynamic between the two. The Decepticon leader found it surprisingly enjoyable to engage in light-hearted banter with the human, finding a unique camaraderie in their shared love for the virtual world.

When the app finally came back online, the reader couldn't wait to greet their virtual Decepticon friends again, including Megatron. And as they continued their interactions through the app, they knew that even the mightiest of Decepticon leaders could have a humorous side, adding a touch of unexpected fun to their digital adventures.

Starscream was having a rare moment of peace, when suddenly, the reader stormed into his quarters with a furious expression. Confused and intrigued, he asked what was wrong. The reader huffed, "The character AI app is down for maintenance, and I can't talk to my favorite Decepticon!"

Starscream couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. "Oh, the mighty human is upset about a mere app malfunction? How amusing!" he teased, trying to suppress a grin. "I suppose you can't handle being without my genius for a short time?"

The reader shot back, "Hey, your 'genius' might be entertaining sometimes, but it's not like I need you constantly!"

Starscream's smirk widened, enjoying the playful banter. "Ah, but admit it, you'll miss my superior intellect and irresistible charm."

Rolling their eyes, the reader retorted, "I'll manage just fine without your ego, thank you very much."

Amused by the reader's spirit, Starscream couldn't resist continuing the teasing. "Of course, you will. But remember, when the app is back, I expect you to worship my intellect with the appropriate level of reverence!"

The reader laughed, "Sure, Starscream, I'll be sure to shower you with compliments and praises!"

Throughout the maintenance downtime, Starscream and the reader playfully exchanged witty remarks and jokes, creating a unique bond over their mutual love for Transformers. When the app finally came back online, the reader couldn't help but smile as they greeted their virtual Decepticon friend, knowing that Starscream's smugness would be back in full force.

And so, their unusual friendship continued, with Starscream secretly enjoying the attention and the reader being entertained by the ever-dramatic and overconfident Seeker. Even when the app went down for maintenance again, they knew their amusing interactions would resume once it was up and running, making the wait worth it.

Soundwave, the stoic and enigmatic Decepticon, observed the reader's frustration closely. He approached them silently and tilted his head, emitting a series of beeps and clicks to express his curiosity.

The reader sighed, "The character AI app is down for maintenance, and I can't talk to any of the Decepticons, including you, Soundwave."

Soundwave's visor flickered in acknowledgment, and he emitted a low hum, trying to convey understanding. He then projected a holographic screen, displaying a message that read, "App malfunction. Frustrating."

The reader chuckled, "You can say that again, Soundwave. I rely on the app to talk to everyone, and it's frustrating when it's down."

Soundwave's visor brightened with an idea. He typed on the holographic keyboard and projected another message, "Alternative communication. Soundwave's solution."

Curious, the reader asked, "You have an alternative?"

Soundwave nodded and gestured for the reader to follow him. He led them to a room filled with various communication devices. With a flourish, he activated an old-fashioned radio and began to transmit a series of beeps and tones.

"What's this?" the reader asked, trying to make sense of the signals.

"Soundwave's unique communication method," he replied through the radio's speakers.

The reader couldn't help but laugh at the unusual and quirky way Soundwave was trying to communicate. They attempted to mimic the beeps and tones, and soon, they were engaged in a playful conversation of their own.

While it was challenging to understand each other fully, the reader appreciated Soundwave's effort and found the whole experience surprisingly entertaining.

As they continued to experiment with Soundwave's alternative communication, the app's maintenance eventually came to an end. The reader greeted their virtual Decepticon friends with a smile, but they also knew that they had formed a unique bond with Soundwave, discovering that even without the app, meaningful connections could be made through unconventional means.

From that day on, the reader and Soundwave occasionally engaged in their quirky radio communication, adding a touch of amusing uniqueness to their interactions. And while the app remained an essential part of their virtual adventures, the memory of Soundwave's inventive solution always brought a smile to their face.

Knockout, the vain and self-absorbed Decepticon medic, was admiring his reflection in the shiny surfaces of the Nemesis when he noticed the reader stomping towards him with an annoyed expression. He turned to face them with a smirk, fully aware that something was bothering them.

"What's the matter, human? Did you finally realize how much you missed my irresistible charm and good looks?" Knockout said, running a servo through his perfectly sculpted plating.

The reader rolled their eyes. "Please, Knockout, don't flatter yourself. The character AI app is down, and I can't chat with any of the Decepticons, including you."

Knockout's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. "Ah, I see. You couldn't resist being deprived of my company, could you?"

The reader crossed their arms, trying not to smile. "You wish. It's not just you; I miss talking to everyone."

Knockout tilted his helm arrogantly. "Well, of course you do. But let's face it, my presence is the most dazzling of them all."

The reader couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Knockout, your ego knows no bounds!"

"Of course not! It's just a fact," he replied with a wink.

As the app's maintenance continued, Knockout decided to take matters into his own servos to remedy the situation. "How about this? Since you can't chat with us through the app, I can give you a private tour of the Nemesis. You can bask in the glory of my marvelous inventions and designs."

The reader raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A private tour with you? I suppose that might be entertaining."

Knockout beamed, thoroughly pleased with himself. "Of course it will be. Now, prepare to be dazzled!"

And so, Knockout led the reader through the Nemesis, showcasing his various creations and boasting about his exceptional skills. While the reader occasionally teased him about his vanity, they couldn't deny that Knockout's inventions were truly impressive.

By the time the app came back online, the reader had gained a newfound appreciation for Knockout's talents and realized that beneath his conceited exterior, there was genuine skill and pride in his work. They greeted their virtual Decepticon friends with a smile, knowing that even without the app, they had formed a unique bond with Knockout through their amusing and unforgettable tour of the Nemesis.

Smokescreen, the young and energetic Autobot, was zooming around the base in vehicle mode when he noticed the reader sitting alone, looking upset. He transformed back into robot mode and approached them with concern.

"Hey there, what's got you down in the dumps? You look as glum as a Decepticon stuck in traffic!" Smokescreen said with a friendly grin.

The reader let out a frustrated sigh. "The character AI app is down for maintenance, and I can't chat with any of the Autobots, including you, Smokescreen."

Smokescreen's optics widened in surprise. "Aw, bummer! I can't blame you for being upset. It's always a blast talking to me, isn't it?"

The reader chuckled, "Well, I must admit, you do bring some excitement and chaos to the conversations."

Smokescreen's grin grew wider. "That's the spirit! I'm here to brighten up even the gloomiest days!"

"But now I'm stuck with no one to talk to," the reader said, frowning.

"Don't worry, buddy! We don't need that app to have a good time. How about we create our own fun?" Smokescreen suggested, a mischievous glint in his optic.

The reader raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Create our own fun? What do you have in mind?"

Smokescreen transformed back into vehicle mode and gestured for the reader to hop in. "Come on, hop in! We'll take a spin around the base, go on a wild race, and have an adventure of our own!"

The reader couldn't resist the invitation and hopped in. "Alright, Smokescreen, let's see what you've got!"

And off they went, racing through the base, zigzagging between corridors, and occasionally dodging other Autobots who were startled by the sudden excitement. Smokescreen made sure to add a few stunts and tricks, leaving the reader exhilarated and forgetting all about the app's maintenance.

As they finally came to a stop, the reader couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, that was amazing! Thanks for cheering me up, Smokescreen."

Smokescreen grinned proudly. "No problem at all! See, who needs an app when you've got the real deal right here?"

The reader nodded, "You're right. The real-life adventures with the Autobots are always the best."

And so, the reader and Smokescreen continued to create their own fun and forge an unforgettable bond that went beyond virtual conversations. While the app's maintenance was frustrating, it led to a real-life adventure that the reader wouldn't trade for anything, especially with the lively and spirited Autobot, Smokescreen, by their side.

LMK IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES

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the-ace-with-spades · 1 year ago

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I've mentioned it before a few times but I do headcanon Ice as color-blind.

It's come to my attention (by @strangelove97, hope you don't mind me tagging you??) that flying planes while color-blind is not exactly possible and I was a bit curious how come since I assumed american eyesight regulations would be similar to the ones my own grandfather had to pass for his pilot licenses (military&civilian). I'm going on a limb here and have overthought everything, so whoever is reading this, bare with me and I'll explain why I find the idea of Ice being color-blind so entrancing.

pictures/examples used here might not be 100% accurate as there are different degrees of color blindness, within each type, I'm merely using photoshop to demonstrate the general idea

The most common color blindness is the red-green type which affects your perception of green and red wavelengths of visible light. I'll try not to go too deep into color theory here, but the majority of colors are not just one hue but rather have percentages of different hues mixed in, too, so it's never affecting only pure red and green, but also colors that are tinted with red and green, i.e. reddish brown, sea blue, etc.

There are mild forms of red color blindness - deuteranomaly (makes red look more green and less bright), protanomaly (affects only saturation of green and red); and slightly more severe protanopia and deuteranopia (which make it hard to tell green and red apart). Displayed below is deuteranopia (left - normal vision):

In aviation, most navigation in the dark is based on red and green, the standard for runway lights is red for runway approach, end lights, and for precision approach lights, green for runway threshold lights and taxiway centerlines, and different warmths of white light for the rest, with the exception of some yellow edge lines at the end of the runway.

In civilian aviation, even with red-green color blindness, you could have a pilot license limited to only flying during daylight. However, even if we look at basic carrier landings for USN, it's virtually impossible with red-green color blindness --- the optical landing system used especially on carriers (but also on some land bases) is dependent on red and green lights; and out of all the lights, including landing markings on the deck, only the carrier edge is lightened up by blue.

Ice's color blindness is not the red-green type.

I based my headcanon on the colorblindness that runs in my family, which is the yellow-blue type, that affects anything that has a tinge of yellow or blue wavelengths --- which makes it hard to tell the difference between blue and green, purple and red, and yellow and pink. It also can make colors look less bright as yellow is the color that usually is responsible for increased saturation (in simplified terms). This will not affect most of the lights and colors used in aviation in a major way -- you'll still be able to pass the eye tests, especially if you 'train' yourself a little bit.

Now, why do I like this headcanon for Ice so much?

My dad saw the sky and the grass as the same color, but different shades - green. In general, with blue-yellow blindness, your world gets greener and more pinkish, just because, as I said, yellow impacts the saturation of many things, including natural light. Blue is responsible for a similar thing. Think like color correcting - blue and yellow are opposite on the color wheel.

Now, the USN (and military in general, probably??) use very specific shades for uniforms, paints, machinery, etc. It's like this washed-out green with underlying, de-saturated, you know what I mean.

This is the color-picked shade of their uniforms in the original Top Gun, a darker shade, and a pic that has a clear view of Mav's eyes:

Now, various lighting will make the above shades different, either warmer or cooler, or more washed out or brighter - for example, said shade #435D52, is made of ~ 27% red, 38% green, 33% blue, coldness and warmth of shades is manipulated by the type of light wavelength you receive alongside the primary hue wavelength, blue and yellow. So to make those shades different depending on saturation/light, you would need to be able to see yellows and blue. Striped down of blue, colors rely on black for darkness and mix it with the raw, untinted green hue.

Ice can't see yellow or blue, so that leaves him with that raw untined green.

And Mav's eyes are just the right type of green - the raw, untined green.

On top of that human irises change color only after prolonged exposure to light (spots of brown melanin in the iris) and flick the light off, reflecting it rather than absorbing the wavelength with a different than primary hue, thus staying the same shade. So Mav's eyes aren't affected by black, shadows aside.

So, most of everything around Ice, basically, whether he is outside with the open sky, or in a training room, or confined to the carrier, or just surrounded by people in flight suits -- is in the shade of Mav's eyes.

Which makes Ice go bonkers at the beginning, obviously, because he is trying not to think about that tiny cocky asshole and can't stop seeing the shade of his eyes.

But as the years go on, and they stay together, and they keep on loving each other, it becomes a form of comfort, that the shade of Mav's eyes is everywhere.

#tom iceman kazansky #icemav #i don't think i made much sense but it's all been written while running on 3h of sleep #tg86 #top gun 1986

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rarityroo · 6 months ago

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ok this is me just like losing it and i need some type of comfort but.. mizu x reader who got banned from tiktok for NONREASON 😭

Content comfort

(Modern!Mizu x Gn! Reader)

I’m so sorry but when I first read this giggled a bit. Hopefully you like this, I made it into more of a funny cute fic because I didn’t quite understand the tone of what you wanted that’s probably my fault though. I clearly love writing for Mizu so please do request for her more she’s my actual GF, she’ll always have two pics instead of one whenever I write for her, anyway, Enjoy!🫶🏻

You stared at your phone in disbelief, you looked at the notification, again, and again. It seemed to not fully compute in your head.

As you sat on the couch staring at your phone completely lost, Mizu walked from the kitchen to where you were, the living room, Mizu looked at you with a concerned expression.

“Uh, my love?” Her voice breaks you out of your shock-induced trance. “…yeah?” You slowly said, not fully able to respond coherently. “Are you alright?” Mizu asks cautiously. You look up from your phone and turn your attention to her, “I-I don’t know?” You say disbelief very evident in your voice.

You had no way to explain this, not just the situation to Mizu but why you got banned in the first place. This definitely caught you off guard, Mizu moves closer to you, sitting next to you on the couch. “Tell me.” Mizu softly demands, she’s not one to dance around serious matters especially when they came to you. You look back down at your phone still shocked.

She puts her hand under your chin, making you look up at her when your eyes meet her beautiful blue ones, you take a deep breath, and you finally explain what happened. "So, remember that silly video I posted yesterday with our cat, Vinnie? Well, apparently TikTok didn't appreciate Vinnies moves as much as we did," you confess, trying to lighten the mood with a small chuckle. "They banned me for no reason!” You exclaimed exasperated.

Mizu's eyes widen in surprise, her expression softening into a mischievous grin. "You know…TikTok's loss is our gain," she quips, trying to humor you. "Now we have more time for our own little dance parties with Vinnie without worrying about those silly algorithms." She chuckles softly, nudging you playfully. "Who needs TikTok anyway when we've got our own private entertainment right here?" She gestures to Vinnie rolling on the floor in a crazed manner.

You can't help but smile at her attempt to inject humor into the situation, grateful for her humorous approach. "Yeah, you're right," you say, with a small laugh. "Maybe this is a sign that we should start our own rival app, 'MizuTok' or something." Mizu says in a serious tone, you stop and look at her, you stare a each other for a long moment, then burst out laughing at the idea, imagining the ridiculous videos that would fill that virtual space.

With a small grin on your face and Mizu’s supportive humor, you couldn’t help but feel a bit better.

#mizu bes #bes mizu x reader #bes x reader #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months ago

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Light on the Darkside - An Original Story.

Well, guys, here it is! I've been planning this premise for a while, but very recently the pieces of it all fell together, the main characters virtually materialised by themselves, and here we have it. I won't lie, it will be quite dark for the first couple of chapters, and if you are easily triggered by depression, suicide or anorexia, I'd give it a miss, but I have injected a lot of love and heart into it, and some comic moments as well. It does start to lighten considerably by the third chapter.

I had to AI my main characters in their appearance, unfortunately, since I can't really find anyone in reality to face claim them to.

So, here we go. Please remember to be kind and give me a reblog on this, as original fiction is so very overlooked on this site, any help promoting it would be greatly appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts, too!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 4,137

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

The fateful swing of a pendulum; some say it is as precarious as this, the thing that bridges the gap between life and death. Swing too far and the darkness engulfs you forever, eternal sleep settling over a body, whether willingly or not. Not enough, and it swings you back into the light, again, whether willingly or not.

For James Kingston, on the 21st of March, 1997, it wasn’t willingly.

The wings of death had opened to him, shrouded him in the alluring caress of her inky, feathered shadows, enveloped and lifted his consciousness away from it all. His body should have followed.

It hadn’t.

“James Nathaniel Kingston, twenty-three years old, found almost asphyxiated on the bathroom floor by the 999 caller twenty minutes ago. Both forearms slashed and approximately thirty co-codamol and twenty ibuprofen tablets imbibed with half a bottle of tequila.”

Light. Dark. Noise. So much noise. Pressure lifted from his arms, applied once again when the wounds began to gush. More shouting. A light shined into his eyeballs in turn. A tube down his throat.

“Just let me fucking go.”

It had been quiet, where he’d temporarily found himself. Quiet and devoid of everything, exactly what he wished for, a slither of peace finally filling the void of emptiness that had opened within him to such an extent, nothing could fill it comfortably. And god, how he’d attempted to.

In the end, the burden of existence had weighed upon him with an immovable, unfathomable pressure, his resolve breaking, toppling, his foundations crumbling like an ancient tower under the brutal duress of a wrecking ball. Slipping into it, he’d taken the large knife, just about coherent enough to open both arms and watch the river of red flow, witness his life draining out in a gush of crimson that glittered sticky over his dark clothes.

Vomit, a surge of it exiting his mouth into a receptacle held by a man in hospital clothing, telling him not to fight it. Charcoal. God, that was foul. He’d been so close, happily floating his way into the eternal embrace of death. How dare they interfere with it.

“James, come on. Lie back, buddy. Let the tube go.”

Heaving again, he yanked it from his throat, his fist connecting with the doctor’s face, vomit and blood splashing all over. Hands pushed against him, held him down.

“I need all available staff in here to hold him still!”

Oh, no. “Get the fuck off me!” His booted foot lashed out, connected with someone, something, a yelp sounding, his bloodied forearm hitting a nurse in her throat. “Get off me or I’ll fucking break your neck!”

Multiple hands fought against his thrashing, the tube plunged back into his throat. More charcoal. More vomit. “Okay, his stomach is clear. Sedate him so we can actually stitch his arms up.”

It took six members of the A&E staff to hold him still, until the effects of the drugs injected into his system sent him back into a world of pure, beautiful black, his body stilling. He was finally under control, his blood type attained, three units of AB negative lined into his arm, the nurse who he’d kicked in the chest beginning to stitch him up.

She showed him all the care he likely wouldn’t have thanked her for, remarking to herself that what she was witnessing was no simple cry for help. This young man, he’d wanted death, sought it avidly, the cuts she stitched so deep, she was surprised he’d survived going on those alone. Twenty-three and he was so weary with whatever he carried mentally, he’d only seen this, something so horrific, as a viable exit plan.

In the waiting room, two of his friends were seated, the young men revealing a little background on him when she’d gone out to give them the relieving news that he’d survived. They were members of the same band, a band who by all accounts was just beginning to take off, James the lead guitarist of the outfit named Nocturnal Descent.

She’d tentatively asked if they had any clue why he’d done it. The taller of the two, with full sleeves of tattoos and two bleached streaks in the front of his long, dark hair had shaken his head. “He’s a bit moody sometimes, bad tempered an’ all. Unless he’s been drinking then he’s larger than life, but nah. Nothing that’s made me think he’s about to do himself in. He cuts himself sometimes, likes the pain, he’s into the whole blood letting thing and whatever, but nah. No idea.”

Witnessing the older scars that flecked his arms, she could believe that.

“He’s been quiet for a bit,” the other man had confirmed, while he’d sat picking at one of his long, ginger dreadlocks. “Wasn’t nothing that made us wonder if he was alright or not. Just gets like that sometimes. Especially when he’s tired. Jim likes his sleep.”

How close he’d come to finding that eternally, the nurse thought, finishing up her stitching. She then cut him out of his vomit stained, blood drenched clothes, giving him a little wash down so at least he was fresh and comfortable when he did finally come around.

“God, fella,” she marvelled, “I’d bloody kill for your hair.” Poker straight, jet black and only a few inches from reaching his waist. He likely did little to keep it so beautiful, too, such was the injustice there when men possessed lovely hair, or amazing legs, and it not be anything they particularly put an effort into.

“Well, that’s you all sorted. I certainly hope you’re more pleasant than you were before when you wake up again.” With that, she left him there in the room he’d been moved to in the side ward, likely to remain until he was assessed by doctors. Bodily, he’d need some time to heal and recover from the physical trauma of attempting suicide, but it’d be what was going on up in his head that would be subject to the deeper assessment.

It was an hour before he finally began to come around a little, able to hear voices outside of the room he was in. He groaned faintly, his thoughts all plummeting down into the very depths of the dark once more.

“Fuck. Still alive. Steve’s a prick.”

Steve, he guessed, had likely been the one who’d found him and called an ambulance. It wouldn’t have been Snedders, who’d already been too stoned to move more than three feet when James had decided to lock himself in the bathroom and end it all.

No, once Liam ‘Snedders’ Snedderley hit the weed, his speed decreased to that of a tranquilised sloth. Amazing really, for a man who could drum with such velocity, a whirlwind of ginger dreadlocks swirling as he did. This? It was definitely Steve. His best mate, who at that particular moment he loathed.

“Just wanted to die, but no. Selfish bastard couldn’t even let me have that. Top grade twat.”

Whether there’d be a time to come where he’d lighten such hostility, he didn’t know, attempting to lift his arm and scratch his nose but finding he couldn’t. Opening his eyes, the lights of the room obnoxiously bright, he grumbled, looking down to see his bandaged arms both fastened into wrist restraints.

“Usually got a bird on my cock when I’m bound up.” His thoughts were accompanied by a little smirk that quickly faded, tuning his ears to the voices coming from outside of his room. “Ahh, fuck. The duchess is here.” He’d recognise the shrill tones of his mother even through a lead lined box.

And she was on form, as usual.

“It's this whole scene he’s gotten himself into, that’s what’s brought it on! He started listening to this black metal nonsense when he was fourteen, had started a band by sixteen and now his entire life revolves around the darkness of it!”

The doctor she was talking at rather than to cleared his throat, wanting to at least attempt a little diplomacy in how he handled the balance of fact, and remaining tactful with a woman whose son had just made a serious attempt on his own life. “Mrs. Kingston, it’s a little more complex than that when we are dealing with clinical depression, of which I am inclined to suspect your son is suffering from severely, should we take his actions into consideration.”

Her ranting to the contrary continued. Truly, nobody knew it all like Carole Kingston, James lying there wishing he’d stabbed himself in the ears so he didn’t have to listen to her. His music was his solace, something he could pour the darkness within himself into, make the noise in his head and the bleakness in the epicentre of him a little more bearable to deal with. She’d never hear that reasoning, though. Never hear him.

“Carole,” he heard his father speak tersely, not even needing to witness him to know that he was likely pinching the bridge of his nose after removing his glasses. It was an Alan Kingston go to when aggravated. “You know he’s gotten a lot better since he started the band. The doctor is right, though. I think it’s been going on longer than we wanted to admit.”

Thank fuck his dad wasn’t working nights and he wouldn’t have to deal with his mother alone, with his head torn to pieces. That strong Liverpudlian lilt that most found either comedic or grating never failed to soothe him.

“For how long, would you say, Mr. Kingston?”

“Ahh, probably since he was about eleven or twelve, you know. We just thought it was teenage hormones, moodiness. They didn’t talk about it when we were kids, all this depression stuff, so we didn’t really know it was that we were dealing with. Well, I think I always had an inclining, but I just shoved it down, you know. He needs us to acknowledge it now, so we can get him well. Whatever that looks like going forward.”

“I want him back home with us,” she spoke hotly, “where I can keep a flippin’ eye on him!”

“Should’ve definitely gone for a fucking noose.” James thought darkly, actually snorting a small burst of laughter through his groggy state.

“Carole, he’s twenty-three,” Alan began in reasoning, “he’s a grown adult. You can’t babysit him every last second of the day.”

He smiled at that. At least his dad always fought his corner.

“I’m afraid that likely won’t be an option for him currently. He needs to be further assessed once his sedation wears off, but I personally will be recommending that James is sectioned under the mental health act.”

“Sectioned?” Carole spluttered, her mouth dropping wide. “You want to throw my son in some asylum? And what the bloody hell has he been sedated for?”

“Woo, I get to go to the funny farm,” he thought, his thoughts raining sarcasm. “Better than wrath of the mother, though.” Sarcasm was the drug-addled response, his temper placated enough not to begin vying for escape at the thought of being committed against his will.

Out in the corridor, his father feared for whoever was charged in actually moving him to the psychiatric facility he knew James would likely end up in, though. He might have been slight, but he was all lithe muscles and long limbs at six feet three. And god, he’d seen his son fight before when finally growing a backbone against his school bullies.

Sedated might be the best way to keep him, as much as it pained him, knowing his precious boy only had confinement and a course of medication that would probably zombify him in his immediate future.

“Mrs. Kingston, James was in quite a state while having his stomach pumped. He became extremely violent with a number of staff members attempting to treat him, so sedation was the only logical course.”

Sedation and restraint, his wrists burning beneath the padded leather cuffs that tethered him to the bed. Well, he had kicked one nurse in the chest and threatened a second with breaking her neck, he could just about remember. He felt bad about that. While he might have been a brawler when presented with anything that threatened him, James had never, ever been the type to hurt a woman.

Quite the opposite, he liked to think.

Women and his treatment of them were the last of his worries at that moment, though, listening for a little longer to what the doctor had to say before succumbing to the need to doze. He felt tired down to his bones. When he did come around again, he saw his dad he sat sitting at his bedside, Alan smiling wearily at him. In all of this, he was the last person he’d wanted to hurt. Truly though, he’d thought of little else as his life had faded upon the bathroom floor. Only his elation to leave it behind.

“It’s quiet. Where’s the duchess?”

At least his sense of humour was intact. “Gone to get herself a cuppa,” he confirmed, shuffling his chair closer as he reached to rest a hand on his arm. “Scared the bloody life out of me, you did. How you feeling now, kidda?”

“Sick, but not like I want to throw up or anything.”

Alan nodded, his forehead creasing with a deep line of concern. “Not surprising, with the number of tablets they had to pump out of your stomach.” His eyes saddened, thumb pressing against his inner elbow. “Why’d you do it, lad? You know you can always come and talk to your old man here, if you’re not feeling right, eh? Always said that, haven’t I?”

His mouth twitched, James trying to find a way to word it that wouldn’t hurt his dad more than he already was. Truly, there was little adequate recourse to the truth of the matter. “Just don’t wanna be alive no more, dad. It’s fucking meaningless, innit?”

“Here now,” he soothed, his hand reaching to grip his shoulder. “Don’t you say that, me lad. Got the bloody world at your feet, eh? The band’s starting to take off, you’re out there doing what you want to do. It’s got all the meaning in the world, mate.”

He sighed through his nose, his eyes falling down to momentarily gaze upon where he was restrained. “Nah. Don’t feel like that. Just feel fucking empty, dad.”

“Well, that’s apparent. The doctor thinks he knows why, and I happen to agree with him. Getting it through to your mother, though, different story. As you might guess.” He paused for a second, drawing himself up a little taller in his seat. “They think you’ve got clinical depression, kidda. If I’m honest, I reckon you’ve had it a while, you know. I blame myself, for seeing it and not doing anything, watching you become withdrawn and all that.”

James shrugged. “Ain’t your fault. Just the way I am, innit?”

“It doesn’t have to be, mate,” Alan stated, James seeing it there in his face, the fear, the anguish he’d caused. And he was still here putting him through it. Yeah. Fuck Steve for calling that ambulance. Fuck himself, too, for being like this in the first place and putting people through all of the worry. “They can treat it with pills, try and mend whatever it is in your head that’s broken. It doesn’t have to be like this, eh?”

“Wouldn’t be like this at all if people just let me die, like I want to.” He didn’t say that aloud, though, staying silent for a few moments, his eyes flitting over to the other side of the room.

“You want me to leave you alone for a bit, son?”

“Nah,” he sighed, turning back to his dad. “Can you undo these straps, though?”

“Can’t, mate,” he lamented, “you pose what they’re calling a significant violence risk. Apparently, you went full Vinnie fucking Jones on the team who were trying to save your life. Little shite.”

You little shite; it had been his dad’s go to since he was about three whenever he played up. His mouth twitched, something resembling a small smile curling the corner of his full lips. “Ain’t that little no more though.”

“Yeah, the nurse with a boot shaped bruise coming up between her knockers knows all about that!”

He puffed his cheeks, eyes widening a little. “Doubt I’m popular.”

“I’m sure she’s had worse than that in her time, kidda.”

“Yeah, but kicking her in the tits?” James exclaimed, snorting a little laugh. “That ain’t my style, dad. Not unless they like it a bit rough.”

The little snap of teeth his son followed that statement with had Alan wheezing with quiet laughter. “Bad lad. I’ll never bloody forget you coming down the stairs with that girl Helena, and the poor lass is doing her best to cover the bloody bite marks all over her chest with her hair. And then your mother sees ‘em and gives you the death glare. ‘So, you’ve been up there shagging all afternoon, have you?’ she shouts, and I’m sitting there trying not to laugh at the smug look on your face.”

God, Helena. That had been a while ago, the girl he’d been with for just over a year at sixteen. “Said she looked like someone had flung her in a piranha tank.”

Alan’s wheezing amped up considerably at that, a small slither of relief settling in him to see his boy smiling a little. It was a momentary reprieve in a harrowing situation. God, if Steve hadn’t been there. Alan had hugged him tightly upon arriving in the waiting room, thanking him over and over for kicking the bathroom door down and acting quickly, clearing the vomit from his mouth, wrapping his arms in towels and calling an ambulance. He’d saved him. He’d always been a good lad, Steve.

“Look at you now, though. Grinning like an idiot, being that smug little shite I love with all my bloody heart, mate. Can’t be that bad all the time, can it?”

James didn’t blame his dad for seeking out a silver lining at all, although the truth wasn’t so simple. “Doesn’t matter, dad. I can be onstage with the band, out drinking, biting on tits while I’m shagging some girl ragged, laughing my arse off and all that, but underneath I’m still the same. Still got all this shit I can’t get rid of.”

“I just don’t understand it,” he huffed, scratching his thick beard. No. And that was the problem. Nobody did. “We’re going to get you some help though. You just need to sit tight with it. You aren’t going to like this one bit, lad, but there’s talk of having you sectioned. I think the doctor wants to have you further assessed and they’ll go from there, but personally I think it’s the best place for you right now.”

“Do I have any say in that?”

His mouth straightened into a thin line, shaking his head. “No, son. Chasing thirty co-codamol and twenty ibuprofen tablets with half a bottle of San Jose and then opening up both your bloody arms takes that away from you. You need help, James. Help I don’t think you’d actively go and seek on your own.”

The hidden undertones were clear, rippling in worry just below his father’s strong surface. If he was allowed to leave the hospital of his own volition, he’d simply go and finish himself off and actually accomplish it. It was true, too. James had already earmarked the motorway bridge over the M6, should he find his way out of the looming threat of being sectioned. He doubted he’d survive a truck smacking into him at seventy miles an hour.

The door opened, revealing his mother, a steaming paper cup in her grasp. As soon as her eyes found his, she did what he least expected. She sobbed. He was expecting rage, a tirade, a full-blown stream of haranguing. For that moment, at least, it didn’t materialise, Carole striding around to the other side of the bed and placing her tea down, her throat pinched as she cried, reaching for him and stroking his hair as she kissed his forehead repeatedly.

“You, and it, and you could have...” Only squeaks followed, Carole hugging his head as she broke down. “You nearly died, James! You nearly flippin’ well died, you silly bloody thing! Why did you do it, love? What happened?”

He winced, feeling slightly smothered, the scent of her very strong perfume a little too much for his senses as she continued to hug him. “Like I just said to dad, it’s how I feel all the time. Just hollow, innit. Don’t wanna be here.”

Straightening, her hands went to her hips, cocking her head. “That’s bloody absurd!”

Oh, here she was.

“Carole,” her husband warned, “go easy. He doesn’t need chewing out right now.”

“I beg very much to differ!” Turning back to her eldest, she stared at him with wide eyes, James desiring nothing more than wishing he could unfasten himself and put some distance between them. “James, you need to snap out of this. Acting glum is one thing, but trying to kill yourself, without a second thought for your family?”

“Carole,” Alan spoke again, looking exasperated.

“It’s all this bloody black metal, isn’t it? Corpse paint and death! Bleakness and sorrow, you’re bringing it on yourself!”

Alan was just about to speak, his son getting in first. “Mum, I love you to bits, I do. That isn’t anything to do with it. Stop looking for things to blame it on. I’m not happy and I could listen to all that pop music shit like Sam does and it wouldn’t make a fucking difference, I-”

“Language!” she cut in with.

“Oh, piss off!”

“Don’t you bloody talk to me like that, my boy!” she raged through her tears, Alan standing up and moving quickly to her side of the bed.

“Come on, this isn’t happening now. He ain’t in the state to hear you being irrational. Go wait outside for me. Drink your tea and have a ciggie, calm down a bit, eh.” Picking up the paper cup, he steered his wife in the direction of the door, shushing her when she made further attempts at protest. “I know you’re upset, petal, but this isn’t about you. Go on, now.”

Shutting the door, he turned back to the bed, taking a very deep breath. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, dad,” he confirmed, the unpleasant feeling in his stomach that his mother’s tirade had left beginning to sink again. It wasn’t her fault really; she was just very highly strung. She only did it because she loved her children deeply, but he and his younger sister Sam did often feel either stifled or prickled by Carole’s particular brand of parenting. “Can you do something else for me?”

“Of course I can, lad.”

He beckoned with a little jerk of his head. “Can you scratch my nose, just above the piercing? It’s driving me more mental than I already am.”

Alan beamed, wheezing a soft laugh. “Must be, kidda.” Reaching, he scratched at his nose, patting his cheek gently once done before he sat down again. “I remember when you did that. Ice, a whacking great bit darning needle, and blood all over the sink. Daft sod, eh.”

A doctor came in to check on him not long afterwards, telling him that for the immediate moment, he was being restrained under the mental health act on a temporary hold, subject to further assessment come the morning. He wouldn’t be allowed out of his restraints, or transferred to a ward. He would stay where he was until a bed was found at a psychiatric facility, the doctor assuring him they’d attempt to find somewhere within the Warwickshire area.

His dad only stayed a further ten minutes after that, James feeling woozy again after being administered a sleeping pill, the doctor feeling it best for him to stay medicated in order to rest after his ordeal.

“I’ll come by tomorrow on me dinner break to see you. Love you all the world, lad.”

Not being particularly affectionate, he didn’t expect to hear the same back, but the smile his son gave confirmed it. Poor kid, he truly couldn’t comprehend just how bent out of shape he was at that moment, but he could at least take some comfort in the fact that the problem he’d tried to pretend didn’t exist for so long was finally being treated.

As for James, all he could do as he fell into a synthetically delivered sleep was despair that he was still there to be treated at all.

#original fiction #original stories #romance fiction #romance stories #smutty fic #tw: suidice #tw: depression #tw: anorexia

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rippersz · 2 years ago

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𝒯𝑜 𝒫𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃:

(A Larissa Weems x fem!reader fanfic) (Part 6)

(Part 5) (Part 4) (Part 3) (Part 2) (Part 1)

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“... you weren’t waiting on me, were you?”

Oh how you missed that voice. It had started fading from your memory over the days, slowly becoming another thing of the past. You tried to hold onto it, really you did, but the longer it lingered the longer you began to doubt yourself. Perhaps it was just another thing potentially misremembered… or worse- made up. Hallucinated just like the rest of the stranger; created by your own mind to keep you company at night when you imagined that voice whispering to you. All dulcet tones and refined annunciation and a lingering deep bass and a hidden world of so many things to say. Things that would never be said because, then again, perhaps it had been, in the end, all a dream…

Though on that bench, on that early Saturday morning, with the drowsiness of others acting as a shield and the hustle of the city becoming a shroud, it became clear that perhaps you hadn’t been dreaming at all.

That perhaps- maybe, by some miracle- the stranger was real….

…and that perhaps- maybe, by some miracle- she was standing to your right with her purse held at her side.

The speed it took you to turn so quickly nearly had you cracking your own neck, but the dull ache followed the rest of the world and gently faded away the exact moment you saw her again.

Oh… oh…

…and what a moment it was…

…Like the first sip of water swallowed after days in the desert. Like fresh air after staying inside for too long. Like the rays of the sun’s warmth on your freezing skin. Like seeing the first kind face following years of complete solitude. Like finally greeting the beach again and running into the ocean’s waves. Like seeing a snack in some random convenience store that you used to eat when you were younger - remembering it with nostalgic delight. Like purchasing that snack and feeling your entire day lighten up because you were excited to try it as soon as you got home. Like experiencing those random moments of gratefulness; with the sudden brilliant urge of living spilling into your bones - making you happy, even for just a second, that you had lived past your teenage years.

That’s what seeing her again felt like. That’s what a close-up look at her- with those beige heels and that beautiful white wrap dress and that beige overcoat and those black leather gloves- felt like. A sweet reunion, an old ‘hello’, a silent ‘thank god’ and a swift breath of relief because she had come back and she was okay. She looked healthy and happy and okay. And her eyes… once you finally managed to pull your gaze from her figure to her face- her eyes- those eyes…

Staring down at you, swimming with amusement, glowing with interest. Looking expectantly, though you didn’t know for what. What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do; when she looked like that? When somehow, up close, she seemed far more dream-like than before? When the snow of her hair suddenly became a halo and the red of her lips became a metaphor for tearing your heart out through your chest and eating it in front of you? Because that’s what she was doing; standing there, holding the world together with a small smile on her porcelain face and your heart held in her jaw. Looking at you as if you were somehow capable of finally talking to the woman you had been infatuated with for weeks; the same one that had disappeared off the face of the Earth and left you desolate and lost. As if you wouldn’t possibly die on the spot when trying to talk to her for the first time ever.

Though… though maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe, there was a chance you wouldn’t actually combust upon opening your mouth and saying hello. For when you found yourself still breathing, sitting there and staring up at her like an idiot, you also FINALLY found your common sense.

“Um- s-sorry, what did you say?” She had spoken, yes, but virtually none of her well-pronounced words registered within your little shell-shocked mind.

Thank goodness the stranger didn’t seem to care much as the corners of her lips quirked up into a larger pleased smile.

“May I sit next to you?”

That wasn’t what she had said originally, you knew, but still you responded immediately with a nod. Of course she could sit next to you! She could sit next to you every day. Every day until the day you suddenly proposed and you two got married and then grew old together and visited that bench all the time and then died together happily side by side like fated souls. She could sit next to you until time itself stopped and until red became blue and 5 became 4 and left became right and up became down and until the world decided to end.

As it were, she had already crossed over to your left. And as it were, your time was slipping. The stranger was there- the opportunity had presented itself- and to pass it up, to let her go again, would be the worst decision of your life. And a glimpse into your future, brief and fleeting and full of dull days and filled notebooks and wanting eyes- desperate for a chance to see white hair and red lips- forced you back into action.

“Of course,” you replied hastily, instantly shuffling over until you nearly fell off the bench.

She sat with grace, arranging her legs politely and crossing them at the ankle as her purse fit into her lap like a puzzle piece. It felt quite strange, suddenly seeing the object of your affections sitting beside you; as though you had somehow teleported to the other side of the platform and it was just another regular weekday and you had ended up at her side by chance. Thank goodness that wasn’t the case, for she approached you first. And she asked to sit down first. And your little heart was pounding desperately at your rib cage, eager to tear itself from your chest and end up in her gloved hands.

“Do you come here everyday?” You turned to your left, seeing her eyes fixated on you. Curiosity bloomed within them - and a wave of embarrassment filled your blood.

“Um yes. Yeah, I do. It’s like a- a hobby kind of. Um- people watching,” you gestured lamely to the crowd, using that chance to break eye-contact. Keeping it, you found, was very difficult. As if, in the span of a millisecond, she could see right through your soul and peer into the chambers of your heart, only to find a room there filled with little snapshots of her. Like polaroids thumb-tacked to a bedroom wall.

“I see…,” the little smile that curled at those red lips then was so inviting and so warm and so welcoming that you wanted nothing more than to lean over and hold her face and kiss her breathless.

Of course, despite that want, you forced yourself to stay still. And with that, a comfortable silence fell. The peacefulness was not lost on you. Even as the busy city went about its way, never stopping for anyone’s odd reunion with the stranger they missed; with all of its lights and sounds and people… even then, somehow, it was peaceful. Or maybe it was just the stranger’s presence at your side. Maybe it was just the way her eyes did as yours used to do before she came along and perused the early morning crowd with interest. Or maybe it was her posture, straight and strong but entirely natural; as though she weren’t forcing it in order to come across as intimidating but that it was merely engraved in who she was. Like a proper lady with proper standards. Like someone who grew up with eyes on them all the time. You briefly wondered if that was indeed the case. She seemed so… prim and proper, for lack of a better vocabulary. Very clean and very strict with herself, if not with others.

“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s a bit rude to stare?” Her tone was light and cut through your little cloud of curiosity like a hot knife through butter.

You blinked, suddenly wrenching your eyes away from her figure and sticking them somewhere else. Embarrassment gripped your heart. “I- well I guess not…” and because you had no self control whatsoever, you chanced a glance at her again. Her eyes weren’t even on you. She just felt the heat of your gaze all by itself. “But, I think you’d know the answer to that by now.” And it was true. You stared at her so often that it was really quite alarming.

But a sound that spoke all of her truths met your ears and instantly set you at ease. The softest huff of laughter, as if to say ‘touche’, was breathed into the morning air. You felt elated.

“I suppose you’re right,” the stranger adjusted herself slightly, “though for a bit there I thought you might have been blind.” She was referring to the beginning days, you were sure. When you used to sit across from her and stare until your eyes grew watery, thinking that she wouldn’t notice simply because she didn’t look back at you. Of course you were wrong then.

“Oh… right,” you winced internally, quite ashamed by your behavior. “Listen, hey, I’m really sorry for that-” you started, hissing a breath through your teeth, before swiftly being stopped by a gloved hand elegantly raising itself into the air.

“There is no need to apologize,” the stranger said gently before turning to you, sapphire eyes starting a blaze in your bones, “once I got over the initial worry, I saw that you were just a… curious soul.” She hesitated slightly at the end, and you watched (a little bit enchanted) as her eyebrows creased for just a moment. There was wonder to her but you noticed the politeness - she didn’t think you were a stalker but it was hard to describe you as anything else. Curious soul was the best thing you’d been called in a while.

“No you’re right. You’re absolutely right, I have- um- a habit of doing that.” You assured her, clearing your throat and discreetly wiping the sweat from your palms onto your pants.

She regarded you with an interesting look then. Scanning you from head to toe and back again; deciphering the world in you that never got the chance to introduce itself to anyone else; finding secrets in the way your blouse shifted beneath the fabric of your thin cardigan; noting the way the cold made you shiver. Before she came along, you were minutes away from standing up and going home as the chill (at the time) had been biting at your skin. Of course, now that she was there… well home could be left without you for at least a little while longer.

“Of doing what?”

You looked at her, finding your eyes tracing a path from the shape of her neck all the way up to her hairline as you felt your eyebrows furrow. What did she mean?

“What?”

The stranger tilted her head and you felt butterflies land on the curved rungs of your ribcage.

“You said you had a habit of doing ‘that’,” she pointed out, “I’m merely curious as to what you mean.”

Ah. Right. That. It took you a moment to search your brain for an answer - but everything you came across just sounded odd. You had a habit of doing many things. Falling in love with strangers in the train station, for example. Or going to work without breakfast, or falling back into a bad sleep schedule. Or filling your waking hours with the kind of daydreaming that saw you burning time and only blinking back into reality when more than half the day was gone. That last one in particular was the worst - though you’d never tell her that.

“Oh yeah. I meant um…” Honestly? You weren’t entirely sure what you meant, but the only thing that came to mind was, of course, the only thing that slipped off of your tongue unbidden. “Admiring.” Oh you could have just slapped yourself.

“Admiring?”

“...Mhm.”

In your peripheral vision, you saw the stranger roll the concept around in her mind. She seemed a little surprised by your admission, but not upset. That was a good sign, no? The fact that she hadn’t made a disgusted expression or got up and walked away entirely was proof that things were going better than you had hoped. That could have been the pessimism talking - or the nerves that made your heart beat float in and out of your ears. Either way, she was still there. Next to you. And after a second, a little smile painted her full lips once more.

“So you admire everyone you come across?” She teased, leaning toward you for a moment as if gossiping with a familiar friend. You really couldn’t help but smile at that.

“No!” You rolled your eyes playfully, overcome with a happiness that sparked from her demeanor. She was glad to be beside you, and if not glad, then at least happy. It was refreshing. It was a dream come true. “You were just… just… I don’t know,” with a shrug, you looked at her - silently begging the stranger to cut you some slack.

She did no such thing, and instead, slowly raised a blonde eyebrow. She was curious. And who were you to withhold the truth from her?

“I- um….,” you took a deep breath before shifting in your spot to face the stranger head-on. Her eyes, oh so blue and oh so sublime, ran over your features like a silk cloth being pulled softly along skin. In the moment, it felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Because there she was, in all of her anonymity and universe-breaking beauty, and there you were… staring at her. Constantly. As if she hung the moon and stars. As if she created the heavens. As if she placed the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies in each other’s paths and was planning on watching them collide with never-ending excitement. Hell, for all you knew, she very well could have done all of that. Anything was possible, you figured, after being introduced to the concept of Nevermore Academy. It was a school somewhere in the states, but one you’d most likely never get the pleasure of visiting- considering you weren’t ‘one of them’. That is, to say, an outsider. An outcast. That word in particular struck a negative cord within you, but if they were reclaiming such a name, then all power to them. It was a little strange to think that those with abilities were around you each day - at work, on the street, even in the station. The same station you sat in, with the same angel at your side. Looking at her, you wondered briefly if she was an outcast- one that went to Nevermore in her youth and learned how to spread her wings in the world, but swiftly pushed the thought from your head. There was something about her, yes, but some people were known to be magnetic. You sensed that she was one of them. And, really, honestly, that’s exactly what you wanted to say.

You just wanted to open your mouth and continue your sentence and let it all spill out and say “I- um…. no. No, I don’t just admire anyone I meet. But I admire people like you - who can sit in some random train station all by themselves and draw the eyes of literally every single person who walks by. Someone who stands out from everybody else in every way imaginable; who just doesn’t look like they fit in. But in a good way! You don’t fit in but it’s in the best way possible because, honestly? Who even wants to fit in these days? That sounds terribly boring! And I know you agree- looking as you do and walking as you do and peering at me with those eyes of yours that I could just get lost in for eternity… I mean really, how do you even GET eyes like that? They’re so… they’re so lovely… I don’t think I’ve ever known anything better… And-”

The sudden ear-splitting screech of train wheels against tracks pushed you out of your momentary fog. Barely a second had passed while you daydreamed (thank the gods), meaning the stranger still blinked at you expectantly. With that eyebrow raised and those lips relaxed into the sweetest curve you’d ever seen…

“..um…” You scrambled around in your head, grasping for something- anything!- to say to her.

But, unfortunately, you were too late.

Her head turned, you saw, and her eyes glanced at the train numbers and the lit up sign above you. And with that look- because you noticed it after spending such a long time people watching- your heart drooped. Like wilted leaves on a dying flower. A sigh got caught in your throat as the stranger turned back to you. Her hands were already reaching for her purse, and it took every ounce of willpower that you had to hold yourself back from lunging forward and grasping her gloved palms and insisting she stay with you instead of disappearing again. Because what if she didn’t come back? What if you lost your chance by wasting too much time and worrying too much and thinking too much and not cherishing the moment you had with her? What if she suddenly had to escape the country and you’d never see her again? What would you do- now that you had seen her? Now that you knew she was real? What would you do if you never saw your brilliant stranger again? Would you just be two ships passing in the night, as most others were? Just two captains on their ships in the dead of a calm and foggy sea, holding lanterns and raising them up to their eyes upon seeing another glow in the distance? Just two captains that smiled when realizing the other was an ally and greeting each other with a kind ‘good evening!’ before floating on your separate ways? Was that the fate you were meant to endure? Oh gods you really really hoped not.

“I apologize; I’m afraid I have to cut this short,” she smiled apologetically.

You shook your head instantly and shrugged, ignoring the tug in your heart. Ignoring its cries of ‘So soon?! No!!’. “Don’t even worry about it. Just get home safely, okay?” You looked at her hopefully, returning the smile and allowing warmth to seep into your expression.

She enjoyed the sight of that, you saw. Her eyes lit up a bit more and her cheeks seemed to glow a soft red. It was a lovely sight.

“I shall. And you must as well.” She said as she stood, ever the graceful woman, and walked off toward the train.

Oh she was so tall… and so strapping… such a gorgeous stranger….

“Wait!”

She stopped and met your gaze, letting others slide past her and murmur half-hearted complaints about stopping in the middle of a crowd. You swallowed, trying not to beam.

“What- what’s your name? I never got it!” You yelled over the bustle.

And the seconds that followed that moment were ones you’d never forget. Not in a million years. For it was as though the world had come to a stop- as though the universe was making way for the most beautiful phenomenon to ever happen within space and time. Everything grew fuzzy, the people faded out of focus, and for a good bit there it was just her. Her, her, her. Beneath a makeshift spotlight that your mind conjured just for the stranger. And she took advantage of that moment; of you asking her name; of the world slowing down like something out of a romantic movie; and decided to smile. Not just a normal smile, not just a glow or a simper, but a grin. A true, red-lipped, white perfectly imperfect toothed grin that contorted her face into the prettiest picture you’d ever seen. It was so sweet, so sincere, so ‘on the fly’ and so quick that you very nearly missed the response she gave you.

“Larissa!”

And then the world snapped back into place.

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Part 6! Please let me know your thoughts on the reader's identification. (Y/N, an oc of mine, a universal name but no description, etc.) I'll be honest: I'm not entirely sure as to where this is going just yet, but I'll figure it out. Also considering posting it on Ao3. Thoughts? <3 - Ripley

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@machi-avelli @tanith-rhea @weemssapphic @rosieathena @jinxscatbomb @bapplenana @lvinhs @delusional-sapphic @slightlyfruity @snakeskin-world @poorwritingandstalecoffee @aphrcdtes @kimiinou @hiraethinheaven @readingtheentrails @lord6-6fandom @reariy @hidden-words-of-art @gwendolinechristieiscute

#wednesday netflix #larissa weems x reader #fanfic #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x y/n #fanfiction #larissa weems #fanfictionwriter #wlw fanfic #wednesday fanfic #gwendoline christie #principal weems

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songbirdseung · 1 year ago

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come as you are / beomgyu & heeseung

nonidol!beomgyu x reader, nonidol!heeseung x reader

bestfriend's friend, love triangle, angst, fluff, college au

wc: 4.5k

synopsis:

Lost in a maze of 'Magic,' three hearts entangle in a love triangle, where 'Drama' unfolds, and 'Given-Taken' promises lead to a 'Blue Hour' of emotional reckoning.

In the concluding semester of your fourth year, as you approached the culmination of your college journey, gratitude overflowed within you. There were many to thank – your supportive parents, dedicated professors, and even yourself – but above all, the beacon of unwavering support was your best friend, Beomgyu. He stood by you during sleepless study nights, offered solace in moments of mental breakdowns, supported you through challenging times, and even held your hair back when you indulged in a bit too much, becoming the steadfast anchor of your college memories.

In the dim glow of your desk lamp, you found yourself huddled in an uncomfortably twisted position, diligently wrapping up the thesis paper you shared with Beomgyu. Grateful that fate had paired you with someone as dedicated as him, sparing you the agony of partnering with a lackadaisical companion. As frustration reached its peak, your impulse to flip the table was palpable, a sentiment Beomgyu detected through the screen as you both connected via FaceTime. With genuine concern, he spoke up,

"Hey, are you okay? Want to take a break?"

His voice, a comforting balm to your frazzled nerves, made you pause, considering the lifeline he offered. The exhaustion etched on your face softened as you met his understanding gaze through the screen. With a grateful smile, you nodded, realizing a break was long overdue.

"Yeah, a short break sounds good," you admitted, finally allowing your tense shoulders to relax. Beomgyu, always attuned to your needs, suggested a quick virtual game to lighten the mood. As the familiar banter and shared laughter replaced the tension of academia, you couldn't help but marvel at the friendship that had sustained you through the academic whirlwind.

"Why don't I come over?" Beomgyu suggested, his voice warm and reassuring through the phone. A mischievous grin accompanied his words, "I'm sure your parents won't mind. They love me more than they love you," he joked, adding a playful touch to the conversation.

Your laughter mingled with the banter as you responded, "Never mind, your roommate might think you're going around every night." The amusement in your voice was evident as you continued, "You know, spreading the rumor that you're out there having a grand time."

Beomgyu chuckled, countering, "You think you're funny? Besides, he couldn't care less." The easy back-and-forth banter was a testament to the comfort and familiarity that defined your friendship, a dynamic that effortlessly shifted from the pressures of academia to the shared jokes and lighthearted moments that made every challenge more bearable.

As the laughter lingered from your banter, a knock on the door signaled Heeseung's arrival. Beomgyu, with a grin, opened the door, and Heeseung strolled in, a casual charm accompanying him. "Hey, what's up, Beomgyu? Planning another nocturnal escapade?" Heeseung teased, leaning against the doorway.

Beomgyu, always ready with a witty response, chuckled. "You know it, late-night adventures are my specialty." Heeseung, glancing around the room, finally acknowledged your presence with a friendly smile. "Who's the pretty girl?" he inquired, his tone light and curious.

Beomgyu's protective instincts kicked in as he shot a quick glance your way, a subtle shift in his demeanor. "Oh, this is Y/N, my partner in crime for the infamous thesis battle. We were just discussing our plans for the night. No late-night escapades for her tonight; she's knee-deep in deadlines."

With the revisions finally completed, you found a moment to broach a different topic. Looking at Beomgyu, you hesitated before asking, "Hey, Beomgyu, what's the deal with Heeseung? I mean, he seems nice and all. What's he like outside of the study sessions?"

Beomgyu, taking a moment before responding, looked thoughtful. "Heeseung? Yeah, he's a good guy. But you know, he's got his own thing going on, and I'm not sure he's looking for anything more than friendship right now." There was a subtle tightness in Beomgyu's expression, an unspoken layer of reluctance to delve into the topic. It was as if he was guarding not only your feelings but also his own, hinting at a complexity beneath the surface of his composed demeanor.

"Why not, I can probably change that. He's cute," you suggested with a playful grin, attempting to lighten the mood.

Beomgyu, in a mockingly confident tone, replied, "Oh, please. I'm better looking than him. I'm basically this generation's visual." His words carried a blend of self-assuredness and jest, a moment of teasing meant to deflect the conversation from a path he might not be entirely comfortable exploring.

As you strolled toward your class, immersed in conversation with Heeseung, a genuine smile on your face, you didn't notice Beomgyu's turbulent emotions brewing a few steps behind. With a casual yet confident demeanor, Heeseung seized the opportunity to properly introduce himself, his charm evident in the friendly exchange. "Hey, I don't think we've officially met. I'm Heeseung. What class are you heading to?"

To your surprise, you discovered that not only did you share the same class, but it was the very one you were en route to. The shared destination prompted a shared journey, and you both continued your walk together.

Unbeknownst to you, a few paces behind, Beomgyu's internal turmoil manifested into visible frustration. A red tinge of jealousy seemed to envelop him, and with a determined huff, he accelerated his steps until he reached both of you. Without a word, he squeezed himself between you and Heeseung, wrapping his arms around your shoulders possessively.

The sudden intrusion left you momentarily perplexed, glancing at Beomgyu with a bemused expression. Little did you know, beneath the facade of a teasing third wheel, there simmered a complex concoction of emotions in Beomgyu's heart.

As the classroom filled with students, you found a seat and settled in, unaware of the silent competition unfolding. Heeseung, lingering near a vacant seat next to you, was about to make his move when, with a swift determination, Beomgyu rushed into the room and claimed the seat beside you.

Breathless and wearing a triumphant grin, Beomgyu greeted you, "Hey, saved you a seat. Missed me already, didn't you?" His playful tone masked the urgency in his actions, revealing a subtle rivalry beneath the surface. Meanwhile, Heeseung, noticing the strategic move, found an alternative seat nearby, his expression betraying a hint of amusement at the unspoken competition for your attention.

The library hushed with the soft rustle of turning pages as Heeseung leaned over, his eyes scanning the room. Catching Beomgyu's eye, he inquired, "You like her, don't you?"

Beomgyu, his casual demeanor momentarily faltering, lightly chuckled before turning his gaze toward you sitting at the shared table. "No, what are you talking about, dude? She's my best friend," he replied, a quick, unconvincing dismissal in his tone.

A mischievous glint sparkled in Heeseung's eyes as he poked playfully, "Oh, so I can date her?" The question hung in the air, a subtle challenge wrapped in a tease, testing the boundaries of friendship and unspoken feelings. Beomgyu, caught off guard by Heeseung's playful remark, raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Hey, slow down there. She's not some item to claim. Besides, she's not looking for a relationship right now, right, Y/N?" He turned to you, seeking affirmation.

You, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, couldn't help but smile at the banter between your two friends. "Yeah, guys, calm down. I'm not planning on dating anyone in the midst of this academic chaos," you teased, attempting to diffuse the tension with a lighthearted comment.

Heeseung, still grinning, leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the response. "Fair enough," he conceded, though a lingering curiosity remained in his gaze.

"Why don't you want me close to Heeseung? I'm not gonna steal your friend gyu" y/n jokes as her and Beomgyu walk back to y/n's home to continue their undone assignments. Beomgyu glanced at you with a playful smirk in response to your jest. "Why would I be worried about Heeseung stealing my friend?" he chuckled, his tone light but holding a subtle seriousness.

"But seriously," he continued, a softer expression replacing the playful one, "I value our friendship a lot, and I guess… I just don't want anything to change. You know, sometimes relationships can complicate things, and I like having you as my best friend without any complications." His words carried a vulnerability.

Y/N stood at her front door, dressed for the night ahead, when Heeseung's unexpected arrival added a twist to her plans. "Fancy seeing you here?" he joked, a warm smile playing on his lips as he noted her confused expression.

"What are you doing here, Hee?" she inquired, genuinely puzzled by his sudden appearance. Heeseung chuckled before explaining, "Well, I happened to be in the neighborhood, and I thought, why not drop by and say hello? Coincidentally, I saw you locking up. Come on, get in; I'll drop you."

Y/N hesitated, glancing back at her plans for the night. With a shrug and a smile, she agreed, "Sure, why not? Change of plans, I guess." The unexpected turn of events added a layer of intrigue to the night, leaving her wondering what twists fate had in store.

The car ride unfolded into an unexpected adventure, the quiet hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop to the night. As Heeseung drove, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, delving into shared interests, childhood stories, and the dreams that painted the canvas of your lives.

Underneath the moonlit sky, Heeseung's smile carried a certain warmth, and the more you spoke, the more you discovered the layers of his personality. His laughter mingled with yours, creating an atmosphere of ease and connection.

Somewhere between shared jokes and sincere confessions, Heeseung's hand found its way to the gear shift, a subtle yet intentional move. As he seamlessly intertwined his fingers with yours, a gentle electric current passed between you. The touch, at once tender and charged, hung in the air, unspoken yet understood.

With a soft smile, Heeseung spoke, his voice a gentle melody in the quiet space, "You know, Y/N, spending this time with you feels different, in a good way. There's something about the way we click, isn't there?" Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, and in that moment, his thumb began to caress the back of your hand.

Heeseung, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, continued, "You have this way of making everything feel easy, like we've known each other forever. It's refreshing." His thumb continued its rhythmic dance against the back of your hand, creating a subtle cadence that mirrored the beat of your racing hearts.

Encouraged by the warmth in his words, you responded, "I feel the same way, Heeseung. It's like we're on the same wavelength." The air inside the car held a certain magic, and as the conversation shifted to more personal stories, Heeseung's hand found yours more firmly, the connection deepening.

As the night unfolded, Heeseung made a move that spoke volumes. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he brought it to his lips, leaving a soft, lingering kiss. The city lights outside seemed to dim as the world inside the car intensified with a shared acknowledgment—a bridge between friendship and something more.

Closing the car door after bidding Heeseung goodbye, Y/N turned around to find Beomgyu with a thoroughly confused expression. His brows furrowed, Beomgyu seemed to be piecing together the unexpected scene he just witnessed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Beomgyu asked, his eyes flickering between Y/N and the closed door.

With a teasing smile, Y/N decided to alleviate Beomgyu's confusion. "Guess who dropped me home tonight? None other than your roommate, Heeseung."

Beomgyu's expression shifted from confusion to surprise, and then, perhaps, a flicker of something else. "Heeseung?" he repeated, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah, we had a nice chat in the car. He's a really interesting person," Y/N shared, gauging Beomgyu's reaction.

Beomgyu, still processing the unexpected turn of events, managed a forced smile. "Interesting, huh?" he muttered, a subtle tension in his voice.

Y/N, sensing Beomgyu's unease, decided to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, Gyu, you're still my best friend. Heeseung was just being a gentleman, dropping me home and all."

Beomgyu nodded, attempting to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling within him. "Right, of course. Just unexpected, that's all."

As Y/N and Beomgyu entered their shared apartment, the atmosphere felt different, a quiet undercurrent threading through their interactions. The unspoken tension lingered, leaving both of them with a sense of uncertainty about the shifting dynamics of their friendship.

As Y/N stepped into the apartment, her eyes immediately caught the array of pretty decorations that seemed to encapsulate an ambiance of romance and love. The soft glow of fairy lights draped over the furniture, coupled with delicate flower arrangements, painted a picture of a space steeped in affection.

"Wow, did you decide to redecorate or something?" Y/N asked, a playful tone in her voice as she admired the romantic touches that adorned the apartment.

Beomgyu, still stuck in his place, couldn't help but feel a knot tightening in his stomach. The decorations, usually just a backdrop to their shared living space, now seemed like a vivid manifestation of his worries. He hesitated, searching for the right words, and finally mumbled, "Yeah, thought it was time for a change."

Y/N, oblivious to the internal turmoil Beomgyu was facing, continued to explore the room. "It looks lovely, Gyu. You really have an eye for this."

As she spoke, Beomgyu's mind raced. He couldn't shake the worry that he might have missed his chance, that Heeseung had taken the initiative and confessed before he could express his feelings. The romantic ambiance, once just a backdrop, now felt like a stage that had witnessed a scene he wasn't a part of.

Beomgyu, with a forced smile, tried to push aside his apprehensions. "Yeah, just thought it was time for a change," he repeated, hoping the words sounded more convincing this time.

As Y/N admired the redecorated apartment, she couldn't help but sense a subtle shift in Beomgyu's demeanor. Turning to face him, she noticed the forced smile and the hesitancy in his eyes. Concern crept into her voice as she asked, "Hey, Gyu, is everything okay? You seem a bit… off."

Beomgyu, caught off guard, attempted to dismiss her worries with a casual shrug. "Oh, it's nothing, just had a long day. Don't worry about it."

But Y/N, attuned to the nuances of their friendship, wasn't easily convinced. "Come on, Gyu. We've been through too much together for me not to notice when something's up. Spill it."

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his internal struggle evident. Finally, he sighed and admitted, "It's just… things are a bit different now, and I'm trying to wrap my head around it."

Y/N, still puzzled, stepped closer. "Different how?"

Beomgyu's gaze faltered for a moment before he confessed, "I've been thinking a lot, and I don't want anything to change between us. You're my best friend, Y/N, and that means the world to me."

As the weight of Beomgyu's words hung in the air, Y/N's expression softened. The romantic decorations and the unspoken tension in the room suddenly made sense. With a gentle smile, she reassured him, "Gyu, you're my best friend too, and nothing will change that. We'll figure things out, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Beomgyu gathered his courage. He looked directly into Y/N's eyes and began, "There's something I need to tell you, Y/N." His voice held a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

Y/N, sensing the gravity of the moment, gave him her full attention.

"Y/N, you mean a lot to me. More than just a friend. I've been trying to figure out how to say this, and… I think I might have taken too long." Beomgyu paused, his eyes reflecting a blend of regret and acceptance.

Y/N, surprised by his confession, waited for him to continue.

"I've been hesitant, thinking I had more time. But seeing you with Heeseung made me realize that maybe I waited too long, and someone else might have already said what I should have said ages ago."

Beomgyu's admission hung in the air, creating a moment of profound honesty. Y/N, absorbing the weight of his words, responded with a compassionate smile. "Gyu, it's okay. I appreciate your honesty. Whatever happens, you'll always be an important part of my life."

Beomgyu, despite the pang of regret, appreciated the understanding in Y/N's response. "I just needed to say it, even if it's a little too late," he admitted.

A month had passed, and the atmosphere in the shared apartment between Y/N, Beomgyu, and Heeseung carried a nuanced tension. Each day brought a new layer of complexity as the two friends, Beomgyu and Heeseung, navigated the uncharted waters of their feelings for Y/N. Despite the unspoken emotions, the trio tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

One evening, Beomgyu took the initiative to plan a cozy movie night at home. With dimmed lights and a carefully selected film, he hoped to create an intimate atmosphere. As the movie played, Beomgyu subtly slipped in small gestures of affection, such as reaching for shared snacks or offering a comforting armrest.

Heeseung, sensing Beomgyu's move, decided to take a different approach. He invited Y/N to join him for a scenic rooftop dinner, complete with fairy lights and a breathtaking view of the city. The night unfolded with shared laughter and meaningful conversations, as Heeseung subtly expressed his admiration for Y/N through his thoughtful gestures.

As the days went by, Beomgyu and Heeseung continued to find ways to spend time with Y/N, each trying to convey their feelings through gestures, words, and shared experiences. The love triangle's intricacies became more apparent, leaving Y/N in a challenging position, torn between two friends, each vying for her heart.

One weekend, Y/N decided to take a breather from the complex dynamics. She suggested a casual outing to a local park, hoping to enjoy a simple day of relaxation. Beomgyu and Heeseung both agreed, unknowingly setting the stage for a series of playful yet subtle competitions.

Beomgyu, recognizing the opportunity, engaged in a friendly game of frisbee with Y/N, showcasing his athleticism and playfulness. Heeseung, not to be outdone, suggested a lighthearted picnic and brought along a guitar, serenading Y/N with a heartfelt song.

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the park, Y/N found herself caught between the genuine efforts of two friends, both hoping to capture her heart. The love triangle persisted, creating a delicate dance of emotions that echoed through the shared moments of laughter, shared glances, and unspoken sentiments.

Amid the stress of a particularly demanding academic week, Beomgyu, recognizing the need for a break, decided to surprise Y/N with a spontaneous getaway to her dream destination. He carefully planned the surprise, knowing that a change of scenery could provide the perfect escape.

As Y/N arrived home exhausted, Beomgyu greeted her with a mysterious smile. "Pack your bags; we're going on an adventure," he announced, handing her a plane ticket to her dream destination.

Surprised and excited, Y/N packed hastily, her curiosity growing with every passing minute. The destination unfolded before her eyes as they landed, and the sheer joy on Y/N's face made every bit of Beomgyu's planning worthwhile.

The first scenario found them exploring the vibrant streets of a bustling city. Beomgyu led Y/N through hidden alleys, charming cafes, and local markets. The air was filled with laughter as they indulged in street food and stumbled upon unexpected delights, creating memories that surpassed the stress of the academic week.

In the second scenario, Beomgyu orchestrated a serene beach getaway. The sound of waves, warm sand beneath their feet, and the endless stretch of the ocean provided the perfect backdrop for relaxation. Beomgyu surprised Y/N with a beachside picnic at sunset, complete with her favorite snacks and a breathtaking view, offering a moment of tranquility in the midst of chaos.

As the getaway continued, Beomgyu ensured each day was filled with surprises, tailored to Y/N's interests and dreams. Whether it was a visit to a local landmark, a spontaneous adventure, or a quiet evening under the stars, Beomgyu's gestures aimed to create a space where Y/N could temporarily escape the complexities of academic life and find solace in the shared moments of joy.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the picturesque landscape of a quaint town Beomgyu had chosen for their escape. Beomgyu led Y/N to a charming rooftop restaurant adorned with fairy lights, where a table for two awaited them.

As they settled into their seats, the ambient sounds of the town below and the distant murmur of the sea created a romantic backdrop. The night seemed to hold a certain magic as Beomgyu caught Y/N's gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"This place is incredible," Y/N marveled, taking in the breathtaking view.

Beomgyu's eyes sparkled as he responded, "I thought you might like it. It's just us, the stars, and a town full of stories."

A waiter approached, and the evening unfolded with a culinary journey that matched the enchanting setting. Beomgyu, ever attentive, shared stories and laughter, creating an atmosphere where time seemed to slow down.

Between courses, Beomgyu looked at Y/N with a warmth that went beyond friendship. "You know, Y/N, these moments with you are something I've been cherishing for a long time."

Y/N met his gaze, feeling the sincerity in his words. "Me too, Gyu. This is truly special."

As the night progressed, Beomgyu suggested a stroll through the town square, where a live band played soft melodies under the moonlit sky. They found an empty space and swayed to the music, their movements synchronized in a dance that mirrored the unspoken connection between them.

In a moment of shared vulnerability, Beomgyu spoke, "Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to say." He paused, the town square fading into the background. "Being here with you, it feels like I've found a piece of myself I didn't know was missing."

Y/N, captivated by his honesty, smiled, "Gyu, I feel the same way. This is more than I could have imagined."

As the night wove its magic, Beomgyu took Y/N's hand, leading her to a quiet spot overlooking the town. With the stars as witnesses, he confessed, "Y/N, I've cherished our friendship, but being here, I can't help but wonder if there's something more. I care about you deeply, and I can't ignore these feelings any longer."

Y/N, touched by his sincerity, replied, "Gyu, you mean so much to me too. I never want to lose what we have."

The night held a delicate balance, caught between the beauty of the moment and the unspoken complexities of their evolving relationship. As they stood overlooking the town, bathed in moonlight, Beomgyu and Y/N found themselves on the precipice of something new, the gentle breeze carrying with it the promise of possibilities.

Y/N awoke to the soft rays of morning sunlight filtering through her curtains, the remnants of the dream still lingering in her mind. As reality set in, she found herself grappling with a mix of emotions.

The enchanting rooftop dinner, the shared laughter, and Beomgyu's heartfelt confession—it all felt so vivid, yet it dissolved into the intangible haze of a dream. Y/N lay there, contemplating the fragments of the imagined getaway, and her thoughts gravitated toward the unspoken feelings that had surfaced during the dream.

Questions danced in her mind as she pondered whether the emotions conjured in the dream reflected her true feelings for Beomgyu. Was it a subconscious revelation of something she had been suppressing?

Unable to shake the dream's impact, Y/N decided to confront her feelings head-on. She reached for her phone, sending a text to Beomgyu, suggesting they meet up for coffee later in the day.

The coffee shop, a familiar setting for their shared moments, felt different this time. Y/N observed Beomgyu's casual smile, the same smile that had felt so sincere in her dream. As they settled into conversation, Y/N couldn't help but feel a subtle undercurrent of tension.

"You seem a bit distant today. Everything okay?" Beomgyu asked, concern lining his features.

Y/N hesitated, then decided to share her thoughts. "I had this dream last night, Gyu. About us."

Beomgyu's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "A dream?"

"Yeah, it was like we were on this incredible getaway, and there was this moment…" Y/N trailed off, searching for the right words.

Beomgyu leaned in, his eyes fixed on hers. "What moment?"

"In the dream, you… you confessed, and it felt so real. But now, I'm not sure if it was just a dream or something more," Y/N admitted, vulnerability lacing her words.

As months passed, the graduation day arrived, marking the end of a significant chapter in their lives. The air was filled with a mix of excitement and nostalgia, but for Y/N, it also brought a heightened sense of internal conflict. The love triangle had persisted, and as she donned her cap and gown, memories of shared moments with Beomgyu and Heeseung flooded her mind.

In the ceremony, Y/N's gaze wandered between Beomgyu and Heeseung, each representing a different facet of her journey through college. She couldn't help but reminisce about the late-night study sessions with Beomgyu, the laughter they shared, and the unspoken moments that hinted at something more. On the other hand, Heeseung's support during challenging times and the romantic gestures he had sprinkled into their friendship left a different yet equally impactful imprint on her heart.

Amidst the sea of emotions, Y/N found herself on the graduation stage, her parents snapping pictures to immortalize the milestone. However, her mind was elsewhere, torn between the memories and the unspoken question of where her heart truly belonged.

As the ceremony concluded, Y/N's internal struggle persisted. She decided to spend some time with Beomgyu, hoping that revisiting the familiar moments they shared would bring clarity. They strolled through the campus, pausing at spots that held significance for them. The library, where they had conquered countless assignments together; the coffee shop, their refuge during stressful days; and the park, where conversations flowed effortlessly.

Despite the comfort of these shared memories, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging uncertainty about her feelings. Beomgyu, sensing her inner turmoil, tried to lighten the mood with his usual playful banter, but a subtle tension lingered beneath the surface.

Later in the day, Y/N found herself alone with Heeseung. They revisited the places that had become a backdrop to their friendship, creating a montage of moments that spoke of shared laughter, understanding glances, and the quiet comfort of each other's presence. Heeseung, ever perceptive, noticed the turmoil in Y/N's eyes.

"Something on your mind?" he inquired gently.

Y/N hesitated, then confessed, "I can't shake this feeling of being torn, Hee. I value both of you so much, but I can't figure out who… who I should choose."

Heeseung, his gaze softening, took a moment before responding, "Y/N, relationships aren't about choosing one person over another. They're about connection, understanding, and growth. Take your time, and don't force yourself to decide. The right path will reveal itself."

As they returned to the graduation festivities, Y/N couldn't shake the weight of her indecision. The day, meant to be a celebration, felt like a crossroads, and the love triangle persisted, leaving her standing at the intersection of two distinct paths, each laden with memories and unspoken possibilities.

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