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greenwriterplaidbow · 2 days ago

Text

Tragic Accident

AKA the events that lead to the Human Connection series

Logan Howlett x Reader with injury related memory loss

Word count: 2.5K 3.8K after revisions

Author’s note: I do in fact have more! (I would like to thank this person for your patience, I started this when you sent this in but left it half done because of finals). Still inspired by Pandapetals’ memory loss fic. This is what led to the accident and when Logan actually saw the wreckage of an accident (because I apparently can’t just be content with being happy!). It’s kind of from his perspective? Still written in second person though.

Warnings: Major angst, stupid argument, car wreck, drunk driver (not Logan or the reader), reader refered to as she/her and Logan’s wife

Everything started in your home office. It was the busy season for teachers: checking that you taught the whole curriculum; assigning and then grading final projects; parent-teacher meetings. That night you were up grading group projects that had been turned in early. It was midnight when Logan walked into the room. It was one of many late nights you had recently. The two of you tended to be night owls anyways but this many nights without more than 4 hours of consecutive sleep was starting to get to you both. It wasn’t obvious but you could see it in the small details of your relationship. The way there was less exchanged affection. The way you helped each other with little things less. The way the physical space between you emphasized the growing separation. Logan had been laying in bed before he entered the office. He walked in and put his hands on your shoulders, maybe a little less gently than he normally would have.

“Babyy, why haven’t you come to bed yet?” You brought your hand up and softly rubbed his.

“Sorry hon, I just want to get these done tonight. This is the last one.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” You spun your chair around to face him.

“It could.. But if I finish them as they come in, I’ll be done before finals week so I can spend more time with you!”

“You could spend more time with me now if you just came to bed-”

“I know, I know. But these kids finished it early, they’re already on pins and needles waiting for an answer, I shouldn’t make them wait longer than I need to. And you should be asleep already anyways, this was the one night this week you can actually get to bed at a decent time.”

“Tried. It’s always harder without you.” You stood up and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Poor baby. It won’t be much longer. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“I’ll just stay in here with you then.”

He walked over to his own desk and sat down across from you, watching as you finished grading. It was 10 minutes before Logan spoke up again.

“You almost done?”

You sigh and run your hands through your hair.

“Nope, not quite. Go to bed, I’ll only be a little longer.”

“I.. Yeah alright.”

He shook his head then got up and walked out. His jaw was tense as he paused at the door like he was going to say something. Apparently he decided against it and closed the door on the way out with a sigh.

He lays in bed. Staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Logan had felt neglected before, just not usually by you. He was plenty used to being ignored or abandoned. It had happened before but this time was supposed to be different. You’d always been there before. You’d been through so much together. It was only now it felt like you were drifting away. You’re a busy person, he knows that. You’re always eager to help out in any way you can. From one-on-one training or tutoring with struggling students to filling in for a fellow teacher. You were always there for everyone else. But now it seemed to him that you were giving your time to anyone but him. It seemed like you were trying to avoid him. He thought back to the last few weeks. He’d twice tried to set up a date night with no success, the most recent attempt was the week prior.

He had caught you in between classes, preparing for the next lecture in an empty room.

“Heyy, I was thinking. It’s been a while: do you want to go out tonight?”

“I wish I could but I’m helping Jean tonight, some lab thing she’s trying to figure out. I’m honestly flattered she asked me-” You stopped yourself when you saw the look on his face, his eyes now avoiding yours as he pretended to study the ground. “I’m sorry Lo, I thought I told you on Monday.”

“No- it’s alright. I understand.. I’ll see you later though?”

“Yes. She said that she shouldn’t need me past 8 o’clock.”

You walked in the door at ten.

“Hey,” Logan said half heartedly from the couch as you came up the stairs. He didn’t know how late you’d be until you called at nine to tell him that things went well enough that Jean wanted to repeat the experiment to see if it was a fluke.

“Hey.. I’m sorry, I know I said I’d be home sooner. I’ll make it up to you.” You cupped his face and kissed the bridge of his nose. “We could go out this weekend?”

“No, I’m helping Scott fix his bike; and with Scott, that’ll be an all weekend project.”

“Next weekend then. We’ll find time. We always do.” Your tone was very matter-of-fact as you sat down next to him. He put an arm around your shoulders and you nuzzled into his chest as you leaned into him.

“Yeah. I know. I just hate feeling like I never see you anymore. I know you didn’t know that was going to happen but you could have waited to rerun everything on a different night..”

“Yeah.. I guess we’re just too popular” You said, trying to joke about the situation to relieve some of the tension between you. It worked for the time but Logan still didn’t feel good about it. He felt like you just pushed aside his feelings. Just laughing it off to avoid an actual conversation.

The thought brought him back to the present moment. He went back into the office, unsure of exactly how much time had passed since he left. He walked around to his side, sat at his desk and faced you. You looked up from what you were doing but he spoke before you could.

“It feels like we never just spend time together anymore and I want to talk about it.” You push your work aside and turn to face him more directly. He leans forward with his forearms on his desk.

“I only have one section left to read then leaving overall feedback. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“No, you always do this. I want to talk about it. I don’t want you to keep pushing me aside. What happened with us? Why do you spend your time everywhere else but with me?!”

“Logan I-”

“No, I know you care about your students but you don’t even look at me anymore.”

“Okay.. A bit of an exaggeration but yeah, I mean that’s the job. Come on, you’re a grown up. I thought you could handle a little less attention than what you’re used to.”

“You can just say it. I’m the least important thing in your life.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic. You’re still impor-”

His hand loudly hit the desk, making you jump.

“Stop doing that! Stop brushing me off!” He sighed and looked away. “Fuck- Ok, I just- Whatever, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He stood up and walked out. You didn’t try to stop him.

You put your face in your hands. You could admit, things had been stressful lately. Things had just been busy. Apparently after five years of being married, you had been putting Logan on the backburner more than you thought. But he had done the same with you hadn’t he? That’s just how it was sometimes. Why was he so upset about it this time? What changed? After a few minutes of letting him cool down, you sighed and got up to follow him to the kitchen. The only light in the open room was the soft glow of the hanging kitchen lights. He was sitting at the table with his hand in his hair. He looked up as you walked in.

“You always push me aside for everything else.” You came to apologize but now that felt more difficult than anything. Something about the way he said it gave you the urge to defend yourself. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was a lack of sleep. Either way, you pushed back.

“You act like I purposefully ignore you-”

“Sometimes, I wonder if you do!”

“Okay don’t put this all on me. We’re both busy. That’s just how it is right now, I don’t know why you have a problem with it all of the sudden.”

“You don’t know?! You don’t know because you never listen to me.”

“Oh I never listen to you?”

“Yes. I listen to you, I-”

“No no no no no. If you listened to me, you’d already know when I’m not going to be home. Because I actually make plans before the night of.”

“This again? I swear you never told me-”

“Whatever- that’s not going to get us anywhere. If you really want to talk, let’s talk about how you can be as busy with your students as you’d like but as soon as I do, then it’s a problem.”

“That’s not true!”

“Sure it is! But you’re a man, you can meet up with whoever you want. You know, I’m a woman so I should just be grateful that you let me have a job at all, right?”

“Why are you making this a sexism thing? When have I ever said anything like that to you?”

“You haven’t, but-”

“Exactly. I haven’t. Because I don’t think like that. Just because that was okay when I was growing up, doesn’t mean I’m like that. You know I’m not like that!”

“I thought so but sometimes, I’m not so sure.”

“And you don’t bring that up? You know you can talk to me- I’m not like you, I’m not just going to keep putting it off so we never talk about something you have a problem with.”

“When the hell have you brought up any of this before tonight?”

“I haven’t had the chance to because anytime there’s even a hint of a problem you just make it into a joke.”

“I didn’t realize I was doing that, maybe if you brought things up when they happened then we wouldn’t need to get to this point!”

“Yeah it’s all my fault, like everything else.”

“Oh, really defending your argument there- I’m so glad we didn’t wait to talk!” You started to pace around the area next to where he stayed seated. Walking between the table where he was and the counter off to his left.

“That is not fair. If we put it off again we would never have this conversation.. And this isn’t just about me ‘not getting attention,’ this is about you. This isn’t good for you. You need to get more sleep.”

“Oh but you’re just fine going without sleep, you’re the mighty Wolverine.”

“That’s not- No! Actually- Fine, you’re right. I am the wolverine, you don’t have the same mutation-”

“Maybe it doesn’t affect you as much, but it sure as hell still affects you. You’re still a human being Logan! I know my limits, you don’t need to hover, telling me to come to bed- It’s just a reminder of how slow I am- And it completely throws me off-”

“Don’t act like I’m not allowed to worry about you-”

“You’re allowed to worry, but that doesn't mean I’ll have any less-”

“Would you stop cutting me off?” He shouted the words through half gritted teeth. You took a step back. Logan never shouted at you, he barely ever raised his voice when you had disagreements. Your eyes flashed to the floor to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

“S-sorry.”

“I just-” He said your name quietly under breath and a hand went up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “I just want to be how we were. I just want some of your time. I at least want you to pretend like you like me.”

“I do like you.” Your muscles that tense when he shouted had now relaxed and you could hear a nip of attitude in your own voice.

“But you don’t act like it! Not anymore at least. You act like me being in your life is an inconvenience.” His voice was consistently raised now. You let out a small laugh.

“God, you are so dramatic! Please get some sleep, you’re acting like a child who hasn’t had a nap. You’re worse than half the freshman students right now.”

“For fucks sake, would you just listen to what I’m saying for a minute? Actually listen and process what I’m saying. Why can’t you just take me seriously?!”

“Because I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“JUST TALK TO ME”

He stood up and yelled the phrase louder than he meant to. Again, you took a few steps back. His large frame still intimidatingly towered over you.

“That- that’s all I want from you! A real conversation.”

You start walking back to the bedroom. Logan tried to follow you.

“I need some space-” Logan stopped.

“Yeah, go. Keep avoiding me.” You sighed but kept walking into the bedroom. You grabbed your phone, keys, and wallet, putting them into a mostly empty messenger bag that was currently easier to get to than a purse. You threw on a jacket then left your bedroom. You walked past your husband in the kitchen.

“We both need to cool off. I’m going to stay at the school tonight.”

“Fine, go.”

“Good night”

“.. Night.”

Right before heading out the door; keys in one hand, the other on the doorknob. You sigh and turn around then walk back to him. He’s leaning on the kitchen counter, facing away from you.

“Hey,” he turns around.

You hit his chest lightly before grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him forcefully. You kept your eyes closed and your face close to his as you spoke.

“You are so frustrating.”

“I know.. Try talking to you.” You sighed quietly.

“..I love you”

“I.. I know.” A little sadder that time. He held onto the counter that was now behind him to keep himself from giving in to you. You kissed him again, much more softly this time.

“Drive safe..” He whispered as you pulled away. You nodded and left.

Hearing the sounds of the garage door open then shut was enough to make him start feeling guilty for not saying ‘I love you’ back. You were fighting, sure, but he did still love you.

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Logan went to bed but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned for almost an hour, listening to the soft taps of rain on the window until his phone rang. He answered it without looking, confident that you must be calling to talk or to apologize.

“What? Calling to apologize-” Annoyance dripping from tone.

“Sir, I’m a paramedic. Is this Logan Howlett?” He was caught off guard.

“What? Yes, yes that’s me. Why are you calling?” He sat up, a sense of dread creeping in.

“I’m with your wife right now, your information was in her wallet-”

The paramedic explains that you were in an accident and you’re going to be taken to a nearby hospital. You’re unconscious but they’re working on stabilizing you. He explains that as soon as you get there you’ll be taken to surgery.

“Most likely she’ll be in for a few hours and even when she’s out, it’ll still be a while before the anesthetic wears off. I know you’re freaking out right now but- Listen man, if it were me; I’d take a minute to process everything. Pack a bag: comfortable clothes, a book, crossword puzzles- just things that’ll make her comfortable while she has to stay there to be monitored. It’ll give you a sense of purpose, because you can’t do anything right now anyways, and it keeps you from having to leave her later when she is awake.”

“Yeah. Yeah alright. I’ll do that” They exchanged the remaining information then hung up. As he was doing what the paramedic instructed when he got another call. This was from the police. He was informed that he could come to the scene and retrieve anything valuable from the car before it was towed. It had been moved into a nearby church parking lot for the time being, that’s where he was told to go.

“Do you know what caused the accident? What happened?”

“Yeah, the other guy ran a red light. Didn’t even slow down. Because of the angle of the intersection and how fast he was going, she probably didn’t even see him until after the collision. He’s been arrested already, we’re waiting until he sobers up to ask him more about what happened, he wasn’t very intelligible. We know he was drinking but by the way he’s acting we think he’s on something else too.”

“Jesus..”

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He pulled into the small parking lot, marked by a sign stating there was an extra church service for Easter that had yet to be taken down. There he saw another truck. It was black and lifted and had more than a few dents that were clearly from screwing around rather than actual work. The front was basically caved in but the damage was minor, especially compared to what your car looked like. It was almost half of the size it used to be, completely crushed in on the drivers side.

“She’s lucky, you know.” Logan looked up, searching for the source of the voice through the pouring rain. A firefighter walks over.

“Usually people don’t survive accidents like this but the collusion happened more towards the back.. You’re family, right?”

“Uh yeah,” He held up his left hand, “Husband.”

“Yeahhh. Don’t worry about her. Her chances are looking good right now.”

“There’s more blood than I thought there would be.” He could smell it when he pulled up but getting this close he could see that it was yours; the other driver hadn’t been injured nearly as bad. He was hating his heightened senses that made it feel like the smell of iron was surrounding him.

“Oh yeah, there was a lot more in the street before the rain washed most of it away.” Logan looked increasingly nervous.

“So you came to get things from the vehicle?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Well there’s a lot of broken glass so if you need me or my colleagues to grab anything, just let us know.”

“No, I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“No problem. We’ll just be talking with the officers if you change your mind.”

He got closer to your car, or what was left of it. Your keys had been pulled out of the ignition but were sitting on the dashboard. He picked them up and tried to ignore the blood and focus on where you usually leave things.

“Glove box, everybody keeps things in the glove box.” he thought aloud, quietly.

He walked around to the passengers side. Upon opening the door he saw your bag on the floor, sitting upright. Your phone and wallet were still inside although your ID and emergency sheet were separate. He assumed the first responders had opened your wallet to find such information. Logan picked up the bag and opened the glove box. He took everything out, placing it into the bag. Lucky for him, you didn’t keep much in your car. He took down the stuffed animal you kept on your dashboard and grabbed your blanket from the trunk. He threw the few other things you kept in your car into your bag then went to his own vehicle. An officer stopped him to talk to him about more details but his mind was only on you. None of the other details mattered if you weren’t okay.

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The drive to the hospital was silent. His thoughts were distracting enough. Logan felt like the drive was twice as long as it should have been. It felt like he was holding his breath the whole drive. He spoke quietly, trying to comfort himself.

“She’s going to be okay. She is tough. Fuck, of course she’s tough, look at who she married. Look at who she agreed to put up with..” His fists tightened around the steering wheel.

He pulled into the hospital’s visitors parking lot. He tried to steady his breathing before grabbing the backpack the paramedic recommended packing and heading inside. He didn’t even remember talking to the receptionist who told him which floor to go to for the right waiting room. But here he sat. Bouncing his leg anxiously. Waiting for you to get out of surgery. It was longer than he thought it’d take but eventually, a nurse came to talk to him.

You were out of surgery but you would still remain asleep, they were putting you in a medically-induced coma. There was too much trauma to the brain and this was the best option. They said you wouldn’t be under for longer than a week and offered to call him before waking you up but he insisted on staying by your side. The staff was admittedly concerned for him, he almost never slept. He just sat beside you. Waiting.

After almost four days, the tests suggested that they could stop the drugs inducing the coma. Your levels and brain activity showed that it was safe to do so. They warned him there would be side-effects from it and temporary memory loss was a possibility. Among other things. What they didn’t prepare him for was the time between stopping the drugs and you waking up. For some patients it was almost instantly. For you it was several hours.

The moment they stopped your IV drip to the moment you were conscious again, he didn’t let go of your hand. After the first hour he had resorted to quietly begging you to wake up, asking you not to leave him like this. As you woke up, that’s what you heard.

“-and I won’t complain about your stupidly long hours. Please. I’m sorry. Please wake up.” He called you a nickname you hadn’t heard before. Or at least one you didn’t remember. “Please- I know I’m dumb, I need you to wake up. I need you to know how sorry I am. And- and I never should have let you leave the house without telling you how much I loved you. I was upset and I wasn’t thinking. Please. I’m so sorry.”

As you woke up, your eyes fluttered open and you tried to get familiar with your surroundings. When you made a noise and moved your hand, Logan looked up at you in surprise. He jumped up from where he sat to gently hug you and tell you how much he loved you. He pressed the button for the nurse, as he had been instructed to. From there, he found out about your memory. You found out about the accident. You were both disappointed and a little scared. Logan has an overwhelming sense of guilt about what happened and you don’t even know what happened or if he played a role in it. In an ironic twist, he'd finally get to spend more time with you. Just not in a way he ever would have wanted.

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Second author's note: sorry if the argument isn't great, uhh definitely looking for feedback for improvement there. I was trying to make it both characters fault but idk. Also first attempt at a mood board for the fic. Idk if I like it, I may take it down, we'll see.

Okay it's been revised. I think it is a significant improvement but it's still no where near perfect. Stayed up until 6am making revisions because apparently, I'm allergic to sleep! And also joy as jt seems! But no rest for the wicked I guess: I have my immunology final project due in 8 hours and it is been severely neglected. Anyways thanks for your time... again I guess for some of you.

Taglist: @kemi707 @klwrites @fluff-lover @a-leg-without-fear @aoi-targaryen @vofriviasblog @jupiter-sky @crypt1dcat @karencaribou

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett angst #x men #professor logan #logan howlett x professor reader #not my best work #but I plan on revising at a later time #update: I did revise it and I like it more #still a little eh if I'm being honest but I don't know if that's the two hours of sleep talking or actually criticism #idk I can't be worrying about such things #I have immunology to do #which is another writing assignment #so I'm actually more in my element here #well it's also immunology which is my bread and butter #kicking my feet thinking about antigens interacting with WBCs #I've lost it officially

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imawreck · 1 month ago

Text

His

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky broke up a few months ago against your wishes, and you’d been trying to move on. When Bucky sees you flirting with another member of the team, he leaves for the next mission to avoid getting in your way. Unfortunately, the mission goes bad, and Bucky isn’t himself when he comes back. He also has a lot to say…

Author’s Note: I realize that in most of my fics Thor is the other romantic interest/situationship, but you CANT tell me that man wouldn’t flirt up a storm with a beautiful woman any chance he got. Also, this is my first smutty fic so feedback and comments would be much appreciated! This is on the more explicit side, so please read with caution.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), choking kink, Possessive!Winter Soldier, flashbacks, hair pulling, fingering, metal arm kink, dominant!winter soldier, probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 4,850

Breakups are ugly most of the time, and almost always one sided.

You and Bucky had been apart for at least three months. You’d stopped counting, wanting to forget it and focus on anything else. It was easier that way, to ignore the heartbreak and clutter up your life with other things to do.

Unfortunately, you still lived in the same tower on the same floor, right across from one another. He was constantly around, and no mattered how hard you tried, you just couldn’t avoid him.

It was hell.

And it was only hell because Bucky hardly gave you a good reason for the break up. Sure, you had your arguments. Mostly about his past and how much better he thought you deserved, to which you’d list all the reasons he was wrong. In reality, those weren’t really arguments. It was just Bucky having a low point, which you were more than willing to help him work through. Outside of those moments, you had felt that your relationship with Bucky was near perfect.

So when he had come back from a mission and broke up with you, his only reason being ‘I can’t be with you,’ it’d been a slap to the face. Like someone had shoved a knife in your heart and twisted.

The worst part was that he wouldn’t even allow you the chance to talk to him afterwards. Every time you were in the same room together alone, he’d find every reason not to speak with you.

So, you’d taken the hint and were now trying to figure out a way to move on.

That was made a little easier when a certain God of Thunder made his interest known to you. Thor was sweet, charming, and a little goofy. Not to mention handsome, with his blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

He’d made an effort to woo you not long after you’d parted from Bucky, and you’d informed him that the breakup was hard for you and that you couldn’t really do something new right now. Thor had been surprisingly understanding, and even took to just being friends quite well. Granted, he was still flirty, but he knew where you both stood and was always happy to lend an ear when you needed one.

He turned out to be just the friend you needed.

From the outside looking in, none of the others thought it was ‘just friends,’ especially when Thor would openly show his interest in you. Especially to a certain Super Soldier.

Bucky was painfully aware of what was going on between you and Thor even though he desperately tried not to be.

His super hearing picked up on the soft laughter you and the god would share, on the hushed whispers you’d exchange late over a mug of coffee when you thought everyone was asleep. His every fiber was attuned to you, and he couldn’t help but fixate on your presence.

You were like gravity to him, and he always found himself near you when he knew he should be as far as humanly possible. He saw the little looks you shared when Thor would compliment you, noticed your shy smile when the god would enter the room. He could tell that Thor was winning you over slowly but surely.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when he shipped off on the next mission possible.

You worried, your heart still set on loving him, but you tried to pay it little mind. And after a few days, it actually helped. You felt better, found yourself smiling more. You were beginning to move forward.

That was, until the jet was reported missing. Then Bucky was all anyone could talk about in the tower.

Thor tried his best to keep you in the dark about most of what was going on, and it wasn’t hard seeing as you were just a rather good strategist and not a serious Avenger. You were only really included in skimming over preplanned attacks and making sure they hadn’t missed anything critical.

But word still spread, and worry was ever present.

Needless to say, it was very strange when Mr. Stark called you into a private meeting with himself and two other of the elite team.

“Y/N,” He spoke softly in the kind of tone that lets you know that whatever he says next is going to ruin your whole week. “There’s a situation with Barnes.”

You frowned, eyebrows scrunching at him from where you sat at the rather empty end of the long black table. “I’m confused. Bucky and I broke up months ago. Why are you talking to me about it?”

Steve, who you’d befriended while dating his best pal, looked at you with poorly concealed pity from his seat next to Stark. “Because we know he still means a lot to you and that you’re our best hope in this situation.”

That didn’t make you feel better about whatever was going on at all. “What do you mean ‘this situation?’” You eyed them both, before dragging your eyes over to Doctor Banner who hadn’t done much more than stare at you with a concerned expression bordering on panic.

Stark pressed his fingers to his forehead, “Barnes got triggered on his mission and has infiltrated the tower. We have reason to believe he’s after you.”

You gaped at him. That didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important, at least not as important as one of The Avengers. “Me? Why me?”

“We’ve silently shut the building down and we’re working on evacuating the floors without anyone freaking out.” Tony went on, ignoring your questions, “He doesn’t know that we’re aware he’s here, and we’re trying to keep it that way.” Tony motioned towards a monitor, and the image of Bucky popped up on the screen.

Only he was in your room, and he was dragging his fingers over the picture of the two of you that was perched on the nightstand. They way his fingers smoothed over the glass, the slight pinch in his brows as if calculating instead of recalling. It was like he’d never seen it before in his life. Like he had no connection to the image of himself.

It was a picture he had taken, his arm extended and a smile on his face with your lips pressed to his cheek. You had meant to take it down and stuff it in the box under your bed with all the other memories you had hid from sight, but it was just too painful. You needed something to hold onto.

You watched through the screen as he moved around your room, taking note of certain things and taking careful precautions to ensure that anything he moved was set right back in place. It was eerie to watch a man who was once so comfortable in your space tread with so much hesitance. Like it was the first time he’d been in the space all over again.

“Y/N.” It was Steve’s gentle timbre that brought your attention away from the screen this time. He tried to smile, though it was clearly forced. “We need you to lure him down towards the lower levels. We have to get him to a room where we can better contain him. If he finds out we know he’s back and not… him, then he could snap.”

“You want to use me as bait? For the Winter Soldier?” You stared at them both with wide eyes, panic blooming in your chest. “This is insane!”

Steve sighed, “Y/N… Bucky told me about the incident that happened in the beginning of your relationship.”

Your attention zeroed in on the blonde’s words, your breath hitching.

“He told me what could’ve happened… and what didn’t.”

You walked down the corridor of the Stark tower office floor heading back towards your desk from a late night research meeting with a few of your coworkers. You had decided to stay later than the others so that you could collect and organize the information you needed for the meeting with Mr. Stark the following morning. It was very late, and you were tired, the heels you wore had begun to irritate the soles of your feet hours before.

You clutched the files you collected in your arms, heels clicking on the glossy floors and echoing into the dimly lit corridor. So dim that you didn't see the silhouette of the man standing just feet from you until it was too late.

You only saw a flash of silver before the door beside you was torn open and you were roughly shoved inside. Cleaning supplies clattered onto the floor, spilling liquids over your feet as you cried out. A hand clamped over your mouth, and your head hit the wall with a thunk.

Stormy blue eyes stared at you, cold and unfeeling. Eyes you had seen just days before smiling at you and filled with life.

Your lips moved to say his name against the cool metal of his hand, but his grip on your face was nearly bruising. You could only stare back in fear and attempt to press your body further from him.

He didn't speak, only stared at you and kicked the door to the closet shut.

Fear was a living thing in your stomach, writhing as his eyes snaked down to your red heels and back up again. His head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to remember something. But his eyes remained cold and unrelentingly empty. His flesh hand came up to press a finger threateningly to his lips.

‘Quiet.’

You weren't stupid enough to scream, not with the way he was looking at you, with how close he was. When he removed his hand, you did exactly as he wanted. Silence hung in the small closet, suffocating you. Would he kill you? What did he want? Why hadn't he killed you already?

The cool metal of his palm slipped further down, wrapping around your throat and pressing against your thundering pulse. Your head pounded along with it, and a foggy feeling settled over your mind.

But your lungs still filled with air, and you remained aware. The pressure of his hand was ever present, but it was light enough not to cause real damage... Almost like he didn't want to hurt you.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the movement catching your eyes. His body leaned forward, his nose pressing into your neck and his warm breath hitting your skin. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and that lick of fear heightened again. He was acting so strangely, and the longer it went on the more unsettling it was.

When he pulled away, there was a heat in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A hunger, and… and recognition.

“Hello, Beloved.”

“We know that he didn’t hurt you, and that he displayed… certain feelings towards you.” Steve’s voice brought you out of the memory, dragging you back to the reality at hand.

The one where he wants you to put yourself smack dab in the path of the Winter Soldier.

“You’re serious about this?” You blink up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. Level headed as Steve was, you trusted him with your life. But this? This was terrifying and completely unexpected. Ridiculously dangerous.

“It’s the only nonviolent way we can think of. And we’re almost certain there’s no high risk for you.�� Steve tried to give you a reassuring smile, tried to hide the hint of unease that shone in his tense shoulders.

“You’ve all lost your mind.” You laugh, sighing and raising your chin. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Apparently, so had you.

You stared at the metal doors of the elevator, your heart pounding with each toll of the floors passing. This was probably—no, was— the riskiest thing you’d ever done in your life. You trusted Steve and Mr. Stark, but your brain was trained to find the flaws in plans like this. And so many things could go wrong.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Steve said calmly into your ear, startling you. You’d forgotten they’d given you the earpiece. “I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll guide you through the compound and make sure you stay out of danger.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if they could see you.

“Bucky is leaving your room. We’re going to drop you off in the commons area of your floor. All you have to do is make some noise and then head for the stairwell. Just listen to me, and I’ll get you through this.” Steve sounded so confident in your ear, but it did little to soothe the nerves.

The elevator leveled out, and the doors quietly opened. The large living room opened up before you, unnervingly bright and welcoming despite the danger you knew lurked just down the hall. You stepped out onto the carpet, walking towards the kitchen. Your palms sweat, heart pounding, as you made your way up to the cabinets.

You just had to make some noise. Easy, right?

But your body wouldn’t move.

“Y/N.” Steve’s voice called in your ear again, gently coaxing you from where he watched the cameras. “Make some noise, and then head for the stairs.”

You swallowed, nodding again, and reached with shaky hands towards the cabinet. You grabbed a bowl, and hesitantly set it down on the granite counter. The echoing pok of the ceramic felt too loud in your ears, like a gunshot.

“Good, now move quickly. He’s just down the hall headed your way.”

The words sent a chill down your spine… and something else followed. Something you’d never felt before.

You headed towards the stairs, but your feet felt like lead weights. Like you couldn’t move fast enough even though you knew you were going as fast as you could.

But you could hear the faintest scuff of boots coming behind you and the sound sent your heart into a frenzy.

You raced down the stairs, tripping a few times before righting yourself and continuing your decent down towards the lower levels. Your floor was four levels up from ground level, which meant you had six floors in total to descend before you could get to the containment floor.

Six flights of stairs being chased by The Winter Soldier. A superhuman man who was definitely faster than you, and probably wanted to do something terrible to you. Like a wolf hunting a sheep.

Oh God.

The thought only served to spur the panic rising in you. You kicked up your speed when the door slammed behind you, footsteps pounding after you as the dark silhouette of Bucky Barnes rounded the stairs two flights above.

He took the stairs four at a time, his long legs swallowing up the distance between you. The panic clawed its way up your throat in a strangled cry, and the sound just seemed to quicken his pace.

“I’m not fast enough!” You tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep it quiet in the echoing stairwell so that the soldier behind you would hear.

“You’re almost there, Y/N. Just keep up the pace. Two flights left and—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

You watched in shocked horror as Bucky’s figure leapt over the railing and plummeted towards the ground. He dropped several flights before his arm snapped out and wrapped around the railing. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out around you as the railing dipped under the crushing pressure.

He hauled himself back onto the stairs just before you. Those cold eyes found yours, dark hair framing sharp features, painting him into something primal. Something wild.

That feeling pounded through you again, skittering along your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. You still couldn’t place it, not with him stepping towards you with a look that promised violence.

You heard Steve’s voice ordering something over the earpiece, but it was distant. It became clearer a moment later. “We’ve got a team heading in. Just… just hang in there.”

You swallowed, but your throat had gone dry in the presence of the assassin before you. His eyes held you in place as his towering form finally stopped a stair below you, leveling with you face to face. So close you could count the stitches in the Kevlar of his suit.

You felt your body shaking, heard your heart thundering in your ears as your chest rose and fell with each short breath you managed to drag into your lungs.

And he watched every move you made.

His head titled to the side exactly like it’d done the first time you’d been trapped with him. His gaze never left you, eyes wandering over your face and heaving chest before that faint look of recognition settled into those hollow eyes.

And then that heat you’d seen before consumed them.

He stepped forward, and you answered with a step back. For each one he took, you pedaled backwards until your body was plastered against the wall. When you tried to flee back up the stairs, his metal hand planted itself against the wall inches from your head.

You were utterly trapped.

Rough Russian left his lips in the softest whisper. The sound was the same as you’d heart him say before, though you didn’t understand it.

Not until now, as the earpiece Steve had given you translated his words as he spoke them.

“Hello again, Beloved.”

Those blue eyes bored into yours, as his other hand came up to brush your cheek with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of.

“He’s kept me from you for so long.” Bucky’s body leaned forward, caging you against the wall. His metal hand remained pressed against the wall beside you, and the other dragged across the skin of your neck and shoulder in an almost reverent manner.

Bucky’s— no, this wasn’t Bucky. This was the part of Bucky he kept farthest from you. This was a man known for cruel, unimaginable violence. An assassin known by reputation around the world by both hero and criminal alike and feared by all. This was the Winter Soldier.

Winters lips brushed your jaw, stubble tickling the column of your throat as his voice rumbled against your skin. “Kept you to himself. Never let me touch you. Worried I’d damage you, Beloved. Couldn’t see you needed me.”

His teeth nipped at your skin, and a shiver rolled down your spine in answer. That feeling tugged at your mind again, spurred by his words. But still, you couldn’t place it. Not with your mind consumed by his statements and barely contained yearning.

When his head lifted to find your eyes again, the fingers of his right hand tangled themselves in your hair and pulled hard enough to have your scalp stinging. His next words were guttural and biting, “And then he let you go.”

Winters grip loosened a bit, but his hold on your hair remained. “He pushed you away, and then that god tries to take you from me?” His eyes held you, demanding your utter attention as his head shook slowly, “You don’t belong to him.”

Tugging your lip between your teeth, you clenched your eyes shut. God, you wished Bucky would say that to you. Having Winter here saying these words with Bucky’s voice, Bucky’s face. Touching you with familiar hands…

Heat had begun to pool low in your belly.

The words were spoken in English. “Open your eyes.”

There was no room for objection in his voice, so you did as he said. With his jaw was set in an angry line, and those blue eyes boring into your soul, he leaned in closer. “He thinks that being with you is too dangerous, that you aren’t safe with… with us.”

“What?” Your heart hammered in your chest at his words. It was the first real reason as to why Bucky had broken up with you.

Those silvery blue eyes zeroed on your lips as he spoke again. “He thinks we can’t protect you, that I’ll hurt you. That somehow being further from you keeps you safe from what comes with being what we are.” His metal hand left the wall in favor of brushing over your lower lip and trailing the cool tips of his fingers down to the dip of your breasts and back up to the column of your throat. “I’d never hurt you, not the way he has. Not if you didn’t want it.”

“W-what do you mean?” You just knew he was picking up on how your heart beat harder as his fingers trailed over your skin. Or the way you kept shifting on your feet to stave off the heat thrumming in your veins with an all too familiar want blooming and begging for his hands to explore more.

The faintest hint of a smile graced his face as he gave your hair another gentle tug, then loosened his grip once more. “You like this. I’ve seen how you react with him. How you quietly treasure the marks he leaves on your skin even when he feels nothing but guilt.” That metal hand slipped over your throat again and pressed on your neck exactly as he’d done the first time you’d seen Winter. Your head spun at the pressure, but you could breathe easily under the cool press of his palm as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “I see how badly you wish he’d touch you with this hand,” he squeezed your neck and loosened it quickly, “How badly you want those marks. How badly you need me.”

You had no words. Nothing to say as he wrung out the truth you’d thought was hidden from him— from Bucky.

Bucky was notorious for avoiding any situation that would make him use the metal arm. He would much rather let it hang there, or act as if he didn’t have it at all. That included when the two of you would get intimate. He never dared to bring it anywhere near you no matter how many times you’d reminded him it was fine, that you weren’t afraid of it. He outright refused to allow it to touch your delicate skin, to let such a catalyst for agony so close to something as precious as you.

Winter knew that you’d secretly craved to feel the cold metal in contrast to his warm skin when he held you. He knew that you would always find it more satisfying when Bucky would lose himself and get rough with you when things got heated. How his flesh hand would leave bruises on your thighs or hips to keep you steady as he thrust himself deeper.

Just the thought had you aching, and here was Bucky’s darker half offering you everything you’d ever wanted.

You were losing your fucking mind.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but the words were flimsy and meaningless. He knew the truth, but that didn’t mean you had to say it aloud.

His metal fingers dug into your jaw, his grip near bruising as he tilted your head up to level your eyes with his. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dollface.” His lips were a hairs-width away, his warm breath fanning over your face.

The scent of him was intoxicating, muddling your mind even further with heady leather and metal invading your nose. The hint of that aftershave you’d missed so much since Bucky broke your heart.

Winter was tearing you apart at the seams.

“Please,” you whispered. Please what? You didn’t know. You could hardly think straight. That feeling was so strong, thrumming along with your pulse and the ache for something. Anything.

“Tell me I’m right.” He mumbled against your skin. Soft lips, a vast contrast to his rough demeanor, to the calloused hand that remained tangled in your hair, trailed down your cheek. “Tell me that you want me. Not the pathetic excuse for a god, or him. That you want me.”

His metal hand released your face, drifting over your neck and dragging over the left side of your chest. He circled once, thumbing over your nipple with a knowing look filled with every sinful promise known to man.

And then he went lower and lower…

His fingers caught the waistband of your leggings, the chill of his fingers raised goosebumps across your stomach, only serving to worsen that burning need.

“Doll,” a command and a question wrapped in one word.

All you had to do was admit your darkest most guarded secret. Confess, and he would give you what you wanted most. What Bucky was too afraid to do.

You opened your mouth, the words tumbling out as he gave your hair another tug.

“I want you.”

That smirk grew just a fraction more, his fingers slipping past your waistband and toying with the hem of your panties.

Fuck, did you wish you’d gone commando today.

“Who am I?” He asked, teeth nipping down your neck hard enough to know they’d leave marks. “I want you to say it, Y/N.”

Those fingers slipped further, rolling over your aching clit in a teasing stroke before he pulled them away again.

If he wasn’t a literal assassin, you’d consider strangling him.

“For fucks sake,” you gripped his arm, your voice unfamiliar in your own ears, ragged and broken. “Winter, please.”

He didn’t waste time, deft, cool fingers dipping into your core with confidence. Soothing that aching heat.

Fuck.

His thumb circled slow as he pumped his fingers, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your jaw up to your lips where he paused long enough to catch a glimpse of your face. You knew you looked like an utter mess, but those blue eyes showed nothing but twisted delight. He leaned forward and tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, bitting hard enough to make you groan.

Winter’s answering grunt of approval urged you further towards the edge of oblivion those perfect metal fingers were working you towards.

God you were so close. Each movement, every touch and bruise he left on your skin pushing you closer and closer. Just a bit more, a fraction more and you’d—

His fingers wrenched away, gone in an instant.

Your eyes, closed from the pleasure just moments ago, snapped open just before the doors to the stairway above and below you burst open. Floods of agents filed through the doors, and a gun fired.

The sharp sound echoed in the confined space making you flinch. Winters back pressed you against the wall, a solid shield of muscle keeping you out of harms way.

Then the weight was too heavy. His body crushing you as he slumped toward the floor. You screamed, immediately thinking the worse as your eyes searched his form in a panic.

But you found no blood, thank God.

“He’s fine, Y/N.”

Steve’s hand on your shoulder had you flinching back, head snapping to his suit clad form. “The gun—“

“It’s just a tranq. I promise, Bucky will be fine.” His face was the picture of practiced reassurance.

A horde of agents rushed forward and cuffed Winters hands and dragged his unconscious body out of the stairwell and further towards the confinement room. Steve remained with you, his eyes flicking to your neck a few times and checking you over to make sure no serious damage had been done.

When you’d gotten yourself back to your room away from the prying eyes and the relentless questions, the reality of what had happened slammed into you.

You just let the Winter Soldier finger you in a fucking stairwell.

And you liked it.

Plunging your fingers into your hair, you took a shaky breath. What the fuck were you thinking? Had you lost your damn mind? Bucky broke up with you three months ago! You were done; over, moving on. He could remember this, for Christ sake! How would you explain it?

Panic writhed in your stomach, but so did the faint ache of need that reminded you of what had just happened mere minutes ago.

The feeling of his metal hand on your skin, the feeling of those fingers working you perfectly and the pressure of his bruising grip.

And that feeling that you couldn’t place.

But now you had a word for it.

From the thrum of your heart as he chased you down the stairs, the promise of violence and sinful pleasure in his eyes. The roughness of his actions…

It was the thrill.

You liked the chase. You liked how rough he was. The delicious blend of panic and pleasure.

And he’d been interrupted before you got the release you’d craved. That you needed.

Frustration boiled to the forefront of your mind, a dozen different strategies with it.

He’d made you confess your darkest secret only to leave you high and dry.

And damn him if he wasn’t going to finish what he started.

#winter soldier #drama #👀#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #x reader #angst #smut

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boneblushed · 5 months ago

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Ignorance by infatuation

synopsis A detective behaves lewdly with you. Aaron Hotchner gets uncharacteristically jealous.

wc 1.7k

a/n omg my first Hotch fic ever hehe 🤭 feedback and love always appreciated, still trying to find my Crim Minds voice!

It’s 8 o’clock in the morning, the air sultry and verdant, rain soaked leaves underfoot.

Aaron Hotchner frowns. Petrichor and dew mean evidence awash. He pauses to squint up at the sky, muddy grey with isolated streaks of yellow dawn.

You’re acutely aware of Spencer’s eyes on you as you walk past Hotch, and give yourself a mild headache by focussing too hard on the commotion ahead. The rest of the team don’t seem to notice the tension between you and SSA Hotchner. Or perhaps they do, and the pair of you are just too stubborn to admit it.

It’s been lurking under the surface for a while now, this perplexing pull between you. Lingering glances, raised eyebrows, irises spooled with tendrils of static. A hand pressed against your back every time he scoots behind you, like an excuse. He doesn’t do that with Emily. None of the other agents. A frown that tends to yield when your gaze catches his.

Or hardens when someone acts a little lewder than is appropriate.

Like the other day, for example, when he’d overheard you on the phone with some deadbeat cop in the Dallas area. (He’s probably being unfair. He probably isn’t even a deadbeat. It’s just that anyone that flirts with the idea of your favour is going to be unworthy in comparison, even Agent Hotchner.)

The phone had rung in the middle of your exchange, and you’d answered it immediately, mouthing apologies in its place. Aaron Hotchner remembers the shine of gloss on your lips, the ways your fingers clasped the phone to your ear, gentle but firm. Remnants of peach coloured polish on your nails.

“Yes, this is she,” you’d answered, mouthing another apology to him. “How can I help you?”

You’d come into his office a few minutes prior to discuss something media strategy; Hotch didn’t have a mind for it, he much preferred giving you all the reins. He recognised how strange this was for a control freak as prolific as him. You were different though, he’d attest. It was a sentiment as dangerous, as non-platonic, as the feelings making home in his ribcage.

��Right,” you’d said, pulling your spiral-bound notebook out of your pocket. You’d wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder, slipping your pen out of your breast pocket and clicking it against it. Hotch felt unseasonably hot at such attention to your chest. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, trying to catch your gaze.

“Ah, I see, yes that does sound like our area of expertise,” you’d continued, and then a pause, an awkward, unwieldy laugh. Still beautiful. “No, yes, our is correct — I am in fact part of the team.” Another pause; this time, you’d rolled your eyes when your laugh spooled out of your pretty mouth. He didn’t recognise it. “I don’t know about that. Should we get back to the case at hand? Great.”

Hotchner’s eyebrows had lowered then, furrowing into an expression of concern, flailing interest. Not jealousy. He was pretty certain he knew all your laughs, the cadence of them, the syrupy timbre. This one was new. You sounded uncomfortable, as though something said over the phone had abraded you somehow. As his eyebrows had, his heart had sunk into his stomach. He remembers the strain of his forearm muscles against his clenched knuckles.

“Sure. Yes. As soon as I have all the details I’ll be able to distribute them. Great, yes, we’ll see you soon, I’m sure. Thank you. Goodbye.”

And that had been that. Hotch hadn’t had the stomach to ask after the details, especially not when you’d seemed so eager to put it behind you.

After ending the call, you’d shaken your head and proclaimed, “Don’t ask,” launching back into your spiel about media strategy like it hadn’t happened. Hotch wasn’t in the business of disagreeing with you; pressing things. Saying no. It wasn’t lost on him that he used the word liberally with everyone else he knew.

Back at the scene, Hotch stays a few steps behind the team. He knows that Spencer’s assessing eyes will see right through his faux contemplation; Hotchner knows, from the many frowns Spencer’s eidetic memory has learned, that the expression on his face will be recognised as distraction.

He needs to focus. He needs you near. He needs to keep his eye on the ball. He needs deadbeat detective far away from here.

As you and the BAU team near the crime scene, a rugged looking cop pulls away from his colleagues. He has eyes like treacle tart and a grin that borders on a smirk. A toothpick hangs from his mouth like something out of a Western.

“Detective Landon?” You say, extending a hand in acknowledgement. “Hello, we spoke on the phone yesterday morning.”

Detective Landon spits the toothpick out of his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he does so. But it isn’t the depth of his gaze that drops yours. You can feel someone else’s eyes searing holes through your skull.

“Well I’ll be,” he drawls, taking your hand and pressing it to his mouth. “Your voice doesn’t do you justice, darling.”

You resist the urge to make a face. It’s awful, unfortunate, but you’re far too used to this. Behind you, Derek raises his eyebrows, sharing an amused look with Emily beside him. Rossi looks exasperated. Spencer’s expression remains unchanged, though he does steal a glance at Hotchner. You smile, the way you always do, refusing to be thrown off by his candour.

“That’s a shame,” you reply breezily, turning to introduce your team. “Detective, this is SSA Morgan, SSA Prentiss, Dr Spencer Reid, and —”

“I’m the unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner,” Hotch interrupts, a menacing gravel to his timbre. He doesn’t shake the hand Detective Landon extends to him. The detective draws it back with a gauche bark of laughter, turning his attention to the rest of the BAU.

“My my,” he says, his drawl returning as his eyes meet Emily’s. “What do I gotta do to get in on this team of yours?”

“A formal education would be helpful,” Spencer supplies, squinting at him through his glasses.

Detective Landon turns to him then, raising his eyebrows. “Doctor Reid, was it?”

“It is, but no need to aim that high, buddy,” Morgan says then, stepping forward and patting him on the shoulder. Landon winces. “Now. You going to talk us through what you guys got so far or what?”

“Damn, y’all are a feisty bunch, huh?” He replies, pulling another toothpick out of his breast-pocket. He sends you a wink that makes Hotch’s insides turn, adding, “Don’t mind it on you, sweetheart, but maybe the rest of the BAU ‘oughta play nice.”

Aaron Hotchner would normally agree with his sentiment. He’s been a long time advocate of working alongside the local police in investigations; he recognises that collaboration is far more productive than condescension.

Unfortunately for him, this isn’t quite a normal situation.

Things to do with you and other men rarely are. An ugly green emotion eases his heart right into his throat.

“Or maybe,” Hotchner says crisply, his steely gaze pinning Landon to the spot, “I should have a chat with your Captain and take you off this case.”

Landon balks. “Sir —”

“You’re dismissed,” Hotchner interrupts, not wanting to hear it. He’s unaware of the amused look Emily and Morgan share behind him.

“You…” Landon trails off exasperatedly, shaking his head, “…you can’t dismiss me. This is my case.”

“Actually, it’s the BAU’s case now.” He turns to you expectantly. You think you catch his gaze soften as it falls over your face in paces. Trick of the light, you suppose. “Right?”

“Sure,” you say weakly.

“Right then. Rossi?” Hotch says then, turning to David Rossi autocratically. “Why don’t you and the team go ahead and assess the scene while I head to base and sort out a reassignment.”

“Not you, Reid,” he adds, keeping Spencer in place. “You can come to the station with me, get our replacement up to speed. Sound good?”

Morgan’s trying hard to hide his knowing grin, one side of his mouth upturned with mirth. Emily isn’t bothering to pretend she doesn’t know what’s going on, her pretty features lit up with amusement. Detective Landon looks mortified. Your cheeks feel on fire.

“Alright,” Rossi says after pause, glancing between you and Hotchner. He’s been in the FBI for long enough now that he’s learnt to pick his battles.

He turns around and begins walking toward the crime scene, the three of you trailing behind him with less purposeful strides.

“Huh,” Derek says, faux-thoughtful. You’re wedged between him and Emily, much to your chagrin. “Wonder what that was about. Any ideas, SSA Prentiss?”

“Well, SSA Morgan,” Emily replies, her smile audible. “I’m afraid that our dear old unit chief has a bit of a soft spot.”

“A soft spot?” Derek echoes, letting out a dramatic gasp. “That’s dangerous in our line of work, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say,” Emily responds sagely.

“Oh shut up, you two,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t just about me. He made a pass on Emily too.”

Emily snorts, shaking her head exasperatedly. “Hey Rossi, you got a name for this phenomenon?”

“Oh yeah,” Rossi replies without hesitation, his gaze trained ahead of him. “Ignorance by infatuation.”

Out of earshot, Spencer and Hotchner are having a similarly painful conversation.

“Strange,” Spencer decides, breaking the silence with his candour.

Aaron knows what he’s insinuating. He resists the urge to turn around and steal another glance at your pretty silhouette. “He was behaving inappropriately. There’s nothing strange about it, Spencer. I was protecting my team.”

“The whole team?”

“Yes.”

“Including me?”

“Yes.”

“But I liked him.”

Hotchner sends him an incredulous look. “And what exactly was there to like?”

“He was entertaining, I think,” Spencer replies casually, shrugging. “In a cop way, you know? Plus, I love listening to Y/N reject men. It’s fascinating.”

Hotchner swallows. “Fascinating?”

“She always does it in this way where they don’t even realise what exactly’s happening,” Spencer explains matter-of-factly. He turns to Aaron Hotchner then. “Don’t worry, though, she’d never do that to you.”

Hotchner’s traitorous heart leaps, his mouth pulling into a paradoxical frown. “Spencer,” he warns.

“Just saying,” Spencer replies, raising his arms in surrender.

“Well,” Hotch says grumpily, “don’t.”

“Alright. Noted.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotchner x reader #Hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fluff

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eraenaa · 6 months ago

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Parting Gift

Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon Targaryen Tag List

Synopsis: Aegon asks for a parting gift from his younger brother and his beloved wife: One night with you in exchange for the throne.

Warnings: Threesome, ¿Manipulative Aemond?, Violence, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (f and m receiving), Squirting, Overstimulation, ¿Slight Degradation?, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,017

A/N: Even I have to admit that this is one of the more steamier fics i made.

After the toll of war had subsided, your husband and his side reigned victorious—after two years of blood, battles, and betrayals, the greens had defied the odds and won the Dance of the Dragons. Your lord husband now serving as the hand of his brother, the King who still had not come to terms with his responsibilities to the realm. Often, you wonder who the true king was, Aegon or your husband Aemond, who had stood in his brother’s stead, taking all the responsibilities that were not meant for him.

You admired your husband’s efforts and initiatives, but you would admit you had missed him dearly. After moons spent away as he waged war in the Riverlands and his duties as hand and now substituting as king, the two of you had barely time for each other. It had not left your lips yet, but you were starting to feel neglected. You would hope that the nights would be spent with just you and your husband, but more often than not, you went to sleep alone, cold and needing in your bed. Only feeling Aemond’s presence when the morning was soon to come, and when you woke, Aemond was no longer there.

“Aemond…” You called as you clung to his side, the two of you in the sitting area, him reading countless scrolls whilst you clung to his side, trying to fight for his attention. You placed soft kisses on his neck and jaw, and before, he would always be quick to respond. However, now, he simply hummed and continued on with his duties. You feel yourself pout as your eyes shift between him and the scroll in his hands. You bit your lip and sighed in defeat, standing and making your way to your bed to sleep and not dwell on the growing hurt of your husband’s neglect. “Where are you going?” Aemond asked, voice still distracted, his hand clasped around your wrist. “Bed. I… I don’t wish to disturb you,” You say quietly and gaze into his lilac eye. Aemond sighed and shook his head, pulling you towards him, you landing on his lap and you circled your arms around his neck.

“Just one more scroll, and I’m all yours, my fire,” He whispered and connected your lips briefly, but it was enough to bring butterflies to your stomach and need to your core. You waited patiently on Aemond’s lap, scratching your nails gently at the back of his head as he read. You hear a deep, satisfied hum leave his throat as you do the action, and you feel your lips twitch into a smirk. You were reading along with what he read when you were caught by surprise as he intertwined your lips once more, the scroll he read discarded to the side. “I’ve missed you, my love,” You sighed against his lips, his hold on your waist growing tighter, and you felt his arousal through your shift.

“I should hope so… I apologize for my extended duties,” Aemond sighed and tucked a stray piece of your hair, watching intently as the sleeve of your shift drifted off. “You’ll make it up to me, won’t you, my love?” You hummed and entangled your fingers in his hair. Taking hold of the strap of his eyepatch to gaze at the sapphire in his eye. “That, I will,” Aemond smirked and moved you to straddle his waist.

You moaned as your lips locked again, his tongue fighting with yours. You lifted your waist as he undid and pulled down his breeches, his hard length already pushing against your entrance. “Aemond… gods, I’ve missed you.” You moaned as you sank down on his length. “Me or my cock?” He breathed out, amused, already overwhelmed at how you clenched around his length, missing the feeling of you. “Answer, little wife,” Aemond hummed as you bounced on his length, his head dipping down to take the bud of your tit, his teeth lightly nipping it, making you moan louder. "Both,” You answered. You would often touch yourself during the nights Aemond would be taken by his duties. Trying to imagine it was Aemond’s hands bringing your pleasure, but that was not enough to suffice your needs. You needed your husband desperately.

For the first time in a few moons, you and your husband were intimate and slept in your marital bed together. You slept that night contended, and when morning came, you felt your heart double as you still felt him holding you against his chest.

You smiled and raised your hand to lightly trace his brow, “Good morning,” You smiled as Aemond’s eye twitched open. “Indeed it is,” He whispered and dipped down to kiss your lips, moving you to rest your whole body atop his chest, making you let out a small laugh. You inhaled his scent deeply, savoring him. “My love?” You called, and you traced the contour of his chest; Aemond hummed. “Will you do something for me?” You asked shyly. “I will do anything and everything for you,” Aemond replied without hesitation, your smile growing wide at his words. “Can… can we spend more time together?” You asked quietly. “I’ve just noticed that the time spent with just us has grown scarily scarce… and I’ve missed you greatly, Aemond.” You pouted, and Aemond sighed.

“I admire how you tend to your duties meticulously… almost stubbornly, in fact.” You say, and Aemond laughs, “But you have a duty to me as well.” You cautiously added. Aemond sighed and ran his hand through your hair, trailing down your back, making gooseflesh rise to your skin by the touch of his cold hand. “I apologize, my fire, that my duties had led me to neglect you,” Aemond softly said as you traced the scar on his cheek. “So, will you spend the day with me?” You asked hopefully, but the smile on your lips slipped as Aemond let out a grievous breath, hating to see the disappointment in your eyes.

“I just… I have prior engagements this week, little wife. But I swear to you, by the week’s end, I am completely yours.” Aemond quickly said, trying to relieve the disappointment in your eyes. Aemond kissed your pouted lips, “Very well then,” you sighed and removed your weight from your husband to get ready for the day.

Later that day, you found yourself in the gardens, a bit sullen as you spent the day alone once more. Before, you would spend the days with Helaena, but you were left utterly devastated when during the war, her madness took her— the Red Keep mourning her deeply for moons to come. Aegon watched as you solemnly walked through the flowers, your smile he had grown to admire was gone, and he was alarmed as he had not seen it for a while. Aegon knew he should attend to his duties, that his brother and the small council were already waiting for him, but he could not hinder himself as his feet carried him towards your direction.

You hear shuffling behind you, and you quickly turn, your eyes locking with violets. “My king,” you curtsied as you saw Aegon. He smiled, “How many times must I tell you, no titles are needed when it comes to family, sister,” He said and stepped closer to you. You gave him a small smile and nod, “How are you, brother? I heard that the realm has been proven to be quite… demanding after the war.” You asked as he offered his arm for you to take, escorting you through the gardens; oh, how you wished Aemond was the one escorting you— but you would take any company offered.

“Indeed it has… though I am quite fortunate to have my brother as my hand, Aemond has always been the one keen on such matters,” Aegon answered, inhaling a deep breath of your scent as a gust of wind came. You always smelt so lovely, Aegon thought. A calming scent, and he wondered if it were the reason his brother would soften every time you were in his presence. Or perhaps it was just your whole being, sweet and serene.

“Yes, quite keen,” You say, and Aegon is quick to notice the sadness in your tone. “You do not approve?” He questioned, and you could not even have it in yourself to lie through your teeth. “It is just… I miss him. With the moons spent apart, I thought at least we would spend some time together, but he was quickly ushered to his duties.” You confessed, and Aegon pursed his lips. He, too, knew the plight of the duties of the realm, and though he had already fought the war, the throne was one thing he had never wanted. He thankfully had his brother to rely upon, Aemond catching the duties of king as well as hand. However, he did not expect you to grow so… sullen about your husband’s extended duties.

After a few more moments in the privy of the gardens, Aegon reluctantly departed from your company, knowing he must attend to at least one matter for the day. He ventured towards the room of the small council, hindering the guards from opening the door, for he eavesdropped upon the conversation held when he was not present. Aemond had always commanded the room, and it would seem that even in the king’s absence, his presence was not missed. He stood there for a few minutes, noting how productive his brother and the lords were, a matter they cannot do when he is present.

Aegon drew in a deep breath before nodding for the guards to open the doors and as he walked in, it would seem their meeting was done. The Lords and masters stood to take their leave, surprised by the presence of their king. Aegon nodded along as they passed him, and his brother sat in his place, his persistent scowl adorning his face. “You are incredibly late… we have finished the matters for the day,” Aemond said sternly, not bothering to stand from the seat Aegon did anything to deserve. “I apologize; I was taken by your wife… accompanying her in the gardens,” He spoke and watched as Aemond’s nose flared and his fists clenched.

“You should pay more attention to attention to her, brother. You are fortunate enough to have a wife so eager to be in your presence,” Aemond clenched his jaw at his brother’s words, hinting longing in his tone. Aemond’s vision was impaired, but he was not blind to miss the yearning of Aegon for you. They had known you since childhood, and ever since, Aegon was always enthralled by your presence, mystified to be with you, but your heart and attention were always on Aemond. Aemond knew not what he had done to be blessed by such adoration from you, but he knew he would not be an ingrate to question it and squander it off.

“I would have time for my lady wife if the king tended to his duties rather than let me handle them,” Aemond spat as his brother stepped closer to him, noting that your scent had lingered on Aegon, making jealousy in him spike. How close were your proximity to each other?

“You had always been the one able to perform and solve the problems of the realm; why must I do it when I have no wish for such duties?” Aegon questioned and that only added to Aemond’s rage. “Because you are king!” Aemond almost yelled, abruptly standing from his seat. Aegon simply hummed, toying with the orbs on the table. “Aye, king,” He stated, not accepting his faith. “Perform your duties, brother— I am merely your hand, and I am tempted to step down for even I am overwhelmed by the demands of these two duties!” Aemond threatened, and Aegon sighed, shaking his head.

“What if I lessen it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, and Aemond frowned. “What do you mean?” The prince asked, and Aegon let out another sigh. “I shall lessen your duties; you no longer have to be the hand and king… just… just king,” Aegon stated confidently at his decision. He had no wish for duty or this life— he was unencumbered by a wife or children; hypothetically, he was a free man. He was free to do what he wished, but the crown was his only hindrance.

There were only a few moments in his life where Aemond was taken aback; him claiming his dragon, your first kiss, your wedding day and night, and his sister’s death, Aegon stepping down as king was now added to that list. “You cannot be serious,” He stated, unable to find the words. “I am,” Aegon replied with finality. “You know I never had the wish to be burdened by these duties. I was ready to sail off to YiTi but you and Cole had hindered me.” Aegon stepped closer to his brother, who stood still in shock, “Be the King, Aemond. Help me escape, and the iron throne is yours,” Aemond licked his lips, pondering over the proposition before ultimately nodding. Aegon felt a smile twitch on his lips, already feeling the weight of pressure off him.

“I’ll find you a ship,” Aemond stated, ready to perform the plan, but his brother took hold of his shoulder. “However, I do wish for a parting gift,” Aemond rolled his eye as he heard the tone of his brother’s voice. “What more could you want?” Aemond asked, straightening his back. “In exchange for the throne, I want your wife.”

Aemond did not hesitate before grabbing his brother by his collar, landing a punch on his jaw, and slamming his head upon the table. Aegon sadistically laughed, “Come now, brother,” He said in amusement. “Perhaps I should just kill you now and take the crown for myself,” Aemond mused, slamming Aegon’s head into the table once more, wanting to draw blood as Aegon had the audacity to want you. “And be a kinslayer twice?” Aegon hummed, “You were lucky enough your sweet wife still loved you even after starting the war— do you think she would still be able to forgive you if you kill your brother?” Aemond gripped his brother’s hair harder.

“Just one night, brother… share her for one night, and the throne will be all yours. She’ll be your queen and your son the heir to the throne,” Aegon played with Aemond’s desires. Aemond gritted his jaw and felt rage fuel him. He let out a breath and released his brother, “One night,” He gritted, and Aegon smirked as he stood. “And I shall be in observance.” He added, and Aegon nodded, expecting it. “Very well then, go, find me a ship, and I shall see you and your lovely wife when the moon is high,” Aegon smirked, already filled with desire and excitement to have you, even if it was just for one night.

“Aemond!” You say in surprise, sitting straighter on the settee as your husband returns to you earlier than you had expected. Aemond shut the door of your chambers as you rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss. Aemond turned lax in your arms, and he circled his arms around your waist. “Wha… why are you here?” You asked, and Aemond raised his brow. “It’s just… you usually return later in the night, though I am happy you are here,” You beamed, and Aemond could only kiss your lips as he could not disclose the reality of his early return.

Aemond led you to the sitting area, never parting your lips as he gathered the courage to tell you of the dealing made behind closed doors. You took in deep breaths as your lips parted, and you perched upon his lap. “Seriously, why are you here so early? The sun has barely set… is everything well?” You asked in concern as you saw apprehension in his lilac orb. “Aegon wishes to step down as king,” Aemond confessed and watched your eyes widen, but you were not completely in shock; in truth, you were just counting down the days before Aegon fully escaped his duty.

“I found him a ship, as he had ordered,” Aemond added, stalling as he had no clue how to tell you about their dealings. “When is he to leave?” You asked quietly, intertwining your hands with your husband’s. You could feel a slight sadness in him that yet another member of his family was to depart. “Before tomorrow’s early light,” Aemond said, and you nodded. “Then… you’ll be king?” You asked cautiously, thrilled that your husband would finally gain what he had wanted since he was a boy but dreading the demanding duties that come with it. You could only hope that with his council, he would not be completely burdened by the realm as he was now. “Aye,” Aemond nodded and cupped your cheek.

“However… my brother asked for a parting gift before he leaves,” He said, watching keenly every reaction present in your face. “Oh? What is it?” You asked and slightly frowned at the solemn and almost apologetic look on your husband’s face. “He… he asked for you,” Aemond bit his lip as your mouth parted in shock and your eyes filled with confusion. “What? Me? Y—you said ‘no,’ yes?” You asked in scandal, but you feel your stomach pit as your husband could not give you a reply, his eye going downwards to the floor. “Aemond… wh—“

“It’s just for one night, my love— and I shall be here to make certain he will not step a foot out of bounds,” Aemond whispered and felt his stomach twist as you stood and walked away from him. “You cannot be serious!” You almost yelled.

Aemond went to you and took you into his arms. “Just one night… after that, I will be king— you, my queen. Our children to be the heirs of Westeros.” Aemond tried to convince. You shook your head; in truth, you know you should feel offended that your husband had practically sold you off to his brother like a common whore in exchange for the throne, but you could not find yourself to be appalled by the dealings made. You sighed heavily and shook your head.

“If I am king… I will have more time to be with you, having installed a council that I know is competent and will not waiver under small dilemmas— unlike the pathetic lords my brother had chosen. Isn’t that what you wanted, my fire? For us to spend more time together? Have you not said it yourself that you had missed me terribly, hm?” Aemond tried to sway your mind. He was truly blessed that you were always one to believe and fall for his words.

You took a deep breath, “Are… are you certain of this— you would let your brother f—fuck me?” You said hesitantly, watching as his eye darkened and his jaw clenched. Aemond had always been a jealous man, never one to share. You recalled the time he had cut the hand of a lord for he had touched you. It was quite a severe reaction, especially when you considered you and Aemond were not anything but childhood friends at the time. Aemond could only nod, and you rested your hands on his chest. “Very well then, I shall do as you wish.” You agreed. Aemond had told you that he would do anything and everything for you, and you supposed you would do the same for him.

When the hour of the owl came, you sat nervously in yours and Aemond’s shared bed as he was sitting before you by the sitting area. Husband and wife waiting for the king. With each moment Aemond stared at you, perched upon your bed, the candlelight illuminating you, the doubts in him multiplied. When he heard you let out a shaky breath, his mind had now convinced him not to go through with the plan, but before he could take back what he had devised, a knock sounded out through your room, and Aemond knew that the both of you were past the point of no return. You chewed on your lip as your husband downed his wine and went to unbar the door for his brother.

Aegon was greeted by the scowling and enraged face of his brother as he opened the door. “Try not to put a damper on my mood, little brother— this is my last night after all.” Aegon mussed as his eye went to you, who sat on your bed, his cock already twitching at the sight of you only in your shift.

You swallowed thickly as the two Targaryen brothers stood before you. You shuddered as you felt Aegon’s eyes assess your frame. You turned to Aemond, and there was a steely look in his cold lilac eye. “You will not kiss her lips; it is only meant for me.” Aemond gritted. “You are no fun, brother,” Aegon drawled, his mind already consumed by the thought that he would finally get to taste and feel your plump lips upon his. “But very well, I shall do the orders of the future king,” Aegon teased and stepped closer to you. You bit your lip and turned to Aemond, him going back to his seat as his brother started to have his way with you. You swallowed thickly and bit your tongue as you felt Aegon place kisses on your neck, his fingers draping off the sleeve of your shift.

You were unusually quiet, Aegon thought. When you and Aemond would couple, he would often hear your moans of pleasure ring through the halls. Aegon doubled his efforts, for he was detrained to elicit the same reactions from you. You let out a small whimper as he took one of your breasts into his mouth, his teeth gently nipping the bud and his tongue soothing it. Aegon palmed himself as rested his head between your ample breasts, trying to ignore the burning stare of his brother. You let out a breath as Aegon placed kisses on the underside of your tits, his lips trailing downwards and downwards until he knelt between your cunt. “Your wife can be as quiet as she wants… but her cunt cannot conceal her arousal for me,” Aegon smirked and turned to Aemond, who violently griped the armrest of his chair.

Aegon did not waste another moment before burying his face in your cunt, and you harshly bit your lip as you felt a moan wanting to escape. You looked downwards and watched as Aegon ate your cunt, the sounds so lewd and made your cheeks flush further. It would seem his years of depravity did teach him well on the art of pleasure. Your eyes shifted to your husband, who had been watching you try earnestly not to moan and show your pleasure. Aemond sighed as he saw your eyes well in tears. He sighed and gave you a nod, and Aemond shut his eye as you fell back on the featherbed and finally let out your moans. Your hands tangled in Aegon’s shorter hair as he lapped on your cunt. “So fucking sweet… it is no wonder my brother is so addicted to you,” Aegon moaned and inserted his finger in your cunt, groaning at how quickly you clenched at the digit. He sucked at the pearl of your cunt and relished the way your moans grew louder.

Aemond knew he should not find pleasure, let alone tolerate the scene before him, but he could not help but palm his length as he gazed at you wrapped in pleasure his brother gave. He had never seen you in such a way, for he was always too focused on bringing you pleasure. He watched with amazement at the way your back arched, your lips agape, and you spewing out moans. The way you gripped the sheets and the way your hips writhed against Aegon’s face.

Aegon licked his lip as he brought you to your climax, your heavenly taste still lingering on his tongue. Aegon stood before you and unlaced his breeches, and took out his length. He wanted to turn to his brother and give him a teasing smirk as he would fuck you, but he could not find the strength to tear away his gaze from your face that was flushed and contorted in pleasure. Aegon grabbed a hold of your thighs and pulled you closer to him, hissing as your wrapped your legs around his waist and the tip of his cock entered your tight, warm cunt. “Seven hells…” Aegon muttered as your cunt took him in. You breathe out as you feel him fully sheathe himself inside you. His cock was not as big as Aemond’s, but he was still well-endowed, and you still felt somewhat overwhelmed by the size of him.

Aemond only focused on your face and moans as his brother fucked you. Fucking his fist, imagining he was in Aegon's stead instead. Aemond could not bear it any longer. When he heard his brother’s heavy breathing and observed Aegon’s thrusts become sloppy, Aemond stood and pulled his brother back. You whined as Aegon’s cock abruptly slipped out of your cunt. Through the haze of pleasure, you propped yourself on your elbows and observed how two Targaryen brothers stood before you once more, your legs parted and your cunt in full display for them.

“You overstep, brother. You will not spill your seed inside my wife,” Aemond gritted and pulled you towards him; you moaned loudly as you felt the tip of his cock gliding through your slick folds. Aegon groaned and shook his head but did not quarrel with his brother. You turned your head to the side when you felt Aegon kneeling by it, him placing his cock between your lips, and you turned to your husband for permission if you could suck his brother’s cock. Aemond gave a reluctant nod, and it was only then did you parted your lips.

Aegon groaned loudly and tilted his head back as you hallowed your cheeks and sucked his length. Your teeth lightly grazed his skin, pain mixing with pleasure just as he enjoyed it. “Fuck— perhaps, brother, I shall be rid of you and take your wife as mine instead,” Aegon moaned in the pleasure you gave, but you abruptly stopped at his words. Aemond smirked at your loyalty; he knew what his brother said was a jest, Aegon being forever unserious, but you did not take his words lightly.

Aegon looked down at your glaring eyes, his cock still in your mouth, but you seized any pleasurable movements. “It was a jest,” He clarified and tucked in a stray lock of hair. It took a moment before you resumed your action, your glaring gaze rolling back at the way Aemond thrust deep inside your cunt. Aegon was skilled in fucking, but not as skilled as your husband. For Aemond knew every part of you and had memorized every action that would bring you pleasure. Aemond was relentlessly thrusting against the sensitive spot in your cunt, and your moans only grew louder as Aegon reached down and drew circles upon your nubbin and his other hand pinching the bud of your breast.

You gagged against his cock, the tip of it hitting your throat. When Aegon felt your throat tighten around his length, he could not hold back any longer as he spilled his seed. He slowly took out his cock from your mouth and watched as you swallowed his spent with tear-filled eyes, hazy in pleasure he and his brother gave.

“Rub her faster,” Aemond ordered his brother, wanting to show what his wife was capable of— dangling something Aegon could never get. Aegon, still dazed by his climax, mindlessly obliged, and his ears rang with your loud moans. “Ae… Ae—“ You trialed as Aemond lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. “Look how pleasured you are by us… you don’t even know who to call upon,” Aemond hissed as your cunt almost painfully clenched around him. Aemond reached forward and clasped his hand around your neck, the pacing of his thrusts fast and sloppy. “Show my brother your talent, my fire— show him how much of a whore you actually are,” You whimpered at Aemond’s words, but you knew it was all for your benefit because you sadistically liked it when he would be mean and callous with you when he fucked you.

Aegon felt his flaccid length quickly harden again as you reached your peak. Your eyes rolled back, your face completely flushed, and your cunt emitted a sloppy, wet sound that accompanied Aemond’s final thrusts. He watched his awe as you sprayed your release, Aemond smirking down at you in pride before placing a kiss on your lips. “You’re a fucking lucky bastard,” Aegon breathed out, watching as you caught your breath, your body slick with sweat and glistening under the candlelight. “That, I am,” Aemond smirked and gave you another kiss before turning to his brother.

“You got your parting gift. Now, leave us to rest— I shall fetch you when it is time for your escape.” Aemond said coldly, ushering his brother to the door. Aegon struggled to put on his trousers. He badly wanted to stay, to be in your presence for just a while longer but Aegon conceded, counting his blessings as his brother actually agreed to his request. Before Aemond could shut the door on his brother, Aegon hindered him. “Thank you…” It was off-putting to say such words, “I will miss you… but mostly your wife,” he jested, and Aemond was too tired to control the amused grin rising to his lips. Aemond nodded, “Take care, brother,” he said and watched Aegon turn on his heels and walk away, leaving the new king and queen of Westeros to find respite.

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celestie0 · 29 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you.

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan.

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip.

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress.

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips.

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down.

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone.

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed.

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.”

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old.

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door.

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together.

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…”

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him.

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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devondespresso · 4 months ago

Text

Let Me Raise The Bar

T | 3,602 words | Steddie | also on ao3! | Modern AU, Meet Cute, Fluff

This fic is for the @strangerthingswritersguild fic exchange, by @starryeyedjanai and @devondespresso. Thank you to @dreamwatch and @bubblesandink for betaing for me!! <3

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

edit: oh my god i forgot the keep reading the first time im so sorry guys

This night is going terribly.

He keeps telling himself he’ll delete all his dating apps for good, but the prospect of being alone forever always has him re-downloading them.

Right now, he’s remembering why he hates them so much.

He hates Tinder, specifically—guys on Tinder only want to fuck. And if that was what he was looking for, that’d be fine, great even!

But he wants a relationship and guys on Tinder will say they want one too and then turn around and leave right after they get what they want.

At least guys on Grindr are upfront about it being just a hookup—no one’s getting their hopes up or feelings hurt when it turns out to be just that.

Tinder guys will take you on a date and pretend to be interested in you as a person and then won't fucking text back after they leave your apartment the next morning. It’s annoying and it’s frustrating and it’s a waste of Steve's fucking time at this point.

And this guy tonight isn't even trying to pretend. He tried to get Steve to blow him in his apartment building garage before they even left for the date and he really should have taken that for the red flag that it was.

But Steve looks good, and he did his hair routine that takes entirely too fucking long for no one to appreciate it.

His date drives him to this hole in the wall restaurant that Steve must have passed a million times on the bus ride to his job without ever noticing.

He thought he might be able to turn things around when they got there—it’s a small Italian place, a real family-owned type vibe to it. He knows before he even orders that the food is going to be some of the best he’s tasted since moving here.

He tries asking the typical first date questions to get to know him, but his date keeps giving him short answers. So he switches to talking about himself a little, but then he realizes his date’s been staring at his mouth the whole time he’s been talking and Steve finally snaps that he isn't getting into his pants.

Steve breathes out a deep sigh as his “date” gets up and goes to the bathroom. Some fucking date this is—they haven't even gotten their fucking food yet. What a disaster.

“Hey,” he hears their waiter—Eddie, his nametag reminds Steve when he looks up—say after a minute of his date being gone. “I hate to be the bearer of super bad news, but I just saw your date slip out the back door, and I don't know if he’s planning on coming back.”

There's a lilt of sympathy in his voice and Steve can't help but snort.

“Of course he did,” Steve says. “Why can't guys just be upfront about what they want? It would save everyone so much time.”

He’s not looking for an answer, but Eddie's mouth twists and he says, “Guys are stupid. I mean, they’d have to be to give up the chance to get to know someone as cute as you.”

Steve can't really muster up a smile at the pity, so he says, “Well, whatever the case, he was my ride home, so I think I need to call a Lyft now. Can you box the food up and bring me the check?” At least he’ll have lunch for tomorrow, which doesn't feel like an adequate consolation prize for how shitty he feels right now.

Eddie shakes his head and says, “There’s no way I’m letting you pay for such a shitty date.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie continues, “Tell you what, my shift ends in ten minutes. Why don't I show you how I’d treat you if we went on a date.”

Steve's heart thuds in his chest, a flicker of hope in this incredibly dull evening. “Seriously?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Think of it as a trial run. See if I rank good enough for a real one.” He winks and Steve finds himself nodding dumbly, still shocked at the rapid turn of events.

“Okay,” Steve says, kind of breathless.

Eddie heads back to finish cleaning up his other tables before he ends his shift, and Steve fills Robin in over text about what happened.

He’s still waiting for a response when Eddie shows back up with two plates of food, setting one in front of Steve and the other where his date sat before sliding into the chair across from him.

He’s wearing a different shirt, Steve realizes. It also looks like he attempted to wrangle his curly hair into something more manageable, maybe sprayed some water on it to smooth it down.

The thought that this guy, this random guy who happened to be his waiter on this horrific night, would put in more effort than his previous date makes Steve's cheeks get hot.

Maybe this night really can turn around.

“Alright, names. Hi, I'm Eddie.” Eddie says, sticking his hand out across the table cartoonishly for a handshake. Steve suppresses a laugh and takes Eddie’s hand with a smile.

“Steve.” He says, and Eddie’s eyes brighten before he takes his hand back.

“So, Steve, what do you do for fun?” Eddie says, leaning forward slightly with vibrant confidence, tone feeling more and more noticeably rehearsed as he goes. “Other than light up the room with that smile, of course.”

Steve huffs a laugh, blushing despite himself.

“You practice that one a lot?”

Eddie shrinks back a little, still smiling even as he messes with the hair on the back of his neck, already starting to ruffle what he’d tried to tame.

“Yeah, it’s uh…”

“It’s sweet.” Steve leans in a little closer himself, trying to match the effort Eddie keeps putting in. “Almost as sweet as the smile you're wearing.”

Eddie flushes pink and lets out a little “Thank you” to cover a nervous laugh—and christ, Steve is already hooked.

Steve hums and grabs his fork to start eating and Eddie mirrors him.

“Thank you for this by the way.” Steve continues, “Tonight's been… ugh, you know.”

“A special kind of shitty?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “So all this is… really nice.”

“I'm glad.” Eddie says, voice soft before he shrugs and continues casually “M’hoping I’ll at least do better than the last guy.”

“Yeah, of course, you haven’t even asked me to blow you yet or anything.”

Eddie turns red and busts out a nervous laugh, looking away immediately. God, he’s so fucking cute.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm not–” Eddie looks back at him, nervous still, but sincere anyway, “That's not exactly my style.”

“You a wine and dine kinda guy?”

Eddie shrugs lightly, then he seems to get an idea, leaning in again with a smile “Actually– ideally, I'm a dine and mine kinda guy.”

A smile takes over Steve’s face that he can’t fully tamp down, a little flustered and a lot amused.

Eddie preens, then continues with a shy smile.

“Though, uh, usually it's more dine and…” Eddie pauses, “Pine. Dine and pine. You know, like pining.”

Steve makes his face relax as he nods and leans back. “Oh, yeah, like the tree.”

Eddie stops and looks at Steve, and soon Steve’s smile breaks out again.

“No, I know what you mean.” He says with a little laugh that Eddie quickly mirrors.

Eddie visibly relaxes, slouching overdramatically to the side with a sigh.

“God, I swear I’m usually good at this sort of thing, words and stories and shit,” He groans, gesturing around almost like he’s talking to himself, “But apparently I meet one pretty boy and suddenly I’ve got screws loose. And they’re all falling out, all across the floor, ‘there they go!’, y’know?”

Steve bites back a snicker and hums a quiet agreement. Eddie notices, though, looks up and sees right to Steve’s amusement, so Steve decides to save them both the embarrassment and move on.

“So your job. You like it here?

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Eddie says, perking up and gesturing as he starts talking, “The owners are really cool, they were our neighbors– Wayne’s—my uncle’s—neighbors when I first moved in with him, way way back, and they were so chill, loved having people over. Then one time in highschool I mentioned saving up ‘cause I’m trying to make it big with my band, and they offered to give me a job here while we get there.”

“That’s awesome. Your band any good?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Eddie laughs, playing with the food on his plate, “Wayne says we’re pretty good, which is probably the equivalent of moms showing up to their toddler’s dance recitals, but it’s something.”

“Where'd you guys play?”

“The Hideout, a couple blocks down…”

Steve nods.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, pretty fun if you ever wanted to stop by.“

“Sounds like a great second date.”

Eddie blushes, playing with his hair again as he smiles and looks away.

“I’ll probably have to wear earplugs– not because of your band or–”

“No, no, no, you’re good–” Eddie says, almost jumping up to reassure him, “It’s metal, that’s normal– good, even.”

“Oh– good.” Steve says, a bit awkwardly, and looks back down to his food.

Eddie leaves barely a moment of silence before he pulls the conversation back together.

“So what about you? You just a professional bad-Tinder-dater?”

Steve huffs and fiddles with his fork.

“Guidance counselor, actually.”

“Oh damn, really?”

“Yeah, Middle school.”

“Oh god,” Eddie groans playfully, “I can't imagine going back there willingly.”

“Yeah, I mean, it can get pretty rough,” Steve shrugs, “It's good though. Kids start thinking about who they are, I get to try and make that a little less shitty.”

“That’s a tall order.” Eddie laughed into his glass. “I respect it though. Hell, just having a queer adult exist around me would’ve made a lot of it easier.”

“God, yeah. I've got practice, at least, for when they need more than just some guy standing around in an office.” he laughed, pulling out sarcastic air quotes for the next part, “ I ‘babysat’ kids in middle school before I graduated. Bunch of little shits but they were good kids– still are good. They're like four years younger than me though, so they're more like siblings than kids.”

“Yeah, bet they don't take well to ‘kids’.”

“Oh, they hate it.” Steve laughed and Eddie followed with him, “Always hated it, but Dustin put his foot down after highschool. Rob and I call them my ‘twenty-somethings’ now.”

“God, wait, how old are you?” Eddie laughed

“Twenty-six.”

Eddie laughed a little louder, a lively and full laugh that looked enchanting on Eddie.

“You'd love them, they're all–

Steve’s phone buzzes.

Both of them look over to it on the table. Steve moves it to the seat next to him, looked up to Eddie with an apologetic smile.

His phone buzzes again.

And again, and soon Eddie’s eyes flick in that direction, eyebrow quirking with barely-restrained curiosity.

Then Steve’s phone starts ringing, the electric guitars of Hammer To Fall creeping up in volume way too fast for comfort.

“Sorry–” Steve cringes, grabbing his phone and answering the call in a furious whisper, “Robin, are you dying?”

“No, but thank you for confirming that you aren’t.”

“I texted you what happened.”

“Yeah and it was vague as hell! I reserve the right to be a worrywart with this shit.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighs, but can’t really argue with her on it. “This was going well, though–”

“Is.” Eddie chimes in, not trying to be loud enough for the phone to pick it up, just for Steve to hear him clearly.

“Is going well.” Steve smiles.

“Oooo okayyy.” Robin hums and Steve can hear her cheeky smile through the phone.

“Goodbye, Robin.” Steve says, failing a half-assed attempt to cover his amusement.

“Oh wait no, tell him if he tries anything I’ll–”

“M’not doing that.”

“I will though, I’ll go after him–”

“Oh woah you’re breaking up, can’t hear you.” Steve deadpans.

“Steve, I know–”

“Love you, bye–”

“Steeeeve–”

“Don’t pull your hair out.” Steve says and hangs up, coming back to the present to Eddie watching him, thankfully looking amused instead of annoyed.

“Sorry about that.” Steve says.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Eddie leans forward again, propping his head up in one hand, “So… friend?”

“Best friend, has to be to get away with shit like that so easily.”

Eddie snorts.

“What was she calling about?”

“I wasn’t clear that this new date thing was gonna be a good thing.”

Eddie nods civilly.

“She worries,” Steve continues, “Fuckin’ tinder dates, y’know?”

“Uh, not really….” Eddie smiles.

“Good for you. They’re all the same asshole in a different haircut.” Steve says, and Eddie smiles, laughing a little with him before continuing with something calmer, a little more earnest.

“Then why keep going to them?”

Steve shrugs.

“Call me an optimist, I guess.”

Eddie hums noncommittally, like he’s thinking more than he’s sharing, and continues the conversation in a lighter direction.

The rest of the date is wonderful. A little less chaotic, especially once they start finally eating their food for real, but what it lacks in eventfulness it makes up for in comfort. They’re not exactly quiet, but Eddie’s energy always comes with a sincerity underneath, like he’s bold and fun because he just is, and not because he’s making himself be.

It’s refreshing. And as the night goes on, it becomes intoxicating.

So when Eddie offers to save him the Lyft fee and just drive Steve home, Steve agrees, just to get a little longer in Eddie’s bubble.

Eddie leads him through the restaurant and out the back into a small parking lot with a handful of cars and one big van, decorated with a clearly hand-painted dragon on the side. Which, of course, ends up being Eddie’s.

“Dustin would love this thing.” Steve says as he hops into the passenger’s seat, not really thinking twice about it as he looks at the interior, eyes lingering on the big fuzzy dice with too many sides hanging from the mirrors.

“So Dustin is…?”

“A Twenty-something.” Steve laughs as he spins the fuzzy dice to see all of its sides. “He’s like my little brother. Loves DnD and science and… all the nerd shit.”

“Nerd shit?”

“Yeah, I mean– it's not my thing but it’s cool. I’ve played with Dustin and them a couple times.”

“Oooo, a bit of a nerd, are we?” Eddie hums in a weird, almost witchy voice.

“Casually.”

“Mmm, but you’re already down the path~~”

“Just drive, dude.” Steve says with a fond eye roll.

“As you wish, your majesty.” Eddie hums in his normal voice, giving Steve a glowing glance before shoving the keys in.

“Alright, I'm about to push your nerd-tolerance to its limits.” Eddie says, pulling out his phone with a grin. He connects it to the car and quickly turns it down before drums and guitar erupt from the speakers, and Steve flinches at the volume.

“Sorry, sorry.” Eddie whispers and turns down the music again.

Steve nods, and after a second of the music playing much more quietly, he finds it much more comfortable. Nice, even. The energy is quick and alive like Eddie is, though the aggressive vocals fit his outward aesthetic more than his borderline goofy demeanor.

“It’s not the music, I promise.” Steve says, saying it casually but meaning it sincerely.

“You’re fine, I get it.” Eddie laughs, a little too cynically for Steve’s liking.

“No, I–” Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand between them, intertwining fingers and bringing both hands up between them, “I’m serious, I like it. My head’s a little sensitive, been hit a few too many times, but it’s nice. It’s bold and very energetic… stuff that I already like about you.”

Eddie blushes hard—a sweet cherry pink—as he slouches, bringing their joined hands closer to his face like he’s trying to hide behind them. Eddie rests his forehead against the back of Steve’s hand and huffs a quiet laugh.

“God, you’re quite the charmer, Stevie.” Eddie says, and Steve finds his face warming too.

“And I’m guessing it’s working?” Steve laughs.

Eddie looks up at him, smiling wide.

“Oh, it’s working very well.” Eddie says, and brings their hands closer to him again to plant a soft kiss onto Steve’s hand.

Steve’s face goes warm again, lights him on fire, and Eddie’s smile turns slightly smug before he looks away.

“Alright,” Eddie says, looking back to the front to drive but not letting go of Steve’s hand. He even reaches his left arm over to change the gears, leaning into how silly he looks to make Steve laugh.

It’s sweet, it's genuine, and it's everything to Steve.

Eddie starts driving, hand still firmly holding onto Steve’s, neither of them willing to let go first. Steve looks at it as Eddie drives, splitting most of his attention between their hands, Eddie’s profile lit up by the colorful city lights, and the road ahead as he navigates Eddie to his apartment.

And if they miss a turn or two because Steve’s tired brain doesn’t want to watch the damn road? Eddie doesn’t mention it.

“Alright.” Eddie says, putting the car into park with his left hand again, though far less comically now.

He sits there for a second, quiet like something’s on his mind, so Steve waits.

“Okay, uh,” Eddie starts, looking vaguely down as he wanders through what he wants to say, “I had fun, I’m assuming by how the nights gone that you did, too…”

Steve squeezes Eddie's hand, and Eddie laughs.

“I had a really great time. And I want to do this again, if you want to.” Eddie glances up at Steve for a second before his eyes dart away again. “But I want to be sure you’re… you’re not being an optimist with me. That you want want this, y’know, because you're an amazing guy, Stevie. I don’t know how you keep having such shit luck but believe me when I tell you it's not because of you.”

Eddie looks back up at him again and keeps his gaze there, looking more relaxed now.

“So, uh, I would love to take you out again.” Eddie says, “If you want to.”

If he wants to, as if that's not the most romantic thing Steve’s heard in his life.

Steve almost says that. He also debates kissing him or pulling him into an awkward hug over the center console that he’s sure would be put up with no matter how uncomfortable it’d be. But Steve doesn’t, because Eddie continues before Steve can make a decision.

“What do you want?”

Steve resists the urge to say a cheesy ‘You’ and thinks about it, really thinks so he can put together words that make sense, so he can give Eddie a real answer.

“I want a long relationship. A real one, y’know?”

Eddie nods.

“And I want to get married, someday. I want someone who’ll stay that long, who will love and let me love them, all cheesy and clingy and shit.”

Eddie hums, searching Steve’s face.

“And?”

Steve looks down at the joined hands between them.

“And I’d love if it were you. You’re sweet, so sweet, but you’re also… alive. Everything you do, you’re…” Steve thinks hard for a moment, working out how to phrase it. “It’s like the world doesn’t weigh you down. And you’re so genuine and you’ll come and say what you mean like it’s nothing, and I think every one of the people in my life—my favorite people—would love being around you almost as much as I do.”

Steve looks back up to him, face hot with another intense flush, and tries to smile casually.

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but you’re kinda my perfect man.”

Eddie huffs a breathy laugh, face painted with disbelief and wonder.

“Okay, then. Case closed.”

“Yeah,” Steve hums, with as much fondness as possible. Steve leans in across the center console, bringing a hand up slowly, trying to signal that he’s leaning in for a kiss.

It takes Eddie a second, and Steve gets to watch him look down at Steve’s hand and look at Steve leaning in, gets to see the moment it clicked before Eddie lunges to meet him halfway and then some, making the hand that was supposed to cradle Eddie’s face hold onto the seat beneath him to keep their balance.

Eddie kisses him hard at first, bringing a hand up to card through Steve’s hair, excited and alive. Then Eddie seems to come back to his senses, moving back but taking Steve with him until they’re both leaning over the center again.

Their kiss softens, intensity melting out into fondness, gentle but passionate, warm and Steve wants to melt from it.

Still, Steve’s going home tonight, going to go upstairs to Robin and tell her all about it. He’ll get to have a good night's sleep in a bed that doesn’t need cleaning, and he’ll get to wake up to the idea of something new brewing fresh in his mind.

Steve pulls back gently and Eddie does the same, eyes flicking open one after the other, a smile on Steve’s face and another lighting up Eddie’s.

Steve catches his breath, feeling lighter now than he has in ages, and Eddie opens his mouth to say something again.

“Does this mean I can get your number?”

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fluff #fluff #modern au #happy ending #devon's writings

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apartmentsmoke · 4 months ago

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Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #jee yun buckley han #my fic #smoke.txt #dailykinley

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whoreforsexymen · 27 days ago

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The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.

#arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane #vander x reader #arcane imagine #arcane x reader smut #vander arcane #vander x reader arcane #vander x reader smut #Vander smut #Vander smut imagine #Vander x reader imagine smut #Vander smut Drabble #Vander x reader smut oneshot

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chahnniesroom · 4 months ago

Text

cross my heart

pairing: bang chan & female reader, hwang hyunjin & female reader

summary: chan has quickly become one of your closest friends at university. too bad his girlfriend, hayoon, has him wrapped around her little finger and she's determined to make your life miserable. hyunjin is just enjoying watching the drama unfold.

word count: 4.0k

tags/warnings: angst!!! hurt and maybe some comfort?, infidelity (not between the reader or chan/hyunjin), arguing, the relationships with the reader are more like friendships than dating (please let me know if you think there should be more tags/warnings)

a/n: totally thought this was going to be a short fic (like less than 1k words) but it blossomed into something more. i wanted to try something different with this fic but not sure if i pulled it off lol please be kind if you comment! i also did not to bother with honourifics so... you can pretend that chan, hyunjin, and y/n are all the same age 😅

read it on ao3 | masterlist

It's almost funny how quickly you and Chan become friends.

You hadn't really been looking forward to taking a technical writing class, but it's one of the requirements to get your degree and at least the lecture is large enough that you won't have to do any in-class participation. When the professor announces that one of the very first assignments is going to be completed in random pairs, you're instantly nervous. It’s only after meeting Chan, who is easygoing yet studious, that you feel better.

Although the group assignment only takes a couple weeks to finish, you find yourself hanging out more and more. Chan has a natural way of writing, he's intelligent and efficient with his wording without sacrificing clarity. While you can eventually write something that’s fairly clear and concise, it takes a lot of effort and a lot of time so you're grateful to be working with Chan who doesn't struggle with tight timelines like you do.

The two of you grow close together, especially once you realise that you have a similar sense of humour and taste in music. It doesn't take long before technical writing is your favourite class. Chan always saves you a seat beside him, even though he has quite a few friends that are also taking this course. You’re not used to it at first, but you grow comfortable with the way that he leans over to make quips about whatever the professor is saying or pointing out if someone in the lecture hall is falling asleep. You sometimes bring him snacks and in exchange he brings you a drink.

The more you learn about Chan, the more you're convinced that he's perfect.

Well, apart from one thing.

The worst thing about Chan is his girlfriend. Jung Hayoon absolutely hates you and, behind Chan's back, never fails to make sure you know it too. While the two of you have never shared any courses, she regularly meets Chan after class is over and you've been invited to join them and some other friends for a meal or to study so you've interacted with her more than you want to.

You’re not quite sure what you've done to earn Hayoon's ire, but you can only guess that it's your blossoming friendship with Chan as she’s never seemed to care about you before you met him. She takes every opportunity to make backhanded compliments, pointed comments about how much or what you're eating, or loudly exclaiming when you have something stuck in your teeth. You try not to let it get to you, but you're always been a bit too sensitive.

You start declining offers to hang out with Chan and the rest of his friends after class, trying to ignore Chan's disappointment and Hayoon's smug smile every time that you make excuses.

Of course, she's sickly sweet around Chan, constantly hanging off his arm, batting her eyes at him, and trying to hold his attention. You can't really stand her obviously fake behaviour, but she makes Chan happy so you don't say anything negative about her when Chan's around.

You aren’t the type to keep up with school gossip, but even you know that Hayoon's track record is far from pristine. In fact, you were surprised to hear that someone as genuine and kind as Chan was in a relationship with someone like Hayoon.

—

The library isn't your favourite place to study, but partway through midterm season you're desperate for a change in scenery. You spend the better part of the day completing practice exams for the course you're the most worried about until you finally feel more confident. Satisfied with your progress and excited at the prospect of eating a proper meal rather than the snacks that have kept you going so far, you quickly pack up.

There aren't too many people in the library since it’s so close to the weekend, a lot of students have either finished all of their exams for the week or just given up studying. Maybe that's why your attention seems so drawn to the couple that you pass on the way to the door.

You don't mean to do anything other than quickly glance at them, but the familiarity of the girl catches your eye. The carefully styled hair and slim figure is a common combination to see at your university, but after weeks of trying to avoid her, there’s no mistaking Jung Hayoon.

And it's not Chan that she’s currently kissing.

You stumble away from them, but not before Hayoon looks up and spots you. Instead of panicking or stopping, she continues making out with the boy, maintaining eye contact with you. She even has the audacity to wink. You stare at her for a second, stunned, then bolt out of the building.

You're so flustered that you don't know what to do or where to go. You end up walking to the nearest bench and sitting down heavily in it.

You knew that you didn't like Hayoon, that she was two-faced and had likely cheated on past partners, but you hadn't expected to ever catch her in the act, especially while she was dating Chan. You couldn't fathom why anybody would want anything else when they had him and you had never been able to understand cheating in the first place.

You have to tell Chan, you decide. As much as you hate difficult conversations and it kills you to be the bringer of bad news, you know that you'd never be able to sleep at night if you tried to hide this from him. If you were in his position, you would prefer to know as soon as possible.

You call him as you start heading in the direction of his dorm.

“Hey,” Chan picks up after only a few rings. “Is everything okay? You don't usually call.”

“Uhm-” You have no clue what to say, you didn't think this through enough before dialling. “Where are you? I- Can I come talk to you?”

“Y/n? What's wrong?” Chan's instantly concerned.

“Nothing, I just- I really need to talk to someone right now,” you say quickly. “I'm fine, I mean.”

“Okay. I'm at home right now, but I can come meet you if you need? Where are you?”

“Don't worry about it, I'll head over, if that's okay.”

“Sure,” Chan says, sounding extremely worried. “Be safe, Y/n. I'll see you soon.”

After you hang up, you don't quite run to Chan's place, but you're out of breath and sweaty by the time you make it. You take a moment to compose yourself before requesting access into the building, but you know you still look frazzled. Chan buzzes you in immediately and he’s waiting in the hallway when you step out of the elevator. He guides you into his room, but only after checking you over and making sure that you're physically okay.

“Y/n, you're scaring me,” he says after leading both of you to sit down at his tiny kitchen table. “Tell me what's got you so worked up.”

“Do you know where Hayoon is today?” you ask, probably sounding insane. Chan pauses for a moment, brow furrowed before he responds.

“I know that she has an exam tomorrow, so I assume that she's studying. Why, what's up?”

“She didn't say where or who she was going to be with today?”

“No, but it's not like I'm tracking her all the time. She's her own person, she's not obligated to constantly update me.”

“I saw her at the library.”

“Okay,” Chan says slowly.

“She was with someone else, a guy.”

“Why are you telling me this, Y/n?” Chan asks, starting to sound annoyed. His tone catches you off guard. “This is why you called me, why you ran over to my place? If you think I'm that controlling-”

“They were kissing,” you interrupt. “She’s cheating on you, Chan.”

“Who was the guy?”

“I- I didn't see him well, his back was towards me so I couldn't recognize him,” you falter.

“Did you take a picture? Was there anyone else around?”

“No- but, I-”

“So I'm just supposed to believe you,” he says flatly.

“What? Why would I make this up?”

“I know that, for some reason, you don’t like Hayoon.” Chan's usually friendly voice is cold and his face is stony. “I can live with that. I mean, of course it would be nice if you were at least civil to her. But at the end of the day, you don’t have to, she’s my girlfriend and not yours.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “but how would lying about this benefit me at all?”

“She warned me about this, you know. She said you were jealous. Of her. Of us. That you would do something to try and break us up.” Chan laughs, but the sound is empty. “I always defended you, which she hated. I don't know how many times I told her that you weren't like that, that there was nothing going on between us.”

“Well I can assure you that I’m not jealous. That I’m not trying to break you two up.”

“I know that there’s… chemistry between us,” Chan acknowledges. “I don't have that many close female friends and I didn't before I started dating Hayoon either, but I know that I like your company and that you're easy to talk to. But that's all. It's fine if you're interested in me, you can’t help your feelings, but accusing my girlfriend of cheating? That’s sick, Y/n.”

“Are you kidding me? There is nothing going on between us.” you say incredulously. “Listen Chan, I’m saying this, I'm here as a friend. You think I'm lying? You think I want to hurt you?”

“I think that maybe Hayoon had a point when she said you wouldn't be satisfied with just being friends.”

“That's what you think of me?” you ask, feeling hurt. “Even if I was interested, I wouldn't do that. I respect you as a friend, I respect you as a person, and I respect your relationship whether I like your partner or not. But if that’s how you see me, I’m not sure that we were ever really friends. I would never try to sabotage you or anybody that's happily in a relationship.” Chan's face drops at your words.

“Y/n-” he starts to say, but you've had enough of this conversation.

“Look- I came here because I knew I would feel terrible and guilty if I didn't, but I can't convince you of something you don't want to believe.” You shake your head and walk towards the door.

Chan doesn't try to stop you as you leave.

—

The next day you get to class 15 minutes before it’s supposed to start. You're exhausted, have your eyes swollen from crying when you got back home last night, and most of all, feel hurt. You had been a little worried about how Chan would react to what you had to tell him, but you never expected that he would dismiss you without a thought. It's hard to reconcile with the upbeat and kind seatmate that you're used to.

Instead of your usual seat near the middle of the classroom, you opt for one off to the side that’s often emptier, not wanting to have to talk to or even see Chan. You pull up an assignment that you’ve been procrastinating working on and manage to ignore the rest of your classmates as they filter into the lecture hall. It’s only when someone slides into the seat right next to you that you look up, surprised anybody would approach you when you’re clearly being unsociable and look awful.

“Hyunjin.” You’re too shocked to even say hello.

“That’s my name,” Hyunjin replies, looking unimpressed by your greeting as he pulls out his laptop. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry, good morning. You don’t usually sit with me.” You can’t help but point out the obvious.

In fact, Hyunjin usually doesn't sit with anyone. He's popular, it'd be hard not to be when you look as good as he does, but it's in a different way than Chan. While Chan seems to know practically everybody on campus, Hyunjin is almost untouchable.

While there are hoards of girls and guys that would love to have even a sliver of his attention, Hyunjin has a small circle of friends and is more interested in escaping the lecture hall to paint or dance than socialise. The only reason that you know him is because one of your closest childhood friends, Minho, is on the same dance crew as him and the three of you sometimes hang out. You wouldn't say that Hyunjin is more than an acquaintance though, he still intimidates you enough that you never would have tried to approach him first.

“And you don’t usually sit over here.” Hyunjin pretends to stretch and turns to look at your usual spot. “Avoiding someone?”

“Maybe.” You blush, embarrassed to be so easily seen through. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Nah, I just figured it was a matter of time before Hayoon got under your skin enough. I'm actually impressed you lasted this long, she really has it out for you.” While Hyunjin is surprisingly perceptive, you've also spent a fair bit of time ranting about Hayoon to Minho, and as a result, Hyunjin is kept up to speed on everything that Hayoon has done to antagonise you. You never realised that he actually paid enough attention to remember or that he agreed that Hayoon treated you like dirt.

“Actually, she’s not the one that I don’t want to talk to. Well, I never want to talk to her, but I’m not avoiding her.”

“No way,” Hyunjin crowds into your personal space, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Chan?”

You’ve had a pit in your stomach since last night’s argument and your mouth dries up at the thought of being so vulnerable, but something about the way that Hyunjin's eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates and his mouth has formed a little shocked ‘o’ is so disarming.

“We had a disagreement last night,” you admit.

“Hayoon cheated?” he guesses.

Now it's your turn for your mouth to drop open in shock.

“Don't say it so loud,” you hiss. “How did you know?”

“Well, as much as I usually like to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially for something this serious…” Hyunjin grimaces slightly. “I’ve been kind of expecting it. Hasn't she done the same on her past three or four boyfriends?”

“Oof, that bad? I've heard some things, but never really knew for sure.”

“At least,” Hyunjin confirms. “Honestly, I'd be more shocked if she didn't cheat at this point. I'm guessing Chan didn't take it so well if you're upset with him.”

“He's loyal to a fault, literally!” you complain. “In his eyes, Hayoon can’t do anything wrong, he's able to explain away everything she does. He didn’t believe that it was her that I saw.”

“So what are you going to do?” Hyunjin asks curiously.

“Nothing,” you say sullenly. “As much as I'd like to shake some sense into him, he's an adult. He can make his own decisions and if he wants to live in denial, that's up to him.”

“You're a good friend.” Hyunjin reaches out tentatively and after an awkward second, pats your shoulder. “Not everyone would be brave enough to have that kind of difficult conversation. Chan may be stubborn right now, but he'll appreciate it later.”

“Well based on yesterday, I don't think I'm his friend at all,” you huff. “Anyway, if it's okay with you, I don't think that I will make it through the rest of the term if I have to sit over there.”

“Be my guest.” Hyunjin grins and the sight of it makes the lecture a bit easier to sit through.

��

You don’t talk to Chan for the rest of the term. While you stopped outright avoiding him, you’re pretty sure that he’s purposely steering clear of you. Instead, you continue to sit with Hyunjin and pretend that Chan doesn’t exist.

It feels silly that you miss him or that you can’t seem to get over how things ended between the two of you. You had only been friends for two months, you shouldn’t be so hurt every time he purposely turns away from you or when his eyes seem to slide over you like you’re not there.

Hyunjin basically becomes your part-time therapist. Most of the time, it’s enough that he keeps you distracted. He shares all the latest campus gossip with you, allows you to work while he paints, and invites you to hang out with Minho and the rest of their dance crew more than a few times. On the rare occasion when you’re feeling more fragile than usual, he would be willing to spend an evening at your place and listen to you wallow.

“It’s fair that you’re still upset,” he had comforted you once. You had run into Hayoon in the bathroom that afternoon and she had gloated about how nothing and nobody would be able to break her and Chan apart. It had made you feel sick to the stomach. “There was never any resolution. Chan didn’t believe you, doesn’t believe you, even though you went to him with good intentions and it’s reasonable that you would feel hurt or frustrated.”

“I feel so stupid,” you had sniffled. “It’s not even like it was a break up. We were just friends.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, you’re still missing someone who used to be in your life. It’ll get easier next term when you don’t share a class, I promise.” Somehow, that actually had made you feel better.

“Thanks, Hyunjin,” you had said with a watery smile.

The two of you work out well together, not just because you enjoy each other’s presence, but also because there’s no expectations or pressure. Hyunjin has slowly started to share with you stories about his previous relationships, how he’s hesitant to start dating again after having his heart broken so many times. Even though there are rumours swirling about the two of you, you know that neither of you are ready for it yet and that’s partly why it's so easy to hang out with him.

Tonight, the two of you are just hanging out in his art studio. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you’ve just finished the exam that you've been dreading the most and don't have the brain capacity to even think about school. You know that Hyunjin is doing the same, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but he's trying to pretend that he's working since his painting is due the next day.

He drops all pretences when he gasps loudly at something that he sees on his phone.

“Y/n,” he says gravely.

“What?” you ask, only slightly curious. By now, you've gotten used to the fact that Hyunjin would react the same way to seeing a cute puppy video as he would finding out about some terrible news.

“A friend just texted me,” he says, still in shock.

“Okay? What did they say?”

Hyunjin looks up at you for a moment, down at his phone, then back up at you.

“ChanandHayoonbrokeup,” he says in a rush, before wincing, clearly afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“What?” You can't believe your ears.

“Chan and Hayoon, apparently they broke up this afternoon. Someone heard them shouting at each other.”

You put down your pencil slowly, not sure what to think.

“Do you know why?”

“Someone said that they heard that yesterday, Heeyeon and Yikyung broke up because Yikyung cheated on her. I think it must be related,” Hyunjin says quietly.

“Oh.”

“I think there's pictures or a video out there, I haven't seen anything yet though,” Hyunjin continues on, starting to get excited while typing away on his phone.

“Oh,” you say again, at a loss for actual words.

“Right before the holidays too, that's so-” Hyunjin cuts himself off when he looks up and sees you frozen in place. “Y/n, are you okay? Sorry, I'm sure it's a lot to process-”

“No, it's fine.” You force a smile. “I just- I think I have to go home now.”

“Y/n-”

“Really, it's okay. I just forgot that I have something to do. At home. Sorry.”

Hyunjin stares at you with eyes filled with something akin to pity, but doesn't say anything else. You try to ignore it as you hurriedly grab your things and leave.

—

A few days later you're packing up your bags in preparation to go home for the winter break when you hear a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anybody, but there's a few friends that you have that like to show up unannounced.

You're not prepared to open the door and find Chan standing behind it.

He looks terrible. He's wearing a huge hoodie and his hair is tucked away behind a beanie, but nothing can hide the way that his eyes are swollen and his skin is lacking its usual colour. You can only guess that he hasn't been able to eat or sleep much judging from the gauntness of his face and dark circles.

“Chan,” you say carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry,” he says with a hoarse voice. “I was wrong.”

“Ah, Hayoon.”

“You heard?” he asks, face crumpling a little at the mention of his ex.

“It's-” You pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it delicately. "Someone mentioned it to me.”

“You must hate me.” Chan laughs humourlessly. “I know that I do. I was such a fool for not trusting you. I just didn't want to believe that she would do that to me. Stupid, I know. I'm really sorry that I said all those things to you, that I avoided you as if that would change the truth.”

For months, you've been waiting, hoping that Chan would come back to you and apologise. But actually hearing it isn't as satisfying as you thought. In fact, you don't really feel anything at all.

“I want to make it up to you,” Chan says earnestly. “Are you free? We can go for a meal and catch up. I missed you.”

“Uhm,” you say, not quite sure how to respond. You don't want to say yes, but you're scared to lose this opportunity.

“Actually, she's busy,” Hyunjin says. He steps out from behind Chan and wraps an arm around your waist possessively, nudging you behind him in the process. “I think it would be best if you leave.”

Normally you hate it when other people talk for you, but right now you're grateful that Hyunjin appeared. You're not even sure why he's here, although you mentioned that this was your last day on campus, the two of you didn't have plans to hang out.

“Oh.” Chan falters. “Are you two… together?”

“And if we are?” Hyunjin asks challengingly. You've never seen him this defensive before. “Frankly, it's none of your business. I'm tired of listening to your half-hearted apologies that are months too late and I'm pretty sure that Y/n isn't interested in them either.”

“Y/n?” Chan pleads.

“Hyunjin's right, I think that you should go,” you say from where you're still hidden behind Hyunjin. You're glad that you don't have to look him in the eyes. “I can't- I'm heading home today. I have to pack before my train leaves this afternoon.”

“Right,” Chan says thickly. “Sorry. I- I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You lean into Hyunjin's back for support, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear Chan's footsteps trail away. You don't open them for a long time, even when you feel Hyunjin turn around and wrap his arms around you. Instead, you just focus on the steady thump of Hyunjin's heartbeat and try to remember how to breathe.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

694 notes · View notes

ariestrxsh · 3 months ago

Text

🍁🍂 content warning: smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, oral (both m! and f!receiving), praise, semi-public/risky unprotected sex, literally just the cutest little smutty fic I've ever written

🍁🍂 summary: you and matt meet for the first time at a local coffee shop and spend the day together, bonding over your mutual appreciation for autumn.

𖥔 ݁ ˖🍁๋࣭ ⭑🍂༘⋆ this fic was requested/inspired by this ask .𖥔 ݁ ˖🍁๋࣭ ⭑🍂༘⋆

sunsetz

You wrinkled your nose as you stood in line at your favorite local coffee shop. It was your first time there since they'd rolled out their fall specials, and you fiddled with the sleeve of your mustard-colored sweater while you were going back and forth between the pumpkin spice latte and the pistachio latte, your eyes shifting around on the menu.

You'd finally made up your mind just in time for the cashier to make eye contact with you. "How are you doing?" She asked warmly, smiling with her eyes. "I'm good. How are you?" You responded, making pleasantries. "Great! What can I get for you?" She asked. "I'll have a large, hot pistachio latte, please," you responded, changing your mind at the last second.

"I'll have what she's having," the boy behind you stepped forward and grinned at you. He had brown hair, blue eyes, and a gorgeous smile. He had on a fall-colored flannel, jeans, and tan Timberland boots. He was the cutest boy you'd ever laid eyes on.

"You should get a different flavor, so we can try each other's drinks," you suggested to the stranger who was handing the barista his debit card. "I like the way you think. You pick which flavor I should get," he leaned closer to you. "Get the maple brown sugar latte," you smiled.

"Okay, one large, hot pistachio latte, and one large, hot maple brown sugar latte," he replied. The girl taking your order looked between the two of you, realizing she was witnessing the beginning of a whirlwind love story. "What's the name for the order?" She asked, her eyes lovingly shifting between you and the boy to your left. "Matt," he answered. He tipped her 25%, and after the interaction, the two of you stepped off to the side to wait for your drinks.

"So, you know my name. Now, what's yours?" Matt wondered, and you told him. "That's a pretty name," he smiled at you, and you couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you for buying my drink," you thanked him. "Thank you for allowing me to," he replied. Another girl who worked at the coffee shop hand-delivered your lattes to you in the lobby.

"Do you want to sit inside or outside?" The cute boy looked at you with his beautiful, blue eyes. "Let's sit outside. Fall is my favorite season. Nothing beats a hot coffee in the autumn breeze while watching the leaves fall," you told him. "Fall is my favorite, too! I couldn't agree more with what you just said," Matt replied, his face hurting from smiling.

The two of you found a nice, quiet place to sit outside on a bench under a tree whose leaves were starting to change color and float off the branches. You took a sip of your drink. The milk was perfectly silky, and the warm, sweet liquid filled your tastebuds, your eyes widening.

"Mmm, you have to try this," you handed your drink to him, and he handed his to you. Matt's drink was a bit sweeter and tasted just like maple syrup coffee. "This one's good, too, but I like mine better," you giggled, exchanging drinks once more.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" He asked, intimately looking into your eyes. "What?" You wondered, studying his features. "I've always wanted to just set aside one full day to do every fall cliché. Fall activities are my favorite, and I'd love to just spend a whole day doing it all," he admitted. "Well, then it's a date. The day is young," you said, peering down at your watch and noticing it was a quarter past 9 a.m.

"You'd really spend a whole day with me doing autumn-themed stuff?" Matt blushed. "It would be my pleasure," you responded, smiling and taking another drink of your latte. "Well, first, we have to make a list of all the fall activities we love," Matt suggested.

"Apple picking for sure," you responded right off the bat. "Totally agree. Pumpkin patch obviously," Matt told you, taking a sip. "I begged my ex to take me to a pumpkin patch last fall, and he never did. He always thought they were corny," you responded, sounding annoyed and smoothing out your plaid skirt.

"Speaking of corny, cornmaze! But on a more serious note, your ex sounds like he didn't know how good he had it," Matt's gaze searched your facial features, fixating on your lips. "You don't have a boyfriend now, do you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at you. You shook your head no.

"Good. I can't believe someone who would call themselves your boyfriend wouldn't take a girl as pretty as you to a pumpkin patch in autumn. His loss," Matt commented, drinking his maple latte. "You think I'm pretty?" You asked, your cheeks turning pink. "I really do," he said. "You're not so bad yourself," you teased, returning the compliment.

"What else would you want to do today?" He asked. "I know it might sound silly, but I love going to book stores during fall," you responded, finishing your drink. "Definitely. Bookstores and fall just go together. Let's do it," he agreed. "We'd better get started," you smiled at him, getting up from the bench.

Matt showed you where he was parked, and the two of you meandered through winding backroads until you stumbled upon an apple farm. The two of you carried your baskets from tree to tree while you lost yourself in Matt's blue eyes. Despite the other people around you apple picking, all the two of you could see were each other.

You told Matt about your hobbies, your passions, and your family. You told him about how you never felt like your parents saw you for who you were, but more their idea of you. "It feels like in my mom's mind, I stopped aging past a certain point, and she can't accept that I'm a different person than I was five years ago. It's really strange," you said, looking at your feet with your hands in the pockets of your skirt.

Matt opened up to you, too. He told you about his two triplet brothers and about the unique experience of coming into the world with two other people and about how he was always considered the shy and quiet one.

"It's not that I don't have anything to say. I just take a little longer to think about what I'm going to say before I say it, and by the time I'm ready to talk, the subject has changed three times. I don't know. Sometimes it's hard to finish my own thoughts when I'm alone, because I'm always used to people finishing my sentences for me or interrupting them," he admitted.

"I can relate to that. I just really value silence, and I feel like something has to be better than or more important than the silence for me to want to say it out loud. A lot of people talk just to fill the empty air," you told him.

The two of you shared more about yourselves, finding you had more and more in common as you went. You watched Matt pluck a few apples off the tree, and you noted how delicately and methodically he did this, and he noticed you watching him.

"Wanna know when an apple's perfect for picking?" He asked, and you gave him your full attention. "Hold it in your palm like this, and then roll back," he said, showing you and pivoting his wrist. The bright red apple popped right off. "If it snaps off the tree easily like that, it's ready," he taught you.

"I've been picking apples my whole life. I didn't know that trick," you responded. "Here, put your hand on that apple," he said, pointing at a shiny, ripe one. He placed his hand on top of yours, and you found yourself holding your breath. He helped you through the motion he was talking about. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"Yeah, the trick is to find the perfect balance. You grab it gently enough to keep from bruising it, but firmly enough that you don't drop it when it comes off," his voice grew slower and quieter as he turned his gaze from the freshly plucked fruit to you. "You know, you don't want to force it. You just let it happen naturally," he murmured, looking into your eyes until he wasn't talking about the apples anymore.

Under the apple tree was where you two shared your first kiss. You leaned in at the same time as he did. His hand instinctively reached up to cradle your face. He kissed the way he picked apples. Firmly but gently. His tongue lightly brushed against yours, and his soft, luscious lips melted into yours.

The two of you read each other's body language, matching one another's speed and tempo, and listening to know when to pull away. It happened like Matt had said it would, naturally.

Once you slowly opened your eyes after such a passionate kiss, the two of you smiled even harder than you had been all morning, and blood rushed to your cheeks as Matt told you how much he liked it. "I did, too."

"Try the apple we just picked," Matt said, handing you the ripe fruit. You took it from him and took a big bite, the juice filling your mouth and making a loud crunch as you sunk your teeth down into it. "It's perfect," you whispered. "It's perfect," he agreed.

You swooned over Matt as the two of you made your way to the next destination. "I can't believe we met two hours ago, and you're already taking me to a pumpkin patch," you murmured next to him in the car, gently running your fingers over the bit of scruff he had on his chin. He took one hand off the wheel and gently gripped your thigh while he looked over and gave you a warm smile.

You walked with Matt through the pumpkin patch leisurely while admiring the way he looked surrounded by the fall pallette, the warm tones bringing out the red tones in his hair. He thought you looked beautiful in the warm shades as well, making sure to take a few candid pictures of you on his phone while you picked out which pumpkin you wanted to take with you.

You settled on a rather small, perfectly round pumpkin nestled between two bigger ones. "I want this one," you told Matt, and he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his chest. "I'd find a way to bring home every pumpkin in the patch for you if you wanted," he told you before kissing you on the forehead, and you blushed.

It seemed hard to believe your ex didn't even care enough to take you to a pumpkin patch, and yet this beautiful stranger offered to bring home every pumpkin for you. You nearly teared up at his sweet words.

Once you'd finished up at your second destination, you were onto the third. You two were completely alone in the cornmaze, not having seen a single other person as you meandered through. The sun was high in the sky, and conversation between you and Matt continued to flow easily.

"I actually got lost in a cornmaze once when I was a kid. Couldn't find either of my parents, and I started crying, and some stranger had to help me out of the maze," you said, kind of embarrassed as the two of you walked through a cornmaze "That must have been so scary," he responded. "It's okay. I'm not afraid of them anymore," you laughed.

"This is so embarrassing, but the first time I ever saw porn, the people were like fucking in a corn field, and I couldn't go through a cornmaze without getting a boner for like a few years after that," he admitted, turning red. You giggled, appreciating his vulnerability.

"That's kind of hot," you said, stopping and turning to him. Matt's eyes darted around for a second, nervous about all the attention he felt on him. "What? What are you thinking?" He asked, shrugging and blushing. "We're the only ones here right now," you chuckled before dropping to your knees in front of him.

His eyes widened as your hands reached for the button on his jeans. He couldn't believe this was really happening. You slowly pulled down his zipper and reached into his underwear, drawing out his member.

You delivered a long, slow lick from the base all the way to his tip, holding eye contact the entire time. You felt him stiffen in your hand as blood immediately rushed to it, and he let out a soft moan. You nestled him between your lips, gently spiraling your tongue around his swollen head.

He twitched against the roof of your mouth as his hand found its way to the back of your head. He ever so gently but passionately pushed down, burying just a bit more of his length past your lips. You slowly bobbed up and down, still looking into his beautiful, blue eyes that were rolling back into his head.

You teased the underside, softly running your tongue along a sweet spot and tenderly sucking on it while a few delighted noises escaped from the boy you were knelt in front of. He couldn't get enough of the way you worked your soft, warm mouth on his sensitive nerve endings. "That's it. Keep going," he moaned, running his thumb over your cheek.

You savored every up and down motion, drawing it out and letting Matt feel every subtlety while you learned the details of his shaft with your tongue, tracing every vein and ridge. You moved your attention back up to the tip, rolling your tongue around on the mushroom shape, paying close attention to what Matt was responsive to.

"Atta girl," he praised you, delighting in every sensation. He ran his fingers through your hair, looking down at the way his length was tucked neatly behind your lips while you looked up at him with your big, doe eyes. "Shit. I'm cumming," he whispered, his eyes starting to glaze over before he let out a few satisfied sounds he'd been holding back for a while.

His glorious member pulsated against your tongue as he released his seed into your mouth, and you swallowed the evidence of the good time you'd just shown him. "Wow," he whispered after he finished and started to button and zip his jeans back up, looking around to make sure you two were still the only ones in the cornmaze.

"Was that good?" You asked, wiping a bit of saliva from your chin and smiling up at him. "It was incredible," he smiled while he caught his breath, and the two of you continued on your way. You knew it was rather forward of you to give head to a man you'd met only about four hours prior, but he didn't seem to mind, and it just all felt kind of natural with him.

The two of you held hands as you found yourselves through the rest of the maze, slowly falling even deeper in love with each other the more you learned about one another.

"What's your biggest fear?" Matt asked, getting to know you. "Heights," you responded, looking down at your feet as you walked. "What about yours?" Your eyes raised to meet Matt's. "Ketchup," he confidently responded, raising his eyebrows at you. "You know, I actually understand that. I have this thing with mayonnaise," you giggled.

"No way. I've never met anyone else with a condiment phobia like I have," Matt stopped walking and widened his eyes at you. "Yeah. I hate the stuff. Don't want it on my food. Don't want it near my food. Don't want it near me," you responded, shaking your head. "That's exactly how I feel about ketchup," Matt smiled at you.

"Still down to go to the bookstore? You're not gonna just take the blowjob and run?" You asked, only half-kidding, having been used by men so many times before you were no longer shocked by their behaviors.

He stopped walking for a moment, turning to you and grabbing you by the waist to pull you closer into him, and he kissed you deeply and passionately. "Of course I'm not gonna run," Matt assured you, looking into your eyes. You couldn't deny how smitten you were with him, and you found yourself wanting to spend every day for the rest of your life with him.

The two of you made your way to the bookstore in Matt's car, stealing glances from one another every few seconds and when your eyes would land on each other at the same time, you'd both blush and smile. The two of you settled on a book store neither of you had ever heard of and next to it was a cute little Café where they were advertising their spiced hot cider and Matt offered to buy you each a cup to which you accepted.

And as the two of you floated into the bookstore with your cider, you guys talked about your favorite books. "My favorite book of all time has to be The Great Gatsby," you confidently told him. "That's a great book," Matt agreed. "Like when it comes to imagery, The Great Gatsby nailed it, and the symbolism. Just a great book. So well-written," you told him.

"You're kind of a nerd, huh?" Matt teased you as the two of you wandered aimlessly through the narrow aisles of shelves covered in books from every genre, every time period, and not appearing to be in any specific order. "What? And you're not?" You snarked back. "No, I'm definitely kind of a nerd. That's why I like you," he smirked at you.

"What's your favorite book, nerd?" You nudged him in the arm. "I don't know about my favorite book, but I recently read Perks of Being a Wallflower, and I loved it," Matt told you. "I love that book," you replied. "I can definitely relate to Charlie a lot, you know," he told you, nervously rubbing his neck and opening up to you about his mental health struggles and not being sure if he could say for sure or not if he had depression or anxiety, but he told you about his time in therapy and how he related to a lot of the symptoms.

You took his hand, and this gesture assured him he wouldn't ever have to take it on alone as long as you were around, and he found a solace in the way you ran your thumb over the back of his hand as you held it.

"How will I know when it gets bad?" You asked him, giving him your full attention. "I tend to isolate and lose interest in things I love, but I really trust you, so I'll try to reach out and let you know when it's getting bad," Matt assured you. You smiled warmly at him.

"Oh, The Book Thief!" You exclaimed, your eyes fixating on the bookshelf behind Matt where the title jumped out at you. "I've been meaning to read this. It was recommended to me by a friend," you said, picking it up and flipping through the pages. "Does your friend hate you? That book's so depressing," Matt snorted.

"I love sad books," you responded defensively. "Well, it's a great book. You're gonna love it," Matt said, taking the book from you and holding it under his arm while he relished in how cute you looked when you were excited.

The two of you continued walking through the bookstore together, picking up old books and smelling their musty, worn pages, and talking about your other favorite classic books while you each sipped on your hot cider. You looked down at your watch and noticed it was getting close to sundown.

"Matt, we have to find somewhere to watch the sunset. It's getting late, and that would be the perfect way to end our perfect-fall-day date together," you said, grabbing onto his arm. Matt insisted on buying The Book Thief for you before you shuffled out of the bookstore.

"I know the perfect place we can watch the sunset from," Matt glanced over at you while the two of you were in his car on your way to the next adventure. He took you to an empty park, and the two of you hiked to the swing set at the top of the hill.

You and Matt sat silently in your swings, gently swaying back and forth while the two of you watched the bright burning ball of light slowly descend below the horizon, taking with it the warm glow that illuminated the atmosphere. The silence with Matt was comfortable as the two of you took in the sight until Matt's voice broke through the sound barrier.

"I don't want to freak you out, but I've been thinking about returning the favor all day, and I've been waiting for us to be alone," Matt said, dropping to his knees in front of you. "May I?" He inquired, tracing the inside of your thigh with his fingers as he hesitantly reached up your skirt with a trembling hand.

You were taken off guard but incredibly flattered by his gesture, and you slowly nodded while you looked down at him wide-eyed while taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

He slowly slipped his head between your legs, kissing you and gently massaging your clit through your underwear with his thumb. He gripped the waistband of your panties and tugged them off of you while you lifted yourself up to help him.

He parted your thighs and spread you open with his fingers while he licked his lips. "Your pussy is so beautiful," he praised you while he looked up at you with his crystal blue eyes. Then he buried his face between your legs again, sensually and tenderly tracing your folds with long licks.

Your breath started to speed up, and your heart started to beat faster as he started lightly teasing your clit. You let out a soft whine and threw your head back as he slowly continued his journey with his tongue.

He engulfed your sensitive bud, taking it between his lips and humming against it. Your legs involuntarily fell shut around Matt's ears, and you tightly gripped the chains of the swing.

There was nothing more romantic than Matt passionately eating you out beneath the pink and orange-painted autumn sunset.

His mouth had you under a spell. Your hand found its way entwined in Matt's hair, gently running your fingers through it while he gingerly sucked on your bundle of nerves. He pulled away for a moment, fixing his gaze on you and the way the sunset reflected back at him in your eyes.

"You taste so sweet," he complimented you before delving back in, his tongue swirling between your folds, manipulating your cunt in the best way. You'd never had a man go down on you so enthusiastically and so skillfully before.

A few more soft whimpers got away from you as Matt held the swing steady. Your whole body began go tremble, and a surge of euphoria traveled through your system as Matt treated you to the best head of your life. "Oh, Matt. Please don't stop," you moaned in a breathy and desperate voice, and he didn't dream of it.

He proceeded to hungrily lap up your wet warmth, every once in a while creating a bit of suction, and he relished in the way you responded to every subtle flick of his tongue across your clit. "Good girl," Matt moaned against your pussy as he felt you get close.

His praise sent you over the edge, and you violently shook with one hand on the back of Matt's head, encouraging him to keep going, and the other hand securely holding onto the swing chain. You watched as the sky turned to dusk, the sun sinking beneath your range of view while Matt's mouth worked tirelessly, bringing you to orgasm.

Your climax cascaded through you, sending ripples of delight through every extremity, and the sensation intensified being in a semi-public place while you rode the wave of pleasure, letting it overtake you. Your body convulsed, and the hand entangled in Matt's hair started to gently tug on his brown locks as you finished on his tongue, several satisfied whimpers tearing through you.

Matt pulled away once your orgasm was through taking its course, and he peered up at you with his bedroom eyes. "Was that good?" Matt timidly asked. "Are you kidding?" You breathlessly whispered to the boy still kneeling in front of you as you combed through his hair with your fingers. "No one's ever made me cum from head before." Matt blushed, flattered he could do for you what no man had successfully done before.

He helped you slip your panties back on before the two of you sauntered back to the car, wanting to drag the day out further. "I don't want this night to end now," Matt admitted as he held the passenger door open for you. "What if it didn't?" You softly asked, searching his expression with your eyes, silently begging him to kiss you again.

Reading your body language, he reached up and cupped your face with one hand, and his lips met yours, your tongues swirling against each other's while you imagined what it would be like to wake up next to him every morning. "Stay the night with me. Please," Matt whispered, looking into your eyes and holding your face with both his palms after he pulled away from your deep kiss.

"Can we have a camp fire and sleep under the stars tonight?" You asked him, returning the same loving expression he gave you. He eagerly nodded at you, loving that idea. "I already have blankets and pillows in my car. We just need some lighter fluid and firewood," Matt told you, smiling.

So the two of you stopped for camp fire supplies, and Matt took you to his favorite camping spot. Under the clear, starry night, Matt got the fire going while you sat bundled up in a blanket, and the sound of the crackling accompanied by the smell of the smoke as it rose from the burning wood and dwindled off into the atmosphere, brought you a feeling of peace.

Matt nestled in next to you beneath the fleece fabric as the two of you talked about all the positive memories you had associated with camping and camp fires, exchanging childhood stories and family lore. He was such a good listener, asking more questions and repeating things you'd said earlier on in the day. He held eye contact with you, almost making you nervous because you weren't used to having someone's undivided attention like that.

While you fell more deeply into conversation and more deeply in love, the two of you watched the chemical reaction before your eyes which was a perfect metaphor for your whirlwind love story and the way you were burning up with desire for one another.

The two of you shared another deep, long, passionate kiss, and before you knew it, your hands were wandering and so were Matt's. Pieces of clothing slowly came off as you traced each other's bodies with your lips. "I didn't know you had tattoos. You've been wearing this flannel all day," you said in a low voice, tracing the ink on his shoulders as it glowed in the light of the fire.

And before you knew it, you were on Matt's lap, straddling him, bouncing up and down on his member while his hands were gripping your waist, helping you ride him. Your moans and Matt's filled the forest air as your souls intertwined. Matt was present with you the whole time, showering you with compliments, looking into your eyes, reading the language your body silently spoke to him, and attuning himself to you.

"Are your legs getting tired, baby?" He asked you in between his fervent whimpers, noticing your wobbly knees and slowed movements. You nodded, and in one swift motion, he was on top of you, pinning you to the ground and gently thrusting into you, delighting in the sounds you made into his ear.

Despite being half-clothed and how cold it was outside, the fire and your body heat kept each other warm. You dragged your fingernails down Matt's shirtless back and squeezed your legs around his waist as he drove his member into you again and again. It didn't take much. Matt's passionate and drawn out thrusts hit your gspot everytime, triggering the knot in your stomach to snap.

"Oh, Matt," you whined, your whole body tensing up and trembling as your pretty pussy clenched around his girth. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he quietly mumbled to you. He pulled you into another kiss. The way you rhythmically throbbed around him had Matt following seconds behind you.

As the two of you finished, each for the second time that day, moaning into each other's mouth, Matt's strokes slowed to a stop, and he collapsed onto your rising and falling chest. You cradled his head and ran your fingers through the pretty boy's hair, thanking him for how good he made you feel.

The two of you giggled and blushed about sharing such an intimate experience only having known each other for about twelve hours, but it didn't matter because you knew he was it for you, and he felt the same way. Neither one of you saw the need to beat around the bush or be indirect with one another, because you could both feel the undeniable chemistry, love, and sexual tension that flowed through the both of you when you looked at each other.

You two laid there under the blanket of stars for several minutes, soaking up each other's presence, and Matt finally broke the silence. "You remember how this morning you told me you didn't have a boyfriend? I'm changing that. You're all mine, and I'm all yours."

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miumura · 6 months ago

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ᯓ VILLAIN NEVER DIES — HEESEUNG FIC ๋࣭

SYNOPSIS Heeseung was great at his job—you knew that as one of the biggest villains. So, without a doubt, he was going to have you cornered. At a weakened state, Heeseung tried to save you, rather than killing you. Why? Because he loves you.

PAIRING hero!heeseung x villain-gn!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS profanity, violence, quite graphic? ( blood /cuts / blade ; just more detailed ), both are in visible pain

GENRE a little enemies to lovers action, forbidden love, betrayal, angst, comfort (?) — WORD COUNT 1.8K+ ( 1855 )

NOTE no joke i woke up from a nap and started writing away 😅 BUT WOOOO FIRST HERO X VILLAIN FIC 🗣️ i actually had fun writing this one 🫡 !! maybe i should write more stuff like this … thinking about it !

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, taking a look at your surroundings once again. You took the wrong exit out of the building, feeling yourself panic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Placing your hand over the fresh wound on your arm, you winced, uttering a series of curses under your breath. The footsteps drew nearer, and you found yourself trapped. "Oh, is our most dangerous and scary villain stuck?" You turned to see the city's proclaimed "best" hero, Lee Heeseung.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, but it was loud enough for Heeseung to hear, making him break into a smirk. You backed away—only to fall onto the boxes behind you, making you close your eyes due to the stinging pain.

“You’re weaker than I thought,” You hear Heeseung’s footsteps approaching you, and you flutter your eyes open, only to see him with a huge smirk while holding a blade to your throat. “This is the villain everyone in the city fears about?”

"You're quite the cocky hero, huh?" You retort, maintaining unwavering eye contact. In response, he just offers a serene smile, seemingly unruffled by the exchange.

“Not cocky, just simply telling the truth. You’re less stronger than the other villains I’ve been able to take out myself.”

Now that pissed you off. Just as you were about to grab his arm, he pushed you down again, making you wince one more time. The pain from you colliding with the wall during the chase was coming back to you again.

You glanced at him, breathing heavily after your rough collision with the boxes behind you. The unmistakable sting of glass shards embedded in your skin added to your discomfort, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through your body. “What makes me so different from the other villains?” you demanded, locking eyes with Heeseung as he stood over you.

Seizing the moment, you grabbed onto his arm with all the strength you could muster, pulling the blade he wielded closer to your shoulder. The sharp point of the weapon had already pierced your skin, drawing a thin line of blood. You pressed his hand down harder, feeling the cold steel bite deeper. Despite your effort to provoke him, Heeseung resisted, his grip tightening as he fought to stop you.

"Stop this," Heeseung said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His eyes searched yours, looking for something beyond the rage and defiance.

“I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we?” you said, pushing the blade even deeper into your shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but you refused to drop this act. “You love me.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung snapped, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation.

But you could see the truth in his eyes. Despite the pain and the blood, you pressed on, your voice trembling. “Admit it, Heeseung. You can’t stand the thought of losing me.”

“Stop it,” he snarled, trying to pull the blade away, but you held firm, forcing him to face the reality he was denying. “I can easily take you out now.”

His voice was filled with frustration, but also filled with conflict. You clearly knew he was faltering, he just didn’t want to admit it as the supposed hero he was.

"Then why don't you?" you shot back, your voice steady despite the searing pain. "You already have me here, clearly at a weak point."

Heeseung's grip on the blade tightened momentarily, his knuckles white. But instead of pressing forward, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours.

"Because," he finally said, his voice low and filled with emotion, "I can't bring myself to do it. No matter how much I try, I can't see you as just a villain. You're more than that to me."

"You're weak," you taunted, though your words lacked the usual venom. You needed to understand his hesitance, to push him to reveal the truth.

"The most wanted villain is in your hands, and yet you can’t take them out because of your feelings?" You scoffed, incredulous at how he continued to play the hero. "I didn’t know you were such a softie."

"Call me a softie then," Heeseung replied, his voice steady but filled with earnestness. "Throw all the insults you want at me—just remove the blade, please. I beg of you."

You hesitated, your grip on the blade faltering. His plea caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his eyes breaking through your defenses. For a moment, the lines between hero and villain blurred, leaving just two people caught in a complex web of emotions.

"Why should I?" you challenged, trying to regain control of the situation. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because this isn't who you are," Heeseung said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "You’re not just a villain. I see the conflict in you, the struggle. You don’t want to hurt people. And deep down, I think you don’t want to hurt me."

“Yeah right,” you said with a shaky breath, you slowly released the blade, the weight of it falling from your hand. The pain in your shoulder was still there, but the intensity of the moment overshadowed it. “As if you can change me.”

Heeseung immediately tended to your wound, tearing another strip from his clothing to staunch the bleeding. His touch was tender, careful not to cause you more pain. "Thank you," he murmured, relief evident in his voice.

"You keep letting me off easy. I know you’re a better hero than this," you said, your voice edged with frustration and disbelief.

Heeseung sighed, his expression conflicted. "Maybe I’m not the hero you think I am," he admitted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "Maybe it’s my tendency of wanting to save all kinds of people. Good or not."

You stared at him, caught off guard by his words. "What are you saying, Heeseung? That you think I can be saved?"

"I know you can be," he replied, his voice firm with conviction. "I've seen the good in you, and we both know that. You can keep lying to yourself, but we both feel something for each other.”

“Shut up,” you managed to wince as he wrapped your arm, the pain from your injury mingling with the turmoil of your emotions.

Heeseung paused for a moment, his fingers gentle but steady as he continued to bandage your wound. "Deny it all you want," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But it’s the truth. And deep down, you know it too."

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice strained. "Why not just kill me, end this once and for all?"

"Because I can’t," Heeseung said, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

"Then you’ll fail your mission. Your main goal," you coughed out, the effort sending a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Getting rid of me."

Heeseung’s grip tightened slightly on the bandage, his eyes hardening with resolve. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "My mission is to protect this city, to save lives. And that includes you."

You scoffed, "You can’t save everyone, Heeseung. Sometimes, you have to let go."

"I’m not letting go of you," he replied, his voice fierce. "Not now, not ever."

"Why?" you demanded, frustration and confusion mingling with the pain. "Why can’t you just do your job and get rid of me?"

"Because," Heeseung said, his voice softening, "you’re not just a mission to me. You’re someone I care about. And I refuse to believe that you’re beyond saving."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes almost too much to bear. "You’re risking everything for me," you whispered. "For what? A chance that I might change?"

"Yes," Heeseung said without hesitation. "I believe in that chance. I believe in you."

You shut your eyes, refusing to speak anymore. You knew if you continued, your facade would crumble, and you wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of a hero who claimed to have so much faith in you.

"You sure have some nerve to have faith in someone like me," you muttered bitterly, keeping your eyes closed.

"So what?" Heeseung replied, his voice unwavering. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of their past."

"A villain never dies," you retorted, your tone laced with defiance.

"What—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off before he could finish his thought. Without hesitation, you seized the blade he had discarded on the side and lunged at him, stabbing him in the side. He gasped in shock and pain, his eyes widening with betrayal as he stumbled back, clutching his wound.

For a moment, you stood frozen, watching as the reality of what you had done sank in. Heeseung’s expression was a mixture of shock, hurt, and disbelief, and each emotion felt like a dagger to your own heart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. But your apology fell on deaf ears as Heeseung staggered backwards, his eyes never leaving yours.

You knew you felt terrible, and you usually don’t.

You can’t.

Emotions were supposed to be reserved for the weak, for those who had the luxury of feeling. All you had left in you was hatred. And you knew Heeseung didn’t believe that though. He just had seen you like everyone else, a person with emotions and feelings.

But you can’t listen to him. You’ve already fallen so deep in your ways. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe in that possibility. You had fallen too deep into your ways, too far gone to be saved, even if he claimed otherwise.

"YN, why?" Heeseung's voice rang out behind you, filled with hurt and confusion.

"A villain never dies, Heeseung," you replied coldly, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to surface. You reverted to the persona you had carefully crafted. “Did I just not tell you that?”

"Next time, get me with no intentions to keep me alive," you added, your voice devoid of any warmth or remorse.

"But—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Heeseung, you’re smarter than this," you said sharply, your tone cutting through the night air like a knife. Before you could lose your resolve, you turned away, the pain of your actions heavy in your heart.

But before you could disappear into the darkness, you paused, turning back to face him one last time. "You’ve built up this fantasy, thinking we could make things work just because I’ve opened up to you a couple of times," you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. "And even if you want to change things, no one can approve of us. I’ve done too much harm, and you have to stop me from hurting your people."

You looked at him, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "Villains and heroes are never meant to be together," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know that very well.”

💬 : too much angst lately sorry guys ive been going thru it 😣 fluff soon !!!! (maybe)

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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waves-against-a-cliff · 3 months ago

Text

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - So the hunt begins.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1

The others looked at Gaz like he had finally lost his marbles but only Soap was the one to speak up and say, "Ye've gone and lost yer mind."

Gaz shook his head and grabbed Soap's wrist, forcing him to kneel down and smell the old blood. He waited for his reaction and Soap sat back, his cold blue eyes wide.

"A 'mega out here? After all this time..." Soap looked to Price and Ghost who both exchanged looks. Price rolled his shoulders and Ghost seemed to relax just a little.

"Well, if there is one we should go and find them," Price finally said.

"And where would that be?" Soap asked but his eyes had already trailed over to the forest at the edge of the town. Large enough to hide a place for an omega to hide.

You triple checked the trap you just set, making sure the string was hidden and that it was ready to go off for the poor alpha's that made the mistake of coming onto your land. Your territory had been littered with traps for years though some had gone into disrepair due to your own negligence.

No matter, you thought as you layered more leaves on top to conceal the pit below, you're sure you'll get them with this.

Back when libraries hadn't been mere ruins with musty, rain ruined books you had developed a small fascination with the tactics and traps the Vietnam soldiers had left for the American ones. Nasty, down right awful traps but they drove America out of their country and you were intent to do the same to these alphas.

But even as you thought about the harm you would bring down upon them like a vengeful goddess, your inner omega had started to awaken more. She scratched and whined at the idea of there not only being one but four alphas near by. After years of nothing but your own fingers and the old dildo, your inner omega was desperate for something.

Yet, there was also confliction.

Yes, the deep seeded desire to be bred by four burly alphas was there but also a certain feral aspect bubbled closer to the surface. This is our land, your omega hissed, ours and they've entered it. We smelt them. They haven't left. She pushed you to make more traps, set deadlier ones.

An agreement had been made, or a compromise. Get the alpha's off your land and if one of them survived, keep him. What the next step would be, neither you or your omega had thought about that. Or if all of them survived.

A twig snapped to your left and it yanked you from your thoughts immediately. You hastily covered the trap further before you scrambled up a near by tree and waited. You fought to scratch at the dried mud caked onto your scent glands. It was damn near stifling. Worse then the stuffing in your nose.

You waited, heart pounding in your chest as you kept listening for more signs. Nothing. You let yourself breathe again and slide down from the tree you had perched in. Then you heard them, eight feet tramped down snow and broke twigs under their weight.

They were so loud.

You turned your head just in time to see a hat above a fern and a peak of something black behind it. Your hand found your shotgun with practiced ease and you stepped back and over your trap for more protection. Then they emerged from the bushes.

May the strongest alpha win

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cupidbedsy · 4 months ago

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𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘂𝗽 ; 𝘫𝘩86, 𝘭𝘩43, 𝘲𝘩43, 𝘵𝘻11, 𝘤𝘤22 ୨୧

➪ summary: after being stood up, y/n was planning on just spending her night crying on the curb before she went home. that was until five boys showed up and took her out.

➪ warnings: reader gets stood up, mentions of cheating, trevor is such a flirt, reader has chemistry with all five of them, definitely typos/not proofread

➪ word count: 5.3k

➪ file type: new fic

➪ sunny's notes: the first fic since i've left. guys you have no idea how in love i am with this. i got this idea based on a tiktok (at least the first part was, the fair part was all me) but i love this so so so much and i hope you guys do too. okay two things that i am willing to do with this, write and give you guys the letters each of them write and/or a part two where she gets together with one of them (who, you let me know)

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She hadn't meant to end up on the curb, mascara streaking down her cheeks as the city buzzed around her, but here she was, wishing she'd never agreed to the date in the first place. She shoved her phone roughly into the pocket of her jacket, curling herself into it further. She turned her attention to the cracks in the sidewalk, tracing the lines and picking at the grass that grew out of some of them.

When she got bored of that she wrapped her arms around her knees and just buried her head into them, listening to the cars passing by and the distant music from the bar a couple of buildings down. She could hear muffled laughter and talking drawing closer but she was too distracted to care.

Meanwhile, the group of guys was walking down the sidewalk laughing about a joke one of them had said. They had just been wandering around trying to figure out what they should do that night. It was Luke who spotted the girl first, he paused once his gaze landed on her. At first he thought nothing of it, merely shrugged it off as just someone who was drunk way too early into the night.

But as the group neared closer, he could hear the soft sniffles and immediately reached his hand out to stop Jack, who was walking beside him, “What?”

Jack raised his eyebrow as he followed Luke’s gaze to where the girl was sitting. He looked back at his younger brother and then back at the girl, “What is it?”

“She’s crying, dumbass.”

The conversation halted the other three’s movements, their laughter slowly fading. They made their way back over to the two, making a little huddle as they discussed what they should do, “Should we do something?”

Quinn crossed his arms, slightly worried about the girl even if she was just a stranger. He listened to the others talk before walking up to her, ignoring the group’s sounds of protests, “Hey.”

The girl jumped slightly, rushing to wipe the tears from her face as she looked up at him, “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

She looked back down, eyes fixed on her sweater covered hands, before she mumbled, “I’m fine.” She picked at the loose strings coming from the edge of the sleeves, oblivious to the looks and mouthed words the boys were exchanging.

When minutes had passed she finally looked back up to see the five now completely surrounding her. She could tell they had been planning on going out somewhere, probably having a lot more fun then she would’ve had even if her date had shown up. A few of them sent her an awkward smile while the one she had talked to and one of the taller ones sent her genuine ones.

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” Luke said, “We were just wondering if you were okay.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m fine… just a bad night, I guess.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows, “Just a bad night?” Jack hit him in the stomach and smiled at the girl apologetically, “Sorry about him.”

She cracked a small smile, the first one since she arrived at the shitty bar two hours ago. Cole took this as an invitation to offer what they had been talking about earlier, “We were going to go get some pizza, do you want to come with?”

She moved her eyes to each one, all of them now having a smile on their face, a sincere one. She blinked, slightly surprised at how willing they were to offer her to come with, “I don’t want to ruin your night…”

“You wouldn’t be ruining anything,” Trevor chimed in, “We were just figuring out what to do anyway, no plans whatsoever.”

She hesitated, still unsure, but as she looked up at them she couldn’t deny that going to get pizza with five random guys would be better than sitting on the curb alone in the cold. She nodded and whispered, “Okay. Pizza sounds good.”

Luke flashed a grin, holding his hand out to her, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She took his hand, using it as an aid to stand up. The four immediately fell into step beside them, making small talk with y/n as they made their way down the street. Luke never strayed far from her, occasionally tightening the grip he still had on her hand.

“What’s your favorite kind of pizza?” Cole stepped closer to her, leaving Jack behind to continue talking to Quinn.

She shrugged at first before speaking softly, “Just cheese.”

Trevor came up behind her too, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he pushed Luke out of the way, “Plain cheese. My kind of girl.”

She laughed at his comment, catching her footing as Trevor leaned on her. They all continued their walk to the pizza place, stepping in and immediately being hit with the smell of pizza. THey found a table near the back and sat down, placing their drink order with the waiter that came by.

“So, what had you sitting on the curb crying?”

She tensed slightly, not sure if she should actually tell them but she looked at all of their gazes and noticed how genuine all of them looked so she spoke up, “I was supposed to go on a date tonight. But he stood me up.”

They all collectively scoffed, “What an ass?”

“He doesn’t know what he was missing out on.”

She laughed, “You guys don’t even know me.”

“So? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re a good person.”

Quinn, who had noticed the sadness still lingering in her eyes, inserted himself into the conversation, “I’m assuming that’s not it?”

She smiled sadly, “It would’ve been my first date in a month… since my ex cheated on me.”

The five of them stared at her with wide eyes, “No fucking way.”

“Yep.” Before anyone got a chance to say something, the waiter came around and handed out their drinks before taking their pizza order.

The waiter walked away and she immediately said something before they could, “So what about you? Who are the five guys that mysteriously decided to take me under their wing for the night?”

“Well I’m Jack, this is my older brother Quinn and my younger brother Luke. And these are my best friends Cole and Trevor.”

They all waved as Jack said their names, smiling awkwardly in return. They all slowly got to know each other, y/n finding out they all played hockey and which teams they played on. She got told many childhood stories, especially about the three brothers since they had known each other for the longest obviously. Eventually, they got their pizza and continued their conversation as they ate.

When they were done they slowly headed out the door, paying for their meal beforehand. They all stood outside the pizza place and exchanged glances with one another, “So now what?”

“Well, I should probably head home…”

“Nonsense!” Jack screamed, “Come on let’s go do something. You still need some cheering up.”

“Thank you but I don’t want to impose more than I already have.”

They all shook their heads, “Nah, come on. Let’s go to the fair.”

She was hesitant once again but she saw all of their pleading looks and gave in immediately, “Alright fine. Let’s go.”

The five of them cheered and immediately took off down the street, y/n’s laughter filling their ears.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

They six arrived at the fair, y/n looking around in awe. It had been a while since she’d been to a fair or carnival, the bright lights overwhelming her in the slightest. She followed behind the guys, not knowing where exactly she, or they, were heading. She watched from behind them as they hit each other playfully and laughed before Cole fell behind and walked alongside her, “Hey.”

“Hi.” She looked up at him and furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s up?”

“How much do you like rides?”

“Depends on which one.”

“Ferris wheel, swings, tilt-a-whirl.”

“Ferris wheel it is.”

Cole called out to his friends, “Hey! We’re going on the ferris wheel. We’ll meet up with you later.”

The other four waved him off and y/n smiled at him, “Lead the way Caufield.”

Cole practically dragged her in the direction of the ride, hearing her laugh behind him. She squealed as she almost ran into people, yelling out apologies as they passed by. He never let up, continuing his fast paced walk, or run as y/n called it, through the crowds. She told him to slow down multiple times and even then he would only slow his pace in the slightest.

Once they finally arrived there, she panted, “Jeez. Are you trying to kill me?”

“No! I was just really excited. Now come on before the lines get too long.” She nodded and continued her pursuit after him, managing to get in line before the crowd started to gather.

Cole grinned at her as they stood in line and y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Cole looked at her and his grin turned crooked, “What?”

“Has anyone told you how contagious your energy is?”

He shrugged, “Sometimes.”

The two continued to stand in silence, y/n gazing around at the multitude of booths that surrounded her. Some were selling food, deep fried twinkies or churros, she made a mental note to come back later to satisfy her sweet tooth. Others were selling trinkets or shirts or bracelets. She looked around at all the people, some little kids bouncing up and down with happiness as they held their parents hands, a group of teens who were taking pictures on a polaroid camera, and a couple who were holding hands and wearing matching t-shirts. Her smile quickly faded from her face and turned into a frown.

Cole noticed the sudden change in her demeanor and he didn’t let it last long, “So, you’ve ever been on a ferris wheel.”

She looked back at him, smiling softly, “Yeah, a few times, but it’s been a while. I forgot how much fun fairs were, I used to go as a kid with my family.”

“They’re the best, especially at night when you reach the top and can see almost the whole fair from up there. Magic or something.”

“Magic huh?” A teasing smile played on her lips as she nudged him.

“Hey! Don’t judge me. It’s true.”

She just continued to smile as she faced forward, watching as the line continued to move quicker and quicker. Before she knew it, it was her and Cole’s turn to get on, the two of them quickly sitting in their seats and watching as the worker closed the cabin door. It was just Cole and y/n in there, sitting across from one another.

“What’s your favorite part?” She looked over at him with curious eyes.

He smiled once more before answering, “When you get to the top and are lucky enough that that’s where it stops you.”

She nodded in agreement before looking out the booth, “That’s my favorite part too.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as the wheel took them around twice before finally stopping at the top. Her breath hitched as they stopped, not expecting it in the slightest. She couldn’t help but think back to Cole’s words earlier, it was truly magical. Every noise seemed to fall deaf on her ears as she gazed out at the lights shining brightly, the mass of people running around below her.

“I told you.”

She hummed as she looked over at him, “Yeah you did. And for the record I never said you were wrong.”

A few moments passed before she spoke again, “Thank you… for this, for tonight.”

“No need to thank me, I’m glad we ran into you.”

That’s when the ride started to move again, bringing the two of them back to the ground. The ride worker smiled at them once more as they climbed out and waved goodbye before helping the next group of people in the car. Cole and y/n laughed as they stumbled down the road, his hand brushing up against hers. The two blushed in unison, looking down before continuing to walk down the street.

“Want to go find the others?” Y/n nodded but slowed her pace in the slightest, “But let’s take our time, hm? We’re not in any rush are we?”

Cole grinned again, “Not one bit.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they finally found the group of them, they were in the part of the fair that hosted a majority of the carnival games. Jack swung an arm around her, “Well look who’s back. The girl of the hour!”

She blushed again as everyone’s gaze fell upon her, “Hi.”

“So how was the ferris wheel?” Trevor teased as he took a sip of his drink, his raised eyebrows still visible from behind the cup.

“Good.”

“Mhm, what y/n said.” He glared slightly at Trevor but kept his cool for the most part.

“Haven’t been on a ferris wheel in a while, it was fun.”

“I bet,” Trevor mumbled again and received a smack on the head from Quinn.

“So, what do you guys want to do next?” Luke interrupted, slightly ticked off from both Trevor’s antics and the blush that was on Cole and y/n’s face.

They all looked at the girl’s face as her eyes wandered up and down the street awaiting her decision. Her gaze finally landed back on them before she spoke, “Who’s good at games?”

Four of the five of them stepped back immediately at her words leaving Luke the only one standing, “I guess that’s me.”

She took ahold of his hand and dragged him down the way to one of the games, Luke only able to send a wave quickly as he stumbled after her. He watched as she talked animatedly about the carnival games, something along the lines of never being able to win one. Something clicked in his brain and he knew he wanted to win something for her.

They finally reached one of the booths, the two of them coming to a stop immediately, “Do you think you can win?”

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, “I’ve been trying since I was a kid.”

He nodded, a small part of him knowing there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to but he sure as hell was determined to win. She watched as he stepped up to the worker, handing her a few bucks before picking up the miniature basketballs.

One after another he missed but his confidence never waivered even as he continued to hand the worker money. After the third try, y/n stepped up and placed her hand on his arm, “Come on, Luke. It’s useless at this point.”

“One more. I promise.”

She relented and allowed him to hand the worker more money before picking the basketballs up again. This time, all the ones he threw made it into the wooden baskets and he cheered before bringing her into a hug and pointing up at the prizes, “Which one do you want?”

She smiled up at him, “The purple cow. Please.”

The worker nodded and took it down before handing it to the girl who beamed as she took it into her arms, “Finally. After 18 plus years.”

He laughed at her, watching as she played with the stuffed animal’s floppy ears, “You know I don’t think cows are supposed to have floppy ears.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she immediately found comfort in the gesture, “Whatever, it’s cute.”

Luke looked down at her and smiled softly, “Yeah, sure is.”

Oblivious to Luke’s gaze and true meaning of his words, she spoke, “C’mon let’s go show everyone what you won me. My hero.”

He chuckled again before leading her back to the group but going as slow as possible to not have to completely leave her side too early. She looked back up at him with a playful smirk, “So Luke, is this your secret talent? Winning impossible carnival games?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Not this time. I think I just got lucky.”

“Lucky huh? Or maybe you’re just too stubborn to give up…” She urged.

He shrugged, “Maybe a little bit of both. But it was worth it to see you smile like that.”

A new blush rose to her cheeks and she changed her gaze to the ground, letting Luke guide her through the crowds, clutching the stuffed cow even closer to her.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

“Look what Luke won me!” She hopped over to the group of boys who snapped their heads to look at her.

They nodded, less enthusiastic than the girl but still trying to make it seem like they were. Quinn was the first one, “How long did it take him?”

Luke rolled his eyes at his older brother, “Oh shut up.”

“I was just asking!”

Y/n shook her head at the banter and stepped away as they continued to argue back and forth. She ended up next to Jack who immediately took notice that she was now by his side, “Hey there.”

“Hi.”

For a while they didn’t say anything, just watching the fight between Luke and Quinn. Then y/n nudged his side and whispered in his ear, “Fried Twinkie?”

He nodded and grinned walking away with her towards the food. The two made their way down, a lot of the crowd had dispersed to the shows now that they had started. There was a small line forming outside of the food truck that sold the fried twinkies, so the two just stood and made small talk as they waited, “So… fried twinkies, huh? Your go-to carnival snack?”

“Yep, always has been. It’s a classic, too. I’ve been eyeing them since I got to the ferris wheel with Cole.”

“Always has been? How many times have you been?”

They moved up with the line and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts, “I used to go all the time with my family when we were kids, but when my siblings grew up and started relenting ‘family quality time’ we just stopped kind of going.”

Jack nodded, “Yeah, I feel that. I mean once we all started to get more serious about hockey we all just kind of forgot to do stuff like that, or at least it was hard to go out without people recognizing us.”

They finally reached the front of the line, the vendor smiling at them happily as he rang up the two fried twinkies. Y/n watched as Jack swiped his card, grateful that the boys had been basically spoiling her since they picked her up on the side of the street. It was hard to believe that this all happened because someone stood her up but she couldn’t find it in herself to care at this point.

She jumped slightly when she noticed Jack’s hand wave in front of her face, “Lost you there for a sec. Here is your fried Twinkie, m’lady.”

“Why thank you kind sir.”

The two made their way over to one of the many benches that was set up on the grass. Y/n sat the purple cow on the table next to her, taking a bite of the treat, “I forgot how good these were.”

“I forgot how bad for you these are.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you don’t indulge in something sweet once in a while, especially since it’s the summer.”

Jack smirked, “I never said that. I just meant that this is fucking greasy as hell.”

She only nodded, taking another bite. The two sat in silence as they ate and then she saw Jack’s hand reaching out, “What’re-”

His thumb landed on the corner of her mouth, wiping some of the filling of the twinkie away, “You got a little something there.”

Her cheeks flushed at the action, though she couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or flustered. Once they were done, they threw their trash away and y/n resumed her grasp on her cow, “Thanks for coming with me.”

“‘Course, I’m glad you’re having a great time. You deserve it, especially after… well you know.”

She frowned slightly and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey come on. No frowns anymore. The night isn’t over yet!”

“Oh, it’s not?”

“Nope! I heard there was this karaoke or dance thing happening soon, we’re definitely going. Let’s go find the guys.”

She lagged at his words and ran after him.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The two ran up to the group, Jack practically crashing into Cole, “Whoops sorry.”

Cole shoved him back and y/n laughed at the interaction, “Alright so what’s this I hear about dancing?”

“Well we were going to go to karaoke, but someone said no.”

Eyes turned to Luke who shrugged innocently, “What? I don’t really want to get on stage and sing in front of a bunch of people.”

“Buzzkill. But there’s a band performing right now so we figured we’d go check that out.”

Y/n nodded, “Akright.”

The six of them made their way through the fair, walking to one of the many stages they had there. Y/n reached for the closest hand, which happened to be Quinn’s, scared of getting lost in the crowds. Quinn looked down at her and smiled gently, “Nervous?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed.”

He squeezed her hand, “Well I got you.”

A pink tint covered her cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. They navigated their way close to the middle of the group, nodding their heads along to the beat of whatever song the band was playing.

As they settled into the middle of the crowd, the energy of the live music began to seep into Y/N’s bones. The band was playing an upbeat, catchy tune that had the entire audience swaying and moving along to the rhythm. Y/n finally let herself relax into the swing of the crowd.

Quinn, still holding her hand, leaned down to be heard over the music. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Yeah, thanks. This is actually pretty fun.”

“Good,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

As the band transitioned into a slower, more melodic song, Y/N noticed that couples around them started to pair off, swaying together in time with the music. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but before she could overthink it, Jack nudged her playfully.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said with a grin. “You can’t just stand there. Dance with us!”

Before she could respond, Jack took her other hand, spinning her around playfully before pulling her into a gentle sway. Quinn didn’t let go of her other hand, so she found herself dancing between the two of them, feeling a bit like she was in a scene from a movie.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Jack said, his voice light and teasing.

“Not bad at all,” she agreed, laughing as they continued to sway together.

Cole, Trevor, and Luke were nearby, each of them doing their own version of dancing, Trevor of course going completely against the rhythm of the music. As the song progressed, Jack eventually stepped back, letting Quinn take over fully. Y/N looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a way that made her heart flutter. The earlier awkwardness she’d felt was gone, replaced by a sense of comfort.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” she commented, trying to keep the conversation light even as her heart raced.

Quinn chuckled, his hand still holding hers as they moved together to the music. “Thanks. I guess all those weddings and family events paid off.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the summer night air. “Well, you all are definitely making this night unforgettable.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the crowd. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

“That is the second time someone has said that to me tonight.”

“Oh really?” Quinn’s eyes shined with amusement, “I guess that means it’s true.”

As the song came to an end, they slowly stopped swaying, neither of them eager to let go. But the upbeat music quickly returned, and the moment passed, replaced by the lively energy of the fair.

Jack reappeared, playfully pulling Y/N away from Quinn with a grin. “Alright, enough of the slow stuff. Let’s see if you can keep up with me!”

She laughed, letting him drag her back into the group where they all started dancing together, the worries of the earlier part of the night completely forgotten. They spent the next hour losing themselves in the music, joking around, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the band announced their final song, Y/N was out of breath, her cheeks flushed from both the exertion and the pure joy she felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun, or felt this free. And as the music wound down, the crowd began to disperse, yet the six of them had stayed together, watching everyone push their way out to the entrance of the fair.

Y/n all of a sudden felt heavy and she could feel herself growing increasingly tired. Trevor was the first to notice this, immediately taking a position by her side and letting her lay against him, “Someone’s getting tired.” His voice was light and teasing as he looked down at her.

She mumbled something incoherently, digging her face into the boy’s shoulder. The five of them laughed at her before agreeing to head back to the car. Trevor and Quinn took the main job of helping her walk back to the parking lot, all of them equally as tired as the girl, their feet aching.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they reached the car, Luke climbed into the back seat and watched as Trevor and Quinn helped the girl into the middle row. Trevor sat in the middle, Y/n on his left and Cole on his right, as Quinn hopped into the driver’s seat with Jack in the passenger side.

Trevor shook her slightly, trying to get her to wake enough so she could tell them where she lived or where to drop her off. Y/n blinked her eyes open slowly, looking up at him, “Hm?”

“Gotta tell us where to take you, pretty girl.”

“Wanna sleep.”

Trevor chuckled, “I know you do and you can once you tell us where you live.”

He slid a phone into her hands and she slowly typed out her address into the search bar of the maps before handing it back to him. He thanked her and handed the phone to Jack who then plugged the phone into one of the charging cords, Siri’s voice making its way to everyone’s ears through the speakers.

Y/n resummed her position laying against Trevor. She shivered slightly, the drastic temperature change affecting her greatly. Trevor let a smile tug at his lips as he reached into the backseat where Luke was to place it around her. She whispered a ‘thanks’ before resuming her previous action, curling into his side.

Although she was tired, her mind didn’t seem to allow her to sleep so she opened her eyes and tried to find something to focus on. Her gaze landed upon Trevor’s arm, the one littered with tattoos. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by them and she let her eyes trace up the length of his forearm to his bicep.

Trevor could feel her stare and finally looked back over to her before speaking softly, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothin.”

“I can feel you looking, sweetheart.”

She blushed at the nickname although the only tell tale sign was whenever they would pass a street light that lit up her face. He chuckled at her shyness before nudging her again, “You can touch if you want princess. I don’t mind.”

Y/n looked up at him, “Really?”

He nodded, “Go ahead.”

She hesitated at first before letting her hand lay atop his arm, her fingers slowly beginning to trace the ink. She let the silence comfort her and slowly lull her to sleep to start with but then the question burned at the back of her mind, “Do they mean anything?”

“Yes and no, but mostly no. Just things I thought were cool I guess.”

She let out a soft murmur of amusement and continued the path of the shapes his arm had. Slowly she fell asleep and before she knew it they were pulling up to her apartment. Trevor had to be careful with maneuvering her but eventually he was able to pick her up and carry her up the stairs.

As respectful as Luke could, he reached into her pocket to pull out her keys and unlocked the door. Quinn, Jack, Cole and Luke trailed behind Trevor, all of them finding their way to her bedroom. The five exchanged looks as they stood watching her, “Should we leave or note or something?”

“Probably. I don’t know how much she’s going to remember when she wakes up.”

The others nodded in agreement and slowly filled out of her bedroom but not before kissing her softly on the head and making sure the covers surrounded her entirely and that the curtains in her room were closed all the way.

They reached the kitchen and searched for pieces of paper, each of them writing their own note with their name and phone number scribbled underneath it. It wasn’t the neatest thing they ever wrote, especially considering that it was mostly dark inside the apartment. Soon after they all left, making sure the lock was secure before walking back to the car and driving away.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

In the morning, y/n woke up groaning slightly. She couldn’t remember what had happened last night except for the fact that she had been stood up. She sat up in bed and looked down at her arms which were clad in a sweatshirt she didn’t recognize. Slowly the memories of the previous night slowly came back to her and she couldn’t help the smile that graced her face.

She got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, now noticing that she didn’t know if she would ever see the five again. That was until she noticed the five pieces of paper laid out on her kitchen counter, all in different handwriting.

She made her way over to the counter, sitting at one of the chairs she had there and taking her time reading each note individually. The smile was predominantly stuck to her face as she typed each number into her phone, creating contacts for each of them.

Finally, she made a group chat with all of them before sending a text, “Hey, this is y/n. Thank you all for last night, it meant a lot to me. I hope it wasn’t just a one time thing, I would enjoy seeing you all again.”

And within minutes of her sending the text, all of them had hearted her message and sent her each a message.

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗝𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗦 + 𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗦 + 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

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