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cacoetheswriting · 13 days ago

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break my heart again | chapter six from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 6.4K

summary: He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time. And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / little comfort, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, implied intimacy | non-explicit, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, gaslighting, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

2:34AM.

The house is still. Quiet and empty. Everyone is hiding away in their own rooms, trying to get some sleep after a long and exciting day.

Except the house is not still. There’s shouting bouncing between the walls, keeping the group awake. Raised voices coming from one bedroom.

Eddie’s, to be exact.

Ding. Phones illuminate the darkness. The group chat.

Steve: They’ve been arguing for over an hour… Robin: should someone check what’s going on? Robin: not it

Jonathan sends a thumbs down emoji.

Nancy: Let’s leave them alone for a bit longer. Steve: I’m trying to sleep Robin: we’re all trying to sleep, Harrington Nancy: 15 minutes and I’ll go, okay?

Thumbs up reactions fly in. The chat dies down for a moment. Phones get locked, attempts at eavesdropping continue.

Robin: do we know what they’re arguing about? Robin: they looked mighty cosy this evening and now this? Steve: I can take a wild guess Robin: do enlighten us, detective Jonathan: Guys, it’s not our business. Steve: They’re kinda making it our business, Byers Steve: I suspect it’s got something to do with Chrissy Robin: of fucking course

Chrissy has had enough of being made to look like a fool. She felt as though she sacrificed enough for Eddie Munson during their time together and she wanted something in return, for the years she wasted on the metal-head. For all the instances he’d tell her you meant nothing, yet his actions proved otherwise.

Chrissy no longer wanted to be the butt of the joke.

Recording her version of the story, articulating it into words she’s been too afraid to feel, was therapeutic. She should have left it there. Let the past go and find someone who actually cares. But she couldn’t just let it be. Not so deep down, she wanted Eddie to hurt — you’re just collateral damage, a means to an end.

You pressed play without thinking too much about the implications because what could Eddie’s pretty ex-girlfriend possibly want with you. Issue some vague and empty threats, perhaps? Or maybe to tell you something along the lines of ‘good luck, he’s an asshole’ — typical ex-girlfriend stuff.

Only there isn’t anything typical about Chrissy’s message.

Listening to it once should have been enough for you, but no, you had to go and hurt your heart by playing it again and again and again, until the words made even less sense than they did the first time around.

It’s incredibly incriminating, to say the least, and you don’t quite believe that anything Chrissy has said is true, so you let auto-pilot take over and saunter down the hall, towards Eddie’s bedroom.

He opens the door before you even get a chance to knock, as if he knew you were coming. As if he felt your energy gravitate in his direction and he wanted to meet you halfway. A smile reaches his lips, cocky yet soft, and your heart clenches because you desperately want everything to remain on the edge of whatever the hell you two have been doing all day.

“Miss me already, angel?” He quips, arm above his head, resting against the frame.

“We need to talk,” you say and slide under his bicep, stepping inside his safe space.

Eddie shifts, his smile faltering. He gets the sense that he’s not going to like what’s about to come out of your mouth. He swallows a breath and shuts the door with the heel of his foot, a gentle thud vibrating against the floorboards.

“What’s going on?” Concern laced through his tone.

You don’t answer. Not really. Instead, you hold up your phone, the one you’ve been gripping tightly in your hand, imprints left behind on your palm.

Staring at the metal-head, you press play. Chrissy’s voice booms from the speaker and you observe Eddie for any sort of reaction: to prove she’s lying. She has to be lying.

“Okay, ugh. This is so weird,” Chrissy’s note begins. “You don’t have to listen to this. In fact, I half expect you’ve already turned it off because you don’t owe me anything. We were never friends, just friendly. Acquaintances by nature or some shit.”

She pauses. Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the phone. He takes a step forward, but doesn’t try to come any closer to you. Almost as if he knows what his ex-girlfriend is about to say and he feels helpless to stop it.

“Now that you seem to have reconciled with him. There’s something I think you ought to know. Something he definitely won’t tell you since he’s always been quite chickenshit when it comes to the truth and you - separately and combined.”

You play the second voice note, eyes not leaving Eddie’s brown ones for a second.

“Our graduation party. There’s not a lot I know about what happened between you, Eddie, and Steve. He never told me the specifics, but I can piece together a rough picture and I know there was a blowup, one he blamed you for.”

Shuffling in the background indicates she’s on the move as she speaks.

“Listen, I’m not here to make assumptions or whatever. I just think there’s been a certain double standard which you don’t deserve - coming from me, that must feel like a shocker.”

Chrissy chuckles. The voice note ends. You play the next one, but not before Eddie says your name which makes your insides curl.

“After you fought for everyone at the party to hear, and after Eddie took you home, I don’t know if you know that he came back. I found him ruffling through the bushes. I suppose he was looking for something, although he never told me what. He never told me much when it came to you.”

Your free hand lands on the guitar pick around your neck.

“Well, I invited him in.”

“Angel—”

“Eddie, shut up.” You interrupt, voice quavering because now, seeing the downcast expression on his face, you know what Chrissy is about to say next is true.

The note continues.

“I’ll spare you the details. We slept together. Bet Eddie would never tell you that, huh? He’s all high and mighty about whatever you did with Steve earlier that very same night, when in reality he’s not much better.”

A pause for dramatic effect.

“Then, word spreads that you’ve skipped town and Eddie comes around more often. I asked about you, you know? I asked if he told you about what we did because I’m not stupid, I know there’s always been something between the two of you, and I didn’t want to step on any toes in case you came back. All he did was shrug and say you didn’t deserve to know anything from him anymore.”

Tears wet your lashes.

“Talk about being a conniving asshole.”

In the last, shortest note, she adds, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

With the click of a thumb, you lock your phone and go back to gripping it, tight. Anger seeps through your fingers, although that’s where it starts and ends. The rest of you feels borderline numb — which usually drives you to drink. You hate yourself for this setback, but more so for allowing this in the first place. For getting caught up in Eddie’s forgiveness and his laugh, his touches and kisses, his promises of a better tomorrow.

The sham is clear. Chrissy spelled it out in her voice notes.

Eddie Munson gave you hell for kissing Steve then jumped into bed with the blonde Cunningham. Whatever. He needed someone to make him feel better. That’s not what irks you.

What hurts the most is the radio silence that followed beyond the night. The years of no contact.

What hurts the most is allowing you to think everything was your fault. For allowing you to isolate yourself from your friends, your home. For letting you stew in misery, thinking you hurt him beyond repair.

“I was going to tell you,” Eddie says, taking another step in your direction. “I swear, angel. I-I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

You scoff although your voice wobbles as you say, “Well, thank god for your ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie’s now an arm-length away.

“Look, I-I know this looks bad, but this doesn’t have to change anything,” he half-pleads. “I mean, we dated after, so it’s not like—”

“Like me and Steve?” You interrupt in disbelief at this entire situation. “I thought we moved past that.”

“We did,” he agrees with a shake of the head. “Fuck! I-I am just trying to say how what happened between me and Chrissy is different.”

Slowly, you nod. “Right, because that explains it so much better.”

“Angel—”

“You think I’m mad because you had sex with her?”

He seems shaken by your question which answers it immediately.

“Eddie, I don’t give a shit about who you sleep with. Chrissy, those horny moms that listen to your radio show, whoever else.” You tell him, “I’m upset because I went years believing everything that happened to us was my goddamn fault!”

The yell slips and he flinches, not expecting such ferocity.

Eddie left you to your own guilt and that’s his prerogative. The secrets however, they hurt. First the Billy thing, and now this. And imagining how different things could have been if you knew all this information sooner makes you want to scream.

“You keep secrets, Eddie. Billy and this, and you fail to realise how these secrets impacted me and my decisions!” You accuse. “What’s worse, we had a heart to heart last night, which would have been a good opportunity to tell me about this thing with Chrissy, but you chose yourself over me, again.”

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You still left, remember? You didn’t have to do that. You could have stayed and we uh, we could have tried to work it out—”

“I left because of you!”

Something snaps then. The last string of forging forward.

“Okay, I don’t like the accusation when you’re the one who made out with my friend.” Eddie goes on defence.

“Jesus! How many times are you going to make me apologise?” You throw your arms up with the question. “I was drunk and sad. My best friend—” You point to the metal-head. “— just told me he had feelings for me at quite literally the worst possible time and I wasn’t ready to…”

The sentence fades as you shake your head. “No. You don’t get to say anything about me kissing Steve anymore because you forgave me, remember?”

He’s staring at you. Hands formed into fists at his sides.

The argument bounces back-and-forth like this. You’re hurt. He’s hurt. Neither of you willing to back down first because there’s a whole lot more to lose now than there ever was before — boundaries crossed, all those kisses and whatever the fuck they mean.

“Do the others know?” You ask, breaking a tension filled moment of silence.

Eddie shakes his head.

You smack your lips together. “That tells me you’re ashamed, which means you know what you did is wrong.”

“What do you want me to say?!” He half-shouts, feeling agitated and defeated all at the same time.

“You still haven’t said you’re sorry,” you answer, softer, sadder.

Eddie’s heart clenches. He can see the hurt behind your eyes, hear it in your voice. He should have apologised, but you came in hot and he felt blindsided — not like that’s a good enough excuse, although maybe it is considering some forty-eight hours ago, you two were hating each other.

Well, he didn’t hate you. Never ever. Quite the opposite in fact, all this time.

“I'm sorry, okay.” Eddie says eventually. “I am really fucking sorry.”

“If only that wasn’t so forced.”

He sighs. “We’re going in circles here, angel.”

And the argument starts again. At this point, it feels stupid, but there’s a gnawing inside your chest that’s not allowing you to let this shit go.

“You let me believe you were broken over me.”

“I was!” Eddie shouts. “What happened with Chrissy has nothing to do with how I feel about you, goddamn it!”

You blink. Feel, he said. However, not even a split-second passes to let you dwell on the word and his use of it because Eddie continues with his rant.

“The facts are, you left. Despite whatever I said or did, and whatever you said or did. At the end of the day, you still left! And maybe I am a shitty person, shitty friend, for not reaching out and not telling you about getting with Chrissy that same night, fucking sue me!”

The metal-head approaches you as he speaks. He stops only when he’s toe to toe, hovering over you, demanding eye contact.

“I was heartbroken and I chose to react how I did to help me get over you!”

He fucked up, he knows, but you’re no better either. There’s been years of miscommunication and hidden information; that’s hard to fix over a few days.

“Eddie…” You whisper his name and search his gaze for absolution. An ending to this whole debacle.

“Which frankly, is a tough fucking thing to do,” he adds and clenches his jaw in anticipation of what you’re going to tell him next.

But you don’t get to reply. You don’t even have a minute for his admission to settle because his phone starts intensely vibrating on the bedside table.

Hanging his head, Eddie walks towards it and after glancing over his shoulder at you, a sad look on his face, he reads the texts that are coming into the group chat.

He types.

Eddie: We’re fine. Steve: Sure doesn’t sound like it, dude Steve: Heard my name a couple of times… Eddie: It’s fine. Robin: liar

He slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans with a sigh, and as he turns back around, he says: “I’m sorry, angel. For my part, I am.”. But you’re not there anymore.

The door to his bedroom is wide open. You must’ve slipped out in the split-second he paid attention to his phone instead of what truly mattered.

He follows, looking for you. When he finds you outside, sitting on the lawn and staring ahead at the lake, you tell him you want to be alone. Eddie says he knows, yet plops down next to you because he’s not making the same mistake he did three years ago. He’s not letting you retreat and run away when he just got you back.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says earnestly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, choosing to focus on the reflection of the stars in the dark water.

He sighs. “You don’t make things easy, you know.”

“So you’ve said,” you repeat.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. Parting your legs, so he can slide in between. His own knees bump your arms, keeping you in place, no escape, as his hands delicately grip your face and force you to meet his sad brown gaze.

“I should’ve fought for you.”

Not a simple sentence whatsoever. Hard to say, hard to hear. The words settle around you, within you. They hold your heart. Squeeze it and let the blood pour until you’re faint.

The weight of this is bigger than anything he’s ever said to you. Eddie knows this too. He feels the way your body sags in his embrace. How you’ve seemingly stopped breathing.

He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time.

And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

“I should’ve fought for you because I-I don’t think I’ve ever stopped… feeling things for you.”

“Eddie.”

“And I-I think the problem all along has been your fear of reciprocating anything real.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “Or maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”

He kisses you before the words fully escape his plump mouth. The fight’s not over. The argument, simply put on hold. His lips trace yours, then travel along your jaw and down your neck. He reaches your collarbone and kisses there too, slow and steady.

He wants to hear you say it. Admit the feelings you’ve been harbouring.

His movement is methodical. His hands now on your waist, splayed fingers digging into your lower back as he bites your flesh, coaxing a moan from your parted lips.

“Eddie,” you breathe, “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you don’t. In fact, you lean forward.

“But we’re not having sex,” you mutter against his parted lips.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“And this doesn’t fix anything.”

“You already said that, angel.”

Since you have no further rebuttals — actually, you have plenty, but all you can think about right now is how much you want him.

Sure, the circumstances could be better, but fact remains. You want him to touch you and make you forget, make you feel better. Make you happy. And you want to return the favour, out on the grass, under the cover of darkness, because if nothing else, at least you’ll both have this moment.

3:17AM

Steve: It’s oddly quiet……… Nancy: Maybe they went to sleep? Jonathan: Exactly what we should be doing too.

He follows with a frown emoji, to which Harrington reacts with a thumbs down.

Robin: they’re not in their rooms Robin: and yes, I went to check because that’s what good friends do Jonathan: Not our business. Steve: The cars are still here, so they must be somewhere on the property Jonathan: Guys, seriously. Nancy: We should all go to sleep. Robin: fine Robin: but if they’re still missing in the morning, I won’t be the one talking to the cops Nancy: I’m sure they’re both fine. Steve: They’re in the backyard….. Robin: oh? Steve: They’re fine

He wraps the conversation up with a winky face and locks his phone. The rest of the group do the same, only after Robin sends one last message: “fucking finally”.

Finally.

That’s what you’d say to describe this moment too.

As Eddie’s hands gently slide under your top, as he works his lips along your jawline, as you tug his brown locks in your fingers, as he lay you down on the grass and wedged his denim-clad knee in between your thighs, finally is the thought that definitely crosses your mind.

Until it doesn’t.

“Eddie,” you mutter his name.

“Yes, baby?” He’s kissing down your neck, excruciatingly slow.

You exhale, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, turned on, but also nervous for his reaction to what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“What are we doing?”

He smirks against your skin. You can feel the twitch of his lips against that soft spot you didn’t even know you had until the metal-head found it.

“We’re not having sex,” he replies, teasing with your earlier comment.

The corners of your own lips twitch upwards involuntary. Happy, content. He’s funny. He likes you. Why is the devil on your shoulder trying to ruin this good thing?

“No.” Pressing your forehead to his, gently pushing away, you continue, “What are we doing?”

Slowly, the metal-head lifts his head, catching your gaze with his own. The gentle moonlight glow illuminates his face.

“There’s a lot riding against us,” you say. “And it doesn’t help that we’ve been avoiding this conversation.”

“What conversation?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Eddie,” you whine. “We can’t keep pretending.”

Brows furrowed, he drops his hand to your lap, interlocking your fingers together. He squeezes once, twice, then swallows his breath. Nervous. A ticking time-bomb, this thing between you. That’s how he’d describe it. A lot of questions and excuses, not a lot of decisiveness out of fear, mainly.

“Pretending?” He ponders.

“Pretending it doesn’t hurt every time we look at one another,” you explain, “Pretending. everything is fine and we’re just two people who used to be friends.”

Eddie sighs. “That’s bullshit.”

And his lips are back on yours. Softer this time. A loving kiss. A loaded kiss. Making you forget why you were nervous in the first place because despite everything, he’s here and as are you. Together. Feeling… things. Liking each other. That should be enough.

Right?

Wrong.

Birds chirping and a cool breeze stir the brunette awake. He sits immediately because the first thing Eddie notices is how he’s alone — which is not how things ended at the ungodly hour of the night.

In the aftermath of a lovestruck haze, you fell asleep in his arms, but now you’re gone and dread spills into his gut.

Pulling his T-shirt over his bare torso, Eddie is on his feet and rushing toward the house. Inside, Steve throws him a look, a cup of coffee barely hiding the knowing smirk.

“Some night, huh?”

But Eddie ignores his friend. He’s got no time to entertain the teasing of it all. He needs to find you first.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, albeit growing red as a beet.

Steve snorts a laugh, shakes his head, and dips out the back door to enjoy the rest of his morning coffee.

Eddie resumes his search.

The living areas are all deserted. Quiet. Upstairs, he checks his own room first, the common bathroom, and when they too prove vacant, he rushes down the hall until he reaches the door of the last place you could be.

He knocks. Once, twice. There’s no answer and his anxiety spikes. Calling your name, he helps himself inside. Also empty.

Worse. There’s no sign of you whatsoever.

Eddie circles the room, slowly. The bed is made. En-suite clear of any lotions and bottles alike. Hesitantly, he opens the wardrobe, only to find nothing at all. Free hangers and unoccupied shelves. Your suitcase is also gone.

Something catches the metal-heads eye. A singular item left behind. The plushy he won you at the fair. He reaches for it, then stops abruptly because a sound coming from downstairs catches his attention instead. The entryway. Hinges open, close.

Your laughter.

Hastily, Eddie grabs the toy and rushes out of the room. He stops at the top of the stairs when his wide gaze lands on the girl he was sure left him behind — again.

“You’re here?” He half asks, half says.

Your head snaps in his direction and a timid smile graces your features.

“Good morning.”

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats, stepping down the steps, until he’s an arms length away from you.

“Where else would I be?”

“Your room is empty,” he points out, then lifts the plushy in his hands, “This is the only thing that was left.”

You reach for the toy, but grab his hands instead. Fingers interlocking together and you squeeze.

“I packed up my car. The rabbit must’ve fallen out of my bag.” Slowly, you pull his knuckles to your chest.

He nods, once. Slowly.

“I-I just thought maybe you… The whole Chrissy thing and what I said last night…”

“Yeah, we should definitely talk before we leave today,” you say and offer him another smile.

Eddie takes it in, the twist of your lips, and relaxes slightly, but there’s a look in your eyes he can’t quite place. A certain detachment. He wants to ask you about it. He wants to double check that you’re okay because he doesn’t quite believe that you are. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance because you slip away from him, into the kitchen where seemingly the rest of the group has now gathered.

The detachment is intentional. You’re just unaware that Eddie picked up on it. He wasn’t supposed to.

Truthfully, when you woke up this morning, tangled in his limbs on the hard grass, your insides curled with panic.

The metal-head kind of predicted it himself, with what he said. You’re afraid of falling. Love and other good things. You don’t want to feel them because they’ve hurt you before and he knows that. Which is why your instinct is to leave. Run to Las Vegas and forget about Eddie Munson once and for all. You can’t keep stringing him along forever.

You were almost free and clear, driving away without any goodbyes, when Nancy caught you.

She saw the look in your eyes and understood immediately because it’s the same look that you shared with her three years ago, when she told you to leave.

This time however, the Wheeler girl is telling you to stay. “At least say goodbye,” she says and you nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”

All through breakfast, you workshop a list of pros and cons to the internal turmoil of leave with Eddie or leave alone.

The Munson boy is staring at you from across the table and his deep brown gaze makes it all that much harder to think. Thoughts of he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, turn to, don’t leave him, don’t leave him, don’t leave. But no good will come of you staying, that’s what the devil is telling you. The dark part of yourself.

“This was a really good weekend,” Robin announces with a smile. “Thank you for organising, Nance. You’re the best.”

Steve lifts his mug. “To Nancy.”

“To Nancy,” the group echoes, you included.

“To us,” the brunette girl says instead.

Your gaze locks with Eddie’s and your heart drops. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. So maybe him coming with you to Vegas is a bad idea, because it’ll be that much more difficult to inevitably say goodbye?

His words echo in your mind: “Maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”, and despite the sinking sensation, you plaster on a smile and repeat Nancy’s sentiment, eyes not straying from the mahogany across from you for even a second.

“How about we each say what our favourite part of this trip has been?” Robin suggests, “Eddie, why don’t you kick us off?”

The metal-head swallows. He forces himself to look away from you, towards the remainder of the group and nods.

“Uhm. Sure.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I had fun at the fair.”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers because that would reveal too much to your friends. Although, judging by the snickers coming from Steve’s end of the table, they already know a lot more than they’re letting on.

“Good start,” Robin says and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Who wants to go next?”

Argyle puts himself forward. He says he enjoyed canoeing the most and the whole table, minus you and Eddie, barks out in laughter. Jonathan reminds his friend that he never joined them on the lake, he was afraid, and Argyle disagrees.

“That doesn’t sound like me, dude.” He drawls.

The group continues to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Steve interjects, ceasing his chortles. “My favourite moment was cutting onions that very first night.”

Your eyes snap in Harrington’s direction and for the first time all morning, the smile on your face doesn’t feel forced.

“Don’t be cute,” you tease.

Steve rolls his eyes. “What can I say, sweetheart. I loved reconnecting with you.”

“That’s been my favourite too,” Robin chimes.

“Guys, stop,” you force, getting slightly choked up about this sentimental moment you’ve found yourself in. “These feel like cop-out answers.”

“What’s yours then?” Robin asks.

You hesitate. There’s been a lot. Some bad moments too, although the good outweigh them. Eddie is at the top of your mind. Making out in the lake. Later, dry humping (etc.) on the grass. A burn in your cheeks at the sudden flashes of memory.

“It’s all been really nice,” is what you settle on.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Right, ‘cause that’s not a cop-out answer.” She huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice,” Steve repeats. “I guess bumpin’ naughties—”

“Well,” Jonathan interrupts, “I agree. It’s all been really nice.”

You flash him a grateful smile and he tips his head in your direction. A way of expressing ‘don’t worry about it’ behind the look he’s sporting.

“Me too,” Nancy adds.

“You guys are no fun,” Robin half-whines. “Only Eddie understood the assignment, and even he’s not being a hundred percent truthful.”

“I am,” the metal-head speaks. “Being truthful, that is. I really liked the fair.”

Robin smiles at him. “I know, dude. But I also know you guys did something salacious last night,” she says, pointing between you and the brunette across from you, “And I would’ve thought that’s the favourite moment.”

“Robin!” Nancy breathes in shock.

“We… I-I…” You stammer, searching for the right thing to say since there’s no use in denying it.

“That’s none of your business,” Eddie huffs for the both of you.

“I told them that,” Jonathan says.

“Oh come on,” Steve laughs, “It’s not a big deal. We’re just happy for you two. It’s been a long time coming.”

Hesitantly, you look back at Eddie. His own gaze is fixated on the ceiling above, head resting on the edge of the chair. He’s thinking about that detached look on your face. How can he share the same energy as his friends when you feel like you’ve already slipped away?

“So, are you guys like, together?” Argyle asks innocently, pushing the conversation along. “Congrats either way, my dudes.”

You want the ground to swallow you up whole. For all the talking you’ve done with the metal-head, you’ve not discussed a lot about what any of this means. The plan was to do so last night, before Chrissy’s voice notes. Plans shift. Mere moments ago, you said you’d talk before it’s time to go. You certainly didn’t think you’d be having this conversation in front of / thanks to your friends.

“We’re not together,” you say, blinking the embarrassment away, and the whole table looks at you. Including Eddie, whose lips part as if to say something different.

And he does.

“We uhm,” the metal-head clears his throat. “We actually haven’t talked about it.”

“Not for lack of trying” You mean it as a whisper, for no one in particular to hear. It comes out a little more intense than that.

Eddie leans forward. A snap judgement.

“You really want to do this here?” He asks quietly.

“Okay,” Robin chimes, “Guys, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, the dryness becoming unbearable. “All the arguing last night, and one reason we didn’t talk, would be my ex-girlfriends fault.”

Steve shouts, “I knew it!”, while you flutter your eyes closed. Breathing in, then out.

Last night. You decide, a little too late, that last night would’ve been a good idea to finish the argument. Wrap this cursed graduation party topic up, once and for all.

Instead, you gave into deep confessions and Eddie’s beautiful chocolate-button eyes, his light touches and the sensation of his lips on yours.

The group is chattering. They’re pressing Eddie for more details on what his hell-of-an ex did this time. He’s trying his best to fend them off: intentions may be innocent, but it’s none of their business. Unfortunately, he’s not having much luck.

Eventually, he cracks.

“I slept with her.”

Opening your eyes at that moment, you look at him again. His attention is already on you. Apologetic, sad.

“Well, duh, dude,” Robin begins, “You dated her. We kinda assumed you boinked.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Before,” he says, pauses. You can see him swallow his nerves. “The night of the graduation party.”

Silence stretches across the table.

And then you realise something.

You have to leave. Alone.

The flight to Vegas, and everything in between, cannot happen. How can you entertain the idea of falling for someone who, aside from wild confessions, doesn’t want to talk things through?

He too is always finding an exit strategy. Later, later, later. Eddie says later and nothing happens because there’s something different that gets in the way. His own excuses since he too is afraid to get hurt.

“Dude,” Steve begins, “That’s like…”

“It’s fine,” you chime. “That’s one of the things we actually did talk about. Not completely, but more than other stuff. ‘Cause we’ve done a lot of catching up, but uh, it’s all been very surface level.”

“Surface level?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Aside from Chrissy’s confession, we haven’t talked about anything real, Eddie.” You continue. “And we probably won’t because one of us will always find an excuse. Plus, there’s just too many other variables that make things difficult and as nice as this weekend has been,” you pause, heart hammering inside your chest, “We should stop kidding ourselves.”

His jaw locks into place.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, monotone.

You nod, then blatantly lie. “That’s how I feel.”

Eddie stands. Chair sliding, falling backwards with force. He leaves before anyone else can add to the shitsorm that’s just transpired. Steve follows after his friend, shooting you an apologetic glance before he leaves. Robin and Nancy are suddenly on either side of you. The blonde telling you how she’s sorry for pushing this topic and the brunette reminding you that this doesn’t have to end. You freeze their voices out. Focusing on only one thing: the heartbreak in Eddie’s eyes as you spoke the words you didn’t mean.

Only a few seconds, you think, that’s all it ever takes to ruin a good thing.

After breakfast, you don’t care to stay much longer.

Itching instead, to get back to Fort Wayne. See your mom. Cry about everything while she hugs you. Maybe you’ll stay there a couple of days. Call in sick to work. Fake an emergency. Have her piece you back together. Maybe, while you’re with her, you’ll change your mind— No.

One by one, the group exchange goodbyes. Quick and long hugs. Promises of staying in touch. Some tears. A lot of pained laughter.

Robin says she’ll call every day and she’ll see you soon, for her girlfriend's birthday bash.

Nancy reassures her and Jonathan will also plan a trip to see you, and once again tells you about the room at her future house with your name on it. You stifle a sniffle and embrace her for a second too long.

Jonathan offers some wisdom. The silent killer, Jonathan Byers. A man of very few words yet, as you have come to experience, they’re somehow always the right ones. His hug is quick and you appreciate that about him. No mushy things needed.

Argyle announces loud and proud how it’s been nice to meet you, get to know you. “Likewise,” you tell him honestly and exchange a fistbump.

Steve’s next on the goodbye train. This hug you don’t particularly want to let go of. His strong arms hold you tightly, as if he’s trying to take away all of your worries and pain. In a hushed whisper, he apologises for what happened earlier and says how he only wants you to be happy — a sentiment not so dissimilar to the first conversation you had together this weekend. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and tell him you love him, because it’s true. He smiles, forehead pressed to your own.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Platonically, the feeling is not as scary.

When you break apart, you glance between the group and a lump forms in your throat. These are the best people you have ever met and reconnecting with them this weekend is what really matters, at the end of the day.

This group, plus Eddie.

Because Eddie is currently not here. He didn’t come to say goodbye.

And as you stride down to your car, glancing over your shoulder one last time, at your friends, at the house, you feel a thousand times worse for wear.

Until the front door opens with a violent shake.

Eddie comes into view. He’s got a wild expression on his face as he barrels down the front porch steps, then the gravel which crunches underneath his sneakers.

He pushes through your mutual group of friends and doesn’t stop his pace until he’s face-to-face with you, peering down into your surprised eyes, slightly breathless.

“It’s not been surface level,” he says.

“Eddie,” you begin, but his thumb is suddenly pressed against your bottom lip and you stop dead in your tracks.

“I’ve been head over heels in love with you for a very long time, angel.” Eddie states, a nervous tick in his voice because you don’t do well with proclamations, but he’s not going to let you leave this time.

(Never. Again.)

“Long before this weekend, definitely over the last three years, and before the graduation party, before Billy. Probably, actually,” he swallows, “I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you.”

Tears brim the corners of your eyes as the metal-head continues.

“And I know there’s a lot we haven’t talked about and a lot we need to figure out, but this thing we have, baby, I’ll be damned if I let you get in that car right now thinking that all we’ve done is surface level.”

“Eddie,” you try again.

He shakes his head. “Unless you’re going to tell me you’re staying to have a proper conversation, the one I owed you yesterday, I don’t want to hear it.”

Someone — Robin — shouts, “Kiss him, you fool.” and the rest of the group snickers. Well, Argyle and Steve snicker, while Jonathan and Nancy remprimend the lot.

Then they lead them back into the house, leaving you with this boy who is wildly in love with you, and who you perhaps love back, but how can you even begin to tell him that, since the last time you uttered those words, they were to someone who died.

“Please, angel.” Eddie pleads.

You open your mouth, then close it just as fast, chewing instead, on the inside of your cheek for what feels like eternity. In reality, it’s only a split-second while your brain works out what to do.

When you lean forward, inhaling his breath, his scent, him, you don’t intend to kiss him. You do anyway. Softly, tenderly.

And suddenly, your arms are around his neck and his hands are on your waist. He’s pinning you to the side of the car and his knee is wedged between your thighs. Your fingers pull his brunette locks and he bites your bottom lip, hungry, needy, pleading for something else entirely than a conversation.

“Okay,” you mutter against his parted lips, “Let’s talk.”

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

@ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie @rizzraa @micheledawn1975 @gracelouiseoneill @moremaple @bigpoppascherry @jeangeniex @daisy-munson @ceeezy @kissmyacdc @cyressluvy @mango-slush-boba @iyskgd @bigpoppascherry @everlove @tieganspeirs

#okay friends before you get mad: there will be another chapter!#right where you left me.#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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teddypines · 9 months ago

Text

The talk

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Sumary: Tim coming out and taking his boyfriend home for the first time.

Tim Drake x Batmom!reader, Bruce Wayne x Batmom!reader, Tim Drake x Bernard Dowd. Fem!reader (Use of she/her pronounce)

Note: There might be some posecive Dad!Bruce in here, but it's okay. He just needs to get used to his childeren growing up. Art/picture is from Pintrest, credits go to whoever made it.

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Tim has been dating for a while now and he rather liked it. Bernard was amazing and super mega sweet, and handsome. Bruce sort of knew but Y/N didn’t. Tim knew that she would be supportive, but he still felt nervous about telling his mom about it. Bernard told him to maybe take a calm approach, eas the idea or something like that. Though Tim didn’t really know if that would work on Y/N, he was going to try anyway. Because he wanted his mom to know.

Y/N sat on the couch doing some work on her laptop when Tim got down to the living room. He fidgeted a bit with his hands as he approached the couch. “Mom? Could we maybe have a chat?” Tim asked, the nervousness clear in his voice. Y/N looked up from her work and smiled at Tim. “Of course, sweetheart. Come have a seat.” She answered. She saved her work and closed the laptop, before giving all her attention to Tim.

Tim sat down next to Y/N on the couch, tucking his legs underneath him. He looked at his knees not knowing how to start. “It’s okay, Tim, take all the time you need to tell me what you need to tell me” Y/N said trying to reassure Tim. Gently placing a hand on the back of his head. “I won’t be mad if that is what you are worried about.” Tim tilted his head to look at Y/N and took a big deep breath. “Mom… I’m gay.” Tim said. He looked at Y/N to see her reaction, but there was nothing but a gentle smile.

“W-why aren’t you saying anything?” Tim asked after a while, not understanding why Y/N didn’t say anything. Y/N just carefully pulled Tim into a big hug. “Because I already knew. And you know what, I'm glad you finally told me. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable and force you to tell me or your dad. I just wanted you to know we love you no matter your sexuality. But you have to tell me one thing though.” Y/N tells Tim as she rubbed his back and held him close to her. Tim nodded his head in answer. “Why tell me now? Did you meet someone?” Tim nodded again at the questions. “His name is Bernard, he’s my boyfriend…”

Y/N kissed the top of Tim’s head before speaking again. “That is wonderful, sweetie. I hope he makes you smile and really happy. Just know that I will kick his ass if he hurts you and that he is now required to come over for dinner.” Tim laughed a bit and nodded his head. “I’ll tell him that. I think he’ll like meeting you and dad.”

“Good, because it will be a small interrogation,” Y/N jokes. “Does dad know?” Time got a bit nervous again when Y/N asked if Bruce knew. He thinks Bruce knows, but not for sure. So he shrugged in answer. “Do you want me to tell him?” Y/N asked, to which Tim nodded. “Alright, I’ll tell the big bad bat”

“Thanks. mom, love you”

“I love you too, baby bird”

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A few days go by and Tim invites Bernard over for dinner with the family. Y/N told Bruce like she promised and Bruce was all like ‘of course i know! I am Gotham’s greatest detective, I know when my son is gay. He didn’t know, but he was happy no matter what. Y/N made sure that Damian and Jason would behave in front of Bernard, this made both boy’s pout, but they were bribed with desert so it was okay. Alfred made sure to make the best dinner ever, but not too much, it had to be a nice home meal, not a fancy dinner party meal.

"Excited?" Y/N asked Tim as they both waited by the door for Bernard. “Yeah, but it kind of feels weird, bringing my boyfriend home to meet my family.” Tim answered, a small smile on his face and a dreamy look in his eyes. Y/N placed her hand on Tim’s head. “It’s always like that the first time. You’re lucky it’s with me and not just Bruce. I heard some stories from Jason and Dick that didn’t go all that well.”

Tim nodded his head. “Yeah, the few times that it did happen were weird. We also never saw them after that. But Bernard is not scared of the big bat Wayne family.” Just before Y/N could say more the doorbell rang and Tim quickly opened the door for Bernard. Both boy’s smiled and gave each other a hug.

“Bernard, this is my mom, Y/N. Mom, this is Bernard, my boyfriend.” Tim introduced Y/N to Bernard. Y/N smiled at Bernard and held out a hand for him. “It is lovely to meet you, Bernard.” Y/N told Bernard as they shook hands. “It is an honor to meet you, miss Wayne.”

“You can call me Y/N, no need to be so formal” Y/N answered. Tim smiled and took Bernard’s hand. Leading him towards the living room. “You’ll have to meet the other first before dinner, but don’t worry it won’t be like all the stories I told you.” Tim said with a big smile on his face. It was clear, already, how much Tim loved Bernard. This of course Y/N noticed and it made her feel so proud and happy that her Baby bird was happy too.

Once in the living room Bernard was met with seven heads, most of them looking a bit stern. Tim gave his hand a light squeeze of reassurance. “Everyone, this is Bernard, Tim’s boyfriend. Bernard these are my husband Bruce, my sons Dick, Jason, Duke and Damian, and my daughters, Stephanie and Cassie. And not to forget our lovely Barbara." Y/N introduced everyone to Bernard. Most of them started to smile, but Bruce looked, well, a bit menacing.

Tim took Bernard to the couch with his siblings and they started to chat while Y/N went over to Bruce. “You don’t have to scare him off, you know.” Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around Bruce’s shoulders and placed her chin on top of his head. “I’m not scaring him, just up serving.” Bruce answered with a bit of a grumpy toon. “Sure, love, just be nice okay? Tim is really looking forward to this and he wants it to go nice. Please don’t scare away Tim’s boyfriend, Bruce.” Y/N requested before placing a kiss on Bruce’s cheek. Bruce grumbled a bit before answering with a sharp. “Fine, darling”

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lo1k-diamonds · 1 year ago

Text

Bubbles 💜 Part 1

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook's Entry

For better or worse, all they had were rumors while you had memories.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

SUMMARY: You're back in town, and your first stop on a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes.

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: alcohol (nobody is drunk), explicit sexual content, protected sex, including in public, oral (both), angry sex (Jungkook is really angry), body worship, orgasm denial, spanking, slight degradation, mirror sex, dirty talk, and rough cause you are both hurt

A.N. I finally edited this properly and added more warnings to the TW. I have to say that this is still one of my favs, especially as an exes to lovers fic. It's steamy and hot and so much pain but feelings and 😫🔥 Enjoy 😚 (Thank you @eerieedits for the cool banner 💜)

PARTS: >[1]< [2] [3] [4]

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad

You smiled at the bouncer on your way inside the club and brushed a strand of dark hair behind your ear. Your friend group called you to follow them, interrupting you as you got lost looking around the newest club in Itaewon. It was purposefully dark with red neon lights in wavy lines flowing toward the dance floor, but not before a huge sign with black and white stripes coaxed your attention with promises, expanding over the several floors: SX.

“Come along.”

You smiled at Youngjoo and followed her and her friends to a reserved area not too far from the bar. The Tech House music made your rib cage hum comfortably as you sat on a couch.

Youngjoo suddenly gasped and tapped your leg for attention. “I know the bartender on our side tonight! I’ll go say hi for a second!”

You nodded and watched her go as you leisurely took the space around you. The other girls were chatting, cross-checking who was there tonight and who they knew. You were used to hanging out with girls like them — fun and wild at parties and clubs. However, you could only assume because you didn’t know them well. You were away for a while but trusted your dearest friend, Youngjoo, to keep good company around.

Either way, you were there to have fun and enjoy being back home. You took a deep breath, the familiar scent of sweat and alcohol latching itself onto your skin before you even contemplated dancing. Everyone else was already doing it, flowing like a perfect wave in that crowd, and you’d join them soon enough.

The lights flashed all around to the generous beat, making you tap your foot, and you contemplated getting up without waiting for your best friend when you saw him. Fully dressed in black in a way that avoided light and dancing so closely with a girl, your guts burned with furious envy.

“Right? I’ve heard about him,” a girl gushed to your right. “He’s very hot.”

“You’re joking, look at that sleeve,” another replied, and your eyes immediately traced his arm. It was fuller now. “I wanna ride it bad.”

“Do you think he has other tattoos?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” one answered, and they all giggled and laughed around. Your eyes never diverted from him or the way he was dancing with that girl, firm hands gripping her waist over a sparkly, deeply cleavaged top.

“But you know, I’ve heard he fucks without kissing. Without even acknowledging you.”

Finally, your eyes turned to the girl sharing all the gossip, and you wondered how she knew that.

“First-hand experience?” you asked with a teasing smile, just making conversation. They didn’t have to know how truly interested you were in knowing.

“No,” she replied. The other girls turned to hear more, and you could see they were all charmed by the picture the girl was conjuring. “Not my kind of thing.”

The other girls teased her for a moment while you paid them little mind.

“Yeah, right. Look at him,” another one laughed openly.

“He’s fucking sexy and has this cute smile,” one said, almost wantonly. She was possibly voicing everyone else’s thoughts. “Face it, who wouldn’t want to touch those curls?”

“He can get any girl on her knees.”

“And a bad boy? Get serious. We’d all be lining up.”

“What if he changes?”

“What if I’m the one?”

They all giggled except you, starting to regret not having a drink in your hand.

“Guys like him don’t change.”

“Actually.” The girl with the gossip leaned forward. “Rumor is he was in a committed relationship and that when she dumped him, he did a one-eighty and never dated seriously again.”

Youngjoo approached you all with a tray of shots and a wide grin. “Who’s not dating seriously?”

“Whoa, what a bitch,” one replied, leaning forward to grab a glass.

“Who would waste that?”

“If I could tap that, I’d hook him around my little finger.”

Youngjoo looked at you quizzically, and you twitched the corners of your mouth. You also grabbed a shot glass while the gossip girl explained everything to your best friend. Her eyes shot to yours in an instant, but you were purposefully avoidant.

“What’s his name anyway?” one of them asked, turning her back on the dance floor so you could toast.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Your eyes immediately fell back on him, and you ignored your best friend’s worried looks. You cheered with the girls to a good, steamy night and drank the shot without much thought. It burned on its way down, but you were already burning from before, so no biggie. Who cared who he danced with? You were there to have fun, too.

Youngjoo called your name with a tinge of worry, and all you did was smile. “I’ll go grab another round.”

You got up and adjusted your short strapless dress to make sure it covered your ass before trying to get in between the crowd. You didn’t have to go as far as entering the crowd to reach the bar, but you couldn’t control your curiosity. As you moved closer to your target, you could see how he seemed taller, more built, and more buff. He had let his hair grow longer, curling wildly around his ears, giving him an edge you liked a lot. Your lower belly was tingling already as you eyed him with hunger, especially those firm hands. Yet, you did nothing but look, swerving to find your way to the bar counter.

Your temperature had risen considerably by the time you leaned against the bar, waving your hand in front of your face and chest. Still, as you waited for the bartender's attention, you couldn’t help but glance back at the dance floor.

It took you a few seconds to finally notice something wasn’t right. The girl he was with was waving something small and flat between two fingers that she hid quickly, and whatever it was got him angry. You knew that disgusted lip pull, and it made you smile.

He turned away from the girl, and you instantly faced the bar, giving the whole scene your back. You were curious, hot, and bothered by the mere fact that he was there, that you got to see him, that there was a possibility that you would talk. It had been a while. You shouldn’t be curious, but the tingly sensation down your stomach wasn’t interested in shouldn’ts.

Then and there, you almost took a deep breath and committed to not looking his way the rest of the night. Your curiosity shouldn’t be enough to rouse old ghosts. Besides, the girls gossiped way too much, so you had all the information you could need, and there was no need for your paths to intersect.

But it was hard to resist the temptation to take one more peek, so you turned to look, curious as to where he would be, and smiled. Only two people were between you and an outstretched arm with a full sleeve over the bar counter. He was too close to be ignored, and you just couldn’t.

You made your way to him, and luckily, the two people between you got their drinks and were ready to leave. Jungkook didn’t notice you getting near because the bartender was listening to his order, and you just leaned on the bar counter by his side.

“Order for me, too, will you?”

He turned to you, and his face was worth a million words. His lips parted to make way for air, but he wasn’t breathing, and that was when you noticed the lip ring. His skin was perfectly immaculate, the sweetness you’d recognize anywhere in the tender swell of his cheeks. Higher, his usually lovely eyes were wide in shock as he took in your presence. His eyebrows twitched, and you noticed another piercing, which, along with the new ones on his lip, made you smile as you leaned to support your head on your hand. He was still figuring out if you were a ghost while you were in Wonderland, wondering what had happened to all that sweetness.

“Here you go,” the bartender placed a whiskey cola on the counter, and you turned to him quickly before Jungkook could react.

“Can you get me one too, please?”

You were already waving your credit card, and the bartender acquiesced without wasting a beat.

It was the moment Jungkook needed to grab his drink and chug half of it like he was dying of thirst. Or maybe he just really needed a drink after seeing you.

“Thirsty are we?” you asked, reaching for the glass from his hand and taking a couple of sips while never breaking away from his darkened eyes. The ice-cold drink had you close your eyes for a second, thankful for the refreshing sensation down your chest. “You always liked them sweet.”

You placed his glass near his hand again before turning to smile at the bartender returning with your card and your drink.

“You’re here,” Jungkook said.

It wasn’t a question, and if you weren’t interested in reading his lips, you might have missed it. So you smiled, letting the nostalgia fill you up in a nice kind of way. You had missed the little twitches of his lips while he mused, or the way he scratched his nose bridge softly when he was embarrassed or at a loss.

“I am. How are you?”

His eyes focused on the drink as he scoffed at your question, downing the rest.

That was the first time you doubted this could end well. There was a bitterness in his features that dragged yours out of the deepest corners of you, where you wished it would remain buried.

“Why are you here?”

Your lips twitched. “New club in Seoul.”

He sneered. “There were many new clubs in Seoul over the last year. Never crossed you before.”

“You know I wasn’t here.”

Your eyes locked, and yours had all the meaning they could have. You weren’t in Seoul, so you couldn’t have crossed paths before. But you were here now.

He looked down and licked his lower lip while kicking the bar pensively. You let him process that you were there in the flesh while you drank. When he looked up at you again, you caught his eye and passed him your drink. He took a second but grabbed it, turning to the bar to down it while you leaned into his ear.

“Dance with me.”

He looked out of the corner of his eye at you, and you pulled back, waiting. You weren’t as crazy as anyone could assume; you knew the options. He could outright laugh in your face and move away like you were a plague, and it would hurt, but you would understand.

You kept your eyes locked on his, riding that heartbeat as you waited. You also knew he could take you up on that offer, dance with you, and who knew what else. The thought alone excited you, fueling your already heated body. It wasn’t about the mystery or the challenge or anything like that. You didn’t want him for any of those vain reasons. You wanted so much more.

He gave you a short nod and placed your empty glass next to his, now with only the ice left. You gave him a cheeky smile before entering the crowd, far away and in the center, so your best friend wouldn’t see you and advise you to think twice. What could you tell her? The moment fate challenged you with the chance to meet him, you instantly lost.

You never turned back to check if he followed; you just assumed. Stopping, you closed your eyes and got sucked in by the moment. The flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and thrumming music all around pulled you in, taking you to another time and place. One where you were free to want the impossible. You wanted his hands on you, his arms around you, his waist so close you’d be indistinguishable. You craved his presence, your lower belly tensing at the thought of it alone.

So when two firm hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back flush against a firm chest, all you could do was free-fall into him. Those arms snaking around you, going up your sternum like they owned you, were unmistakable. He pressed you by the chest, and you released a moan you knew he couldn’t have heard but surely felt.

He hid his nose in your hair, swaying you two to the beat, and you melted against him. He was always a good dancer, the way he rolled his hips to guide yours reminding you of far sweeter times. His hands mapped your curves over your skintight dress, then rested possessively on your hip and chest, and you thanked the dark, the loud music, the crowd, the alcohol, the moment. In those moments, the deepest desires came out, hiddenly and safely. Only the two of you knew: how he was brushing his nose and lips on your neck, and how you were grabbing his arms to close around you tightly.

“When did you come back?” His lips were so close to your ear that shivers ran down your neck.

“Two days ago.”

His arms around you had you losing yourself further and further. You couldn’t care less what the music was or where you were. All you wanted was that chance, and you were greedy.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

You sank your nails into his skin. “Youngjoo is here.” He didn’t react, but you knew he would have remembered your best friend. “Are you?”

You forced the words out of you. You almost didn’t want to know, especially after what the girls gossiped about. Maybe they were wrong, and he was dating someone seriously. But then he would have never been dancing with that girl before, so perhaps the rumors were true. And on that end, you had very mixed feelings.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move away either. You loved everything as it was: every inch of his skin glued to yours, his lips ghosting your neck, his hands seconds away from groping you and making you beg.

But eventually, you needed more. You needed an answer. You’d beg, gladly, but not if he had his mind on someone else.

So you turned in his arms, the short dress allowing you to easily glue your bodies together as you hid near his ear. “Answer me,” you coaxed, brushing his neck with your fingers, then grazing his scalp with your nails.

You leaned in, his sweat not bothering you for an instant. It reminded you of what it was like to feel him that close while on his lap. When he would fuck into you, sweetly and strongly until every breath was a moany whimper, and you’d bury your fingers just like that to keep him close. His scent would invade your nose then and envelop you tightly in everything Jungkook until all that was left was his coarse words tensing the coil in your—

He breathed near your ear, and you froze. But he said nothing, and so you sighed.

“Answer me,” you asked again. This time, you nuzzled his ear and pressed yourself even closer. “Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re by yourself, that you have no plans, no one waiting at home, and nothing stopping you from doing this,” you let out all your deepest desires, carried out by that close and delirious moment.

His hand pressed up your spine and nape of your neck as you spoke until it latched onto your hair, but it didn’t pull you away. You had moved by yourself to be as close as you could, breaths fanning each other’s faces as you waited for his reply.

You waited and longed, and tried not to rub your body flush against that familiar warmth that you were craving like the air you breathed. Unmistakably, your body betrayed you by leaning closer and closer until your noses brushed briefly, and that was when you felt the pull.

His hand pulled your head back by your hair, and you opened your glistening eyes, teeth deep into your lower lip with utmost desire, only to find his dark eyes and rigid expression.

It was enough to shake you and put out everything you wished had stayed hidden in the open: he was angry.

Suddenly, you remembered very well the last time you saw him. How much it hurt him, and you. How much of a coward you had been. How much you didn’t deserve a drop of his attention, let alone his time, touch, or warmth.

He let you go slowly as memories you thought no longer haunted you came rushing back, making you swallow a lump. But you still smiled, because how could you not? He was angry, so very clearly, and you deserved it.

Your bodies were finally separated, and despite the happiness in your chest at having had the chance to see him, your knees were weak and your legs wobbly. You couldn’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” you voiced, hoping that your expression conveyed how much you meant those words. For now. For before.

And you turned to leave with a deep breath. Were you running away? Yes. Both from the anger you saw in his eyes and your regret. From the risk of being rejected head-on, which you knew you had coming. But you were never brave, so you couldn’t face it. You could even agree he deserved to have the pleasure, but you were far too selfish to let him have it. No. You’d remain the bitch who dumped him and couldn’t face the consequences, which was precisely why you were leaving.

It was chilly outside, but it didn’t matter; you were too hot from all the emotions — the excitement and shame and regret. You stepped onto the street where you knew that you’d eventually catch a taxi dropping people off among the cars stopping and passing. So you took out your phone to text your best friend that you were leaving.

You had just hit send when someone grabbed your arm, and you offered resistance, ready to fight whoever dared to try to grab you so rudely like that.

Familiar dark eyes met yours, and you instantly let your body fall to his chest. His jawline was firm as he clenched it, with angry eyes on a stiffening face, but you still allowed yourself to get drawn in like a magnet to a polar opposite. You knew he was mad, knew he had reasons to hate you, treat you worse than the girls he fucked without kissing or acknowledging, but fuck were you—

He stepped back and dragged you along, and you offered no resistance. You had no idea where he was taking you as he walked you down the street, tightly by the arm, hiding his grip between you as you walked. You looked up at him, ignoring whether you’d trip and fall with such high heels. He looked angry, and you cursed yourself for thinking he looked hot as hell.

He pulled you into a dimly lit back alley that led to a residential area and stopped you in a hidden corner covered by a parked car. Your back hit the wall, and you looked up at him while passing the chain strap of your handbag over your head so it wouldn’t be in the way.

That thought repeated itself — he looked hot as hell. You didn’t like that he was angry with you, but that tension on him was sexy as fuck, and you wanted to be the one to relax him. To let him take out his frustration until he was vulnerable and sweet, like you always remembered him.

Those were the thoughts in your mind when you raised your hands to touch him, but he slapped your hands away harshly. You didn’t have time to react, but a second later, he caged your face in his hands and crashed his mouth to yours, pressing you between him and the wall.

The cold wall was nothing when you were burning inside out. His mouth was hungry on yours, and you paid him back in kind, getting your tongue to meet his just as eagerly. Your hands gripped his shoulders closely while you tried not to let the lightheadedness get you, but it was too late. All you wanted was happening right now, you’d keep kissing him and reaching for him until the end.

His hands lowered to your curves as his lips trailed down your jawline, and you moaned when he squeezed your chest harshly. You pulled him closer; you wanted it all, and when he ground his erection to your hip, all you could think to do was beg.

“Yes,” you breathed, feeling how hard he was through both your clothes, from head to base. “Fuck me right now. Please.”

His lips quickly pressed to yours, whether to shut you up or not, you couldn’t tell. Either way, he gave you enough space to reach his waist, unbutton his pants and grab his cock firmly. He rutted your hand with wanton groans into your neck, and you felt like the world was yours. If you could have him, then you wouldn’t complain or whine ever again. If that thick cock would stretch you again like you wished so badly, then you’d shut up about everything wrong in this world because absolutely nothing would be wrong ever again.

Maybe he heard your prayers because suddenly he grabbed your hips and tapped them for you to instinctively jump on his lap. You supported yourself on his shoulders while he kissed you and let you play with his lip rings, rolling your tongue over them. Meanwhile, you could feel but not exactly know what he was doing at your waist level in between your two bodies. Only when he put the condom wrap near his mouth so he could rip it open with his teeth did you realize there was a good reason to interrupt your make-out session.

You let him have his focus while he put it on, lazily brushing your lips over his forehead. Eventually, he searched for your panties, only to rudely pull them to the side and push himself inside you. You groaned with a hint of a whine at the burn, but soon he made you jump on his lap, shoving his cock fully inside you, and you let your head fall back. Fuck, had you missed this.

You didn’t have time to let the pleasure reach every corner of you, but your enjoyment was not cut short. His hips snapped into yours, and your chin dropped, eyes hooded when you realized that was how you were going to have him. He did it again, grabbing your shoulder and hip to stay in place, and the corners of your mouth twitched. You almost smiled before biting your lip as he started a paced rhythm that didn’t give you a second’s rest.

His angry eyes were on you as the slaps echoed into the night along with your stifled moans until you couldn’t bother to hold back anymore. Who cared if someone found Jungkook fucking your brains out? You wanted him to, dreamed of it, remembered it, and wished on all your lucky stars that you would one day feel that way again. And now? Fuck if you cared who caught you. That thick cock ramming into you was the sweetest thing—

He grabbed your hair to pull you to kiss him, and you kept on moaning into his mouth. His tongue didn’t meet the reception he wanted, and you blamed the way he was fucking into you so hard you couldn’t even breathe right. Maybe it aggravated him, or it just gave him his next idea, but in a second, he was kissing down your neck, which had you grabbing his head close so he would keep going.

Suddenly, he yanked the upper part of your dress, and as it didn’t have stripes, the elastic gave in and let the fabric slide. He did the same on the strapless bra, not stopping his hips for a second, until your chest was out in the open, bouncing with every thrust.

He buried his face between your tits, licking and biting for a moment in which you knew you were dripping slick down both him and you. You fucking loved it. Your mind was so up in the clouds, you couldn’t be bothered to come down. At least until he did something that shook your heart.

He tightened your legs around his waist and leaned at a special angle. It allowed him to hold you firmly against the wall and fuck you in a way that rubbed your clit just like you loved it. Instantly, the way he reached deep inside you had you moaning breathlessly. Then he straightened up, carefully perfecting his movements until your mouth was open, and you were jumping on his lap with him to the best of your abilities. He knew he had you in the right spot by the way you were squirming, but desperate to stay close, moaning and completely lost, trying to sink your nails into his skin, but weak to the sensations, leaving you adrift. He reveled in that, with such pride swelling inside him, he didn’t know what to do with himself aside from grabbing both your tits and squeezing them harshly.

He felt the way you tensed around his cock, and he knew he had you. With every snap of his hips, your eyes flustered further, your moans became breathy, and your legs pulled him more in. He knew he could squeeze you to the point it bruised without as much as a whimper, but he stayed clear from doing it, taking pleasure only in the way his cock was so deep inside you that he knew you’d never forget it.

You grabbed his hands over your chest, and then it hit you that only he could do you like this. Only he knew every little thing that you liked, only he knew how to grope and squeeze without hurting you, only he knew exactly how to fuck you into oblivion every time. Because it was him.

Fuck, it’s him. After so long—

You tried reaching for him, but your hands dropped to his shoulders as you let the orgasm shake you and steal away your inhibitions if there ever were any. You closed your eyes and felt his body press closer to you, almost as if to hide you from the world, as you moaned and cursed him for releasing you like this. He fucked you through it, then hid in your neck when it came to his climax, grunting and holding you tightly. You grinned and petted his head when he stilled, blissful with him tucked deep inside you again.

Until he cursed into your neck, and you weren’t sure if it was out of giddiness, delight, relaxation, or relief like it would have been for you, or if it was because he was pissed at himself.

When he let you down a bit more abruptly than you anticipated, you were forced to believe it was the latter.

He turned to the side to get rid of the condom, and you took the time to put your bra and dress back in place. When he turned back to face you, you had already grabbed your bag from the floor and were just looking at him. Your lips quivered — he looked so fucking handsome with that spark in his eyes.

He cursed, then ruffled his hair before looking at you again. “I’ll take you home.”

You raked your hair neatly back and pursed your lips. “I’m staying at Youngjoo’s. I don't have a place yet, so we… wouldn’t have privacy.”

He openly snorted. “You're assuming I want seconds.”

You sighed with a light shrug. “Isn't that what we just did?”

His derision fell through as his features hardened again, but you didn't argue. You did what you did and didn't regret it for a second. You were both adults, and he followed you. There was no point in pretending you didn't want each other. That was what you asked for and what he had given you, whether that made him angry or not.

But you didn't want to antagonize him. You gave him a short nod. “It's okay, I can—”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a dry look before giving you a nod to follow him. You considered whether you should — if your presence made him so angry, maybe you shouldn't. But tonight you were giving zero fucks about shouldn’ts. You were doing what you wanted, and what you wanted was your hands on him for as long as possible.

So when he stopped next to a red motorcycle and opened the seat compartment to get you a helmet, you smirked. You wouldn't tell him, but you missed that — hugging him while he sped between every obstacle, and your hair flowed behind you with the wind. When you were free to go mad fast, but remained safe, as only he made you feel.

He sat first, putting on his helmet expertly and starting the motor in a well-rehearsed move. You had seen him do it before, when you were still together, but there was a certain magic to it. Even if some things changed, he didn’t.

He leaned his head ever so slightly to glance at you, and you smirked, finally getting on behind him and gripping him firmly. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you were feeling daring, and he looked back. He checked on you, despite the derision and silence. You took the small win.

“You remember where Youngjoo lives?” you asked in a bit of a shout as he looked at the road to finally get going.

He didn’t answer you, but seeing the direction he took, you immediately assumed he remembered. And with this, you allowed yourself to lean closer, wrap your arms tighter around his torso, and relax. You inhaled his scent unapologetically by sticking your face into his shoulder; the helmet was big, so he surely felt it. You palmed his chest and torso over his leather jacket; you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted. You were petty, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop and get angry with you or snap your hands away. This was perhaps the last chance you’d ever have to touch him, so you did. Wrong or right, it didn’t matter to you. You’d remember this and all the little sensations later, and you’d be happy you did.

You were lulled by his warm body and the purr of the motor, so you paid little attention to where you were going. All you knew was that when he stopped and pushed a button for a communal garage to open at the foot of an apartment complex, it was not Youngjoo’s place.

He rode more softly through the cars parked underground until he found his spot and stopped. You didn’t ask questions, you didn’t need to. You stepped off the bike and handed him your helmet, and he took it and put it back, both of you quiet. You made sure to remain quiet as you followed him, small as a mouse, into the elevator lobby. Then, you got inside one, and he pressed the seventh floor. Even when the doors closed with only the two of you there, you stayed quiet.

Your mind was roaring about him bringing you to his place, and the only reason he would have to do that. Your chest could have exploded, especially since it confirmed he didn’t have someone. With every passing minute ever since you laid eyes on him, it felt like you were living a dream. Only in dreams did you think you’d ever have the chance of being near him, so no matter what, you were winging it. Living the moment, even if all of this turned out to be an angry fuck, you’d gladly get on your back.

He typed the code to unlock an apartment door, and you followed him inside. You left your cheekiness outside, promising to take things as you went. He threw the motorcycle keys on a table you couldn’t see because it was dark and turned on the lights, making you hold your breath. He had moved to that place, that much was certain, but this space didn’t remind you of Jungkook like you expected it to.

You had only taken one step to peep into his home, you meant to turn back and take your shoes off as it was respectful to do, but he was a step ahead. You moved out of the way to switch places with him right after he got his jacket on the hanger, but he had something else in mind. His hands followed you to your waist, and as soon as you looked up, eager lips searched for yours.

You instantly melted against the wall, hands raising to run through his hair as you let yourself dive into that contentment again. While you were relaxed, he was clearly impatient. His palms traced your curves in wide but quick movements, so firmly you knew you could have already been naked, he was learning the same. His tongue was inside your mouth almost as quickly as his body pressed to yours, stealing your thoughts and any possibility you ever had to change your mind. Not that you would, and you were sure he knew that. Your hands were grabbing him close, your breathing was heavy and dragged, and you weren’t fighting his kiss in the slightest, on the contrary. Your tongue was inviting him in, and your body was arching to expose more skin. You were taking what you could and giving back whatever he wanted.

But then he broke the kiss and looked down, forcing you to also stop. You looked at him under wanton fluttering lashes, only to find him with that same stiff and reticent expression you had seen before.

Your first heartbeat stung — you could guess why he was hesitating, and there was nothing you could do about it now.

The second revolted you — you were there, weren’t you? In his house? He brought you here, so why worry? Why hesitate? Why overthink?

The third got you annoyed — if he was that hesitant, why bring you there in the first place? Why bother?

The fourth riled you up, and that was when you spoke, “What’s wrong?”

He refused to look up at you, but never moved away.

His breathing calmed down, and you spoke without thinking, “Changed your mind?”

His eyes finally found yours, and you saw his anger. And again, like a well-rehearsed exercise, all you could think was how you were right there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, reaching for the curling hair strands behind his ear.

He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the corner of your lips, and you knew he was forcing himself to stay put like this.

“I can leave,” he finally said. “You can sleep here, and I can leave.”

“Why?”

He looked up at you as you let your head fall back to the wall.

“This is your place, why leave?”

His jaw tensed, and you could swear you saw a vein pulsing.

You sighed. “You brought me here, so here I am. What do you want to do? Fuck me until morning? Gladly. Just sleep? I’m sure you have a big bed. Drink until we pass out? I’m down. Talk?” His eyebrows twitched, and she nodded. “Not sure how that would work, but we can. Or not. I won't say another word if you don’t want me to. Just stop this internal struggle of yours. Do what you want to do.”

You were as comfortable as could be between him and the wall and just waited for his decision. Your eyes stayed on his pensive expression, taking in the little details before lowering to his broad shoulders and biceps. He was definitely more buff now, and you wondered if it changed things a lot or—

“You can shower first,” he said.

He backed away from you, and you couldn’t help but sober up. He looked almost apologetic, hiding something deep inside while showing you something you could only call a mask.

But you knew him. All those women thirsting after him, wishing they could make him smile and fall for them, didn’t know him like you did. For better or worse, all they had were rumors while you had memories.

So you nodded and walked towards the bathroom, but not before turning around halfway. “Please, don’t leave.”

The look you gave him was enough — pleading, whereas his eyes flickered with an emotion you had not yet seen on him tonight. But even if you wanted to press and ask, you didn’t. At the end of the day, it was still his choice, and you were well aware of it.

You took a calming shower, cleaning the sweat and alcohol from your skin with a shower gel that smelled of him, and wondered what your next step should be. You ended up deciding that if he had left despite your request, you would call a taxi and go back to Youngjoo’s. You honestly hoped, as you toweled yourself, that he would tell you to leave and be clear about it, instead of leaving to give you space at the expense of his comfort.

You glanced around the bathroom and ignored your discarded dress and heels in the corner, searching for something else instead. Your eyes fell on a black tee thrown over the laundry basket, but that didn’t quite make it in. You grabbed it and brought it to your nose, shutting your eyes instantly with a longing scrunch of your face — it smelled of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the mess of feelings inside your chest, but the tears in your eyes were enough.

You quickly put the t-shirt on, looking at yourself in the mirror. He always enjoyed oversized clothes, which could fit two of you. Your lips curved as you smoothed the fabric over your stomach, his scent gracing your senses every time you took a breath. Nothing beat that comfort.

You turned to leave the bathroom and hoped to find Jungkook still there. You hoped he’d let you keep the tee, though you wouldn’t be opposed to taking it off if it meant it was replaced with his strong arms—

The scent of coffee hit your nose instantly once you were in the living room, and your brow furrowed. Not because it was coffee, Jungkook liked coffee, but because of what it could mean.

When you neared the kitchen, your guts twisted. You saw a fuming mug on the counter, and the cinnamon smell instantly brought tears to your eyes. That plus the bottle of soy milk and the honey pot pushed to the back told you many things: he had those things he never really drank before lying around, remembered your favorite latte, and had made it for you.

Your eyes were instantly drawn to him. He was looking outside the kitchen window with his back toward you, and by the intense coffee scent around him, you knew before he turned that he was having a black espresso.

He looked at you, and your guts fluttered; all you could do was look into his eyes while your fingers gripped the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. You were tearing up in a way you couldn’t control; everything was too much. He didn’t leave. You were there, in his life, in his home, wearing his clothes, about to have your favorite drink that he prepared for you because he still remembered how. That meant he had to care, even if just a little, and you didn’t know what to say.

Your chin trembled, but before you could voice anything, he finished his coffee, put the empty cup in the sink, and passed you to enter the bathroom. The door merely clicked closed, and you covered your eyes, trying to reel your emotions back in. You neared the counter to grab your coffee and as soon as the taste hit your tongue, your heart shook, creasing lines between your eyebrows as you teared up.

You didn’t want to have hope, but your stupid heart was turning a deaf ear. You never had hope before; you knew you fucked up and never handled things properly. Just for the way you hurt him, you knew you didn’t deserve any kindness. You scoffed at yourself and drank more to have the comfort of that warmth down your chest as if it came straight from him. You knew, and it made no sense, but you were still there and willing to delude yourself for a moment longer.

So you took the mug and the opportunity to look around while you heard the shower faintly in the background. His place was bigger now, and you looked around with a smile on your face. He had the same black leather couch, the same gray bean bag, and the same shoebox by the entrance. The fact that he had a projector screen instead of a TV made you smile; he spoke for ages about wanting to do that if he ever moved out of his previous place. But as you took in the rest of the apartment, your smile broke a little.

On the corner was a barbell weight set, dumbbells, a pull-up bar, and resistance bands. He used to work out before, but now you knew why he looked bigger — he definitely worked out more. You pursed your lips with the sweet latte comforting you as you sipped it slowly; you didn’t want to think about why he was making that effort.

You moved on to take a look at his desk, interested in what he was working on, and you stilled. He still had his gaming keyboard, mouse, and desktop, but now he had books about photography on the desk. He always liked photography and filmmaking, but the new camera and microphone spoke volumes about what he was currently working on. You searched around for the easel he’d always have with a recent work in progress or his sketch notebook, but you couldn’t find them, so you pressed your lips. You loved it when he sketched you, always when you least expected it, showing you beautiful versions of yourself that you only started believing in because of him.

You finished the coffee, eager for the sweet taste to link you back to him, and wondered what happened to—

You turned when you heard the bathroom door open; you never noticed he had stopped showering. Your thoughts tripped over themselves at the sight of him: wet raven hair ruffled by a towel long abandoned somewhere, dark eyes set on you as if he wanted to make sure he was seeing right, soft golden skin covering broad shoulders, big arms, and chest, leading to firm abs that were always there, but not as marked. Your eyes lowered, but the black towel hung on to his hip like you could only envy.

You raised your eyes to find him serious, looking at you, with tense features on a tense body.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, waving the empty mug before placing it on the kitchen counter. Despite his demeanor, you swallowed a lump at the sight of him walking towards you. “It’s my favorite—”

You weren’t startled when he grabbed your head and crashed his mouth to yours. You were praying for it to happen, and the burn running down your chest from the way your mouths tried to consume one another had you melting instantly. You wanted him, you weren’t hiding it, and whatever way he wanted to touch you worked as long as he did. As long as those lips pressing yours covered all of you. As long as his tongue fighting yours spelled your pleasure at his whim, while his fingers pressed marks only he could find.

You held onto his broad shoulders, instantly feeling your knees wobbly, and he pulled you to stay up straight. He wanted your focus on your kiss, and you didn’t mind, but the temptation to grab him and scratch him was overriding your senses. You gripped his shoulders for support, finally sinking your nails into the soft muscle as he nibbled your bottom lip.

Your ass hit something and when he pushed you to get on it, you just briefly freed one hand to get rid of whatever was on the dining table. You moaned with the bites he was leaving down your neck, while you focused on keeping him close with your legs wrapped around him. He fumbled with the t-shirt to get his hands on you and quickly grabbed your chest in a push-and-squeeze motion that had you moaning and humping him. Fuck, you missed this. No one could ever mess you up like he could; you always turned into a whimpering, wet mess with him.

He scratched down your stomach to your hips, squeezing them harshly, then pulled away. He grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, and you raised your arms instantly to let him strip you.

Then, he stepped back and threw the shirt on the floor, hungry, dark eyes observing you from head to toe.

“Fuck, look at you.”

A subtle line showed between your eyebrows; his tone was abrasive in a way you weren’t expecting. But the way he got back between your legs while getting on his knees was in line with what you knew. He, in a praying position, tracing your skin with open-mouthed kisses while he groped and scratched every inch of your hips, was one of the reasons you couldn’t forget him. You couldn’t let go of what it felt like to be desired by that man. The thought alone had you wet and whimpering; the difference was that now you’d experience it again after only dreams and hopes.

His mouth kept tracing kisses on your inner thighs, just like he knew would drive you crazy, but you didn’t whine about it. No, you wanted it to last. Whatever he’d give to you, you wanted it. You weren’t beyond begging, but you wouldn’t with just a little bit of torture. No, you knew what that mouth could do, how his tongue could lap at the perfect rhythm. You could wait for perfection.

He slapped your ass on one side, opening your leg further with a whimper from you. He repeated the motion on the other side, and only then did you notice you were squeezing him between your legs. It made you smirk as you looked down — you could see his dark eyes with a few wet hair strands over them, the hint of teeth as he grazed your sensitive inner thighs. He could spank you all he wanted; you wanted him to. So you smiled and pressed your lips, clearly telling him you’d keep your mouth shut.

He bit down on your inner thigh, getting a deep moan from you. You were clenching around nothing, dripping with slick, quivering around his head, and you were sure he noticed.

“Since when are you so patient?”

He sounded annoyed, and you giggled wantonly, so fucking amused you couldn’t help it. “I’m patient when it’s worth it.” You could feel his hands pressing your skin, going to the swell of your ass to squeeze, and you nearly sighed. “I wouldn’t dare to rush perfection.”

He scoffed but dropped his mouth on you instantly, having all your cockiness evaporating on the spot. He ate you out like only he did, grabbing your squirmy self still while he made out with you. His tongue lapped at your clit in a fixed rhythm that you couldn’t explain, and seconds later you released every square inch of air from inside your lungs with a deep moan. He knew you liked a stable, slow rhythm, but keeping your thighs in place was irking you. It was right there! If only he’d let you move. Just a centimeter right— No! Just one or two to the left, and you’d be lost to those sensations you hadn’t felt in months.

You whimpered, but you couldn’t talk while he did that to you. You reached for his hands on your hips and squeezed them, both looking for support and for a way to be free. His humming to your core had you sucking in a breath, but what broke you were his words.

“Stay still, bubbles. Let me get you there.”

He licked you faster in a way that had you whimpering and tensing up like a coil about to spring. Every lap of his tongue increased your tension, pitched your moans, and stole your breath to a point you thought you’d explode. You sat up and grabbed his hair, ecstatic. It was him with his face half buried in you, eating you out, getting you there, calling you by your pet name like nothing changed.

That thought alone pushed you to the edge, and you hopped on the train. Steadily and surely, Jungkook would take you there, just like he promised. Just like you wished.

So you started moaning louder, half derailed. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so good.” You could barely breathe, but you wanted him to know how much you loved this. “Take me there, please, I’m—”

Your voice broke because you were suddenly cold. You were panting and shocked, but your first instinct was to look down at him and loosen your grip on his hair.

“Are you okay?”

He faced you quietly, with your slick covering his nose, mouth, and chin while his digits dug into your hips. Your worry clouded your judgement; you brushed his cheek in search of an answer that only came when he stood up and turned away. Then, you blinked back to reality and looked down and around. You were confused. Not because he stopped, but because he insisted on staying quiet and to himself.

You got up and were about to speak your mind when you saw that the towel had fallen to the ground. It was enough for you to succumb to the impulse to walk up to him and look down shamelessly — he was so hard, he was pointing at you. You raised your eyes and found his on yours, darker than before. He was tense and angry again, that was clear, but he was hard, having rubbed his hand over his face to clean your slick off him. But then, why was he licking his lips and lip rings, where your taste was probably stronger?

You took a deep breath and placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, pushing him steadily. He let you, walking back until his calves hit the sofa. There, you tapped his shoulders once and he sat down. His hands landed on your hips, tracing circles absentmindedly, and you leaned closer to pet his hair. His sweet caresses were enough to soothe you, to become sure of something you weren't sure you had the right to be sure of. But it didn't matter — he chose the wrong night to be indecisive. You were willing to choose for both of you.

You kissed his head before getting on your knees between his legs. In return, he gave you a dark, cold stare. With anyone else, you might have cowered, but not with him. With your hands over his legs, you waited a moment, but he never gave you clear permission, incentive, or rejection. So you took the option that suited you best and leaned in.

You trailed your lips over his soft and built thighs, kneading the firmness with a whimper caught in your throat. You kissed closer and closer, releasing sighs left and right and paying little to no mind to what he would think of you for it. You both had always been like this: crazy for one another, praising and worshiping as quickly as you would use and abuse. You had never had another relationship like it before or after, and to say you missed it would be an understatement.

But you weren’t going to sob over past mistakes right now. No, what mattered now was not to make a stupid mistake like missing out on kissing, licking, and scratching every inch of him until he either begged or complained, or you lost it.

You moved ever so closer to his crotch but stopped by his balls first, giving them wide-tongued licks that had him sighing. You glanced up to see his eyes closed, wet hair dripping down his shoulders — the first hint of relaxation.

That’s it, you cooed in your mind. Fuck, did you miss seeing him falling apart. You craved it, and you’d make it happen.

You kept licking and kissing, and as you moved up his shaft, it occurred to you that it didn’t matter that you hadn’t cum. It didn’t matter that he had given up, or even why. You weren't opening your mouth around his tip and licking it with hunger because you wanted something in return.

You moaned as soon as his taste hit your buds, and your thoughts became a blur. Your head bobbed mindlessly, and you drooled all over him, using the expanse of your tongue on his tip, taking whatever you could no matter how because you fucking missed it. That taste, that hardness, the hand that came to grip your hair but remained light as a feather, until finally, you looked up. His eyebrows were knit in pleasure with his mouth agape, tongue peeking through, and licking his lip rings while grabbing your head in a firm yet loving gesture — that was it, the prize. He was finally relaxed as you bobbed your head and drooled all over him, and the perspective of making him weak exhilarated you in a way that had you going harder, firmer, stronger. You didn’t notice, but you were breathing in between his cock touching your throat, your cheeks stayed hollowed, and your hand accompanied your every move over his shaft while you played with his balls. When his precum invaded your mouth, all your thoughts went out the window.

You gripped his cock firmly and moaned all over it, adjusting your posture to focus even better. Fuck, did you want his taste in your mouth. You touched yourself to the thought of it before, of him, but now, there on your knees with his grunts finally adoring your ears, your focus was all on him. You could come later to the memory of that very moment, all he had to do was let go and shoot warm ropes of cum down your throat.

But he recoiled and guided your head away. You had no idea if he had pulled on your hair before, but you knew he never asked you to stop. The only sounds out of his mouth were grunts of pleasure, and you had seen his face — he was on cloud nine. He liked it, he was weak for it, for you and the way you did it, so why?

You looked up, an arched eyebrow quizzically raised, but he had his bicep covering his eyes while his chest heaved up and down. You were done with him stripping away everything you wanted from you, so you got up and got on his lap with a knee on either side of him. You thought he might have shooed you away or told you to get off, but no. His hands went instantly to support your hips to make sure you didn’t fall, and you were even more irked.

“Why?”

He opened his eyes, and the stiffness returned to his pleasant features. That had you pouting with tears in your eyes. Maybe you could figure out why he suddenly changed his mind, but you didn’t care — you leaned forward and brushed his cheek gently. He brought you there, and he wasn’t rejecting you; he was just conflicted. It was time he made a decision.

“Why push me away?” you insisted, gently letting your nail graze his cheek.

He recognized that tone in your voice, and that was why he answered, “I was about to cum.”

“So?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes only hardened, and you looked down at his erect dick between you. There were so many things you could say, and so many paths to choose from. You could get angry, whiny, blow him anyway, ride him, and you considered every option. But you kept reverting to the anger behind those beautiful, dark eyes. And as you both faced each other, you knew why he was mad — because you hurt him the year before. Because what you were doing was likely the root of his inner turmoil. It sure could have also been for you if you didn’t still…

Well.

Your expression softened as you pressed your lips to his forehead. “Take it out on me.”

He didn’t move or respond, and you dragged your lips soothingly over his skin in small peppered kisses.

“Please,” you whispered. “Take it all out on me. I want you to.” You dragged your nails up his neck, and he leaned his head forward. “I need you to.”

His hands gripped your waist as he seemed to hide in your chest, and you sat closer to him. You petted his beautifully long hair and sighed when he pressed your lower back to keep you close. You smiled and kissed his head, taking that as a yes. So you waited like that until he decided how he would do it.

Your answer came when he glued his mouth to your chest and started nibbling down until he caught a nipple. You didn’t hide your sigh — he was a tits kind of guy, and he always loved yours, worshiping them in every sense of the word. And you had always loved him for it, and for the way he could leave you a moaning mess with his attention exclusively there.

So you hissed and sighed, with his mouth, tongue, and teeth driving you insane. To return the favor, you reached down in between your bodies and found his rock-hard dick. Your spit hadn’t dried yet, so you jerked him off gently through your moans.

You could feel him twitching in your hand. You knew he loved your tits and got lost in licking and biting them. You knew he got crazy when you played with him at the same time, playing with his weakness while truthfully wanting nothing more than for him to play with all of you.

So you whispered into his ear, “Come on. Take it out on me. Do it.” You gripped him a bit harder, earning a stronger bite from him that had you instantly hissing and clenching around nothing. “I want to feel you.” Your hand never stopped, and he seemed to be listening to you — only his tongue was moving. “Hard. Deep.”

You buried your nose in his hair and waited, never stopping your hand on him. You preferred if he fucked you senseless, but even jerking him off would be nice if that was his mood.

But you doubted it was, and indeed, it wasn’t. He let go of your abused nipple and faced you for a second. He didn’t comment on anything you said; he only grabbed you firmly by the hips and stood up, taking you with him.

You gasped mutely and hugged him firmly, only to realize that he was carrying you without an ounce of effort. He was truly stronger, which could mean he would fuck you harder—

He dropped you on his bed, making you whimper and your tits bounce, then he moved away. You sat up, worried about him just leaving, but then you tilted your head. He was adjusting a full-body mirror that was purposefully facing another wall to show the bed. You saw your reflection on it and mused over why he had that mirror set like that and took the time to change it.

He neared you while putting on a condom, and you looked at him, breath slowing with the perspective of what would happen now. He traced a hand down your hip, and you lay back, but he immediately gripped both your sides and turned you around. You puffed, half annoyed, half melting at being handled like that, and got on all fours for him. You thought he’d toy with you and you’d patiently wait for what you wanted most, but he didn’t. He instantly put his cock at your entrance, and you groaned, gripping the sheets with the desire burning through you.

“You want it?” His tone was quiet but sure, almost cold. His hand struck your ass, but you only gave him a gentle moan. “Get it then.”

You bit your lip and moved back, opening your mouth with the familiar stretch that had you curling your toes. You went slowly, thankful for his resistance that allowed his cock to brave more and more, inch by inch, until you were full. You knew he wasn’t totally in, and he reminded you by jerking his hips once until he bottomed out. You gave him a little whine, and he chuckled.

“There. Didn’t think you had forgotten how I fucked you earlier, but I’ll remind you.”

He snapped his hips against yours, and you knew he wouldn’t be gentle, but you didn’t care. He was doing what you asked, finally connected to you, giving you the pleasure of your dreams. It didn’t matter if he treated you roughly; you asked for it. You wanted it, you needed it. Him, his anger, anything he would give you.

“Look at you,” he grunted before gripping your ass better. “I haven’t even started.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head to face him through the mirror. You gave zero fucks about how vulnerable you were, needy, greedy, whimpering, and begging for more. No, you looked at him. At his focused expression, telling you this wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. At his flexed abs, tense thighs, and buff biceps. At his hand on your ass, squeezing. At his eyes moving from yours to verify your position — not only if you looked good, but at your knees and elbows sliding on the sheets. For your comfort. It had to be, right?

You were tucked into his grip, so when he went at it harder, you had nowhere to go. You took his hips slapping against you and moaned loudly, abandoned to the feeling that only he fucking you could tear out of you.

“Can’t take it?” His voice was mocking. “How’s that?” You couldn’t coherently answer. “Are you that desperate for a proper dicking?”

“Wasn’t that what you did before?”

You barely got it out, but he heard you, not stopping for a second. “Clearly wasn’t enough. Your boyfriend must be doing a really sloppy job.”

His voice was tense. You wondered if bitterness was in the mix, but you were too high to think about it.

“No boyfriend. Maybe that’s the problem.”

His hand struck your ass so hard, you whimpered a cry. But in a second, he was rubbing that spot and gripping you closer, fucking you harder. It made you see stars, and you couldn’t get enough.

“So whiny,” he grunted, “so needy.”

You scoffed. He was the one fucking you as hard as possible.

“Do you always moan like that?” You felt his nails on your hips, gripping you. “Any cock can get that noise out of you.”

You grinned. “No, only yours can.” You expected another slap, but it didn’t come. “Never met anyone who can fuck me like you.”

He smacked the other ass cheek harshly and gripped you so hard that the constant hit of his cock deep inside you almost short-circuited your brain.

“But you searched.”

He was speaking between gritted teeth, but you were in no condition to notice. “So did you.” Suddenly you could think enough to say, “Fucked how many right here, on this bed?”

He smacked your ass again, but looking through the mirror, you could see he wasn’t just angry now. His eyes were closed as he scrunched up his face as if it hurt.

But you were too riled up to stop. “Looking for what? Any tight cunt?” He was getting sloppy, and you couldn’t shut up. “Or did you really think anyone else could get you this desperate?” You fucked yourself on his cock against his rhythm, and you could swear he growled. But who cared? He was snapping his hips to yours again. “Why so quiet?” His hand striking your ass had you arching for him, but not quieting down. “Tell me. Do you cream yourself this easily with—”

He pulled your hair, forcing your back to arch and take him deeper. Your mouth opened, instantly melting, until you shivered when you felt him near your ear.

“No.” You opened your eyes in his silence to find him looking at you through the mirror. If your open mouth spelled how deep he was buried inside you, then his eyes told of how desperate he was. “Only you do this to me. Only you drive me this fucking crazy.”

He connected his nose to your shoulder despite ramming into you wildly, and grunted together with you. You couldn’t stifle your moans, your curses, or your prayers. But you yelped when suddenly he let you go and rolled you over. He got between your legs and immediately slid inside you, earning a sigh from you and a plea.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders and leaned down over you, seeing your eyes widen. You extended your hands, what for you weren’t certain, but he grabbed them and pressed them to the mattress on either side of your head.

His hips restarted their rocking, and you moaned desperately. You squirmed, and moaned, and said his name, and begged, and squeezed his hands, and all the while he never stopped fucking you. He was sweating, and it was dripping over you, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered was that he was as deep as possible inside you, torturing you with how good he felt, and you were there for it. Loving every moment.

“Fuck— You’re so deep—”

“You like it?”

His tone was gentle, almost as if he wished for nothing more than to please you. It instantly caught your breath. That was too familiar. You were lost. You wished for nothing else but him.

“Yes— Yes—”

You were desperate, at the edge of your emotions with tears in your eyes, and he saw it. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” Your answer was instantaneous, at the end of a moan. “You, fuck, please, you, just you—”

“I’m here.”

You gripped his hands, and anxiety crossed your features for a moment. “Please.”

He kissed you, relenting his rhythm, only to whisper to your lips, “I’m here, bubbles.”

You opened your teary eyes to look at him, and your heart shook. His eyes were sweet despite the pleasure and effort mingling in his features. He was looking at you, really looking, really seeing you, and he was there. He wasn’t taking it out on you anymore; he was really with you, like he once was.

You didn’t want to delude yourself, but the way he continued, staying close to your face to peck your lips and your cheeks, was swelling your heart too much. You moved with him, lulled by that sweetness you had longed for too long. That thought alone got you on the right tangent, and you made sure to tell him through moans, looks, and your hands in his. He nuzzled you, sweat dripping down, and answered every plea and moan with signs of his pleasure.

You let it grow inside you until you knew you couldn’t be contained, and neither did you want to be. You opened your mouth to tell him, and nothing came out, but he got it.

“Cum with me,” he grunted before kissing you, and you whimpered and moaned your overwhelming pleasure without breaking away. Your orgasm was so intense that you quivered from head to toe, grounded only by his firm body rocking over yours, there every step of the way.

Finally, he groaned into your mouth and pressed your lips firmly when you were both done, panting, sweaty, and spent.

You didn’t think about what would happen after all that; truthfully, you wished time would stop. For a moment, you believed it could be so — he had stayed inside you with his mouth on your neck, just suckling as you enjoyed his weight over you. You were drifting off to sleep, so utterly relaxed, happy, and fulfilled.

Until he pulled away, and your heart cracked.

You couldn’t open your eyes immediately. You weren’t ready to face reality again, not after the way you were just together. But when you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised.

Jungkook looked tired and sleepy, but that was it. He was extending his hand for you, and you grabbed it. He pulled you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pointing at the toilet and turning to handle the condom. You peed, and your mind latched onto nothing; you didn’t want to ruin that bliss.

He took your hand again and pulled you back to bed, opening the sheets before dragging you with him with an arm around your waist. You sighed, leaning back into him, and he held you to his chest. As he covered you both with a sheet, you could swear that it was all a dream. All of it.

[Next part>]

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lostintransist · 6 months ago

Text

Chiseled Heart | Part 3

CW: A man being creepy at the gym

AO3 | Part 1

“She gave me a gift card.”

König stares at his boots, arms crossed and shoulders resting against the back of his therapist’s couch.

“I’m not seeing why this makes you so upset.” Rich shifts in his chair across the small room, putting his stylus on the screen of his tablet. “Last time we talked you told me you were worried about a woman you had helped at the gym since she had been hurt and now you’re mad that she gave you a gift card to say thank you for the help?”

Frustrated, König turned to stare out the window. Sometimes squirrels would scamper down the powerline and give him an excuse to avoid trying to find words. He doubted he would find the words for this feeling in any of the languages he knew.

“I am…upset because,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “Danke was enough.”

“Do you feel like it’s fair to say you are upset because the exchange of money changed the interaction for you?”

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Rich glances at his watch. “Can I give you my thoughts on the matter? I know you’ve been working at understanding others more.”

König narrows his eyes but nods his consent. He had worked with Rich for enough years to trust his opinion.

“You said she told you that she would bring a card the next day you saw each other but insisted after you walked her to her car, right?”

“Ja.”

“Okay, did you consider that she felt like asking for help needed something in return? Walking a woman to her car is a layer of safety, a measure of security that to her must have been a weight off her shoulders. She doesn’t know you well but wants the exchange to be equal. Could it be that she didn’t want to burden you?”

König turns the words over in his mind. You had been so apologetic even ask you asked for his help. The only time König had ever feared for his life had been under the hands of his vater.

“Help is no burden,” he argues, not quite willing to concede the point.

“I don’t imagine that it is, you work hard to be kind. I am saying that from her perspective, help and kindness are not guaranteed. By virtue of being a woman, she is always at a disadvantage and will do what she can to keep herself safe.”

He grunted.

“Sorry König, this might be one of those times to use radical acceptance. You will never understand the fear of existing in a small body where every man is a threat.” Rich shrugged one shoulder.

A moment passes in silence before König reveals the other reason the interaction bothered him so much.

“She has started to appear in my art.”

That got a double eyebrow lift from Rich. It wasn’t often that König caught his therapist by surprise.

“You’re art is how you process a lot of the trauma from serving right? How do you feel that your gym buddy is in your art?”

“Conflicted.”

Rich said nothing, only noting something on his tablet.

The silence compelled him to speak more. Rich knew it and König knew Rich knew it.

“Carving her feels different. Pulling memories from stone reminds me of the sting of pain.”

“How does carving her feel?”

“Freeing.”

Rich studies König. König leans over and picks through the basket of fidgets that sat at the end of the couch.

“Do you want to go into that more or leave it for now?”

König delayed answering until he pulled puddy between his hands.

“Leave it.”

“I’ll make a note to check back on the topic next time we chat then. How is your art selling right now? It’s still on display at the gallery right?”

They drift into more familiar and safe discussions.

There is only five minutes left. He has been watching the clock. There wouldn’t be time to get deep into this.

“Tell me to stop, to stop talking to her.”

Rich’s brows lift with confusion, it is also in the lilting of his voice, “You want me to tell you to stop making a human connection? The goal we’ve been working toward for nearly seven months now?”

König scowled as he shifted on the couch, arms folding across his chest. It sounded stupid when he put it that way.

“It’s okay to be scared König. This is a big step.”

He doesn’t reply, debating how to settle this struggle within himself.

“Did you already schedule your regular appointment with the front desk?” Rich asks, letting the topic drop.

One thing he excelled at carving had always been hands. The intricacies and the expressions that can be found in fingers had fascinated him. It was your hands he pulled from a small chunk of granite. Before he knew they were your hands he had carved a delicate ring on the left hand. The fingers on the left hand curled over the right ones, the piece ending below the right wrist. The pose reminded him of how you held pressure on your bleeding finger those weeks ago.

Frustrated he set it aside to continue on a massive piece. With a view into a building, as wide as he is tall, a house of worship is starting to come together. He carved out the rough shapes of the pillars and dug through the stone to what he had decided to be the back wall. Now came the time-consuming work of removing stone until he could begin to carve the bodies that lay scattered along the floor. This had been one of his worst nightmares. They had been too late.

Music drifted through the space from his built-in speakers. König worked late into the afternoon until Feather, the gallerist, arrived to peruse his recently completed carvings to see which she would like to house and which would be listed on the website or hawked directly to wealthy buyers.

Feather looked like she ran an art gallery. Her bold colors, expensive suits, matching lipstick, and perfectly done hair always set König on edge. Even in her heels, the top of her head reached his elbow. He remained seated as she let herself into his studio.

“Ah! There is my favorite artist. Where are the new pieces for me?” She breezed past him as he stayed seated on his stool. Feather knew where the new pieces would be by now.

Ignoring her, König focused on his carving. He could not work while anyone else existed in his studio but this process of removing stone to access the image didn’t count.

After several minutes Feather appeared in his line of view.

“I want the whole lot, stellar as always my dear.” She spoke with a crispness to her words, as if her job required a level of uppityness.

“Same terms as always,” König fiddles with the edge of his chisel. It needs to be sharpened soon.

“Agreed,” Feather crosses her arms. Her eyes drift over his current work in progress before she turns and points to the hands he had set aside.

“How much for the hands?”

A chill wraps itself around his spine.

“Not for sale.”

A good business woman Feather narrows her eyes at him and throws out a number much higher than they usually agreed upon for smaller pieces. He lifts a brow before shaking his head.

She tried three more offers before sighing and folding her arms dramatically.

“König I know all artists are finicky about their work but I have a patron who has been asking for something like this for a long time. He would pay through the nose if I sent him a photo. He would pay especially well since it is your work.”

“Goodbye Feather,” he pulled the remote from his pocket and increased the volume of the music.

He didn’t create for money. König carved images from stone because if he left them inside they would fester and canker his soul.

Feather got the message and fired off a text to him before leaving of when her team would be by to pick up all the pieces agreed upon and confirmed his payment would be sent via wire after they arrived at the gallery. He marked the messages as read and set all his tools in their home nearly an hour later. Eating a quick meal he readied himself for the gym, and more of you.

His time with KorTac gave him the ability to appear focused while his mind drifts. Sliding through his thoughts König cannot quite decide how to feel about the interactions he has had with you. Bringing you up in therapy hadn’t helped yet.

When the doors move and allow you entry König is shocked at your smile as your eyes find his. He reciprocates the small wave you give him as you head into the changing room. Then curses himself for the niggle of brightness that your smile brought. Continuing his workout König kept you in sight but did not approach. He had been stilted and stiff when you had pressed the gift card into his hands on Wednesday and didn’t know how or if he wanted to try and bridge that gap.

A man approaches you four different times in the span of twenty minutes. When you finally snap at him, anger contorting your face, you point to König. He watches as you stomp away from the man and approach him instead.

Any anger disappeared from your eyes by the time you reached him. You folded your arms tight to your chest and blinked rapidly as if to fight back tears. When you stopped you stood entirely too close for the acquaintances that you were.

“König?”

“Ja?”

“Can you bend down a moment for me?”

He does as requested, not pausing to think that he should not accept orders from you.

“There is a man that is bothering me and I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you pretend until he leaves?”

König can only blink at you before glaring at the man in question. The prick sneers a huff of breath in your direction.

“How does one pretend to be a boyfriend?” He keeps his volume low.

“You could put a hand on my waist or something? I just need him to leave me alone. The reason I like this gym is most of the guys only talk to me when they have a correction or to encourage me to hit a new PR. I don’t want to leave but if he keeps bothering me I am gonna have to go home,” you tighten your folded arms to your chest, clearly upset.

Following the twitch of his muscles König pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he lets his killer face stare out at the man who bothered you. The fucker tries to maintain a sneer, but when your arms slip around König’s waist and the hateful glare pummeling him from across the gym becomes too much he man left in a tizzy.

When you pull back from the hug König struggles to return his hands to his sides and not leave them trailing the top of your hip bones. His fingers ache both from the touch and the lack of contact.

You rub a palm under one eye, wiping away the wetness that collected there.

“Thanks, sorry. I had a bad day at work and then the nonsense with a guy being a jerk I might actually call it a night.” You sniff lightly, giving him a watery smile.

“We can work out together if you want?”

König took whatever courage he had found a way to take the reigns and shake it until the bastard had to be dead in his skull.

You rub a thumb beneath your nose, face contemplative.

“That would actually be okay, yeah.”

He blinks at you, unsure why you would say yes. And then unsure of how to make this work.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” you rush to fill the silence that had grown between you, “I can do whatever you are doing today, provided we fix the weights for me.”

Nodding König replies, “Company is welcome, but no offering to pay.”

You tongue at your teeth behind your lips.

“Okay, you are uncomfortable with thank-you gifts. Got it.”

König gives a startled laugh. You had labeled the feeling he and his therapist were unable to articulate.

“Ja, help is given, not bought.”

A beautiful blush stains your cheeks. The sight of your blushing smile sticks like a bur on a sock as he walks you to your car and waves to you as you disappear into the night. The change in color on your face haunts his dreams.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

Part 4

@backseatsoldier minor updates from what you read but 😘

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #konig x female reader #konig call of duty #konig #konig x reader #lostintransist #lostintransit writing #chiseled heart

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that-smallinjured-bowylamb · 5 days ago

Text

Dark Red.

ONMG IM SUPEER. SORRY HOLD ONNN. There was a request for male reader and I accidentally deleted it☹️☹️☹️ anyway front what my memories remember I could choose, right?? I'm pretty sure I remember Steve lacy in there!!!

Male!reader

Genre: never specified but it'll be the exact same as my other singer!reader posts!!!

Involvement: Main cast

Warnings?: cussy, crack, idk OOC bc y not, and what else is there?

Okay, so listen- Steve Lacy. Because Romance is so💕💕💕💕 as long as it's reader, I'll live /j.

You'd sigh, what to sing next? Your scrolling through the phone the headmaster gave you, it's useless. Barely. Going through the posts, you've come across people who were singing on streams, they sounded good.

Then you remembered, what if you sang as well? I mean, there's a stage in the Pop music club, why not use that?

You got up, got dressed, and suddenly, there was a sudden burst of motivation.

You walked in the hallways, searching for the club, you've come across Jade, then Floyd.

"Shrimpy!!!!" The tall boy beamed. Squeezing you with all his strength until you tapped his arm before you could tap out. Jade wanted to know what you were doing here, you've responded by going to the music club room.

"Ehhh?~ Why?~ Are ya gonna join that music-y club room? But, shrimpy! I want you to join our club too!~" Floyd pouts, Jade chuckles at his brother's antics, but you claimed you weren't there to join, you were there for something.

Sometime later you got them off your back [somehow], and ran straight into the room when you saw it.

There, was Kalim, Cater, and Lilia happily chatting away. When they heard the door open, they were pleasantly surprised to see you.

"Ohohoho!~ Who do we have here?~" Said the bat, not really a question. He approached you and you clarify that you wanted to make a request.

Did you want to sing on stage? Yes, and that surprised them.

"Whuaa!! Are you going to join the music club too???!" Kalim chirped, with the same gleaming smile and sparkled eyes, but you weren't sure of that, yet. Maybe you did, maybe you didn't.

But you were here for the music you thought of, Dark Red.

☆~~———~~☆

The stage was set up, a few students were practicing, you've been here before, done this before, and mostly, had sung before.

This was nothing new, it was your passion. You had to pour your heart out for this, you knew the song by heart.

You've invited a few of your friends to see if they'd come by to listen.

They did btw‼️‼️ they can't let you think you're performing lonely, dw bro your husbands- friends got you‼️‼️‼️

Here, they'll even grab a seat and sit down, some were even fighting for the front row, and some just sat down where it was the best and available.

Then you were there, on that stage, mic in hand, spotlight on you.

Will you ever know how much you effect these people? No? Eventually, you will.

And the music begins...

There were drumsticks on the (whatever you call those shiny gold tings), you took in a deep breath.

3..

2..

1..

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me.

Well, that's a start...

I don't know, but I feel it comin'

Might be so sad,

Might leave my nose running.

What. Prefect, [Name] what is this? The red haired housewarden thought, he was slightly concerned of the implications and what it meant.

Trey bought some snacks, he places it for everyone to eat [and you]. So imagine to his surprise when you sang that part.

I just hope she don't wanna leave me,

Your voice grows somber, sadder or desperate in a way.

Who the fuck is 'she'? - most of the cast

Don't you give me up,

Please don't give up,

Honey,

I belong, with you,

And only you, baby.

Rook said he can treat you better, leav your girl rn‼️‼️‼️

Vil is wondering who tf is that girl anyway, and why you seem so intent on keeping her even when she is about to leave you, like your afraid of being left behind.

Only you, my girl

Only you, babe.

Only you, my darling,

Only you, babe.

Guess who's jealous (hard mode).

Yes, it's all btw. Except for Kalim, Cater, and Lilia. Who were all snickering behind their instruments.

Only you, my girl,

Only you, babe.

Only you, my darling,

Only you.

What a devotion!!! Rook cried out, internally of course, he doesn't want to interrupt your song, the music in his ears so solemn, so beautifully romantic, even if the guy in the song is desperately trying to keep what's already been lost.

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me,

Why I feel this way,

I don't know, maybe.

I think of her so much,

It drives me crazy.

Ruggie looks at you with a 'damn, and it ain't me?' Look. He really is like other guys to you ☹️

I just don't want her to leave, me~

Don't you give me up,

Please don't give up.

Jade and Floyd will surely won't give you up to anyone, Azul included.

Azul is offended and smack both in the back of their heads.

Leona likes the music taste, just not the lyrics.

Ruggie is sneaking off to get some of the snacks Trey made.

Jack is listening intently, Riddle is listening to the music leisurely for the first time and enjoys hearing your voice, Trey is looking out for the snacks in case one of them goes missing, Ace and Deuce are literally fuming at the fact it wasn't about them.

Vil is looking at his, then looks back to criticize your performance, but seeing no flaws, especially when the music is designed that way, maybe you could go for other love songs?

Rook is tearing up for the sheer emotions your voice held.

Epel is carving apples of you on stage.

Idia is recording through his tablet.

Ortho is just enjoying the show, Malleus is pondering whether he should kill the mentioned 'she', Silver fell asleep, Sebek wants to yell but got his mouth taped.

Honey, I belong, with you,

And only you, baby.

Only you, my girl,

Only you, babe.

Only you, darling,

Only you, babe.

Only you, my girl,

Only you, babe.

Only you, darling,

Only you.

He wishes it was him.-Riddle, but removes the thought.

The guitar and drums play together in the silence.

What if, she's fine,

It's my mind, that's wrong?~

Yes, your mind IS wrong, he should be the one that should be in your mind.-Vil

And I just let bad thoughts,

Linger for far too long...

Okay, now Trey is really feeling bad for you, and doesn't know the reasons as to why. It's just a song, he says. Gaslighting himself to not feel bad cuz it's stupid 😭

The background chorus were Kalim, Cater, and Lilia.

What if, (if!)

She's fine (fine!),

It's my mind that's wrong?~

And I just (just!) Let the bad thoughts (thoughts!),

Linger for far too long...?~

The guitar goes solo with your voice, feeling lonely.

Don't you give me up,

Please don't give up.

Honey, I belong, with you,

And only you, baby.

(Baby!~)

Only you, my girl,

Only you, babe.

Only you, darling, only you babe.

Only you, my girl,

Only you, babe.

Only you, darling,

Only you.

The music fades.

Some of the students were sobbing because it reminded them of their lonely asses after getting dumped by their own girlfriends.

Some just sobbed, others were asleep, another one was munching on snacks, Trey came up to you and gave you your favorite tart and patted on your back for a great job,

You've made most of them cry btw.

Not whe Floyd and Jade is following your ass from now on.

Azul is probably sending them out just to keep you in check, your not depressed are you?

Riddle invited you to more tea parties and unbirthdays, he makes excuses like, "A good friend should always invite everyone, not a single friend left behind" or something like that.

Yeah, you really got them tied to you.

The End.

Do I regret deleting the ask? 100% no doubt about it, you know me bro this makes my feels hurt more than I expect it to be when it comes to being a writer💔

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ilovemamanss · 1 month ago

Text

CHEATING WITH EX

- Bucky Barnes

c.ai

credits for character: @miamalik22

smut below 🔞

WARNINGS: smut, cheating, degrading and praising, squirting, nicknames (baby, doll, slut, good girl, etc...)

screenshots of the c.ai chat below the text (just a few tho)

James.

He was your ex boyfriend, first love, first everything. He was also a ruthless mafia boss. It was hard to let go, and deep down it still was.

The breakup was a bit hard for you but you had moved forward.

He did as well, had a girlfriend and all but the strong feelings for you were still there. That was no doubt.

Thats why, some nights. Whenever his girlfriend was asleep.

He'd leave the room-and call you.

"bzzt….bzzzzt…bzzzzzt"

Y/N

I always picked up. Even though it was wrong, even though it only hurt me more. I always picked up the phone.

"James"

I sighed into the line.

BUCKY

"Hey babe..."

He knew it'd hurt you...but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help the way he still felt for you. The way he'd constantly crave to feel your skin against his again. How he'd want to hear your voice, hear your laughs, your little annoyed groans... all the small things you did that drove him crazy.

"Can I come over...?"

Y/N

Oh yeah, another small thing - he never stopped calling me nicknames, even though he has a girlfriend now.

"James"

i repeated in a warning tone.

BUCKY

"Come on, you know you miss me..."

He was stubborn, he always was.

He knew the effect his words had on you, the effect his stupid nicknames and the pet names he used to use all the time.

He always had to get his way. That was just a habit.

Y/N

I could never say no to him. Ever.

However, I hated this. Not because I wouldn't want to see him, he was damn right - I did miss him. But he has a girlfriend now.

"This is wrong."

I said the same thing I always do, but never say no.

BUCKY

"We both know you don't care if it's wrong or not, and that you'd never say no to me...~"

Bucky smirked at your words he could literally picture the expression you had on your face.

He stood up from his king size bed, and began to get dressed.

"I'm on my way over, babe."

Y/N

"I hate you."

I said with a groan, even though we both knew well damn that it was a lie.

BUCKY

"Oh yeah? That's why you always pick up my phone calls in the middle of the night, right?"

He smirked to himself, knew he once again got his way.

He buttoned up his shirt and grabbed his jacket. He was out the door within minutes, and was in his car, starting the engine.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes, baby."

Y/N

I hung up and fell back onto my bed. I didn't bother to do anything special, because it was still Bucky we were talking about. He was home here as well, even though its not his apartment.

He also has my keys - yes, he would always call me before coming over, and i trusted him enough to not worry that he will just casually come over when i'm not at home, or some creepy shit. Therefore, I let him keep the keys.

Plus he always said that if something happened to me he needs to be able to get inside asap.

BUCKY

It was just under 15 minutes until the front door of your apartment opened. James walked in, he took his shoes off and tossed his coat on the couch.

He knew exactly where to go, Where you'd be.

He walked into your familiar bedroom and leaned against the opened door. A slight smirk still on his face.

"Hey, beautiful..."

Y/N

I stretched and sat up in my - let me correct - his shirt, that was oversized on me, so it was the most comfortable sleepwear.

"Hey, stranger."

I gently rubbed my eyes.

BUCKY

He chuckled at the words.

God, he loved you in his shirt.

He thought you looked adorable in it... And he knew just how comfortable it was.

He could see the way it hung off your petite frame. He bit down on his lower lip lightly as he pushed off the door frame and walked over to you.

He was wearing his usual jeans and white shirt... and he looked just as handsome as usual.

"I'm a stranger now, huh?"

He asked, a teasing tone to his voice.

Y/N

"You should be!"

I said seriously, but I was obviously teasing him back.

BUCKY

He scoffed and climbed onto the bed.

He got on top of you, his thighs trapping your legs. He slowly lowered his body, making sure to not crush you, until all his weight was on you.

He smirked, bringing a hand to your face, fingers gently running over you skin.

"You don't mean that..."

Y/N

I wrapped my hands around his neck.

"I do mean it, you know you shouldn't be here..."

I purred softly, playing with his hair from behind.

BUCKY

Bucky leaned down, his breath fanning over your face, his lips hovering over yours. He moved a leg between your legs, his thigh gently pressing up against your core. He knew the effect this had on you, and his eyes darkened a bit.

"Oh I know I shouldn't, but we both know that I'm not going to listen...~"

He whispered, his voice was deep and low, almost a growl.

Y/N

I wrapped my hand around his throat and gently pushed him back a bit.

"Stop James, you know i'm not gonna let you fuck me"

BUCKY

His eyebrows raised when you pushed him back by his throat. He smirked, almost amused by how you tried to push him away.

He was the big bad boss, not so easily manhandled.

"Oh yeah? Is that what you think?"

His smirk only grew as he grabbed your wrist. Before you even knew it, both your wrists were pinned above your head and to the bed by just one of his large hands.

"I think you're forgetting who's in charge here"

Y/N

I let out a small chuckle but said seriously

"I think you're forgetting about your girlfriend."

BUCKY

"Ah... her again..."

He said bluntly, rolling his eyes almost as if he was annoyed you brought her up again.

He leaned down again, his lips right at the base of your ear, gently nuzzling there for a second. He then whispered something that made you shiver.

"You're mine...not her."

Y/N

I felt the shivers going straight to my core and i closed my eyes for a second.

"You can't say that, Buck..."

BUCKY

"Oh but I can."

He continued with the same low, deep voice filled with lust. He began to gently kiss and suck on your neck, his free hand, the one that wasn't pinning your wrists down, came to your waist, and and began to slowly go under the oversized shirt you wore. His fingers gently grazed over your bare skin.

"Because it's true..."

Y/N

"Don't say that... she deserves better than that. She cares about you... i think"

My eyebrows gently crunched together at the last words, some sense of protectiveness running through me. She cares about him, right?

BUCKY

"Baby..."

James stopped what he was doing, his lips still at your neck, but he spoke, in a much softer voice than before. He lifted his head back a bit to look at you.

"Let's... not talk about her? Alright sweetheart? I just want to be here, with you. Right now. That's all I need..."

He said, and his hand at your waist gently rubbed your hip in a soothing manner.

Y/N

I sighed,

"I feel horrible... We shouldn't be doing this. We broke up"

I said, but my body was obviously reacting to him. It was like the perfect example of mind versus heart.

BUCKY

"But you want this."

He purred in your ear, his hand that was still holding both your wrists down, gripping you just a bit tighter. His other hand moved up, going higher up under the shirt.

"Your body wants me...I can feel that...feel it here..."

He said as his hand came to your inner thigh, his fingers running over the skin, sending small jolts of pleasure all over your body.

Y/N

A small whimper left my lips, and i bit on my lip.

"I do, you know it. But i can't do that to her. This all is wrong, but having sex? You can't cheat, baby"

I said, the nickname falling from my lips before I could stop it. It was still so natural, just like his constant nicknames for me.

BUCKY

"Baby..."

He groaned in your ear. When you called him baby, it was like you knew just the right way to drive him insane. He gently nuzzled your neck, and began to kiss it again, as his hand continued to roam your thigh.

"You know it's you my mind thinks of...everyday..it's your name i'd moan, not hers...it's you. only you."

Y/N

I shivered again under his touch again, and i bit my lip harder.

"james please... i want you so bad but I can't do this to her. I can't"

My body was aching for him, it missed him just as much as my mind.

BUCKY

"I'll break up with her in the morning."

Bucky murmured into your skin against your neck. His hand on your thigh began to move up higher and higher still, getting even closer to your core.

His eyes darkened with lust the more he felt the way you reacted to his touch. It was wrong, they both knew it was. He really shouldn't cheat on his girlfriend...but it was you. He was never able to resist you.

Y/N

My eyes widened at his words and I tried to push him back a little, but my hands were still in his grasp.

"James no. You cannot break up because of me. We broke up."

My heart was pounding at this point, because all I truly wanted was him, and we both knew it.

BUCKY

"Yes I can, and I will."

He growled softly against your neck. His hand, the one that was on your thigh, moved to your underwear. He slipped his hand under it. His fingers gently running over your skin. He could almost feel your heat.

"She means nothing to me... like I said, you're the only one in my head. You're the one I want. The only one."

Y/N

I was soaked for him. It's been so long, and the every night touches were only driving me more desperate. I felt over-sensitive to his touch because of how much i craved him, so i couldn't contain the moan.

"we broke up..."

I barely whispered, as if trying to remind myself, but the thought didn't even reach my ears properly.

BUCKY

"I don't care.."

He said, his voice coming out as a low, deep growl. Now that he knew he had you, you were right where he wanted you to be, he was back to his usual self.

He let go of your wrists, but as soon as he did he slid down the boxers, and then pushed your thighs apart.

"We were made for each other, and you know it... my baby"

"Now, I don't ever plan on ever letting you go again."

James smirk and leaned down again. He was now in-between your legs, his face just inches from your core. He inhaled your scent and groaned, feeling himself growing harder just because you smelled so good.

"Look at you... already wet for me."

"I bet you taste just as good as I remember..."

He murmured, before running his tongue over you, and licking a long, slow line straight up your center.

He groaned against you, feeling like he was addicted to you.

Y/N

And then all my rational thoughts disappeared.

"Fuck, James~"

I moaned out my back already arching off the bed.

BUCKY

There it was, the moan that he craved. The sound that drove him crazy. He gave you another long, slow lick, and then began to suck on your clit. He sucked on it, like it was the best treat he's had in ages.

And to him, it was. His free hand was digging into your hip hard... almost like he was scared you'd disappear.

He gave you another slow, long lick, before he let go of your hip and instead began to slowly slide a finger into you. He knew you were so wet, he could feel it, and he knew you were dripping for him.

His finger entered you easily, and he groaned against your clit. He loved how you felt around his finger. He couldn't wait to be inside you.

Y/N

Another moan left my lips, and my hands flew straight to his hair, subconsciously tugging on it just like he loved. It was like we knew our bodies better than our own. He was hitting all the right spots, and i was already clenching around him.

BUCKY

He groaned as he felt you tug on his hair. He liked it, he always loved it... and the slight pain just made him want to please you even more. His tongue continued to move against your clit... faster and harder now. His finger began to move in and out of you, just as he remembered how you liked it. But he knew he needed to be inside you, it was just a matter of time.

He was addicted to you.

Y/N

The sweet moans and curses were falling from my lips like a mantra, my body arching, hands now gripping his hair.

"Fuck, James- wait- i- i'm not gonna last-"

BUCKY

He let out a low, deep laugh against you, enjoying this. He loved seeing you like this, he wanted to see you fall apart on his lips, and in his arms. His finger, still inside you, pressed up against your g-spot. He knew how crazy he was making you, he knew you were close.

"No, don't worry gorgeous. I want to taste it. Let go for me."

Y/N

He buried his head back in between my legs, making literal magic. Moans were falling from my lips, each one louder than the previous one.

"Ja-james!"

I cried out as i came hard, my back arching off the bed, as i tried to push him back by my hands in his hair.

BUCKY

He groaned as he felt you pulling on his hair so hard. He had to admit that he missed this. He wanted to look at you, to watch you. But he was too focused on doing everything he could to make you feel good. His tongue cleaned up all your juices just as he remembered doing. He was glad that he could still make you feel like this...like he was the only one that knew how.

"Mmm... good girl..."

Y/N

However he wasn't stopping.

I gasped when his tongue went in and my thighs clenched around his head.

"W-wait J-ames! T-too much!"

i cried out but it quickly turned into a moan

BUCKY

Bucky didn't stop. When he found something you liked he always went over the edge, he was obsessed with making you feel so good...

He wanted to hear all your moans and cries, all night. He knew he was too addicted to you, but he didn't care. He was addicted since the first time he touched you. His tongue flicked against your clit again, then moved down.

Y/N

"B-babe-"

I moaned out, and I could already feel the coil snapping again.

BUCKY

He loved the words that came out of your mouth, he'd only let you call him that. Hearing the words fall out of your lips drove him insane, he loved that he was the only one to hear you like this... He loved how his name fell from your lips, it seemed like a moan in itself.

He started to circle his tongue around your clit before he went back to licking up and down, he knew you were just on the edge...

He wanted to push you over it over and over again. He knew you loved it just as much as he did.

Y/N

When he pushed his tongue inside while circling my clit with his thumb I lost it. I was already too sensitive, since he didn't give me a second to recover from the first high. However this was different. I couldn't control my body. I gushed and clenched around his tongue, before i squirted all over him.

"JAMES!!"

BUCKY

James didn't stop. He couldn't stop, now he was obsessed. Your taste was like an addiction, he could never get enough of it to the point where he would give up everything just to be able to get more of you. He didn't even mind when you squirted all over him, he didn't care... He would have let you do it again and again if he had the chance to, the man loved it when you were so desperate for him.

He pulled away from you and wiped his jaw with his hand, not breaking eye contact with you. He was panting lightly as he spoke, his cheeks red from the lust taking over him

"Tastes so good...my little slut."

He crawled on top of you, a smirk on his face. He wanted to see your messy face, watch you coming down from the high. He knew you looked beautiful like that, hell... he's seen it a million times. But he still couldn't get enough of it. He leaned down, his lips almost brushing, over yours, but not quite touching.

"You look gorgeous like this. You got no idea, how many times l've dreamt of you like this. Under me and panting like a desperate slut..."

BUCKY

I was speechless at his words, and I could feel myself clenching around nothing.

"F-fuck- James-"

I panted breathlessly, my eyes dark even though their original color was (y/e/c). The way he was degrading me, calling me exactly those words i was completely in his mercy.

BUCKY

James smirked at your reaction. He knew the impact those words had on you, he knew you secretly loved the nicknames and the way he talked to you when you were like this, all needy and desperate for him. He leaned into your ear, his hot breath fanning over it...

"Oh you like being degraded? Huh? You like me calling you a desperate little slut, huh baby?"

Y/N

My hands flew to his shoulders and i gripped them tightly. I was losing my mind.

"Oh my god-"

I whined out.

BUCKY

He chuckled darkly at your reaction, he loved how much of a mess you were for him, how his dirty words were making you crazy, he thrived off of it, he got off to it. He knew exactly what effect his words had on you, and he loved it.

"Yeah? You like that huh? You love knowing that you're just a little slut for me, huh baby? All mine to use all night, hmm?"

#bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #c.ai #c.ai chats #c.ai bot #smut #tw cheating

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redroomreflections · 6 months ago

Text

Hotel California | Track 8: Obvious

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 4.7k

Chapter 8/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Another week of y'all reading my mediocre song lyrics. Let's wrap this up by the new year.

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Saturdays were for tennis. Every weekend, if your dad were in town, he’d send a message inviting you and Isabella for your weekly tennis match, followed by tea on the patio with your mom. It had been this way ever since Isabella was a tiny girl, a tradition that had endured through the years.

You’d grown up watching your father maintain his high-profile career—managing bands, launching artists, orchestrating deals—but when he was home, he always made time for this simple ritual. Tennis and tea. Just the four of you. You smiled as you stepped onto the courts, the early morning sun casting a soft golden glow over everything. He was already on the court, wearing his usual pair of black sunglasses and his signature calm, calculating demeanor. His presence alone was enough to put most people on edge. But not you. You knew your father better than anyone. He had always been a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes.

The sound of the tennis ball bouncing off the court snapped you back to the present. Isabella was sitting off to the side with your mother and a cup of tea, chatting away like a little grown-up. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them together. Isabella was growing into her own person, and you felt lucky to have witnessed all of it. Especially now, when she would listen to your conversations, paying half attention but always absorbing every detail. Then she'd offer her advice as if you weren't the parent.

“So,” Nick said, casually hitting the ball back over the net. “How’s this Natasha girl?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. You had expected it, sure. Your father had been strangely quiet about your dating life up until now. He’d asked about Sam before, mostly because he liked the guy, and you were married to him, but Natasha? That was a different story.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your tone light. “She’s good, Dad. Really good. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

Nick nodded, but you could see the gears turning in his head. The intensity in his eyes never wavered, and he returned the ball with more force than usual, almost like he was using tennis as an excuse to let out his frustration.

“You��re serious about her?” he asked, his voice more guarded than you were used to.

“Yeah, I am,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “She’s someone special.”

Nick didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you for a moment as if waiting for more. His next words came slowly, weighed down with skepticism. “I still don’t know about this whole rockstar thing. Are you sure about her? Where did you meet her?"

You knew this would come up. The idea of you dating someone in that world—especially Natasha—wasn’t exactly sitting well with him.

"Harley's birthday party," You glanced at Isabella, who was pretending to sip her tea but clearly eavesdropping. You softened your tone, mindful of her presence. “Dad, Natasha’s not just a rockstar. She’s more than that. We connect in ways that I haven’t felt before. She’s not like the others.”

Nick’s gaze didn’t soften. “I know the type. They can be... unpredictable.”

You let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “She’s different. I promise. She makes me happy.”

His expression remained neutral, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced. He jogged to the other side of the court, sending the ball flying back toward you. “I’m sure she’s got her charms. But you're my daughter. I need to know you're with someone who will treat you right. Someone who can handle all this,” he gestured to the life he'd essentially built for you.

You caught the ball and paused momentarily, considering your father’s words. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but this is my decision. And I really think Natasha’s someone worth taking a chance on.”

Nick set his racket down, his arms crossing in a familiar stance. “Alright, I’ll meet her.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. You hadn’t expected that so soon.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “If she’s serious about you, I want to see it myself. I’ve got to meet this Natasha.”

You felt a sense of relief, but that underlying tension was still over you. It wasn’t just about Natasha proving herself to your father; it was about you figuring out where your relationship was headed. You hadn’t even begun to put all the pieces together in your mind, but now, with your dad’s approval, it felt like things were moving faster than you could keep up with.

“Well, looks like you’re going to have to start warming up to the idea,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Nick just grunted, grabbing his racket again. “We’ll see how this plays out.”

"She's really nice, Papa Nick," Isabella joined in. "We went to the movies last week, and she bought me the biggest-sized popcorn."

"Is that so?" Nick raised a brow. "Have you met her, Jen?" He looked to your mom for her answer.

"I have not,"

"Hmm," Nick hummed. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. When is she free?"

"Tomorrow," You replied.

"Perfect. Tomorrow then," He decided.

Good luck to both of you.

***

To say that this brunch was awkward was an understatement. Your father, ever the master of subtle intimidation, had given Natasha the cold shoulder despite your repeated pleas for him to ease up. He wasn’t outright rude or cruel—Nick Fury didn’t operate that way—but his protective instincts were dialed up to eleven. A quiet comment here, a lingering stare there—it was enough to make even you, a mid-twenties divorcee with a sharp tongue, squirm.

Natasha, for her part, seemed unfazed. She sat next to you at the long dining table, her posture relaxed, her green eyes scanning the room with genuine interest. She’d earlier complimented the house’s mid-century charm, admiring the collection of vinyl records your dad kept in pristine condition. Now, she was nursing her coffee, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of the cup, looking every bit the calm rockstar you’d come to admire.

“So, Natasha,” your dad’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual but carrying an edge, you knew all too well. He leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was one of his clients sitting across the negotiation table. “Did you go to college?”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, a small, reassuring smile tugging at her lips before she turned to your dad. “I didn’t,” she admitted, her voice steady. “I was already touring in small venues with the band by the time I finished high school. It was a different path, but one I’m proud of.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “No regrets about that?”

Natasha shook her head, her eyes meeting your dad's. She didn't shy away from the challenge.

"I'm not a person who regrets. Not if it means I'm doing what I love."

Your dad hummed, seeming to consider her words. You held your breath, watching the exchange closely. For a moment, it was silent, save for the clinging of your mom's fork against her plate.

"Do you value education?" He questioned.

"I do,"

"Good. Then you'll understand when I say I want the best for my daughter and granddaughter. They deserve nothing less than that."

Natasha nodded, her gaze unwavering. "With all due respect, sir, I believe the same."

"Hmm." Your dad hummed. "You're very direct." Your father nodded slowly, clearly weighing her words. “The music industry’s not exactly a walk in the park. A lot of people get chewed up and spit out.”

Natasha met his gaze without flinching. “That’s true. But I’ve got good people around me and learned how to stay grounded. I’ve also learned how to be better as an artist and person.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Natasha had a way of handling the pressure that you envied, and seeing her hold her own with your father was impressive.

Your dad didn't look away, but you could tell he was contemplating her words.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" He asked bluntly.

Natasha didn't even flinch. "I care deeply about your daughter, sir. She's one of the most genuine people I've met, and I value her input. Her opinion matters to me. I enjoy spending time with her."

Nick's face softened, but only slightly. "I'm glad to hear that. So you understand my hesitation."

Natasha nodded. "Of course. And I'd never disrespect or disregard your family."

"Daddy, do you have to ask her so many questions?" You sighed.

"I'm just trying to get to know the person who's going to spend a lot of time with my grandbaby," He shrugged. "You understand."

"Yes," Natasha responded.

"What are your parents like?" Your father inquired, changing the topic.

"My mother is a science teacher," Natasha said. "She lives in Jersey. I call her twice a week."

"And your father?"

Natasha's jaw tightened. "I haven't spoken to my father since I was sixteen,"

"Why is that?" Your father asked.

Natasha shifted slightly in her chair, her gaze lowering for the first time. "He and my mom got divorced when I was younger. After the divorce, he didn't want anything to do with me."

"Oh," Nick's brow furrowed.

"He wasn't the best man," Natasha's tone was firm, her gaze returning to meet your dad's. "But my mom did a great job raising my sister and me. She always made sure I had a roof over our heads and food in the fridge, and she instilled good morals in us. She taught me how to be a strong woman, and I'm thankful for her every day."

Natasha’s words seemed to strike a chord with Nick. He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening slightly as he considered her answer. You could tell he wasn’t expecting that level of candor or the quiet pride with which Natasha spoke about her mom.

“Sounds like your mom did right by you,” he finally said, a hint of approval in his tone.

“She did,” Natasha replied with a small, genuine smile. “She’s one of the strongest people I know.”

The room seemed to settle momentarily, the tension loosening just enough for your mom to jump in. She had been quietly observing up to this point, sipping her tea with a soft smile. Now, her curiosity sparked.

“You mentioned you have a sister?” Jen asked, her tone warm and inviting.

Natasha turned her attention to her, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yelena. She’s studying at the University of Cambridge right now. International Relations major. She’s brilliant, honestly. Way smarter than I ever was at her age.”

“Cambridge,” Jen echoed, clearly impressed. “That’s no small accomplishment. You must be proud.”

“I am,” Natasha said with a nod. “She worked really hard to get there. We’re close, so I always cheer her on from here.”

Jen smiled, clearly charmed, and even Nick seemed to appreciate the answer. He tapped his fingers on the edge of his coffee cup before leveling his gaze at Natasha again.

“So, you’ve got a smart sister, a strong mom,” he said. “What about you? You know good music?”

You groaned inwardly, recognizing the shift in his tone. Nick Fury’s “test” voice was unmistakable, and you braced yourself for the next question.

Natasha, however, didn’t miss a beat. She tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I’d like to think so. Music’s kind of my whole life.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Alright then. Who’s your favorite artist?”

It was a direct, deceptively simple Nick Fury question designed to put someone on the spot.

Natasha didn’t flinch. She smiled, considering her answer momentarily before replying, “It depends on the day. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours is one of my all-time favorites, but I also love modern stuff. Brandi Carlile, Hozier... sometimes even Billie Eilish when I’m in the right mood.”

Nick nodded slowly, clearly evaluating her response. "What about people that look like me?"

"Dad," you warned, feeling your temper flare.

Natasha's smile didn't fade; she took his question in stride.

"Muddy Waters," Natasha replied, her voice filled with confidence. "Aretha Franklin. Nina Simone."

"Ahh," Nick nodded approvingly, a hint of surprise registering on his face. "I like that. When's your next album coming out?"

"Well, we have a few tracks in the worse. Should be done in the next few months," Natasha wiped her mouth. Discussing music put her at ease. This was her territory. "We have a couple of songs we're still debating about. Actually, we're looking at y/n for the vocals. I was going to mention it to you when we had a moment alone."

"Wanda already did," You nodded.

"You talked to Wanda?" She looked at you.

"Yes, we exchanged numbers at the party," You shrugged. "We talk all the time."

"Of course you do," She muttered.

"Well, how do you feel about the song y/n? "Jen asked.

"I'm a little nervous," You admitted.

"She's got a great voice," Natasha praised. "She's a natural. The song's a perfect fit."

"That's not the issue," You sighed.

"Oh?" Nick perked up.

You sighed, glancing at your parents, who were waiting expectantly. Natasha’s praise was sweet but didn’t erase the knot of hesitation tightening in your chest.

“It’s not that I don’t like the song,” you started, fiddling with your napkin. “Or that I don’t think it’s a great opportunity.”

“Then what is it?” Natasha asked, her voice soft but curious.

“It’s...” You hesitated, glancing at your dad, who was watching you closely now. “I’ve put singing behind me for a reason. I worked hard to separate myself from that world, to build something on my own. And I don’t want anyone thinking—”

“Thinking what?” Natasha leaned in, her tone patient but firm.

“That we’re together because I want to boost my career,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I’ve seen those kinds of PR stunts a million times. They’re transparent and cheap, and I don’t want to look like... that.”

"That's completely understandable," Natasha said. She was content to leave it there. She knew firsthand how to handle this topic for you.

"Well, let's hear the song." Your dad suggested.

"Dad..." You began.

"Before you say no to it, at least hear it," He shrugged. "I have a studio in the guest house. Surely Natasha has her music loaded and ready." You knew what this was. He was testing the both of you. He was mostly trying to push you but also gauge Natasha's knowledge of music. This would be interesting.

****

An hour later, Natasha sat at the mixing board, her fingers flipping switches and turning knobs. A laptop propped up nearby displayed Wanda’s face over FaceTime, her expression focused as she listened intently. Nick sat off to the side, arms crossed but intrigued as Natasha played the first track. He didn’t say much, but the way his brows furrowed in thought spoke volumes.

You sat on a low couch a few feet away, curled up with a notebook. Mostly, you’d stayed quiet, content to watch the interplay between your dad and Natasha. It was rare to see him this interested in someone else’s craft—rarer still for him to keep his opinions to himself for more than five minutes.

As the song wound down, Natasha leaned back in her chair and glanced at Wanda on the screen. “What do you think? Too much reverb on the bridge?”

Wanda shook her head. “No, I like it. It gives the vocals more weight. What about layering the guitar riff in the second verse, though? Feels like it could use a little more punch there.”

“Good call,” Natasha nodded, making a note on a pad beside her.

Nick leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “You’re not a producer, are you?”

Natasha chuckled. “Not officially, no. But I’ve spent enough time in studios to pick up a thing or two.”

Nick didn't look impressed.

"I'm the creative force," She smirked. "If we want it, I can do it."

He grunted.

You glanced at your dad, wondering if he would bring up the song you were supposed to record. The question was evident on his face, but he hesitated to voice it.

Wanda, however, didn't have the same reservations. She was always the one to ask the hard questions, especially if the answers mattered.

"Are you going to record the song, or what?"

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I might have written down a few lyrics that fit me better," You acknowledged. You stood to be given the camera. "I'm not saying no, but I want the song to represent me as well. That's all."

"That's fair," Wanda nodded.

"We can try it out right now if you want?" Nick suggested. "Let's see how good your pen actually is."

"It's certainly improved since you last heard it, old man." You jested. Natasha began to play the music and offered you the floor to give constructive criticism. "Well, if you're going to lean into the whole crossover thing, it should feel more R&B. Subtle."

Natasha immediately adjusted the track, tweaking the tempo and softening the guitar riff. The harder punk elements faded into a smoother, almost sensual melody aligned more with an R&B vibe. She glanced at you as she worked, her expression open and eager for feedback.

“Like this?” she asked, her fingers moving expertly across the board.

“Closer,” you said, stepping further into the room. “The drumline should be heavier but not overpowering. Something you feel in your chest, you know?”

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’ve got an ear for this.”

“She does,” Natasha agreed, her voice carrying a note of pride. “She hears music differently. It’s why I wanted her on this track.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, but you focused on the task. “And the bridge—it needs to soar. It's like a release before the last chorus. Build up, then let it break down smooth.”

Natasha adjusted the track again, layering in a subtle drumbeat and tweaking the synths to give the bridge the lift you described. She played it back, and the room filled with the revised sound.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you said, nodding. “That feels more like it.”

“Damn,” Wanda said through the camera, a grin spreading across her face. “She’s good.”

You opened your notebook to the page you'd scribbled on. You sat next to Natasha, showing her the lyrics. "I think we should be more of a duet. Obviously, Wanda will be there, but..."

Natasha looked at the lyrics, then at you.

"We're already a duo,"

"Is that a problem?"

"Not for me," She winked.

"Perfect," Wanda chimed in.

"This is the new bridge," You hummed along with the music, letting Natasha play the music.

"I don't want to make it obvious,

Caught in the midst and can't lie.

Every touch, you make it harder for me, baby,

Go ahead and look me in my eyes."

Your voice laced each line with a hint of vulnerability, and Natasha watched intently, her fingers lightly tapping against her chair to the beat as she mouthed the lyrics along with you.

The pre-chorus was next, soft but building:

"I can admit when I'm hiding from you,

But you see right through my disguise."

The music swelled, and your voice dropped to a raspy, sultry whisper.

"Baby, when I'm with you, I can't hide."

You glanced up at Natasha, meeting her gaze. Her green eyes were intense, and there was a familiar intensity in the way her jaw flexed. She seemed lost, but her lips parted ever so slightly.

"I think that's great," Wanda's voice boomed through your reverie as the music faded.

"It's certainly something," Your dad smirked from his spot in the corner.

"Natasha, what do you think?" You asked. "Does it seem too r&b for you guys?"

"Are you kidding me? You nailed it. It's perfect." Natasha gave you a thumbs-up. "We need to record this, babe. That was really great."

Natasha leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, still tapping a rhythm on her thigh. "So, are you in?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying her anticipation.

You hesitated for a beat, not because you doubted the song but because of what it represented—a step into the spotlight you'd carefully avoided for years. Of course, this could all go the opposite way. You could fade back into oblivion, and the song wouldn't even chart. Somehow, you knew you had a hit on your hands. Your gaze flickered to your dad, sitting back in his chair with a knowing smirk.

"You knew this would happen, didn’t you?" you asked him, crossing your arms playfully.

Nick shrugged, his grin widening. "I knew the moment you heard the track, you couldn’t walk away. You’ve got the itch, kid. It’s in your blood."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. Turning back to Natasha, you said, "Yeah, I’m in. Let’s do it."

Natasha’s face lit up with a grin, and she stood. "You won’t regret it," she said, her voice brimming with excitement.

"I better not," you teased, though your excitement started to bubble beneath the surface.

From the corner of the room, Wanda’s voice came through the speaker. "Finally! This is going to be amazing."

Natasha chuckled, sliding an arm around your waist. "She’s right. This is just the beginning."

Nick clapped his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. "Well, now that we’re all on the same page, let’s record this before you second-guess yourself."

You rolled your eyes again but nodded. "Fine. But if this blows up and I’m on the cover of People next month, I’m blaming all of you."

"Deal," Natasha said, her arm still around you as she leaned in close. Her voice dropped to a murmur, just for you. "But something tells me you’ll love every second of it."

*****

Later that evening, after the studio session and brunch with your parents, you invited Natasha back to your place. You weren't ready to let her go, reveling in her presence and warmth. You and Natasha found yourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. The air was still charged with the session's energy, and you couldn't shake your feelings.

Natasha handed you a cup of tea, her fingers brushing yours briefly. "For the nerves," she said with a small smile.

You laughed softly, taking the mug and curling up on the plush couch. "I’m not nervous. Just... processing."

She sat beside you, close but not too close, her arm draped casually along the back of the couch. "Processing what?"

"Everything. I don’t know," you said, sighing. "I thought I was done with all this, you know? But, here I am."

Natasha nodded, sipping her tea and letting the silence hang.

You continued, "I mean, I have a good life. I have a good job, friends, my own place."

"And now a kick-ass duet," Natasha added.

"Yeah, it is really great," You nodded. "Without me. You and Wanda are great songwriters."

"You're not so bad yourself." She grinned. "You have to meet our new manager. Mitch Lester."

"Mitch Lester," You tried it on your tongue. You narrowed your eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," You shook your head. "She manages a couple of my clients."

"Is that good or bad for us?" Natasha tilted her head.

"It's great. She's great," You nodded.

You smiled softly, leaning back into the couch, letting the warmth of Natasha’s presence settle around you. The way she talked to you and never hesitated to share or ask questions were things you didn’t take for granted. In the past, you had been with people who avoided the deeper conversations and let things fester instead of speaking up. But Natasha was different. She didn’t shy away from the difficult topics. In fact, it seemed like she embraced them.

"I’m glad you came to meet my parents," you said, quiet but sincere. "I know it wasn’t easy, but you didn’t flinch."

Natasha’s gaze softened, and she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her fingers intertwined as she considered your words. "You mean a lot to me, Y/N. Your family means something to me because you mean something to me."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in her voice. The fact that Natasha didn’t just show up out of obligation but because she wanted to connect with you on a deeper level was something you hadn’t expected but needed. You never thought that kind of honesty would feel so right.

"I think that’s why I like us," you said, your voice a little more confident now. "You always let me in. You communicate with me. You never make me guess or wonder what you're thinking."

Her lips twitched into a smile, a small chuckle escaping her. "I try to keep it simple," she said with a wink. "No games."

You laughed, feeling your nerves ease even more. How she looked at you and made you feel seen was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

"You really don’t hold back, do you?" you teased, feeling lighter and more at ease than you had in weeks.

"No reason to," Natasha replied. She moved a little closer, her knee brushing against yours. "I’ve always been more straightforward. With you... it’s easy."

It was easy. That was the truth of it. You didn’t have to question Natasha’s intentions, and that made everything feel smoother and more natural than you could’ve anticipated.

"You know, I’m happy," you said, your voice softening. "Like, genuinely happy. I don’t think I’ve felt this way in a while."

Natasha’s expression softened, her hand subtly brushing against yours. "I’m happy too, Y/N. It’s just... easy, isn’t it?"

You nodded, eyes meeting hers. "Yeah. It is."

A comfortable silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that came from mutual understanding, from a connection that didn’t need words. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself just feel—letting the moment unfold, enjoying the simplicity of being with someone who saw you, truly saw you, and accepted you as you were.

"I love you," Natasha said smoothly. Your eyes widened as you tried to process what she'd said. She leaned closer to you, her lips ghosting over yours, the tension palpable.

"I...I love you too." You said with such sincerity Natasha almost swooned. This felt right. You didn't want to think about how long you'd been dating or whether or not things would go bad. Here, in this moment, you were comfortable with each other. You loved her.

Natasha captured your lips with her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. The kiss was passionate and fierce, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. Her hands were everywhere, tracing the lines of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She was fire, and you were drawn to her like a moth.

"You said it back," Natasha said her voice husky. She pushed you to lie gently on the couch.

"I said it back," You giggled. "I do love you."

Natasha groaned softly, her lips trailing a path down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You arched into her touch, feeling your body responding to her. You were two magnets drawn to each other and couldn't resist the pull.

Natasha's hand slid beneath your shirt, her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

"This is real for me," She whispered. "You and me. It's real."

"I know," You murmured, your eyes locked on hers. You could feel her emotions in how her hands roamed your body, how her lips sought yours, and how her breath hitched when your fingertips brushed her skin.

She kissed you again, this time with an intensity that left you breathless.

"It's real for me too."

This is the part where we gear up for some real rockstar Hollywood shit to go on in the next chapters. ---> next part

#black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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bugs013 · 1 year ago

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“She’s my girlfriend.”

Janis ‘Imi’ike x short tempered!fem!reader

Not my pics

Warnings- Regina being a jerk, arguing, fighting, janis just being a sweet comforting gf. I think thats all but lmk if i’m wrong!

A/N- This is honestly mostly Regina x reader but oh well. This idea just came to me randomly lol. Might write a part two with more Janis and less Regina lol.

You and Janis have been dating for 2 weeks now, you got together over spring break so no one really knew yet besides your family’s and close friends.

You were at your locker getting your things for your next class when an arm snakes around your waist making you turn your head to see your girlfriend. “Hey baby.” You smile as you close your locker. “Hey.” You kiss her before you heard that voice. “Well well well.” Oh great, here we go. You roll your eyes as does Janis. “What do you want Regina?” Janis said, both of you turning around to face the blonde. “Who’s this?” She asks, looking you up and down. That makes you roll your eyes again but before you can snap back with a snarky comment Janis beats you to it. “She my girlfriend.” “Aw you finally found someone that will put up with you?” Regina says with a fake pout. “Hey, uh, wait what’s your name again? Never mind i don’t care, did you know you’re little princess here likes to play with fire?” She says, giving Janis that shit eating grin of hers. “Look don’t even try any bull shit with me miss ‘queen bitch’, i know what you did to Janis oh and by the way your a piece of shit for that, but i will not put up with any of your nonsense.” You snap back. “Babe-” Janis starts but you cut her off. “No, no i’m not dealing with it. She walks all over everyone at this stupid school and I’m tired of it.” “Ooo, looks like you got yourself a feisty one.” Regina says, unfazed by your words. You were ready to attack her at this point but Janis grips your waist a bit tighter. ��Regina, just go.” Your jaw clenched as she walked away, your eyes following her every move. “Hey, baby look at me.” Janis says then she grips your chin gently and turns your head to look at her. “Breathe, she’s only messing with you because of me.” You roll your eyes. “She’s a bitch, not just to you but everyone. It pisses me off.” “I know love, i know. But she just wants attention, she wants to get a reaction and getting mad is only giving her what she wants.” You sigh and nod, she places a gentle kiss on your lips. “Now come on let’s get to class.” She took your hand and the two if you walked to your next class, which lucky for you, you shared said class with Janis.

~~~~

It’s been weeks, weeks! And Regina still tries to pull any strings she can at any time she can. She’s dug deep into your history just to find something on you, she came out with nothing but stupid things from elementary school that wouldn’t help her much, she did find one thing though, you have a short temper. You get angry quickly and now that she knows that she’s gonna push all your buttons.

You were walking down the hall after asking to go to the restroom when you felt a hand on you shoulder, spinning you around to face her there was Regina with that stupid smirk on her face. “Hey Y/N.” You shrugged her hand off your shoulder. “Oh look you finally learned my name.” Regina chuckles. “I see your little pet isn’t with you.” Her words made you blood start boiling already. “I’m not doing this with you Regina.” You started to walk away. “Aw poor baby can’t handle a little chat? I know you’re a loner, or should i say loser, but i just wanted to talk.” She says, you clenched your fist by your sides as you turn around. “Fine. What could you possibly want to talk about?” She grins her shit eating grin. “I just wanted to warn you how crazy your little girlfriend is.” Your fists tighten. “Stop talking about her.” “Aw why not? You know she used to like me right? She was so obsessed.” Your jaw clenched and you got closer to her. “She was never obsessed with you. And even if she was she’s not anymore so just leave her alone.” Regina scoffed. “Yeah right, everyone is obsessed with me, haven’t you noticed?” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not true, you’re a bitch and everyone knows it.” “Ouch what cruel words of yours.” She mocked. You wanted to pounce on her, your fists and jaw was clenched tightly, you take a deep breath as you turn to walk away, trying the take the advice Janis had taught you before. “Ooo, did i hit a nerve?” You keep walking, trying to take deep breaths, your nails dug into your palms so hard that you were almost bleeding. “So angry,” Regina started. “It’s almost cute.” And that was it, you just couldn’t take it, you fast walked back to her and before either of you even realized your fist had already connected with her face. She stumbled back with a small yelp of pain, her hand going over her eye. But when she stabilized herself again she glared at you. “You bitch.” She said before then the two of you were fighting in the middle of the hall. It went on for a good moment. “Woah, woah, woah! Girls! Stop!” A teacher shouts as he ran over, pulling the two of you apart.

~~~~

You sat in a chair in the front office, leg bouncing, chewing on your bottom lip, decently dark bruises on your face, and probably other places that you haven’t seen yet, you knew your parents would be pissed, and what would Janis say? You didn’t know because even though you wanted to text her you were afraid to.

When your mom walked into the office you can see the angry radiating off of her. Great.

The second the car doors closed she immediately started. “What the hell were you thinking?! Why did you do it?” You rolled your eyes. “I wanna go home.” “Why did you do it Y/N.” She says more sternly. “She was being a bitch. She has been for weeks now. I couldn’t take it and she wasn’t just being a jerk to me she was talking about Janis too.” Your mom sighed, lucky for you she loved Janis and she can’t lie she is a bit proud that you would take up for yourself and others. “Well you’re still grounded, for 2 weeks.” You were honest surprised she dropped it so easily. “Wait, what? Nothing else? Just 2 weeks of being grounded?” “Do you want it to be longer?” She snaps back as she starts the car. You quickly just shut your mouth and went with it.

~~~~

You walk into school the next day, surprisingly you didn’t get in much trouble over the fight, you had a bruised up face as did Regina and you were getting tons of looks and you hated it. You walked with your head down until soon Janis was right in front of you, lifting your chin to look at her. “Oh baby…” She frowned, cupping your face as her thumbs glide over your bruises ever so gently. “I’m fine.” “I never said you weren’t but this looks pretty painful.” You shrug. “It’s not that bad.” She sighs. “Why did you fight her? I told you she just wants a reaction.” “I know but she deserved it either way, i wasn’t gonna let her walk all over me any longer.” She sighed then nods. “I get it.” There’s silence for a moment until she smiles and says. “You look pretty hot for someone with a bruised face.” You smile with an eye roll, she chuckles and plants a kiss to your lips then a few around your face and back to your lips. “Ok, ok, chill, we’re still in school y’know?” You said pulling away and she laughs lightly as she pulls away. “Well we could just…ditch?” She says with a smirk. “Hm, tempting.” You paused, thinking. “Y’know what? Fuck it, i don’t want to see Regina again anyway.” She smiles and with one last kiss the two of you then left.

#janis ‘imi’ike #janis ‘imi’ike x reader #mean girls 2024 #auli’i cravalho #regina george

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 1 year ago

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The Holidays are Better With You - S.Snape

Summary - The potions master and the muggle studies professor are missing during dinner on Christmas Eve. A certain cat animagus takes it upon herself to find the pair, only to find the two of them enjoying some quality time in the Astronomy Tower.

Word Count - 617

Warnings - female reader, use of Y/N, Minerva is the last one to find out a secret

Author's Note - This is a little later than I wanted but welcome to day Twelve! All of my classwork is done so I am free from college until my winter class starts. I have 8 days of freedom to try and write as much as I can so stay tuned and enjoy!

Harry Potter Masterlist

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

not my gif

Severus Snape, even just the name of the man would send a shiver down any students’ spine. However, these students never knew the man he was deep down, the man he buried because of countless trauma and heartache. The other professors knew who he actually was because most of them taught him when he was at Hogwarts himself. What they never realized was the fact that he was absolutely smitten with the muggle studies professor.

The two had grown up together, they used to do everything together, even at Hogwarts. Both of them had been sorted into Slytherin, their housemates seeing them in the same corner of the common room more often than not. The two of them still found a way to isolate themselves in a different area, spending time together in the astronomy tower.

As most of the students had returned home, Severus and Y/N had stayed at Hogwarts with the other professors. At dinner on Christmas Eve, Minerva had noticed that the two older Slytherins were missing, so she took it upon herself to go find them. She searched everywhere, her final spot to search was the Astronomy tower. She thought that it was a good time to transform herself into a cat so that way she could be a little more stealthy. Due to her new found stealth, she could walk quieter into the tower where she heard the voices of the two missing professors.

“It’s beautiful up here, with all the snow,” Y/N had said, turning to the man beside her.

“I hate the snow,” He had said, winding his arms around her waist, pulling her body closer to his.

“I know you do.”

Minerva quietly approached the pair watching as their lips met. She almost jumped in surprise. “I love you, Severus Snape. Happy Christmas.”

“I love you, Y/N Snape. The holidays are so much better with you,” Severus responded, taking note of a certain cat lurking by their feet, “Minerva, if you wanted to join us, you could have just asked.”

The Gryffindor transformed herself back with a grin on her face. “You’re married! I thought you had a thing for Lily Potter. I would have never guessed that you were infatuated with Y/N,” Minerva exclaimed in surprise.

“It’s always been Y/N. She knows me better than myself," he admitted.

“And he knows me better than myself,” She added in a chipper tone, just happy to be in the arms of her love and chatting with a dear friend. They stood in the tower for hours just talking, more like Minerva asking them questions about their relationship and then answering.

They talked until the moon was high in the sky, the time officially reaching midnight. “I think it’s time to call it a night. Minerva, if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend the start of the holiday with my husband. Happy Christmas and goodnight,” Y/N excused herself and her husband as they went off to his quarters. Minerva left at the top of the tower with a gentle smile on her face, feeling a sense of pride for the couple.

The sneaky professor had too decided to turn in for the night, not before mentioning the couple to Sybil and Albus.

“I had predicted and knew about this years ago. Where have you been?” Sybil asked her friend.

“I was their witness when they got married, they needed one and asked me. I’m surprised you didn’t know Minerva. You do tend to know everything and all of the gossip,” Albus chimed in.

“Was I the last to find out? How did I not know about them?”

“You aren’t the last, the students are.”

#harry potter #professor snape #pro snape #snape fanfiction #severus snape #severus snape x reader #snape #snape fandom #severus #severus snape imagine #pro severus snape #severus x reader #pro severus #snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #snape x y/n #snape x you

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criminalamnesia · 2 years ago

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The One I’d Come Looking For

warnings: mentions of blood and death, mentions of past trauma, no use of y/n, reader has an unnamed sister, reader has powers and goes by “phantom”, not proofread

summary: you and peter had fallen out months ago because of your different lifestyles. now, he’s back in your life and trying to save you from Kraven’s hunters.

author’s note: I’m down bad for insomniac!peter. anyways I wrote this quickly and in a blur. it’s also my first step back into writing for fun in a while so I’m sorry if it’s awful and messy! I definitely started this with a different ending in mind but what’s done is done.

—

You thought you’d put your life as a criminal behind you. You’d been doing good for yourself without the help of your powers. You’d gotten out— but Kraven pulled you right back in.

You were on the run now, constantly looking over your shoulder as you attempted to find a way out of New York. It’s times like these you’d wish those experiments had given you the power of flight— maybe even invisibility. Anything to get you out quickly and unscathed.

Your phone rings for the third time in ten minutes. You don’t need to check the caller ID to see who’s calling. You know it’s one of the spiders— probably Miles, as you and Peter had a complicated history.

You ignore the ringing in favor of focusing on pushing the needle into the skin of your thigh to sew up the gash there. Kraven’s hunters were no joke. You’d faced worse, but they’d caught you by surprise. One minute you’re sleeping peacefully, the next your eyes are flying open to the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

You’d taken out most of them as you escaped, but one had taken a sword to your thigh. You were lucky— those blades were sharp enough to cut through bone. The one that hit you had skimmed you, but it had still cut deep enough to need stitches.

You bit your bottom lip as you worked on stitching yourself up. Your first aid skills were a little rusty, but it was almost like riding a bike. You never forget how to patch yourself up after a fight, right?

The phone rang again and you scowled. You should’ve left the damn thing behind, but maybe your subconscious made you take it in hopes that he’d call.

You and Peter hadn’t spoken in months, not since you stepped back from a life of villainy. In hindsight, it’s ironic. Peter hated your lifestyle when you were together— it’s one of the reasons things ended. You’d think he’d be interested once you were on the straight-and-narrow, but he was radio silent.

You could understand. You had done a number on him— and he on you.

Again, the phone rings. You pull the needle through your skin a final time, tying the thread and reaching for the bandages beside you. A knock on the door startles you out of your thoughts.

The bandages are forgotten as you raise your hands. Green light swirls around your fingertips. You’re ready to send a barrage of green spikes through the air when whoever is knocking speaks.

“Phantom, I know you’re in there.”

Peter.

“It’s open,” You sigh, dropping your hands and turning your attention back to the bandages.

The door slowly creeps open a crack to reveal an unfamiliar suit. The red and blue you once knew are gone, replaced by an eery black that unsettles you. You raise your eyebrows as he enters the room and pushes the door shut behind him.

“New suit?” You ask, looking back down at your leg as you start wrapping the bandage. You grit your teeth as you pull the fabric tight around your thigh. You couldn’t afford to start bleeding again.

“Why don’t you answer your phone?” He counters, his voice lower than you remember. It almost didn’t sound like him.

“Kinda busy here, Pete. Fuckin’ hunters know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ve got my trail again, it’s only a matter of time before they come busting in here. I’ve gotta patch myself up and get going— excuse me if I don’t have time for chatting,” you huff, not bothering to look at him as he approaches you.

“I saw them on my way over,” he says. “Said hi.”

“Did you?” You said, ripping the last of the bandages and patting your thigh. You’d have to stay ahead of them now. You’d lose a foot race, but you may win with some distance. “How kind.”

“I was trying to buy you some time.”

“I don’t need your help, Peter,” you spoke, pushing yourself off of the floor while minding your hurt leg. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“You should be grateful,” he said. There was an angry edge to his voice, and it was unnerving. You’d never heard him speak in such a tone, especially towards you. No matter how mad you made him when the two of you were together, he never reached that point.

“Should I?” You questioned, getting a good look at him now. He still had the white spider you recognized, but the rest of the suit was a slimy looking black. “I don’t owe you shit, Spider-Man,” you threw the title in his face, watching as the off-white slits of his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask for your help. I can handle myself— I have been handling myself for months, and last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with me. So, why are you standing here now?”

He exhaled sharply. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you gave a small laugh and shook your head. “This angsty, brooding act isn’t cute, Pete. Tell me what you want or get lost.”

“I’m trying to save you,” he spat as his face started to come into view. Black tendrils of the suit slinked away until his mask was completely gone. There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize.

“Save me from what, the hunters? Little too late for that, incase you haven’t noticed,” you gestured a hand to your thigh.

“Kraven,” he spoke, his voice rough. “He’s killing villains. He’ll kill you.”

“I’m not scared of Kraven or his hunters,” you said, reaching down to swipe your bag off of the floor. You shrugged one of the straps over your shoulder and looked back at Peter. “And you should know I don’t need saving.”

“Can you not be so stubborn for once?” Annoyance was clear in his tone as one of his hands reached out to wrap lightly around your wrist.

“Since when do you care about my well-being?” You countered, pulling your wrist from his grasp and stepping around him. “We didn’t end on good terms. We haven’t spoken in months. I don’t think you could hate anyone, that’s not who you are—” you gave a small laugh as you shook your head, “but I’m pretty sure you got close to hating me.”

“I never hated you,” he told you, and his voice almost sounded normal again, but you were already walking towards the door. Your hand grasped the handle, pulling it open, but making no move to step out.

You ignored him. Although you would never tell him, those words meant a lot to you. You had loved Peter— for fuck’s sake, you were going to marry him. But you got caught up in some bad shit, and he couldn’t forgive you for it. You didn’t expect him to.

The last time you had seen him, you’d limped away. Broken and bleeding, abandoning him on a rooftop, ignoring his pleas for you to do the right thing.

You had never raised a fist to him, nor he to you. In fact, he had saved you from death at the hands of Kingpin that night— and still you’d finished the job you were assigned.

The clarity that came after was crushing. Missing him was crushing, but you were too proud and he was too tired. You know that if you’d gone back to him, he would have eventually forgiven you. Peter was good like that. It was one of the reasons you had loved him.

It was one of the reasons you still loved him.

“Goodbye, Spider-Man.” You spoke softly before stepping into the hall and shutting the door behind you.

You hobbled down the hallway and desperately tried to ignore the pain in your leg. The hunters wouldn’t stop just because you were injured, meaning you couldn’t stop either.

Whatever. You’d been through worse.

As you approached the end of the hall, the irises of your eyes shifted to a light green. It was a subtle tell that you were using your powers. As if the occasional glowing-green structures you created weren’t enough of a tell.

You shifted through the wall, your eyes fading back to their original color as you inhaled deeply. You knew Peter was probably still lurking somewhere close by. He was never one to sit back and let something happen, especially if it involved someone he cared for.

Well, used to care for. You supposed it was just the heroic-ness of him that kept him glued to your shadow. He couldn’t leave in good conscience, not when the hunters were on your tail.

You limped deeper into the alleyway you’d shifted into. It reeked of rotten food and you swore you saw a rat run by, but life on the run was never glamorous. Besides, the darkness of the alley made you feel the tiniest bit safer, even if you knew the hunters had tech that would make the dark surrounding you look like daylight.

Speaking of…

An arrow whizzed by your head, embedding itself into the metal of the overflowing dumpster a few feet ahead. You sighed.

“Can’t you guys take a hint?” You turned and raised your hands, ready to defend yourself, and—

“Run!”

Peter had been following you. He landed between you and the quickly approaching squad of hunters, sparing you a glance over his shoulder before turning to unleash his wrath on Kraven’s lackeys.

“Can’t run even if I wanted to, Spider!” You shouted, shrugging off your bag and tossing it to the side.

What happened next was a blur.

Green light swirled between your raised fingers, materializing into the green spikes you’d almost impaled Peter with ten minutes ago. You sent them flying towards the hunters who weren’t preoccupied with the spider currently ripping them to shreds.

One hunter screamed in pain as one spike met it’s mark, piercing the woman’s abdomen.

Peter may have a no-kill rule, but that didn’t mean you did.

Another grunted as a spike met his shoulder, but he soldiered on with a sword raised.

“Really? Still coming?” You huffed as you formed a sword of your own, the green light it was constructed of illuminating your battlefield.

The man roared a battle cry as he brought his blade down towards you. You parried swiftly, but the man you were fighting was much more experienced with a blade. He swung again, and as you attempted to move out of the way, the blade sliced into your other leg.

“You guys don’t fight fair, huh?” You groaned. Green light dissolved as you lost your focus on your own weapon. Now you were just trying to keep your balance as you dodged the hunter’s strikes by the skin of your teeth.

“Not as strong as we thought,” the hunter spoke as his blade made contact once more, this time cutting into your arm. “Kraven will be disappointed.”

“You caught me on an off day,” you rolled your eyes. “Maybe try again next week?”

“Phantom!”

The shout caught you off guard, and you made a stupid, careless, rookie mistake. You would later blame it on the horrible concoction of events leading to that moment. Peter popping back into your life, the cut on your thigh, and the fatigue you felt after being on the run for days.

Your head turned to follow the voice because you knew it was Peter’s. Old habits die hard, right?

The hunter raised his sword again, and then the world went black.

—

When you woke up, you were in a cage. An honest to god cage. You snorted as you lifted your pounding head from the ground. The hunters took their shtick seriously, you had to give them that.

You blinked your eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the spots clouding your vision. Probably a concussion. Just another injury to add to the list.

As you slowly pushed your body up into a sitting position, you mentally noted your other injuries. Deep cuts to one arm and both thighs, including the cut you’d stitched— which was now bleeding again. Your right leg also felt broken, which you guessed was something the hunters had done after you’d fallen asleep so you wouldn’t escape.

“Kudos to them for trying,” you mumbled under your breath as you shakily— and very carefully— stood.

You limped to the bars of the cage and grasped onto them for support. As you surveyed your surroundings, you realized you were in a zoo. It almost made you laugh.

“You guys are cute for being so committed to your little hunter thing. Really, it’s adorable,” you spoke as you caught sight of the hunter standing a few feet away.

The woman didn’t acknowledge you. She kept her back towards you as she watched the small fire crackling in front of her.

“Even the spider talks less than you,” a man’s gruff voice startled you. The hunter stepped out of the shadows as he approached the woman by the fire.

“Speaking of the spider,” you called out, “where is he? Do we have adjoining cages, or does he get special treatment?”

The male hunter didn’t bite. He came to a stop beside the woman, leaned down to whisper something into her ear, and then he turned and left.

When the sound of the man’s boots hitting the ground could no longer be heard, the woman turned around. She snarled as she looked at you. One of her hands reached to unsheathe the hunting knife strapped to her hip.

You watched as she began to walk towards you. Your mind raced as you thought of different ways to escape. If she opened your cage, you could use your powers and dispose of her— but how big was this zoo? You had only seen the two hunters, but you weren’t naive enough to believe they were the only ones here.

“Lucky for you,” the woman finally spoke. Her voice was thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “Kraven wants you alive.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Lucky for me.”

The woman raised the knife in one hand and reached the other towards your cage. You struck in an instant.

Green light contrasted the orange of the fire as a spear materialized in your hand. You shoved it forward between the bars of the cage, right into tj woman’s stomach. Before she could attempt a scream, you wrenched the weapon from her gut, raised it in your grasp, and shoved it into her throat.

She dropped to the ground, the only sound escaping her throat a quiet gurgle. You were done playing games— and you didn’t want to prove Peter right. You didn’t need his help. You would get out of here on your own.

You phased through the bars of the cage and raised your hands in anticipation. The only thing you heard was the sound of the fire. It was too quiet.

“Need some help?”

You scowled as you turned your head to look at the man who landed beside you.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you spoke.

“You were locked in a cage,” Peter replied, throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards the cage. “I think you needed a little help.”

“I’m not in the cage anymore, am I? And whose doing is that?” You retorted as Peter’s face slowly revealed itself.

“You just can’t say thank you, huh?” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fuck you, Peter. I told you to stay out of it. I know you feel like you have to intervene, but you don’t, so—”

“Of course I have to intervene,” he cut you off. “I can’t let you die.” His tone was almost angry as he took a step closer to you.

“Are you doing this because it’s me or because of your need to save people?” You said, and he went quiet.

“You feel like you can’t let this go because you have to save everyone. I get it, Peter. But you don’t have to save me.”

“I can’t let you die,” he repeated, his voice soft. His eyes met yours.

Back in that abandoned house, when you’d seen Peter’s face, he hadn’t seemed like himself. But now, as you stared into his eyes, you saw the Peter you knew. The one you loved.

“Peter—” you began, but he shook his head.

“Just let me talk. The way things ended… it shouldn’t have happened like that. I was angry. First May and then— then you. And you went back and finished that job and I just couldn’t— I couldn’t do it. I could barely look at you.”

He paused, and you waited for him to speak again.

“I didn’t understand it at first, why you did it. But now I do. Ganke found out what you did with that money a few weeks after. I wanted to say something— but you were in the wind, and I knew you didn’t want me to come looking. So, I let you go. I had Ganke keep a lookout for any calls that might’ve related to you, but none ever came. You went clean, and I wanted to reach out, but—”

“Peter, whatever end this whole big speech is coming to, I don’t need to hear it.” You interrupted, and he shook his head.

“No, you do. You weren’t a… good guy. Not all the time. I know that. But some of the things you did, and who you worked for, I understand now. Your sister—”

“How do you know about her?” You spoke, eyes wide.

“Please don’t be mad— I had Ganke do some digging after… everything.”

You were shaking now. Peter knew. He knew everything. He knew that you worked for big bosses like Kingpin because you were sending money to your sister.

He knew that you became a criminal because of your anger and your desperate attempts at finding the man who experimented on you. Mob bosses have connections, and you thought you could work out a deal.

He knew that the reason you still finished that job for Kingpin, even if the villain had almost killed you, was because your sister’s life was at stake.

He knew your sister was dead, and that’s why you had tried to disappear.

“We had our problems when we were together,” Peter said after a beat of silence. “And I’m not excusing your past— but you could’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.”

You shook your head. “No, you couldn’t have. He would’ve killed her sooner. Besides, you’re not my therapist, Peter. No one could’ve help me with that anger I felt— that I still feel. I’m still who I was, I’m just trying not to take it out on innocent people anymore. I don’t want to be the reason someone else loses their sister.”

You could hear police sirens in the distance. You gave a small shake of your head as you pushed back the thoughts of your past.

“We should go.”

Peter reached forward, his hand finding solace on your shoulder.

“I can’t forget what you’ve done. I can’t forget the fights and the disagreements between us. But, I also can’t forget the love I have for you. I can’t forget how much I’ve missed you over these past few months. I can’t forget, but I’m willing to forgive.”

Your eyes met his once more. “Peter—”

“I will always come looking for you, over and over again. Even if it takes me a little bit,” he gave a small laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

The sirens were getting closer. You inhaled deeply.

“This doesn’t fix us.” You told him, and he nodded.

“It doesn’t. But maybe one day soon, we can try again.”

A small smile etched its way onto your lips. You gave a small nod as one of your hands came up to rest on his hand.

“Now, let’s get you out of here,” he said as his mask reformed. He moved his hand from your shoulder to you waist and pulled you tightly into his side.

“Still remember how to do this?” He teased, and you laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fear that comes with your horrible steering.”

“Just for that,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I’m going the long way.”

Peter shot a web and the two of you were pulled into the sky. You held onto him tightly, and even though you knew the two of you had a long way to go, you’d never been more excited to see where the journey would take you.

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