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lovebugism · 9 months ago

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shy!reader goes to the pool with Eddie and is too afraid to wear her swimsuit in front of him? Maybe she’s wearing clothes over her bikini/one piece and doesn’t want to undress at first because of her nerves lol

hope u like it! — you still get a little nervous showing your body, but eddie takes it all in stride (shy!fem!r, established relationship, cw for mentions of body insecurity, 1.1k)

Eddie’s rubber flip-flops are much too big on your feet. You fight to keep them on and match his longer strides at the same time. He leads you down the scenic trail of the Harrington vacation home with one hand curled intently around your own. He doesn’t seem phased by the dirt clinging to his bare feet.

“Think Steve’s folks will get mad if we skinny dip?” he jokes over his shoulder, wild curls billowing in the late afternoon wind.

You shrug. “I don’t think they own the lake, so…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” you concur with a quiet laugh.

A set of wooden steps lead off the trail and towards the shore. They creak under your weight, ancient and half-eroded with time. Eddie stands beside you on the dock, lips curled into a pink, lopsided smile. “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he quips before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You giggle when he lifts the fabric up and over his head. His milky white torso is left on display for you, sprinkled with sparse hair and a couple of faded tattoos. His body is lanky and lean — stomach soft with gentle pudge where his happy trail begins. You couldn’t hide your leering if you wanted to.

“You’re crazy,” you say, still laughing.

“Crazy for you,” the boy croons.

You watch him reach for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them for a moment. Your chest swirls with a strange, hollow feeling. “Wait— Are you serious?” you wonder with wide, glimmering eyes. You’ve never felt totally comfortable swimming in a bathing suit, let alone naked.

Eddie shrugs his freckled shoulders and tugs his jeans down his scruffy thighs. “Yeah. Why not?”

He’s left in his thin, plaid boxers now. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by it as you do. Heart thrumming like an anxious hummingbird, your eyes dart over your shoulder and back to him. “What if the others see?!”

“Then let ‘em see,” he chuckles, golden like the early setting sun. “Who cares?”

I care, you almost say, ‘cause you’re too pretty, and I’m not pretty enough.

You swallow your loathing and instead reply, “Steve would never let you live it down if he caught you out here. You know that.”

Eddie’s bare feet pad against the creaking wooden dock. The sound is mostly drowned out by the waves ebbing and flowing beneath you. Nothing could hide the heavenly sound of his laughter, though. “What? That I’m skinnydipping with the prettiest girl in Indiana?” the boy retorts with a boyish chuckle. “I wouldn’t want him to let me live it down.”

You swallow hard, not swayed by the compliment. Your unsure gaze flits to your feet and the black sandals Eddie lent you on the way down. You see his paler, bare ones come into view just before his calloused palms smooth over your waist — above the oversized t-shirt you wear, which also belongs to the boy in front of you.

“I’m just… I’m just kidding, you know? About the skinnydipping thing,” Eddie assures you, suddenly serious and much quieter with it. His head ducks down to catch your falling gaze. His chocolate eyes sparkle beneath the yellow sun. His lips curl into a lopsided smile. “We don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. We never have to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

You purse your lips to the side and think for a moment. You’re not nearly as at ease swimming naked as he is, but you’d be silly to turn down the opportunity to be alone with him. You have spent the entire weekend babysitting, after all.

“Can I keep my bathing suit on?” you wonder sheepishly.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you can! You can do whatever you want, doll. I’m followin’ your lead here.”

He smacks a kiss to your lips, mouth tasting of nicotine, soda, and strawberries — like nostalgia and springtime.

“Can you turn around?”

Eddie meets your coy look with a wider smile. “Yeah. Sure,” he hums and steps back from you to spin on his heel. You know he’ll see you in your bathing suit before you step foot in the water, but you’ve always felt distinctly smothered by his gaze. You don’t feel half deserving of the adoration always swimming in the deep brown of them.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know?” he quips without looking at you.

“It’s different,” you insist, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head. You fold it neatly before setting it gingerly on the dock. You’re left in the pretty one-piece you thrifted before the trip — a floral number that dips low at the chest and ties into a bow at the back.

Eddie doesn’t really understand, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He’ll do whatever makes you most comfortable, no questions asked. “Sure,” he nods. “Can I look now?”

You hesitate for a reason you can’t name. You feel more at ease with Eddie than anyone else in the whole wide world — and besides the fact that he’s seen you in much, much less — you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are now.

“Yeah…” you waver.

Eddie peeks at you over his shoulder for a moment before turning to face you fully. His pink lips purse and a low whistle sounds between them. “Damn,” he mumbles.

You fight back a smile and look away from him, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. “Hush…”

“You’re a total smokeshow, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t know why you wanna hide from me so bad…” he teases lowly, gravitating towards you without thinking. His hands are warm and wide as they smooth over your sides. His palms curl around your lower back and idle there, fingers lingering just above your ass. “All I wanna do is look at you, and you won’t even let me…” he jokes, mostly serious, but with a playful pout on his lips.

Your arms cross between your bodies. You glare up at him with pretty doe eyes that swim with all the love you have for him. You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed if you tried. “It’s ‘cause you’re so nice…”

His brows raise and disappear behind his fluffy bangs. “You’re shy because I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. He figures it’s on-brand enough for him, as the resident freak and all. But loving you has never felt unnatural or strange. It feels normal, like an instinct he’s always had, something he’s always been destined to do. So he just tilts his pretty head and smiles sweetly down at you. “Can’t help it, though.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year ago

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If there is one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it's hyperfixating. He can spend hours upon hours wholly entranced by whatever it is that has his attention, whether it's a newly discovered band or a book series he's reading or some random new interest he likes to immerse himself in. It's something Steve, who himself has the attention span of a goldfish, will never really understand, but that's okay: even without understanding it, it's one of the things he loves about Eddie.

Some of Eddie's obsessions fade just as quickly as they appear, but others stay with him for years. So when he reaches a 1000-day streak on Duolingo learning Elvish, Steve has a surprise for him: two tickets for a Lord of the Rings convention in Chicago. The second ticket is not for Steve – they enjoy their own separate interests just fine without the other's involvement – but for Dustin, and the two of them wave goodbye to Steve with a suitcase filled with nerdy costumes and matching excited sparks in their eyes.

Eddie returns a few days later filled with stories about all that he and Dustin got up to.

'Guess who we met at the convention,' is one of the first things he tells Steve. He's bouncing around with excitement, too impatient to even wait for Steve's first guess. 'The guy who created the Elvish Duolingo course! And guess what? He lives in Indianapolis! I'm having lunch with him next week!'

And it's cool, Steve is happy that Eddie met his hero and made a new nerd friend out of him, he truly is – until Eddie shows him the picture that Dustin took of the two of them.

Here's the thing: Steve is not a jealous person. Not at all. He knows that jealousy is a gross thing to feel and he can't even imagine not trusting Eddie. But... he had not expected Eddie's lame nerd idol to have amazing hair, a lip piercing, and muscles in all the right places. The guy looks like a freaking model. And usually, that wouldn't bother Steve – he knows he's not exactly ugly himself – but usually he doesn't have to compete with guys who speak Elvish fluently.

'You should come with me, we can all hang out together,' Eddie suggests. 'I'm sure you'll love him.'

Steve is hesitant about it, but Eddie refuses to take no for an answer, and that's how Steve ends up at Vikram's house for lunch two weeks later.

Eddie gasps loudly when Vikram leads them into his living room, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest in true Eddie fashion. Steve knows it's not all theatrics, though: there's no way a room like this wouldn't genuinely impress Eddie. It's dark and filled with big leather furniture. Framed posters for various metal bands and horror movies hang on the walls. There are shelves filled with big fantasy books, and every corner of the room has a display cabinet filled with what seem to be collectors' items for various series.

If Steve had been hoping for Vikram to look more like a stereotypical nerd in real life, he would be severely disappointed: the guy looks amazing in a leather jacket that would fit perfectly in Eddie's own collection and black skinny jeans that show off a truly amazing pair of legs, making Steve feel oddly self-conscious about the couple of pounds he gained since he left his high school sports days behind him.

While they're having lunch – Vikram bakes his own bread and it's so good that Steve doesn't think he can ever stop eating – Eddie and Vikram enthusiastically talk each other's heads off about all things Tolkien. Steve, on the other hand, grows more quiet as time passes, not really following along and sure as hell not able to give any contributions to the topic at hand.

'Did you ever try to learn some Sindarin as well, Steve? Or are you more of a Quenya guy?' Vikram asks him in what is no doubt a well-meant attempt to include Steve in the conversation.

Steve hastily swallows a big mouthful of bread and feels his cheeks heat up.

'I never read those books,' he sheepishly confesses.

'Oh!' Vikram's eyes widen and Steve can practically see him think: You never bothered to show any interest in one of your boyfriend's favorite things?

'Well, I mean, I tried,' Steve rushes to explain himself. 'But I um, I couldn't really keep my attention to it. They're a bit difficult to read. For me.' Somehow, explaining it only makes him feel worse about it.

'Oh, yeah, I get it, man. Those books aren't for everyone.'

There is no meanness or hidden insult behind his words. But Steve only feels more like an outsider while Eddie asks Vikram some incomprehensible question that has Vikram giving an in-depth explanation about the difference between two words that literally sound the same to Steve's ears. And when Eddie laughs about a joke that goes way over Steve's head, then says something in that stupidly beautiful nerd language which prompts a laugh from Vikram in return, Steve is reminded in full force how ugly of an emotion jealousy is.

They say goodbye – Eddie says something in Elvish again and Steve has to watch Vikram laugh a joyous laugh about it again – and Steve is quiet during the drive back home.

'Is something wrong?' Eddie asks when they're home, perceptive as always.

'No,' Steve lies.

'Stevie, c'mon.' Eddie studies Steve's face intently, a frown between his eyebrows just barely hidden by his bangs. 'What's going on?' Something in his expression shifts. 'Wait. You didn't like Vikram, did you? Did you hate him?'

'No, I didn't hate him!' Steve is quick to say. 'He's awesome, Eddie, he's perfect and smart and funny and perfect.'

Eddie narrows his eyes like Steve said something weird.

'Why did you say he's perfect twice?'

Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. 'Just drop it, Eddie.'

'No, I'm not dropping it.' Eddie crosses his arms. 'What are you not telling me?'

Steve sighs. 'Okay, I didn't want to bother you with this, because it's my problem and not yours, and jealousy is an ugly emotion, but–'

'You're jealous of Vikram?'

'I mean, he's like, super hot, and he has this cool house, and he loves the same things as you, and you can speak your cool nerd language with him, while I'm too dumb to even read your cool nerd books and–'

'Steve,' Eddie interrupts him. 'You have no reason to be jealous.'

'I just...' Steve pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose. He finally manages to voice the thought that has been eating at him ever since he met Vikram. 'I don't want you to wake up someday and wish that you were with someone as smart as you are.'

The way Eddie's breath catches is barely noticeable. Then, he reaches out and gently places his hands on Steve's shoulders.

'I am with someone as smart as I am,' he says softly.

Steve scoffs.

'No, it's true,' Eddie presses on. 'Okay, so you don't enjoy reading Tolkien, and you don't speak Elvish. I don't care about that, man. I love the way you think. I love your inexhaustible knowledge of weird sports facts. I love how precise you are about weighing ingredients when you're baking something. I love your through-the-roof emotional and social intelligence.' He lifts one hand off of Steve's shoulder to pet his head, almost as if he's some kind of animal. 'You got a pretty big brain in there, no matter what you tell yourself, Stevie. And that's why I love you, more than anyone who speaks Elvish fluently.'

Steve tugs Eddie closer until their bodies are pressed against each other, his arms around Eddie's waist and his head resting on Eddie's shoulder.

'I don't think anyone has ever called me smart before,' he quietly admits.

'Well, I'll do it more often, then,' Eddie replies. 'Cause you are.'

(I wrote this because @undreaming-rambles has reached the unbelievable milestone of a 1000-day duolingo strike today. obviously that called for a silly fanfic celebration moment, congrats on your incredible perseverance aneta 💖 and credit where credit is due: this one was inspired by an episode of my beloved comfort show brooklyn 99)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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fox-guardian · 5 months ago

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[ID: Digital drawings of the OIAR staff from The Magnus Protocol as anthropomorphic cats on a gray background. They are all full body drawings. Sam is a black and white tuxedo cat, Alice is an orange and white cat with a bob tail, Celia is a Cornish Rex with a purple and white mottled "salty licorice" coat. Teddy is a brown British shorthair, Colin is a light brown Lykoi, Gwen is a fluffy diluted calico, and Lena is a shorthaired grey tabby with a bob tail.

The first image shows Sam, Alice, and Celia. Sam is shorter and fat, and he has curly black hair, and he is smiling with his hand held in front of him lightly touching. He is wearing a cream mockneck shirt, dark brown cardigan, and dark red trousers. Alice is tall and lanky, and she has shaggy light brown hair with faded pink tips, two pairs of silver earrings and snakebites, and she is wearing a burgundy bra, a patchwork skirt made of flannels in shades of gray, brown, and pink, a few bracelets, and pink cat-eye glasses and pink painted claws. She is slouching slightly with one arm crossed over the other, smiling and waving. Celia is slightly less tall and slim, and has short black hair, gold industrial piercings, X-shaped earrings and snakebite studs. She is wearing a light green button-down, purple vest with gold buttons, dark green trousers, a black cuff on her wrist, and rectangular glasses. She is standing and facing slightly to the side, with one hand around her back holding her other arm while that hand fidgets.

The second image is of Teddy and Colin. Teddy is fat and has a goatee and mustache, and small gold hoop earrings. He is wearing a gold and brown argyle sweater vest, a pale yellow button-down, a gold tie, and brown belt and trousers. He is smiling and waving with his other hand holding onto the side of his belt. Colin is skinny with pale skin visible through patches of fur, and he has a mustache, large cat whiskers, blue eyes, and small silver earrings. He is wearing a yellow t-shirt under a blue button-down and light brown hoodie, blue jeans with brown knee patches, a couple bracelets, and rectangular glasses with yellow lenses. He is snarling and hunched with his ears back and claws bared, looking furious.

The third image shows Gwen and Lena. Gwen is shorter and mid-sized with long blonde hair in a ponytail, and she is wearing a white button-down, gray sweater, and black pencil skirt. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and looks annoyed at the viewer. Lena is taller and slim, with light brown hair in a bun, and silver oval glasses on a chain. She is wearing a red button-down, a brown belt, and white trousers. She has a neutral expression and one arm crossed over the other while the free hand lifted and fidgeting with her claws.

The fourth image is a lineup of all of them. In order: Sam, Alice, Celia, Gwen, Colin, Teddy, Lena. end ID]

~~~~

the magnyas protocol. protocat. catocol. catnus protocol. k. kitties <3

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #furry #anthro #samama khalid #alice dyer #celia ripley #gwendolyn bouchard #colin becher #teddy vaughn #lena kelley #hihihihi that was a lot to describe im very sleepy now <3 i hope you like the thems <3 #also don't Ask Me if cornish rexes actually have that coat pattern yet I Do Not Know i just likies it <3 #also yes this is that one super baby looking sam kitty. no i do not feel like changing this particular drawing of him to make him look olde #i will simply have to draw him More mwahaha >:3c

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pocketjoong · 11 months ago

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❥𓂃𓏧WHAT IS A SOULMATE?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You and Seonghwa go on a trip across Europe and you use this as an excuse to make a little birthday video for him. But on the day of his birthday, Seonghwa feels nothing but grief as he watches the video you made for him.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Seonghwa x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. angst. meet-cute. nsfw.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) NSFW! MINORS DNI. oral. fingering. unprotected sex (it’s a big no guys, please use protection and stay safe). pet names (mc is called dove). mentions of food. allusions to and mentions of a serious accident. angst. fluff.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 4.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) @pyeonghongrie-main :) Here's the promised reupload hehehe

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

London

Outside the confines of your hotel room, silence blankets the city much like the fog that hangs overhead. The first light of dawn is yet to break through the ink-black sky as the metropolis cradles its inhabitants in the silence of the night. This part of the city is still asleep, each soul embraced by the arms of Morpheus, awaiting daybreak to rouse them from their slumber.

Your gaze fixates on the horizon from between the sheer curtains. A pang of anticipation stirs within you, for out of all the alluring sights of nature, sunrise has always been your favourite. After all, regardless of wherever you are in the world, the sunrise is the only constant in the transient nature of life.

Today, however, as the dark black of the night fades to inky blue and splashes of pinks and purples bloom in the east, the only sight you focus on are his eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes are brighter than any galaxy and softer than the cherry blossoms that have begun blossoming on the tree just beyond the terrace. In that moment, you are happy to forego the sight of the beautiful sunrise to watch the coffee and hazel in his eyes melt to form the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

It won’t be an exaggeration to say that sometimes, you feel like all of your life—each second, each breath, and each step—amounts to Seonghwa. Every decision you have ever made has been a stepping stone in your journey to meet him that one day six years ago when he was only a trainee.

Close to dawn, you had been wandering through the streets of Seoul to find a spark of inspiration for your first-ever project as a photography major. You knew you wanted to play with the idea of light and dark meeting together to form the most beautiful of sights, and what was a better time to do so than twilight?

So there you were, braving the winter chill for a decent grade while your friends were sleeping soundly, snuggled up in their warm beds.

But it seemed that fate had other plans for you that morning. You took a sip of the coffee you’d bought from the only cafe open at this ungodly hour, forgetting for a moment that it was piping hot. With a wince, you glared at the beige paper cup as if the liquid energy had personally done something to spite you.

A snicker caught your attention, and you turned around to narrow your eyes at the person, only to freeze in your tracks. Wearing a brown, fuzzy coat coupled with dark skinny jeans, the male looked like an angel sent from heaven. The thought that he was a hallucination of your sleep-deprived and cold body crossed your mind, but you discarded the thought when he realised that you’d heard him, and he scrambled to apologise for laughing.

You didn’t know then, but your life was for him. And, it won’t be an exaggeration to say that your life is all him. As winter melted into spring and spring made way for summer, you fell in love with the colour brown: the lush cocoa of Seonghwa’s eyes, sweeter than any hot chocolate you could find, and the tan of his skin, reminiscent of the buttery sweetness of roasted chestnuts. As the weather became humid and the days turned longer, you didn’t even register the beginnings of love taking root in your heart.

It began slowly, like the dripping of water from a tap. Drop by drop, your heart filled with adoration for him. Starting with an appreciation for the awe with which he experienced the world as if doing so for the first time. Then, it became more serious: you found yourself yearning to be around him, to listen to him talk about anything and everything, to be the only one he’d think of as being worthy of his heart.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you fell for his voice, a deep baritone with the consistency of honey that you couldn’t get enough of. And the best part? You got to hear it every day before sunrise, for that was his designated time for you in his busy schedule as a trainee and then later as an idol. Dawn was yours, had always been yours, and would always be yours as long as Seonghwa was beside you.

And so, without your knowledge, you fell in love with him bit by bit. You fell as if falling under a spell you couldn’t find a counter for. Not that you wanted to anyway, not when he was there to catch you.

A year later when spring arrived, love and hope sprouted in your heart when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against yours for the first time under the cherry blossoms. He etched himself into the deepest crevices of your soul and your heart. His touch was like that of the sun against your skin after a dark night, igniting your soul in a way that reminded you of fireworks. Under the light of dawn, as he kissed you, you learned a truth. Like the sunrise, Seonghwa is the only constant in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft whisper pulls you out of your reminiscing, and you find yourself gazing into his wide eyes that are brimming with affection and curiosity.

Even after years of being with Seonghwa, the way he looks at you as if you are the one who hung the moon in the sky always floors you. Your skin tingles at the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“You,” lost in way his thumb grazes against your waist, the word slips out of your lips without a second thought. You almost curse at yourself for being so taken with him when you see a devilish smirk pull at his lips.

“Is that so, my dove?” Chuckling, he lets himself get closer to you, if that’s even possible, considering how you’re basically pressed against him. His hands rise to cup your face, drawing you to his lips.

You lose yourself in the warmth of his mouth. His kisses are softer at first, but soon, his lips are moving insistently against yours. His teeth sink gently into your bottom lip, and he swallows the moan that leaves you almost hungrily. Seonghwa’s hand slides up the side of your body to slide your nightgown off you, exposing you to the chilly morning air.

He pulls back from you momentarily, the loss making you whine, but the protest dies in your throat when he gazes at you with nothing but love and adoration. In what little light filters through the sheer curtains, he looks ethereal with his glowing bronze skin. His dark hair is messy, and yet he manages to look as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a manhwa. As if knowing what’s going through your head, a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he breathes, voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Like what?” You ask, your own hands finding purchase against his shoulders.

“Like I’m the damn sunrise.”

“You’re more breathtaking than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Hwa,” you cradle his cheek in your palm, words ringing with sincerity as you gaze at your boyfriend.

Seonghwa ducks down at your words, hiding his face in your neck as you chuckle at the way he reacts to your compliment. Your amusement doesn’t last long, however, when he leans down further to lave his tongue against the marks his teeth had left against the column of your neck the night before. His teeth sink into your skin, cutting you off mid-laughter, while his palms come to cup your exposed breasts, and you find yourself arching into his touch.

You watch Seonghwa descend the length of your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips can reach. His hands slither downwards, fingers digging into your thighs to spread your legs open for him. Bringing his mouth to your core, he smirks when you let out a broken moan, bucking into his mouth. Seoghwa keeps his eyes on you as he devours you.

“Hwa—” you choke back a moan, reaching for him with a trembling hand. You pull him to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Want you. Please.”

“My beautiful dove.” Seonghwa breathes reverently. His hands are gentle against your waist, cradling you close to him while his lips trace their way up your jaw to meet yours in a sloppy kiss.

As the sun rises over the Thames River, he ravishes you with a gentleness that feels like the first touch of warmth of the morning light.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Madrid

“Are you recording me?” Seonghwa laughs, walking backwards on the sidewalk as you fumble with the camera—it’s heavier than what you’re used to—but you don’t mind because you’re more concerned about the quality of the video than anything else.

You can’t help but grin at the sight in front of you: Seonghwa in a beret and a long, dark coat that he has paired with jeans contrasts so well with the potted geraniums in front of the restaurant you had stopped to get breakfast at. The flowers herald the happiness blossoming in your chest at the sight of your lover glowing like the sun while surrounded by the the tell-tale signs of the approaching spring.

Seonghwa jokes that these flowers are blooming because it is his first time visiting Europe with you. You laugh off his silly comment, but in your heart of hearts, you can’t help but agree with him. It’s almost as if nature wants you to document the most beautiful sights while you record Seonghwa in the cities you are visiting.

Before you can answer him, something catches his eyes, and before you know it, he is dragging you to a toy store he has spotted on the other side of the road. His smile as he eagerly scours the store for something to buy reminds you of sunlight upon the tides, bright and blinding as the sun itself on the waves that lap gently at the shore.

Seonghwa makes his way to the sunglasses, trying on the goofiest ones, making you giggle. Encouraged by your laughter, he continues to make a fool of himself, pulling funny expressions for the camera and not caring if people are giving him funny looks. At one point, he tries the poison green alien sunglasses, and despite you laughing at how atrocious the design is, you can’t help but think how easily he can pull off even the most ridiculous of accessories with grace.

Behind him, you spot something that makes you gasp, and you rush to the shelves to grab one of the Toothless plushies. Turning around with purpose, you’re caught off guard by how close Seonghwa is, but you don’t let it faze you.

“Look, Hwa! I found you on the shelf,” you giggle at him, holding the plushie up so that it lines up with his face.

He rolls his eyes fondly, used to such jokes by the rest of ATEEZ and his fans. Despite that, he takes the plushie from your hands and puts it on his head, allowing you to capture him with ease. His touch is careful as he holds the plushie, similar to how he handles everything he lays his hands on. Delicate and light, he touches everything he comes across with care, and that’s one of the reasons you find him endearing—for he’s one of the few people who truly take the time to appreciate the beauty the world has to offer.

“If I’m Toothless, doesn’t that mean you’re my Light Fury?” You watch the way his eyes scan the shelves for something.

“I guess,” you shrug, chuckling as you help him in his search for a plushie of the said dragon.

“Do you think we should buy these?” Seonghwa asks, interrupting your search, and you turn to find him holding up the two plushies. He glances at the two stuffed toys—Toothless and the Light Fury—with his eyes furrowed as he weighs the pros and cons of buying both.

“You have multitudes of these back home, Hwa.” You remind him, in fact, he has so many plushies and figurines that he had to store some in your apartment because his manager had threatened that he would throw them out if he saw one more of the HTTYD-themed merch.

“But—”

“Hwa.”

“Fine, break my heart, why don’t you?” And with a pout, he places them back on the shelf reluctantly. You know he’s joking because when you gesture towards the plushies later on, he shakes his head with a smile.

Throughout the day, you explore the city with him, telling him everything you had learned about the places from the little tourist booklet you had snagged from the hotel that morning. He listens to you earnestly, watching you talk with a smile as admiration settles under his skin.

Later in the night, you find yourself in a cafe. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the scent of coffee that permeates your immediate surroundings. Since the cafe is basically empty at this time of the night, a sense of tranquillity surrounds you, much like the warm coat Seonghwa has draped over you. You watch late stragglers making their way home from their jobs through the window you’re seated against, hands curled against a warm cup of hazelnut latte.

“Dove,” Seonghwa’s quiet voice comes from next to you, causing you to snuggle into his shoulder, humming for him to continue. “Don’t fall asleep. We have to walk back to the hotel.”

“Shall we leave, then?” Stifling a yawn, you ask, causing him to nod.

He leads you out of the cafe, keeping his hand on your lower back as you walk through the sparsely populated streets. The very next moment, however, it begins to rain out of nowhere, and before you know it, you are being drenched in the downpour.

Seonghwa laughs in surprise but turns his face upwards to allow the raindrops to kiss his cheeks. Even though the world is blurred around you and your vision is warped by the drops in your eyes, you can still see him clearly. He basks in the rain, lets himself get drenched by the droplets cascading down his face, neck, and shoulders. The rain is so heavy that the raindrops make streams as they make their way down his body.

Watching him like this, you find yourself reaching out for him. As if on the same wavelength as you, Seonghwa takes your hand in his, lips curling up in a smile when you entangle your fingers with his. Reaching out, he cups your face gently, and it seems as if the world stops around you, your senses failing to register anything beyond his touch. Seonghwa trails his thumb along your lips, wiping the raindrops that have settled across your skin.

Drenched in the downpour with him, it’s easy to think of Seonghwa as the rain and yourself as the earth that craves rain after a dry spell.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Seoul

The wallpaper drips with grief, mimicking the gloom that has taken root in his heart and doesn’t seem to want to leave. The glow of the streetlights filters through the windows and is the only source of light in his dark room. In the centre of the whirlpool of dread and darkness lies Seonghwa, curled up against the messy sheets he can’t bother to straighten.

The silence is uncanny. He’s not used to it—for years, he has shared a room with Hongjoong, and even though, more often than not, the younger male wasn’t actually there because he preferred the studio or the living room couch to the bedroom, the mere idea of sharing a room with someone always made him feel at ease. Hongjoong has been Seonghwa’s anchor in the years he roomed with him, but now alone in his room, the walls seem to press in around him like waves trying to drown him, leaving him breathless.

If Hongjoong is his anchor, you are his beacon, his guiding light, his polestar. And tonight, as his ship is battered by the biggest storm he’s ever faced, you aren’t here either. Desperately, he searches for something to ground him, but too many days and nights filled with sorrow and false optimism have built up and around him, crushing him with a weight he can’t handle anymore. When love wasn’t enough to save you, how can it be enough to help him stay afloat in the rough seas?

Outside of his room, spring touches everything with its delicate hands. For Seonghwa, however, winter still lingers, and the beautiful weather outside just irks him further. He hasn’t been in love for the last week, and even nature cannot revive him this time around. Without love in his heart, the only thing he feels is despair.

Even now, he can’t forget the way red painted his hands as you lay in his arms. Sometimes, when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he can see your smile. In the very same moment, his heart opens and breaks when the image of you in his arms dances across his vision, and he dies again and again, bleeds until there’s only a shell left behind.

The beeping of his digital clock startles him. The digits read 00:00, distorted from the tears that line his lashes but never seem to fall. For a long time, he had thought today would make the pain bearable, but it persists, lingering in his heart and his room like stubborn rain clouds that linger even after the storm has passed. It is possible that you may not return to him, but he tries to remain optimistic. If he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough to fight for him, for your love, then who will?

His phone dings, and he looks at the device for a moment. Each beep of his phone has, till now, started him into a sitting position, and every time, it has not what he expected. But foolishly, he still hopes for a miracle.

His phone dinging again with the custom notification he had set for you has Seonghwa scrambling to check his phone. It’s a scheduled email, but your name lighting up the screen renders him breathless. At the sight of your name, the storm raging around him quietens down, leaving him in calm seas. There’s a video attached with the email, and he clicks it open.

[Exterior. Mid-morning. Shots of the streets of London from a car. In the foreground, the text reads Happy Birthday, Seonghwa! A female’s voice is heard speaking in the voiceover.]

Y/N: What’s a soulmate?

[The camera pans and focuses on Seonghwa as he looks out of the window, pointing at all the things he remembers from the few times he has been there with ATEEZ for concerts.]

SH: And that’s the cafe Jongho liked a lot. He said the coffee there was amazing. We should definitely visit it after we’ve settled in hotel room, you look like you could do with some caffeine in your system.

Y/N: [laughing] Not everyone is used to sleeping in aeroplanes.

SH: [shaking his head, he sniffs as if wounded by your comments] Well, if you toured with me, you’d be used to it. You’re the only one who keeps declining when I ask you to come with me! My poor self has to live without you for months just because you won’t agree.

Y/N: Your idea of bringing me along includes you stuffing me into your suitcase. Sorry if I don’t want to be thrown around with the other luggage.

SH: [snorting] It’s your fault for being so small.

Y/N: [sighing] Whatever, Hwa.

[Midday. The video cuts to a shot of Seonghwa walking along the Thames river. He has his arms wrapped around himself. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds, and one can tell that spring is fast approaching with the way little green buds are seen on the trees in the background.]

Y/N: It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend, but more.

SH: It’s so cold!

Y/N: Should we go and get something to warm us up from the cafe you pointed out earlier? I think it’s close to where we are right now.

[The video cuts to the two of you inside the cafe. The camera is placed on one side, allowing it to capture both Seonghwa and you. You’re laughing at Seonghwa, who took a sip from your iced americano and immediately made a face at the taste. The video skips a bit and Seonghwa can be seen humming along to the music from the speakers while you watch him, enraptured by his vocals.]

Y/N: It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.

[The video cuts again. This time, Seonghwa is in a hotel room, standing against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower and posing goofily while you are laughing in the background. He waddles over to the camera, forcing you to put it on the table as he twirls you around, dancing to a song he’s humming.]

Y/N: It’s someone who makes you a better person.

[The video cuts to a closeup of Seonghwa’s head in your lap as you sit on the couch. He’s sleeping soundly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. His lips quirk upwards in a smile, causing you to halt your motions, but a whine from him has you resuming your actions.]

Y/N: [soft whisper] Did I wake you up?

SH: [hums and shakes his head] Not really… [yawns] I wasn’t fully asleep.

[There’s silence for a while as Seonghwa shifts around to get comfortable.]

SH: I love you.

Y/N: That was so random, Hwa.

SH: Hey! You’re supposed to say you love me too!

Y/N: [snorting] I love you, you overgrown child.

SH: I’ll have you know that’s Wooyoung.

Y/N: Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll bite your arm off or something.

SH: [laughing hard]

Y/N: Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself… because they inspire you.

[The video cuts to Seonghwa amidst the geraniums in Madrid before he drags you to the MINISO. His shenanigans from the store can be seen, with him wearing goofy sunglasses and playing with the Night Fury plushie.]

Y/N: A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.

[Seonghwa can be seen busking with a guy playing the guitar. He sings Angel Baby by Troye Sivan, smiling wide when you start swaying one of your hands in beat with the music, causing people to follow your actions. When he’s done, people come up to him, telling him that he’s an amazing singer, and he thanks everyone with a bashful smile while watching you look at him with a look of pride on your face.]

Y/N: It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you… Believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would.

[Seonghwa excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame and sways the two of you as the busker starts crooning a song in Danish.]

SH: Thank you for always believing in me, dove. Especially when I didn’t believe in myself.

Y/N: [smiling] I love you, and I’ll cheer you on, especially during the darkest days.

Y/N: And no matter what happens, you will always love them.

[The camera pans to you in your editing studio, and you wave at the camera with a smile on your face.]

Y/N: It’s quite late [glancing at the clock on your desk], 3 a.m. to be precise, and I’m working on your birthday video. [Laughs] I hope you like this little video I put together with clips from our trip to Europe. Give me a call once you’re done watching this. I love you so much, Hwa! Happy Birthday, my star!

Y/N: Nothing can ever change that.

Seonghwa wipes his tears, sniffing as he gets up from the bed. With a meticulousness characteristic of him, he goes through the motions of dressing up to pay you a visit. That’s the only thing that seems to make sense, so with bleary eyes and heavy feet, he walks through the deserted streets of Seoul.

The staff members at the hospital allow him to see you, used to his untimely visits. The nurse watching over you gives him a sad smile and leaves him alone with you when he enters your room. He notes that the pallor that had settled beneath your skin is now fading, albeit slowly.

Maybe you’re getting better? But you still haven’t woken up, and seeing your face, he finds himself falling, falling through the memories of the day of the accident. His eyes close of their own accord, and he sighs, trying to get those images out of his mind. Unable to stop his thoughts, he relives the day all over again.

Logically, he knows the accident isn’t his fault but of the person who was behind the wheel.

Or maybe it was, the voice in his mind tells him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t forgive himself for the events that led up to the accident. If he hadn’t called you to pick him up from the company that night when it was raining, you’d be safe in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him.

No, it wasn’t. Seonghwa desperately wants to believe his own words. But there’s still that small voice of doubt that rears its ugly head, and before he knows it, fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Seonghwa is too emotionally exhausted and too choked to speak any louder. “My dove, I’m so sorry for this whole mess. I’m sorry. Please wake up soon. I can’t do this alone—I can’t live without you. Please. I love you.”

438 notes · View notes

whimsicalpolitical · 6 months ago

Text

He’s begging babe stay, stay, stay- Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: self titled era has a special place in my heart and I wanted to write a proper story regarding this era. Sorry if it’s shit and it feels like it’s very long.

content warning: maybe a bit angsty? fluff, smut, 18+ MDNI, p in v, dry humping, fingering, praise, dirty talk

It’s a shit day. All you have done until now is count the hours until your brother Ross is leaving to go on tour with his band.

The past days the boys were at your house just hanging around, smoking and to practice in your garage. You know because you spent time in the living room, pretending to work when all you’ve done is watch him or listen to his voice.

Matty's voice, raw and magnetic, cut through the music. Every time he sang, it felt like the world around you blurred, leaving only his voice in sharp focus.

Some times in their breaks you prayed that he would leave the garage to get a drink and when he did you felt giddy, like a nervous school girl.

Your eyes followed his every move. His black skinny jeans clinging to his body, the black shirt and leather jacket matching his persona. He’s just so attractive.

You’re grateful that Ross is part of the band. The past years have been a blessing because you could innocently see Matty and be around him without it being weird.

Your heart started racing when he entered the room, most of the times it was the middle of the night and you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed cheeks. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was futile. The mere thought of him noticing you made you feel like a bundle of nerves. You had been around these boys all your life, but Matty—Matty was different.

You’re dreading the moment he leaves the house for good..

21:18- You’re sitting on the porch trying to smoke the thoughts away but every drag hurts your lung immensely.

They’re playing ‘you’ right now and you can’t help but close your eyes to the muffled music. You really will cry to the end. Cry until there’s no tears left. Maybe it’s over the top because you can’t even hold eye contact with Matty and he would never fall for you.

You’re very aware of the many different girls he had or has. And you, you had your first kiss a month ago with some football player because you tried to forget about him but you just can’t.

The reality of their imminent departure is settling in. The garage is alive with music, but you feel the weight of the upcoming silence. You will miss Ross, of course. His absence will leave a void in the house, but Matty's absence will leave a void in your heart.

You take another drag, the smoke burning your throat. The stars above are a blur through your tears. You wish you can be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection is paralyzing. You would rather suffer in silence than risk the delicate balance of your current reality.

As the song changes to ‘robbers’, you let yourself sink into the music. The lyrics feel like they are written for you, capturing the longing and the heartache you can’t express. Tomorrow, they will be gone, and you will be left with nothing but memories and unspoken words.

You exhale slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night air. The porch light flicker, casting fleeting shadows. The night is as restless as you are, and the loneliness is beginning to set in. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the cold concrete against your skin, and let the tears fall.

The music winds down, the final chords of hanging in the air like a whispered goodbye. You feel the silence settling in, heavy and inevitable. The garage door creaks open, and the boys' laughter floats out into the night, but it feels distant, like it belongs to another world. You crush the cigarette under your foot, watching the embers fade, a mirror to your fading hope.

You’re sitting there hugging your knees, covering your face and you can’t even hear footsteps approaching.

“D’you mind some company?”

This can’t be.

You look up, mascara completely ruined but you wipe your face with your sleeves. Matty is looking at you and his gaze drops, you think it’s almost a bit of worry.

“Shit,” he says, “sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting?”

“No no, it’s ok.” You say, pulling out another cigarette.

He nods as he leans against a wooden beam in your driveway, mirroring your movements by also lighting a cigarette.

The silence is sickening. You sure as hell won’t say anything because he caught you crying like a wimp in front of the door while they are playing their songs.

“S’ it Ross?” You think about how stupid the question is and you agree with Matty even though you want to say, ‘No, it's you.’

"Yeah," you lie, nodding. "It's Ross. Just gonna miss having him around."

Matty takes a drag, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the darkness. "He'll be back, you know. It’s just a tour. He’ll come home."

You nod, the lie sitting heavy in your chest. "I know. It's just... different without him here."

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his features for a brief moment. "Yeah, it's always different when someone's gone. Makes you realize how much you take them for granted."

He’s looking at you. He’s seeing you. The way he looks at you makes your breath catch in your throat. There's an intensity in his gaze, a softness that you rarely see. It's like he's trying to understand, to reach out without words.

You wonder how he sees you. Here you are, sitting on the porch with ruined mascara, tears staining your cheeks, and your heart on display. It's embarrassing, and you feel exposed under his gaze. But there's something in the way he looks at you that makes you think he sees more than just the tears and the smudged makeup. Maybe he sees the vulnerability, the raw emotion that you've been trying to hide.

You want to tell him it's not just Ross. That the thought of him leaving is what's tearing you apart. But the words stick in your throat, and you just nod again, staring at the ground.

“Ross became my family as well,” he says softly, “means you’re family too and we all are going to miss you.”

Your heart aches at his words, knowing how much more they mean to you than they do to him. "Thanks, Matty.“

You wonder if it’s the last time you’ll say his name, how long it will take for you to say it again.

“How long until you leave here?” You ask hoping deep down he tells you they won’t leave at all.

“Planned on leaving at 2,” he tries to smile, “punctuality isn’t our strength as you may know.”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels hollow. "Yeah, I know."

He glances at his watch and then back at you. "It's not too late. We still have some time. You should come inside, hang out with us for a bit.”

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit.” You want to be alone with him, and the thought of being in a room with the whole band right now feels overwhelming. So you decline, shaking your head gently.

He seems to understand, not pushing further. Instead, he surprises you by sitting down next to you on the porch steps. The proximity sends a rush of warmth through you, even in the cool night air.

"Y'know, I've always liked these quiet moments. Sometimes, it's nice to just... be.”

You nod, appreciating his words. "Yeah, it is.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, and you meet his gaze. There's a softness in his eyes, a hint of something that feels almost like longing.

You notice Matty's smell—a mix of his cologne, a hint of leather from his jacket, and something distinctly him. It’s comforting and intoxicating, a scent you know you'll miss.

You shift slightly, turning to face him. "Do you ever think about what comes next?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes reflecting the dim porch light. "Sometimes," he admits. "But it's hard to focus on the future when the present is so demanding."

You nod, understanding all too well. "I get that. But I mean, beyond the tours and the music. What do you see for yourself?"

He takes a deep breath, his gaze thoughtful. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess I hope for something more stable, something real. It's easy to get lost in the chaos, but I want to find something that grounds me." His eyes drop to your lips and if you would have blinked in that moment you would have missed it. “Someone who grounds me.”

“I understand,” you gulp, wanting to be the person.

“I think about it.” You frown, not knowing what he means. “What it would be like to settle down, find someone real.”

“Like a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “someone who just gets it. Would sort me out I think.”

“Maybe.” You could fucking punch yourself. You’re giving short ass answers but you’re scared to say more. You’re scared that if you reveal yourself it would be so much worse when he’s gone.

He leans back slightly, his arm brushing against yours. "Maybe it's not so far off, you know? Sometimes, the right person is closer than you think."

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you look away, hoping he doesn't notice. But he does and he thinks it’s for the wrong reason.

“Do you have a person?” He asks.

“Don’t you think you would know, you’re here all the time.”

He chuckles and it might be your favorite sound. “Alright you’ve got a point there, love.”

Love. It’s a british thing but your heart still skips a beat, and a warmth spreads through your chest, melting away any lingering doubts or fears. The simple term of endearment feels like a promise, a glimpse of something more between you.

“Does it mean you still haven’t had your first kiss yet?” The question surprises you, he’s very forward and it makes you regret that you didn’t wait. Because maybe he could’ve been your first kiss.

“No I had my first kiss,” you say, “wasn’t anything serious though.”

“How was it?”

That’s the Matty you’re familiar with. Not the ‘romance talk’ kind of guy but the guy who has a shit eating grin on his face because he’s experienced and wants to know everything about the sex life of others.

“Not sure,” you cringe, “wasn’t how I imagined it.”

“How did you imagine it?”

“I didn’t imagine him slipping me tongue the second we kiss,” you groan at the memory and he laughs, “and he was just so violent, didn’t really feel good.”

He hums, stepping out the cigarette. “S’ a bummer, everyone should know how a good kiss feels.”

You don’t know what he’s hinting at because it would be dumb to assume he’s projecting the statement on to you.

“Not every guy is like that.” He says and your eyes find his again, “mate was bloody inexperienced.”

Matty is only 23 years old, three years older than you. Can’t be that much of a different between the guys.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I've got a lot of experience either," you admit, feeling a bit exposed.

He gives you a sympathetic look, but there's a playful edge to it. "Experience isn't everything, love. It's about the connection, the moment. And trust me, when it's right, you'll know."

You do know. You know with him, you’re sure that you want to kiss him. You want to experience life with him, do everything.

“A good kiss shouldn’t leave you feeling anything but wanted.” He shifts closer, his thigh now next to yours.

You look at him, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Yeah?"

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah.”

You can feel the electricity in the air as Matty leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, longing. For years, you’ve harbored these feelings for him, tucking them away in the corners of your heart. He’s always been more than just your brother’s bandmate. He’s been the one who makes your pulse quicken, the one whose presence can light up your entire day.

You've watched him with other girls, feeling a pang of jealousy each time. You've imagined what it would be like to be the one he looks at with that mischievous grin, the one he holds close in the quiet moments. And now, here you are, on the brink of something you’ve dreamed about for so long.

Your thoughts are a jumble, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him so badly it aches. The desire has been building for years, a slow burn that has now become an overwhelming flame. The way he makes you feel—giddy, nervous, hopeful—no one else has ever come close. He’s the reason you find yourself smiling for no reason, the reason your heart feels too big for your chest sometimes.

You glance at his lips, and the anticipation makes your breath hitch. You’re nervous, of course you are—this is Matty, the guy you’ve loved from a distance for so long. But beneath the nerves, there’s a deeper, more insistent feeling: the need to finally close the gap, to feel his lips on yours and know what it’s like to be kissed by him.

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Matty, I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's alright, love. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Just tell me what you want." He gives you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I want... I want to know what a good kiss feels like."

His smile widens, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. "Well, I can help with that."

You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation.

He leans in slowly, giving you time to back away if you want. But you don't. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, his lips soft and warm against yours. There's no rush, no urgency, just a slow, deliberate exploration. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You relax into the kiss, feeling the spark, the connection. It's everything he said it would be—electric, grounding, and utterly unforgettable.

It's like every dream, every late-night fantasy you've ever had is coming to life in this single, perfect moment. His lips are warm and soft, moving gently against yours, and it feels as if time has stopped.

Your heart is racing, pounding so hard you're sure he must feel it too. There's a nervous excitement bubbling inside you, mingling with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of joy. The kiss is tender, unhurried, and you can feel the care and attention he's giving to every movement. It's everything you imagined and more.

Years of unspoken longing, of watching him from afar and wishing for this very moment, flood through you. You've dreamed of this kiss, of being close to him like this, feeling his breath mix with yours. The reality of it surpasses every fantasy, every hopeful thought. The connection you feel is electric, a spark igniting between you that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands are gentle, one cupping your cheek, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch sends shivers through your body, grounding you in this moment. The way he holds you feels protective, yet respectful, as if he's cradling something precious.

You almost whine when he pulls back.

“How’s that?” He asks, a soft murmur, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You don’t have any words. You have to concentrate that you won’t start crying because of all the things you felt while his lips were on yours.

“Where’s your mind gone, love?” He asks, lifting your chin, not even realizing that you dropped it. “Care to tell me?”

He stops and he puts his hand back to his own body. You’re scared now, that you’ve done something wrong, that you’re too innocent for him.

“Was the kiss shit?”

“No!” It comes out way too fast, “it was the opposite.”

You can tell he’s relieved but he still doesn’t know why you’re reacting this way.

“I just don’t- ugh,” you groan.

“Take your time.”

You would but the truth is you don’t have time.

“I don’t want it to end but I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me.” You admit and it’s a huge step for you.

“I think we have a lot to chat about hm?” He says and stands up. You don’t, you only stand up when he offers you his hand.

Matty’s hand reaches out, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. The contact is gentle yet firm, his touch sending a thrill through your body. Your fingers are cold from the night air, but his are warm, and the contrast makes you shiver slightly.

The warmth of his hand spreads through you, soothing the anxiety that had been knotting in your stomach. His fingers fit perfectly between yours, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. It feels so natural, so right, and you can’t help but squeeze his hand gently, as if to reassure yourself that this is real.

He smiles, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. "Your hands are freezing," he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand.

You laugh softly, the sound a little shaky. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly warm out here."

“Let me talk to the boys real quick, then we can go inside yeah?”

“Sure.” You don’t know what he’s going to say to them, if he’s going to tell them the truth about where he’s going and what he’s doing but on the other hand you don’t even know what he’s doing.

He’s leaving you on the doorstep and you already pull out your keys to open the door. When he comes back you embrace him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He's wearing that familiar smirk, his hair tousled, and you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks. There's a magnetism to him, a charm that draws you in

“Your room alright to talk?” He asks as you both go inside, where it is a lot warmer. The heat is getting to you and you feel a familiar tingly feeling in your stomach.

You don’t want to wait until you can talk or kiss again or feel him on you. You want to grab his arm and pull him against you and devour him whole. But you’re too shy to let him know.

“It’s straight down the hall,” you mumble, letting him lead you upstairs, his hands now intertwined with yours again.

22:30- And you’re in your room, sitting on the bed which is fucking exciting because Matty is sitting on your bed.

He’s getting rid of his jacket and throws it on a little chair next to your dest. He’s wearing a basic black shirt with a cutout, his tattoo on display for you.

“Talk to me, I want to know what’s on your mind, and clearly there’s a lot on your mind.” You both sit on the edge of the bed and after he’s gotten rid of his jacket he grabbed your hand again.

“I don’t know where to start,” you whisper truthfully.

Matty's hand tightens around yours, and you feel a rush of nerves as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and warmth, encouraging you to speak your mind.

“I don't know how to say this," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I've... I've liked you for a while now."

He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that so?" he says, his tone light.

You nod, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks. "Yeah. And I don't know... I don't know how to interpret the kiss. Why did you kiss me?"

Matty lets out a soft laugh, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Why does anyone kiss anyone?" he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "Because they want to, I s’pose."

You can't help but scoff at his nonchalant response.

“You think too much, love.” He chuckles and grabs your chin to look at him. “I kissed you because I like you as well.”

“You do?” You ask.

This is all happening very fast and you doubt his words, not believing that he likes you.

As Matty's words sink in, you feel like you're floating in a dream. Did he really just say that he kissed you because he likes you too? The thought sends a rush of warmth through your entire being, and you can't help but let out a breathless laugh.

“I do,” he nods.

“Now what?”

“Up to you, love,” your head is pounding, the room is spinning, the kiss from earlier still in your head and you just want the feeling back.

You lean forward to kiss him again, your lips finding his and his hand on the back of your neck, making sure you won’t leave his your place. You can’t breathe which makes you gasp and matty slides his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t know that this can be hot, you go with the flow, letting your tongue brush against his in a steady rhythm. You’re getting hot, your skin is on fire and you’re sure he can feel it.

You’re panting more than Matty when you both pull back to breathe. Your pupils are already dilated and you’re ready for more. You’re never ready for anything but with Matty it just feels right.

“Can we just do this for a while?” You ask, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you’re going to ask him in a couple of minutes.

“Of course, love, it’s your pace we’re going for.” You smile at his answer but before you can kiss him again he speaks.

“Can you get on my lap, it’s more comfortable this way.” You blush but nod.

You waist no time to sit yourself fully on top of him, your legs on each side of his narrow hips. You stare at him through half lidded eyes, if you were a cartoon there would surely be hearts drawn all over them, as he captures your lips in a slow kiss. The two of you sigh and grunt into each other's mouths, moaning softly when hands met bare skin, pulling and squeezing all the right places.

“Breathe, love, we’ve got time.”

“We don’t.”

You melt into the next kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. You feel him, he’s hard and you want to grind your hips but you have self control and you don’t know if that’s what you want.

He feels the same though, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time, wanting to undress you and show you how much you mean to him.

He finally lets his hands wander over your sides, under your shirt and you sigh into his mouth. You still need more. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, referring to your boobs and you nod.

His hands meet your waist, run over your tummy, and up to your breasts, palming them lightly, not quite the way you are expecting. You grab wherever you can get your hands on — his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer and closer — huffing when it’s getting too much, or too little.

The kisses you share are still slow, sensual, following the rise and fall your shared breathing, but this time he follows your lead, running his hands over your thighs, your hips, grabbing your ass and dragging it over the front of his jeans, where you can feel him. You bite his lower lip, and your eyes are still closed but you can feel his smile.

“Need to tell me f’ you want something,” he says against your lips.

You hum, not saying anything but you roll your hips again, whimpering when the friction is perfect against your clothed pussy.

“Wait, love,” he makes you whine as he stills your hips. “Need to know what you’ve done.”

“Nothing more then kiss.” You say and he’s not even surprised anymore.

“Oh,” he groans, he’s fully turned on and he can’t believe it’s him who’s going to show you how perfect you can feel. “I don’t want to pressure you, I’m fine with kissing.”

“I’m not,” you interrupt, “please just do something.”

You’re begging and it drives him insane. “Alright alright, lay down for me, will you?”

You lay down on the bed and watch him get rid of his shirt, throwing it on top of his jacket. He’s crawling over you, kissing your face before moving down to your neck.

“You touched yourself before though right?”

You nod, feeling too embarrassed to let out words. He’s sucking at your neck so sweetly you’re sure you’ll forget your name.

“Can I?” He refers to your shirt and you answer with a short ‘yes.’ He pulls your shirt over your head and you reveal your black lace bra to him.

He groans, “if you want me to stop,” he says, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses litter your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts. “Understand?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Clever girl,” the praise goes straight to your core which you are pressing against his bulge.

“Lift up—” he says, giving your thighs a light tap. You lift your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assist him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he is back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settles further down the mattress. His face inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier.

“And when you touch yourself,” he continues, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You can feel his hot breath through your panties, and it makes you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?”

“Two- sometimes three, like to rub my clit though.” You are even surprised that you’re vocal but your eyes are on the clock and you know there’s no time for being shy.

“Can do that f’you, let me?”

“Yes yes.” He slides off your panties.

He never takes his lips off of yours when you feel the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sinks his two digits in, the stretch is satisfying. The way he works up your arousal aiding in how easy it is to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you.

“Matty.”

He begins to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head.

You are begging for his name like a prayer, the only word you can find as your abdomen tightens, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs.

“You’re a dream come true.”

You brush his hair from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw falls slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you.

At first, you couldn’t move, can’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Matty keeps working thumb on your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flings back, and a lewd moan echoing off your lips.

“Fuck,” you whine and when he drags his fingers out of you, you can hear the sound of your slick.

He takes them into his mouth, licking the glistening off of his finger. “Taste so sweet, love.”

He lays completely on top of you again, he’s trying not to rut into your leg but you got him so turned on it hurts.

You whine into his mouth, wanting him to fuck you but it’s your first time and you’re nervous and your mind starts rushing again.

“I got you, love, it’s just me,” yeah that’s the fucking problem. “We don’t need to go any further since you have never.”

“My first time was shit, don’t want that for you,” he continues, now you wonder about the details but maybe he can tell you some other time.

“I want this, with you Matty, no one else.” You earn another kiss to you lips.

“Hang on then,” he stands up to grab his wallet from his jacket and he pulls out a condom, it’s cliche and it’s making you giggle that he has a fucking condom in his wallet.

He pulls his pants down and his boxers and your eyes drop down to his fully hard length which is dripping red. He’s big. Now you’re scared of how it will fit.

He puts the condom on and moves on top of you again. “I’m going slow, don’t want to hurt you now do I.”

“If I do though, you tell me or tap my head okay?”

You nod and he tuts, “tell me, love.”

“I will, I promise.”

His mouth lowers down to yours as he slowly begins sheathing himself inside you, inch by inch. He is taking it slowly, which you appreciate. Feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the painful but pleasurable fullness, he leans down to kiss them away.

“I will make it better yeah?, s’ normal that it hurts.”

Once he’s fully buried inside you he keeps his hips still, peppering kisses all over your face. “Shit,” you hiss, still feeling a sting.

“I know,” he keeps kissing your face, your neck, your arms to try to make it better. “Don’t worry, keep that head here with me.” He realized that you wanted to drift off again, but he keeps you in reality.

After a while the smile that adorns your lips makes him feel relieved, hating that he hurt you even for a minute. Once you are some what used to the feeling of him inside you, you lift your hips gently to show him you are ready. Matty is still hesitant with his movements, that is until you start moaning. The pain still lingers faintly, but the pleasure that’s coursing through you is enough to over come it.

“You’re such a good girl,” your hands grip his shoulders as continues to rock his hips into yours, his pace beginning to speed up. Matty is pressing a messy kiss to your lips, tongues dancing together as he makes love to you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that this is what making love should feel like.

He brings his finger between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit. You don’t stop the constant cries from falling from your lips, head falling deeper into the pillows behind you. Matty can’t help but groan, your noises spurring him on further.

“You’re doing so good, showing me how good you feel, keep that going.”

Your nails are leaving behind crescents in the skin of his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind. With his available hand he slips a pillow under your hips. Providing him a deeper angle as his thrusts become sharper.

“Stay, stay Matty, stay,” you moan. You both know how you mean those words. Of course you want him to stay inside of you but the real meaning behind those words are that you don’t want him to leave ever. You can’t handle him going away.

“It’s alright, everything’s alright hm,” You can barely get a sentence out, Matty fucking any remaining thoughts from your head.

He knows you aren’t going to last much longer, as your walls repeatedly pulse around his cock. He rubs your clit faster, feeling himself starting to loose it as you scream out his name. Your orgasm shakes your frame, as he continues to fuck you through the euphoria. It only takes a few more thrusts before Matty meets his end, singing you sweet praises as he spills into the condom.

“You’ve done so fucking good, Christ,” you can’t help but smile as he nearly collapses on top of you, his lips leaving kisses anywhere he can reach.

You’re both sweaty and exhausted, as he slowly slips out of you. You try not to wince as you feel so empty, already missing the feeling of him nestled inside you. You wonder if you ever going to know the feeling.

You watch fondly as Matty ties off the condom and tosses it in bin next to your bed. You immediately reach for him once he’s done, pulling him back down onto the blankets with you. Matty lays his head on your breasts with a content sign as you stroke your hand through his hair. The only sounds are of your breathing.

00:30- and you’re cuddling in your bed, you’re clinging to him, holding on to the remaining touch he can give you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you matty.”

“Nonsense,” he says, rolling on to his back to pull you on top of him, “thank you, big step for you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh in contentment.

You drape one leg over his thigh, a hand of yours traveling over his tattoos.

“Matty?” You break the silence, looking up at him. You want to tell him how you feel, how he made you feel and how you want him in your life. You don’t want this to be the last time and you don’t want him to come back in two years with some random girl. You want to be his girl.

You think about how you tell him, if you should tell him. Minutes pass and he lifts your chin to give you a kiss. “I know.” Is all he says.

You stay like this for some time, not wanting to know the time.

2:15- and you look outside your window to see him driving away.

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #Matty Healy imagine #matty healy comfort #matty healy angst #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic #credit to cafekitsune for the divider

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lightless-flame-official · 8 months ago

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gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

#don't mind me just sorting through headcanons #gerry keay #gerry delano keay #tmagp #tma #my post

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

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GET MINE, GET YOURS

— your ex-boyfriend is a mechanic, and you still jump his bones on occasion ❤️‍🔥

——

2004

Heavy raindrops cascade off the roof of the mechanic shop, its metal shingles mottled with splotches of orange rust. The sight forms tight knots in your stomach as dreary storm clouds loom over the town. You stall outside for another minute, soaked pebbles crunching under the soles of your shoes as you pace near your car.

After exhaling a quelling breath and rolling your shoulders back, you slowly walk toward the half-closed garage. Harry is running the shop all by himself this afternoon, working gruesome nine-to-fives just about every day of the week. You don't know how he does it, so you try to visit and keep him company once in a while.

Today, however, is different. The brakes on your car have been squeaking incessantly, and you know jack squat about anything car-related, so you had no choice but to ask your ex-boyfriend for help.

Yes, your ex-boyfriend.

You would honestly rather listen to him drone on about all the intricate parts of an automobile than some wise guy who makes you feel stupid when you confusedly nod along and attempt to ask clarifying questions. Harry is much nicer about it. He simplifies terms for you while your mind drifts away to things much more interesting than the anatomy of axels and tires. For example, Harry's pink lips or the beautiful veins protruding from the backs of his hands.

You've gone to him with car problems before, but you mostly visit to hang out with him. It's never awkward since the breakup was mutual, and you are still on good terms. Plus, you find contentment in the routine of bringing him fast food and talking his ear off while he does the strenuous work.

And so what if you still fuck him on the down-low?

There's nothing wrong with having no strings attached, especially since he gives you heavenly sexual experiences each and every time. It's not like it's a weekly thing, either. It's just that whenever you cross paths with him, it always ends up with his body hovering over yours and his cross necklace dangling above your bare chest.

Unfortunately, you're not in the mood for that right now. The stress caused by your shitty car and having to probably pay a hefty amount of cash just to be able to safely drive anywhere has quickly turned your day sour.

As you duck your head to enter the garage, the smell of rubber and oil instantly permeates your senses. The plug-in air freshener on the wall is doing the absolute bare minimum. Soft bass creeps into your eardrums, and a groovy R&B track plays from Harry's boombox sitting beside his reliable red toolbox. You grin and roll your eyes when you recognize the eminent growl of Christina Aguilera coming through the speakers. You're greeted with a song you'd never expect him to listen to whenever you visit.

Turning your head to the left, you spot Harry working under a beat-up vintage Cadillac. He's lying down on a roller with his knees bent, metal clinking from whatever he's fixing. The black skinny jeans he's wearing are faded, and he's not wearing any shoes for some risky reason; only white socks cover his feet.

"Hi, baby." Harry's voice rumbles, jolting you. You've told him to stop calling you that, but it falls on deaf ears every time.

"How'd you know it was me?" you ask, running your fingertips across a stray wrench.

He laughs huskily. "I can see your dirty ass sneakers from under here."

Before you can defend your mud-stained shoes, his hands grip the bottom edge of the car as he rolls himself out from underneath, revealing his face decorated with smears of grease and his long hair tied into a bun. It's been two weeks since you saw him last, give or take, and you swear he gets more physically buff each time. His biceps are practically bulging as he wipes beading sweat from his forehead, the sheened muscles filling out his grubby uniform deliciously.

You break away from your lustful trance and nod your head toward his boombox. "Stripped on cassette, huh? You keep on surprising me."

"Is there a problem?" He slings a soiled rag over his shoulder.

"No, not at all," you reply lightheartedly. "It just isn't really a manly record to fix cars to."

He teasingly sticks his tongue out and saunters over to you, bending down a bit before wrapping one arm around your waist and lifting you in a firm embrace. His mouth breathes warm air against your neck, and you can smell the spearmint gum he's been chewing.

"Came to visit me?" he murmurs as he gently sets you down, keeping a firm grip on your hip and hooking his middle finger through your belt loop.

You pout and tell him, "My car is broken."

He mimics your expression. "Yeah? What happened?"

"I was driving home from the grocery store, and the brakes started squeaking out of nowhere."

Harry stops smacking his gum and furrows his eyebrows. "And you drove all the way here without calling me?"

You grimace. "Please don't be mad."

"You're not supposed to keep driving when your brakes are acting up," he says seriously. "You know better."

"I didn't want to make you leave work," you reply, fidgeting with your hands.

He softly tuts while flinging the rag somewhere behind him. "I would've come and gotten you if you had asked."

You just shrug helplessly and look around the garage, admiring Harry's workspace, which completely encapsulates his personality, even though he shares the space with a coworker most days. Various cassettes are stacked haphazardly on a shelf, ranging from girl groups to classic rock to spa music for meditation purposes. He has an opened bag of organic potato chips on his workbench, the brand he always buys from the gas station just down the road. There's also a shallow pottery bowl in the corner where he puts his rings so they don't touch oil.

He's a moody motherfucker, but you know all of his soft spots.

"I'm guessing I'll be spending the entirety of my last paycheck on the repair," you mutter while wandering around, picking up random tools.

Harry leans back against the car he's working on and crosses his arms. "It'll probably cost around two hundred dollars to replace the brake pad," he says.

"What the hell?" you say incredulously. "You need to talk to your boss about lowering the prices around here."

"I am the boss."

"Oh, that's right."

He laughs through his nose. "Negotiate with me about it, then. Convince me to lower the price."

You stop in your tracks and stare at him, unimpressed with the upper hand he tries to have over you. "Nope. I'm not doing that."

"Why not?" he asks. "C'mon, I'm bored out of my mind."

You groan and stride over to stand in front of him. He's so hard to resist. "Fine. Will you please give me a discount?"

Harry drags out a monotonous hum before plainly saying, "No."

Standing on your tiptoes, you touch your nose to his and whisper, "Pretty please?"

He narrows his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against yours. "You're getting warmer."

"I'll help you fix my car," you plead, willing to do anything to save a little money. "I'm really good at following instructions."

"You are, sweetheart, but absolutely not."

You frown and bury your face in his neck. He's sweaty, yet there's a hint of some pine-scented cologne coming through that drives you insane. "If I let you fuck me," you suggest boldly, leaving a slow kiss near his pulse point, "will you give me a discount?"

Harry moves his head to look at you straight on, smiling smugly and using his teeth to stretch his gum across the tip of his tongue. "That's more like it."

"But don't you have a car to fix right now?" you ask, feigning innocence to get under his skin.

"Baby," he murmurs, "you can't come here and expect me to actually get work done. You're too distracting."

You pinch his thigh through his jeans. "Stop calling me that."

"No," he says softly. "You're still my baby."

"Not anymore."

"Then no discount for you."

You scoff and step away from him. "Stop being a jerk, Harry."

"Letting me fuck you just for a discount, hmm? Is that it?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You know I'd let you fuck me anyway," you admit under your breath.

The muscles in his jaw twitch. "God, you give me whiplash."

You get up in his face and say, "Yeah, well, you give me a headache."

His hand quickly reaches out to push the back of your head toward him, messily smearing his lips against yours. "I hate when you're like this," he mumbles into your mouth. "My baby's so stubborn when she doesn't get her way, isn't she?"

You bite his bottom lip and tug on it before releasing it. "Don't want to be your baby."

His hand gravitates toward the curve of your ass, squeezing just once. "Then tell me what you want."

"I want to be your brat."

Harry's head tilts as he visibly swallows. "Get on the couch," he orders lowly. "Face down, ass up."

You grin, pleased to the max, and stroll over to the black leather couch in the back while Harry shuts the garage door for privacy. The screech of the lock makes you wince, and the sound of the pelting rain becomes muffled. The continuous drops on the roof match the speed of your racing heart.

Placing your forearms on the cold, cracked leather, you bend your knees to get into position and tilt your head so your cheek rests on the cushion. Harry swiftly removes his hairband, his curls messily falling past his shoulders. Next, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his swallow tattoos and chest hair, both slick with sweat. His cross pendant rests perfectly against his skin as he comes up beside you and leisurely trails his fingers down your spine until they reach the waistband of your low-rise bell bottoms.

Goosebumps erupt across your arms when his other hand goes to unbutton his skinny jeans. You can see his bulge strain against the tight material, and it makes you squirm impatiently.

"Sit still," Harry says, pulling down his jeans. His black boxers and thigh tattoo are now directly in front of you.

You pitifully moan when he crouches and grabs your wrists to place them behind your back. "Not fair," you grumble.

"Oh, really? It's not fair that I'm about to fuck you."

"You know what I mean."

Harry tugs down your pants and underwear in one go, the material bunching at the back of your knees. He then takes his boxers off, placing one knee on the cushion and lining himself up as he grips the top of the couch to stay balanced.

"Still on birth control?" he asks, planting a quick kiss on your shoulder blade. The cold metal of his necklace against your skin sends an avalanche of chills down the length of your spine.

You nod, and Harry immediately thrusts into you. You gasp as the burning sensation spreads like wildfire all the way to your thighs, your hands clenching into tight fists as he continuously rocks deep strokes in and out. You whimper with each one, and Harry's hand holds your hair back in a makeshift ponytail to watch every pleasurable change of expression on your face.

"You good?" He pants while slowing down his thrusts, keeping them long and purposeful.

"I want to touch you."

His hips pound into your backside. "Yeah? Where do you want to touch me?"

"Anywhere, just please let me."

"I didn't know brats begged like whores," he says, tugging your hair.

You wiggle your fingers behind your back, trying to touch his stomach, but it's to no avail. Harry stops thrusting, his hair hanging over his face as he looks down at you. "Want it that bad?" he says in awe.

You muster up fake tears and nod pathetically to get your way. "Please, daddy."

It always works like a charm. Harry grunts and instantly pulls out, hastily sitting on the couch with his legs spread and grabbing your waist to make you straddle him.

You kick off your pants and underwear the rest of the way, along with your shoes, then sink down on his cock, slowly grinding on him with your hands in his hair. You want to touch him everywhere, so you rub your palms down his chest and then hold both of his hands as you arch your back and tilt your head up toward the ceiling rafters. The new position tightens your orgasm more quickly, and the way Harry is desperately moaning with his hands clutching your thighs causes heat to prickle all over your body.

"Such a pretty brat for me, right?" Harry praises you, kissing along your jaw and down your neck. "Getting your way like you always do."

"Mm-hmm," you hum, every grind making your stomach rub against his, all sweat and smooth skin. "Only for you."

He nips love bites along your collarbone. "It fuckin' better be. I don't want you doing this with anyone else."

"And what if I do?" you ask, the slickness of your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs.

Harry opens his mouth with a scoffed moan when you circle your hips. "Th-think I'd die from jealousy."

The fact that you got him to stutter makes you grind faster until his jaw is clenched and he's clawing scratches on your back. "What's there to be jealous about?"

"That they get to stuff this tight pussy, and I don't." His eyes roll back as he starts to stimulate your clit with his thumb.

Not only is he a moody motherfucker, but he's a filthy one too.

"You're doing it right now, though," you say, and Harry nods briskly. "Consider yourself lucky."

"But I want to be the only one."

"I know." You suddenly choke out a moan when your orgasm approaches. "I'm gonna come, Harry. Oh, God..."

"Me too," he says, his chest heaving. "Give me a good one, baby."

You hold onto his shoulders and tense your thighs while you release, Harry stilling as well as his hips jerk to meet yours. You feel him fill you up, and after he runs himself dry, you fall against his body from exhaustion, whining into his neck as the pleasure consumes you. His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you in for a lazy hug while his cock slowly softens inside you.

The rain pours outside, and the ambiance calms you down while your body relaxes. It reminds you of a time when things were easier, a time without complicated feelings or unresolved issues.

Harry abruptly begins giggling, his chest raising with each breathy laugh. You join in, but you don't necessarily understand what's so funny. You lift your head to see deep dimples carved into his cheeks and the devastatingly gorgeous crinkles near his eyes.

Once his laughter dies down, he says, "We just orgasmed at the same time to "Beautiful" by Xtina."

"No way," you reply, breaking into more giggles.

Harry starts cackling as the dramatic piano ballad plays from the boombox, possibly the worst song to listen to while having sex. It's so ridiculous that tears form in your eyes and your sides start hurting from laughing so hard.

"We also just fucked with our socks on," Harry adds, resting his covered feet on the couch and wiggling his toes.

"Sexy."

"Super sexy. And quite comfortable."

You smile and glance at his lips, feeling an intense urge to kiss them, but you know you shouldn't. As soft as they look, it would only make things more complicated. Well, besides the fact that you still have sex with him. You're okay with the equal exchange of satisfaction, even though the emotional boundaries seem to blur more and more each time.

"You can kiss me," Harry whispers.

You swallow and shake your head, playing with the ends of his curls. "That's not what we do anymore. I get mine, and you get yours, remember? That's it."

"You let me kiss you earlier," he points out.

"That was a different kind of kiss."

He just makes a disappointed face and lifts your hips so he can pull out. He then stands still, holding you with one arm, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks over to the boombox.

"What should we listen to next?" he asks in your ear, delicately pressing a button to remove the black and white cassette.

You tilt your head sideways and read the names on the stack of cassettes. "Hmm... how about Time and Form: Celestial Meditation? Sounds like the perfect soundtrack for aftercare."

Harry snorts. "Shut up."

You laugh and dig your heels into his lower back, wanting to be even closer to his bare skin. The full-fledged urge to kiss him returns again, this time with a bizarre wave of sadness.

You can't. He's your ex.

It would cross the line that was never really there in the first place, but it's a faint one, and it still matters. To you, to him, and to the stakes of what you are to each other. Yet you spend days and nights lying in bed, wondering if he'll call you on the old wall phone at the shop and ask you to come over just because. Or when he tells you he missed you when you do show up, hugging you tight and thanking you for lunch. Or when he's glum and sulky to everyone else but you, his face immediately lights up when you step into the room.

It all means something, but you'll never allow it to become more than that. Just fleeting moments make up for the emptiness you felt when you stopped being romantically involved with him. It quells the ache, but only in real-time. Afterward, you go home to the apartment you live in by yourself, wishing he could follow you there and stay with you like he used to.

You didn't cry when you broke up with him because you knew there would still be some sort of relationship present, even though it wouldn't involve dating. That's when you both agreed to keep having sex without the strings attached; however, the buried feelings you have always seem to burst into uncontrollable flames when he touches you. You'll never admit it, though, because a purely physical relationship with him is better than not having one at all.

It'd be a shame to lose the fire where the smoke is.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles #adore-laur #get mine get yours

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elidoesntbreathwee · 1 year ago

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A Shiny Rock

Eddie touched people - like a lot - he did it with most people he became even slightly close with, for the most part, but unbeknownst to Steve, he also liked to give gifts. The gifts that Eddis gave weren't the typical candy bar or flowers with a nice card -- as a matter of fact that weren’t anything of the sort. Eddie liked to pick up things he found that he liked, and carry them in his pocket -- Wayne called him a goblin for it -- but now, he’d been developing a new habit.

Eddie would find something he liked - usually something shiny, or a rock, sometimes both - he would carry around whatever he found for the whole day, and then when he inevitably saw Steve, he would present it to him.

“Stevie! Look what I found!” Eddie gleamed.

Steve would admire whatever trinket Eddie had found that day and had in his palm, then look in his eyes, seeing the glimmer of excitement, saying something along the lines of: “Eddie, this is lovely!” Steve would smile the soft smile he unknowingly reserved just for Eddie and his little trinkets.

Eddie’s smile would shine brighter than the sun, then, he’d hold out his hands, “Here Steve-o, you can have it.”

Steve would accept it, of course, and keep it in his pocket, until he put it in the little box of gifts from Eddie that he’d accumulated over a few months.

One cloudy afternoon, Eddie was walking as he saw in the corner of his eye something shiny -- and for Eddie, this meant something great, because he loved anything shiny, especially if it was useless junk he would never use. He crouched down over where he’d seen it to see a glimmering, silvery rock. He picked it up, admiring its ruff texture and pale silver color, and slipped it into his pocket, not thinking too much about it for the rest of his afternoon.

That evening he was hanging out with the part, as had become quite common, and the party, of course, included Steve.

“Hey Stevie! Look at this!” Eddie said, slipping the silvery rock out of the pocket of his black skinny jeans -- walking over to Steve, holding out the trinket.

“Oh, Eds! That's so cool, I love it!” Steve said smiling. Eddie noticed this -- he always noticed this. Steve would always smile brightly telling Eddie that whatever he brought to show him was lovely and that he loved it. It made Eddie shine as brightly as the rock he’d found earlier - but that rock was a pebble compared to the resplendent glimmering inside Eddie whenever Steve so much as looked at him. Eddie knew it wasn’t right, he knew it wasn’t smart, and he knew it would never happen, but the spark in his eyes and warm glow in his heart didn’t seem to get that message. Eddie had been staring at the rock for a good few moments now, before he looked up at Steve to see the brightness of his smile had faded into a confused and slightly confused miniature frown.

“What’s wrong, Stevie?” Eddie said knitting his eyebrows

“I- it’s nothing Eds… don't worry” Steve said glancing down once or twice

“Steve, come on, I know something’s up. You can tell me.” Eddie laid his hand on Steve’s arm, holding the stone in only one hand now.

“I- I don’t know, it’s stupid, but you always tell me I can have whatever little thingy you find and- ugh” Steve interrupted himself with a groan, and a facepalm. “It’s just- I don’t know, you didn’t and I feel stupid about it now but… i guess i just… really like it” Steve said

“Hey Steve.” Eddie asked, smiling a soft smile.

“Yeah?” Steve felt like a total idiot, but he answered anyway.

“Would you like to keep the rock I found?” Eddie can’t contain his bright, gleaming smile.

Steve’s eyes started to tear up, “Yeah, yeah I do, Eds.” He smiled.

The night Eddie go home to his trailer, but instead had gone with Steve to his house (you couldn’t really call it a home, it looked like it was picked straight out of a magazine) and he watched as Steve pull out the box of every rock, trinket, or, to be frank, piece of garbage that Eddie had ever offered him -- Steve accepting every time. Eddie began to tear up, knowing that Steve had kept it all.

“Eds? What’s wrong?” Steve asked, having set down the rock in the box.

“You… you kept them?” Eddie said, tears beginning to well up.

“Of course I did, I mean… you gave them to me.” Steve smiled, walking over to Eddie, hugging him.

Eddie knew it probably wasn’t anything more than a platonic exchange, but Eddie wished it were more, because fuck, he really liked Steve. He liked Steve in a way he’d never liked anyone before -- sure Eddie had had dumb crushes before, but this? This was so much different than that. Eddie knew he had close to no chance, that if he told Steve, he would push him away and never want to hang out with him again, and Eddie just couldn’t bear that. He stayed quiet, soaking up as much as he could out of the embrace, but never taking it any further.

Steve pulled back -- Eddie knew it wouldn’t last forever, but he wished he could have paused the world at that moment, taking in every drop of Steve’s affection. Steve brought his hand to Eddie’s cheek, wiping away the tears that Eddie hadn’t noticed had fallen.

Steve paused.

“Eddie.” Steve whispered.

“Yeah?” Eddie responded, worried he’d accidentally leaned into Steve’s touch and he had noticed, or that he’d somehow taken things too far and ruined everything between the two of them.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed.

Eddie’s heart both stopped and beat faster than it ever had -- the world stopped, whether in the good or bad way was yet to be determined, because of course, Eddie’s mind would tell him that Steve was just fucking around with him.

“W-what.” Eddie croaked out,

“I- I, um, said ‘Can I kiss you’” Steve swallowed.

Eddie’s eyes started to shine, whether with tears or hope -- or both, who was to tell.

“Yes, god, yes.” Eddie breathed out, smiling.

Steve lifted his hand once again to cup Eddie’s cheek, smiling before kissing him. Eddie was almost convinced this was a dream -- but he was really here, kissing Steve Harrington, the guy he definitely hasn’t had a pathetic crush on since sophomore year.

Steve pulled back -- and of course it makes Eddie second guess himself.

“Hey Eds.” Steve whispers, his face still so close to Eddie’s that Eddie can feel the warmth as Steve talks.

Eddie hums in response.

“Thank you for the rock.” Steve said before kissing him again.

Eddie was the one to put a pause in their shared affections this time -- he wrapped his arms around Steve, hiding his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve hugged him back, but the hug felt different than the one they had shared only some minutes ago - much more romantic.

“Steve.” Eddie mumbled into his neck.

“Yeah, Eds, what’s up?” Steve replied.

“Does this mean… that you like me too?” Eddie asks.

Steve breaths out a short laugh, “Mhm… It does. Does that mean you like me back?” He says softly.

Eddie looks up at him, scoffing, “Only since forever, dumbass.” He says, before returning to Steve's neck.

Eddie smiles, “If you think about it, we kissed because you wanted a rock.” Eddie says into Steve’s neck, trying to hold back a giggle.

Steve rolls his eyes, trying (and failing) to hold back a smile, “Shut up.” He says, kissing the top of Eddie’s head, then Leading him over to his bed where the two cuddle, and kiss, until way to late into the night.

(A/N) hi hi!! i hope u liked that :) it was kinda a silly concept but i really like how it turned out :) if u did like it, a like or reblog would be SOOSOSOS appreciated!! love u <33

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st #eddie #steve #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #st fic #stranger things fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steveddie #steve x eddie #steve and eddie #eddie x steve #eddie and steve

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theregularsbrand · 2 years ago

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sorrowsofsilence · 5 months ago

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G E M I N I ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pairings: Noah Sebastian!Davis Twins x ofc!Jude (really just a name, no description)

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: smut 18+ (threesome, fem!receiving, male!receiving, PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it), twins (no twincest here, just both involved with 1 person), alcohol/weed use.

Summary: Why bother choosing, when both Davis twins are an option?

Authors note: I edited the pics above and below, feel free to use w/credit if you'd like! :) also this whole Davis twins idea was inspired by the martial art twins @thefallennightmare mentioned 🤭 (also, songs are Gemini by Del Water Gap, and Gemini by N i G H T S)

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Identical twins; yet both are polar opposites.

Noah Davis; guitar/bass playing skater boy: Sweet, warm, delicate. The smell of milk and honey. The epitome of the sun’s warmth as I rest in the passenger seat of a car.

Sebastian Davis; party boy singer: charismatic, mysterious, unpredictable. The smell of petrichor and cologne. The epitome of my body hanging out the car window, wind running freely through my hair.

Perhaps it was fate I met them, the deities pulling the strings and leading me straight into chaos- or maybe it was just a strange coincidence.

A victim of chance.

“C’mon let’s get another shot.” Niamh’s voice was distant as she snaked far from my grasp through the crowd. As I was sucked further into the sea of people trying to catch up I couldn’t help but audibly groan. The smell of alcohol and sweat lingered in the air, my nose scrunching in distaste. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this scene yet.

Mumbling a string of sorry’s I pushed past various people, squeezing between bodies before finally reaching the counter, my best friend already downing two shots and asking the bartender for another.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward me, shaking my head, “Girl, you’re going to regret that once it hits.”

The blonde laughed, leaning into me as she smiled at the bartender, pointing a thumb in my direction, “Two more please, tequila. For her.”

With a smile, I put my head on hers, “You got me there, my weakness.”

“Tequila?”

A new voice in my ear made me jump, turning quickly with a hand over my heart.

“Jesus-” I laughed nervously once I made eye contact with a grinning brunette, his long hair cascading down his face in delicate layers. The strobe lights danced off his features, highlighting his pointed nose and distinct jawline. He was stunning, my heart pointing from the jumpscare and his presence.

“That’s your weakness?” His voice was faint from the blaring music as he towered over me to hand the bartender a bill, “Two for me as well.”

I stared at his tanktop, the 1975 logo faded through various washes and uses, paired with a set of black skinny jeans with two holes in the knee. My eyes began grazing over his arms and neck, as he was adorned with tattoos. I tried to hide the warmth that rose to my cheeks.

The bartender slid the glasses over the counter I reached for one, “I am a fan of some blanco.”

An inked hand reached out as well, the long-haired brunette smiling down at me as he held the alcohol toward me, asking for cheers.

Our glasses touched before we tapped them simultaneously on the wooden counter before I tilted my head back, the smooth liquor running down my throat.

The boy leaned into my ear again, yelling over the music, “I’ve never seen you around before,” taking the empty cup from my hand he gave it to the bartender, “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I laughed as we both grabbed another, following the same ritual before I stuck the lime between my lips, the sour citrus tangy against my tongue, “Do you tell all the girls that?”

Looking over at Niamh she grinned ear to ear, eyes flicking between me and the stranger, “Well, I need to pee so, I’ll see you in a bit.”

That was her code for ‘I’m giving you space to talk to him’.

I shook my head quickly in protest, grabbing her arm but she slipped away quickly, leaving me behind at the counter.

“Nah, no one has been worth complimenting quite like you,” he admitted, turning to lean his back and elbows on the wood as he watched the dancing crowd.

I followed, turning to eye the swaying bodies as the bass shook my chest, feet vibrating against the floor, “Could just be the alcohol talking.”

I watched him chew the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his grin. He bent down again, warm breath fanning over my ear, “Then the alcohol speaks the absolute truth. You’re stunning.”

As my ears warmed I stood on my toes, leaning up to him to respond, “What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The way his lips spread into a cheeky smile made my heart pound, the red that tinted his nose barely visible due to the lack of light in the club, “Noah.”

Noah.

I held my hand out, “nice to meet you, Noah.”

His hand wrapped around mine and I couldn’t help but look down at the flower inked on the top alluring. His fingers were bare, but his grip was strong as he pulled me toward him.

“Pleasure is mine…”

“Jude,” I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear in habit.

Noah chewed on his cheek again, watching me briefly before looking back at the bartender.

“I think we need another round, don’t you, Jude?”

Nodding, we took two more shots before Noah grabbed my wrist, tugging me into the crowd. I followed, letting him take me with him in drunken ambition, the music deafening and the lights blinding.

As we joined the group of swaying bodies my limbs heated as the world became fuzzy, my drunken state beginning to take over. His slim features made my stomach swirl with butterflies, the deep ocher eyes that tried to focus on mine captivating.

“You’re so cute,” I yelled, holding onto Noah’s shirt as his hands nervously touched my waist, afraid to go lower than my hips.

Perhaps he could help me forget.

Perhaps I could let go, just for one night.

“Really?” he smiled, his eyes joining in his expression as we moved in sync, the music leading our bodies naturally.

I nodded with the beat, limbs loose as I closed my eyes, hands reaching up to clasp behind Noah’s neck.

He lowered his body, forehead resting against mine. Gazing into the brunette’s eyes I watched him contemplate for a moment.

As his eyes closed he brushed his lips against my own, a test of my reaction and I bit back a smile, pushing upwards to copy him, the delicate skin warm and inviting.

Before Noah could react I pulled back gently, letting my hands slide down his arms, lingering at his fingertips as I stepped away, “I think I need another drink, care for something?”

He hid his disappointment with a slight grin and a nod before I moved toward the bar once again.

Something about Noah was immensely warm and inviting. I’ve known him all of fifteen minutes and I already want to run off into the forest to live in a cabin with him, reading books while he played with our shared labrador retriever.

I let my middle finger run over my lips in excitement as I grabbed us a rum and coke, turning around to head back into the crowd.

“Jude!” I turned my head to the vague of my name. Niamh was waving in the distance near the washrooms.

I walked toward her as she danced, mouth making playful kissy faces in my direction.

“OOh! Where’s the hottie?” She looked past me before holding her mouth open happily at my drink, reaching for it.

“This is for Noah,” I laughed, pulling it away from the blonde.

“No-Wuh,” Niamh slurred, continuing to dance even though the music was far quieter over here. Joining in my body swayed as I turned, looking down the hall toward the washrooms.

Once my eyes met his my heart stopped, just as if time slowed. My brows furrowed in confusion as my ears rang, my mind racing.

I stopped dancing as the short-haired brunette tilted his head to watch me, eyes trailing across my body suggestively.

Closing my eyes I shook my head before opening them again, the man leaning against the wall still there. Real.

I stood completely dumbfounded until my legs carried me down the hall toward him. Music dampened behind me, and Niamh didn’t call as she ran off onto the dance floor.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He said, his voice eerily similar.

“I-” I began, squinting up at him, completely fixated on his features. He chuckled lowly as if he found my reaction humorous.

He looked just like him, yet not at all. His face was slightly wider, and the black t-shirt he wore was filled into his muscular frame, tight around his tattoos; tattoos that I’d seen before. The dark grey sweatpants he wore hung loosely at his hips, the white Nike’s resting on the wall he leaned on.

Hit attitude though? It was completely different.

“I was getting a drink…” The pathetic laugh that escaped my mouth made me shake my head again as I stared at him, not even hiding my fascination, “For you…”

“Couldn’t have been me,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a vape pen. Clicking the button he held it, bringing it to his lips and sucking, “I don’t drink.”

I blinked, watching as he blew the puff of smoke in my direction, the faint weed smell dissipating within seconds. His eyes were hooded as they flicked between me and the beverage.

“So how do you know my brother?”

Then it clicked. Twins.

I flipped my wrist with the glass in hand, pretending to look at the top of a watch, “hmm…met him about half an hour ago.”

He nodded with a snicker, running a hand through his strands. The brunette locks sat parted in the middle, the ends just past his ears in a messy wave.

He was hypnotizing.

“I’m Sebastian,” he stuck his hand in my direction, a strange sense of deja vu.

Sebastian’s fingers were tattooed, unlike Noah’s; and the callous of his palm touching my own sent shivers along my arm, my face warming for what felt like the hundredth time.

I told him my name, and he hid his smile as he took another puff of his pen, “You free in an hour?”

Taking a sip of my drink, I shrugged, “Depends.”

“On?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Where you wanna take me,” I chugged the liquid, holding Noah’s cup in the air, “I owe your brother a drink.”

Sebastian’s lips tugged into a sly smile as he looked down at his shoes, “I’ll see you around, Jude.”

₊⊹

“They’re playing a gig at the place next door,” I said to Niamh in the bathroom. Flicking my hair around I tucked one side behind my ear, taking a deep breath. Twins. Two extremely hot twins.

My reflection swayed in the mirror as the room wobbled with me. Leaning over the counter I stared at myself, wiping away the fallen mascara underneath my eyes.

Niamh adjusted her top, turning in the mirror to check her outfit, “Rockstars! And they’re Twins! This is so exciting J, maybe you can finally forget Dakotah-”

She covered her mouth with a shocked hand, eyes wide before her lids sunk shamefully, “I’m sorry. He who shall not be named.”

I gave her an empathetic look, “No stress Niv.”

She rested a forehead on my shoulder in defeat, “My own rule broken. SMH.”

I laughed, pushing her off me gently as I entwined our arms, pulling her out of the bathroom, “You could just, you know, shake your head instead.”

The grumble that left her throat made me chuckle again as we exited the club, the outside air fresh and free from the clasp of hormones we left behind.

“So they’re in a band? These twins?” Niamh asked as we stood outside for a moment longer, soaking in the cool breeze that caused my skin to crawl.

“Called Gemini, or something,” I said, folding my arms.

Gemini.

Once I saw them on stage together, I was completely infatuated.

“So here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding Shoulders back, throwing her hair, yeah She said, "It hasn't been pretty, stuck in a walk-up in Philly Ain't exactly feel like Paris, yeah"

Noah held a white bass in front of him as he rocked back and forth on stage, slim fingers picking at the strings. He smiled once he met my gaze in the crowd, and his lip fell between his teeth. The brunette threw his head forward, his long shaggy cut falling across his features like a veil.

“And she don't understand I get so distant And it ain't any comfort to know that she's sufferin' too And nothing she can write me makes a difference And it's all in my head but I wanna believe she'll be mine in a year, maybe two”

Sebastian held the mic between his inked hands, the stand placed between his legs as he moved to the melody. His eyes were closed in concentration before opening to mine, glazed with temptation. I moved to the music, enthralled by the thrill of both boys playing for an entire audience, yet both watching me as if their lives depended on it.

“I'll drop her a line when I'm feelin' like myself again 'Cause lately I ain't in the mood to pretend Gemini, when I'm feelin' like myself again Maybe I could be more than just a friend”

Ever since then they had consumed me, my mind captive to the thoughts of Noah and Sebastian for countless days, replaying how both of them devoured me with their eyes the second we met.

What was wrong with me?

Noah gave me his number after the show, his twin lingering in the background, eyes shifting between us and the ground.

A few days later he invited me over to their apartment, and I secretly hoped Sebastian would be there too.

I picked at my sleeves, the hoodie I wore suddenly feeling way too hot. As I hesitated to knock, the front door opened right before my knuckles touched the wood.

“What’s up Beautiful?” His facial hair had grown slightly, scruffy yet perfect. The beanie he wore left his hair flicking out from underneath, and the t-shirt he wore was baggy against his slim frame.

“Hey,” I gave him a warm smile, chest fluttering at the compliment. Stepping foot into their home, it smelled inviting, lemongrass verbena strong in the air.

Noah wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest with ease. As I felt his heart pounding below the fabric, my own began matching its pace.

There was no doubt I was falling for him, his mere presence made me giddy, filling with butterflies and elation.

“Want to watch a movie?”

The blankets scattered across the pull-out couch, and the two of us fell into the sheets comfortably.

The sound of the movie playing in the background was stagnant and monotonous, my focus on Noah’s hand as his fingers trailed down the skin of my waist, gripping the dip of my torso when he pulled me closer to his body, engulfed into his kiss.

His lips moved with mine slowly, the taste of mint subtle as his free hand caressing my cheek in a dance of devotion. The brunette’s long hair tickled my face as we lay there in each other’s embrace, longingly craving one another’s touch.

Our limbs entwined, legs wrapped around one another as I told him the silent story of my soul, his hands roaming down my thigh, pulling it up to his hip; as if I wasn’t close enough.

Sweet, warm, delicate.

The smell of milk and honey. The epitome of the sun’s warmth as I rest in the passenger seat of a car.

He was everything I wanted; everything I dreamed of.

Noah pulled away from our reverie, smiling as our noses brushed together, “Hungry?”

I nodded, my hands balling his shirt in my fists as I kissed him again, my lips tingling in adoration.

A chuckle vibrated from his chest as he pulled away again, fingernails reaching up my sweater, dragging across my skin lightly.

“Me too” He sucked in a breath, squeezing my side, “But I meant for pizza. I haven’t eaten all day.”

Noah left to pick up dinner, leaving me smiling as I sat on the couch, waiting for him to return.

As soon as the front door closed, a creak sounded from behind.

“Told you I’d see you around,” The voice was titillating as I whipped around, chest pounding with anxiety at his sudden appearance.

Did know what Noah and I were doing? Was he watching this whole time?

His hair messily hung from his forehead as he tucked his hands in his hoodie pocket, turning on his heel as he then led us up the stairs.

I felt my abdomen clench as he revealed his bedroom, the red LEDs intimidating. He sat on a chair in front of his computer, beckoning me over.

“Are you coming to the show on Friday?” Sebastian asked, clicking around a few files as he spoke.

Shaking my head I carefully watched him and he hummed in disappointment, “Shame, you’d think that Noah would’ve told you about it.”

“I can come if you want me to,” I shrugged and he reached for my wrist.

Sebastian tugged me down onto his lap, and I immediately tried to hide my face in my hands.

This felt wrong.

He handed me a set of headphones, clicking around on the computer, “I want your opinion on whether we perform this or not.”

He clicked on the file named Gemini, and the trap beat left my head nodding lightly. This already sounded completely different from the song I heard them play a few nights ago.

“Pick apart everything about ya Lying to me like a Gemini does Late at night makes me wanna sigh, yeah Dive into you every single night, yeah Every time it makes me wanna die, yeah Fucked you in the moment for the hype, yeah”

Holding the headphones against my ears I listened, watching the lyrics pop up on the screen. Sebastian’s hands held my hips firmly against his lap, making sure I was completely still.

My breath hitched once his hands slid down my thighs, running back up to my hips as the song went on.

“Love the way you taste, I'm fucking balling Making other plans I'm involved in Preying on your fears just like a lycan Hunting pussy everything single night, yeah”

I swallowed harshly reading the screen, and the way Sebastian revered my body made my stomach swirl.

“Love the way you miss me, make it rough, yeah Lust only pops in mysterious ways Sleepover, don't get invested Fall in love and then I pay her rent, yeah”

This was wrong.

But I didn’t want it to stop.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked, his hands stopping on my inner thigh, my eyes watching him tease me.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. You’re fucking divine.”

I was silent momentarily, unsure what to say at his confession. Noah made my heart flutter…but Sebastian made it race, “You don’t even know me.”

“Then I’d love to get to know your body's taste if you’d let me.”

Sebastian tugged at my pants, motioning for me to turn around and face him, to straddle his waist.

As I sat above him on his gaming chair he watched me from below, face subtle, afraid to give anything away. Yet pupils dilated in complete desire, exposing the short-haired brunette as his arms wrapped around my back, pulling me into a haste kiss.

His mouth was warm and rough, fingers clawing at my shirt in desperation as his tongue flicked my lower lip, translating unto me with greed.

His hands burned my skin, heat radiating off every inch of my body. Charismatic, mysterious, unpredictable.

The smell of petrichor and cologne.

The epitome of my body hanging out the car window, wind running freely through my hair.

He was everything I desired, everything I needed.

“This is bold of you considering I was here with your brother.”

Yet I completely gave in, my hands taking over for my heart and gripping his hair.

“I need you, Jude. Now.”

I let my hips roll into his, bodies rocking together for seconds; until the front door opened and Noah called out my name.

This game went on for months.

Both boys consumed me, both knowing that I was with the other.

They didn’t care- not until the hunger for both was no longer satiated.

I wanted each of them at once.

And they wanted me to choose.

“Selfish, to want us both,” Sebastian sunk in his chair, spinning back and forth slowly, a form of distraction.

Noah sat on his brother’s bed, watching me as I stood in the doorway, “You’re not going to choose, are you?”

The short-haired brunette chuckled lowly, hiding his suggestive smile, “Can’t just pick one.”

I looked between them, face warming, “You both want me.”

The twins looked at each other momentarily, almost as if communicating telepathically. Noah nodded.

“Tell us,” He tucked his hair behind his ears, looking up at me, “Tell us you want us. Both.”

“Say it,” Sebastian chimed in, his eyes menacing as he stared, determined to hear my admission.

“I- need you both.”

I’ve slept with each of them before, the contrast between the two night and day.

Noah whispered sweet words, taking me against every surface he could find as if claiming me for his own. He made me his, etching his being into my skin with every praise, every nickname.

Sebastian’s gaze held a million words, words he could never say; but with each thrust held my neck, pounding into my body with such proclamation and force that he told me his story. He shared his secrets.

They were the exact opposite of one another, but when put together, they made me whole.

“I want to be both of yours,” I whispered, Noah’s tongue buried between my legs as he sucked my skin, periodically licking long stripes along my arousal.

My breathing turned jagged as Sebastian kneeled on the side of the bed, kissing up my neck as his hands gripped my chest, worshiping my body with his fingertips. He dragged his mouth down to my collarbone, biting at the skin.

A moan left my body as I let my hand grip Noah’s hair, tugging him toward me as I rutted my hips against his tongue desperately.

I grabbed Sebastian’s arm, whispering toward him, “I want your cock in my mouth.”

He loved being wanted. He desired to be needed.

Sebastian stood up, rubbing his hand along his arousal over his sweatpants. Taking mine he placed it on top, sighing at the contact.

“Feel this?” With his hand on mine, he moved me along his erection slowly, “All for you baby girl.”

“Pretty boy,” I whispered, tugging at his pants. He freed himself, looking down at me with hooded lids and smiling at the praise.

Sticking out my tongue he slapped it with his desire, then let me wrap my lips around him. I sucked, swirling saliva around the tip; just as I learned he liked.

It started slow, with me moving my head along Sebastian as Noah ate me out, making my legs shake and squeeze around his face as I reached the edge, orgasm taking over my nerves.

Sebastian then leaned over the bed, free hand gripping my hair to hold me in place, shoving his cock down my throat with slow thrusts.

“Fuck, just like that baby.”

I gagged on him, taking his offering as Noah pulled his mouth away, kissing up my stomach delicately.

I watched him as his twin filled my mouth, feeling dirty and lascivious as Noah placed himself at my core, running his erection through my folds.

My brows furrowed as I bucked my hips toward him in greed and he shook his head, holding my abdomen down with a firm hand.

Noah’s hair hung over his face as he watched himself tease me, rubbing along my desire, “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?”

His words made me moan in protest, leaving Sebastian to groan from the vibration.

I cried, mouth sliding off of Sebastian as he reached down to rub my clit while Noah thrust into me with haste, his hips rapidly rolling.

Noah’s grip around my ankles tightened as he held me for support, flicking between our story and my eyes, smiling at me, “This what you wanted princess? Both of us at the same time?”

I squeezed my eyes shut in reverence as my body shook with every thrust, nodding.

“That’s our good girl, ”Noah groaned, tilting his head back before pulling out, switching places with his brother.

Sebastian then flipped me over, pulling me by my hips to slide my ass into the air, exposing me.

“Oh, fuck,” He whispered, bending down to lick up my body in hunger, before plunging into me.

With one hand he held my thigh, the other pushing my head into the bed. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through my body. His slow and staggered rhythm left my body clenching around him, crying with each connection his hips made to mine.

Noah slid onto the bed underneath me, abdomen by my mouth as he lowered my lips onto his body. As he leaned back into the pillows, the taste of us lingering along his cock made my stomach churn with adoration. Gripping the base and licking along his skin I groaned, Sebastian’s powerful grip enthralling, pushing a second orgasm.

“Shit,” Noah’s hand was gentle as he guided my mouth, soft pants leaving him as he twitched, his release coating my throat.

I swallowed everything he offered, afraid to waste a single drop.

His chest he smiled, hand reaching down to hold my face.

Noah’s thumb caressed my bottom lip with approval, and he bent down to kiss my forehead.

My body rocked with Sebastian as he clawed down my back, Noah sliding beneath me again to kiss me, mouth open and tongues pressing against one another.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Sebastian growled, his pace quickening as nails dug into my hips. A string of curses escaped him as he reached his orgasm, releasing inside of me.

I was his. I was Noah’s. I was theirs.

And they were mine.

“We could fuck you all day long,” Noah smiled, ghosting his lips across mine in prayer.

The room was filled with heavy pants as I moved to lay beneath Noah’s arm. Sebastian joined, resting his head on my stomach, wrapping his arm across my waist protectively.

“Who’s saying that can’t happen?” I suggested, and Sebastian’s deep laugh made me squeeze my legs together, his hand trailing back down my thighs in temptation.

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies

@spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond

@auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

@philomenie @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13

@amberrndall

If you want on or off the taglist, pls let me know! Most tags are re-used so just lmk! <3

#Noah Sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #Sebastian twins #Davis twins #Noah Sebastian Davis Twins #noah sebastian x ofc #bad omens x ofc #sorrows of silence masterlist

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waxingrunes · 10 months ago

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Pants discussion in my head goes like this:

James is light wash low rise baggy jeans, jorts, and joggers in all colours; Remus is high waisted tailored slacks, corduroys, and classic blue straight cut 514/501 Levis; Sirius is high rise leather, skinny/drainpipe faded black jeans, and black Dickies; Peter’s khaki cargos, corduroys, and a light blue baggy jean.

#based on quick fire impressions #james is that typical 90’s kid #can you tell im drawing pants #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #wolfstar #remus #sirius

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months ago

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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: memories flood back of when you were younger, Eddie wants to talk but silence holds merit.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

𝐜𝐡𝐚��𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: cold before the warm

masterlist

The nub end of graphite scrawls against a crinkled back page of paper. Ripped haphazardly from a composition book labeled: Language Arts—E.M.

The yellow pencil was pocked with teeth marks, having been between a pair of teeth that weren’t yours, mind not even gathering the germs that could be harbored in the pressed wood.

Your tongue had been poked out for nearly three minutes according to the watch on Eddie’s wrist. Your brain working overtime trying to find the best phrase that would stump your friend in the game of Hangman.

The alphabet was written in a hurry on the left side of the page, parallel to the hanging post. Beneath that were evenly scratched dashes on the blue printed line, waiting for their companion of letters to be filled by Eddie’s correct guesses.

Putting the pencil down with a satisfying smack, you look up from your masterpiece confidently.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Eddie chomps a piece of Big Red loud between his teeth, unhooking his tangled feet from underneath himself and stretching out his skinny legs, jeans from the previous school year hacked into shorts for the summer, “took long enough.”

You make a face and flip him a suggestive finger, the nail chipped and painted pink from the last time your neighbor Michelle let you play with her nail polish, and in return you listened to her gab about her boyfriend while she combed her hair like Marcia Brady.

“Don’t be a poor loser because you’ve lost the last four games, Clove.”

He laughs when your eyebrows turn into a pout, the heel of your worn sneaker kicking into his. The same black pair of converse, yours a few sizes smaller, faded and tattered, fitting your feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the arch of your foot, years of wear accustomed to another’s foot print that belonged to the boy across from you.

Letters are guessed and lines filled in. Eddie insists that you make the hangman have a face complete with nose, mouth and eyes realizing that he is close to eating his words from earlier.

“Would you like the hangman to be wearing socks and a hat?” You ask honestly, hiding a smirk behind the paper.

Eddie scoffs, working a bite mark into his bottom lip as he racks his brain for what kind of dumb phrase you conjured up, “I quit on terms that you’re a cheater.”

The insult was harsh, not worse than the words that you heard around your kitchen table or ones that ricocheted off the thin walls when you were on the cusp of dreaming. No, this word hurt. Stung into your skin like a wasp, repeating its terror until you were swollen and skin ached of heat.

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging to your lashes ready to drop. The paper clenched in your fist as you shoved it under Eddie’s nose, proving your innocence.

“I am not!”

“Sure you are,” he takes the paper from you, folding it roughly into an uneven shape and shoving it between the couch cushions behind him, “Cheatin’ Clove. Has a nice little ring to it doesn’t it?”

Before Eddie can say anymore, a can of Coca Cola is thrown at his head hitting him with a thud, followed by your whimpers and the sound of your feet clapping against the dirty linoleum.

“Clove! ow! Wait!”

The screen door scratched your palms as you twisted it open. Jumping from the stairs and landing hard in the dirt, you didn’t bother bringing your bike home. Choosing to run the short distance instance instead, shutting the front door with a heavy slam.

Tears soaked your pillowcase before you drifted to sleep, curled up on top of the patchwork quilt on your bed.

Eddie.

His name was trapped in your mouth, dry along your tongue, unable to force its way out.

He was a ghost to you, memories that were buried and dormant were now flooding back at full speed, pinging around your brain firing each nerve tucked away deep, landing you a migraine behind your eyes.

Seven years.

Seven fucking years, since you had seen those doe shaped eyes, brown muddied colors still lost in a child’s innocence and wonderment— barely aged from the last time you had seen him. That memory burned into your retinas, like fuel to a pained flame.

His hair was longer, well past his shoulders now, fringe of his bangs still thick on his forehead. His knuckles were covered in tattoos, the little you can see of his neck is also full of dark wisps of ink.

He says your nickname, the one only he knew. A joke between best friends.

You try to open your mouth, fighting like hell to will anything to come out, but nothing does, the words choke against your throat, caught against each other in a tangled string of sharp edges.

“uh— I—E..”

His eyes grew bigger than they already were, waiting for you to say something, anything. It was as if time stood still, all the pain from years prior coming back.

Images of Eddie, his smile, the bloody gash on his knee from his longboard, small memories, painful ones that could bring someone less strong to their knees: all flash behind your eyes.

The pain from all those years ago was searing through you like a knife. Memories that you kept buried away were suddenly throttling you like they had just happened, the wounds that were licked clean were now fresh and open, blood flowing freely.

Before hot tears can spill down your face, you spin wildly on your heel, walking fast and turning back to the bar. The tray slamming onto the back counter with a loud bang, snapping.

Your breath was erratic, heart racing. Whatever lingering high you had was gone. Emotions you hadn’t felt in years coursing through you demanding to be felt.

Why was he back?

You didn’t know the purpose of his return to Hawkins, only registering how hurt you felt that he was. The day he left still stung your spine, sending shivers all over your body.

Did he ever think of you? In the seven years he had been gone did you bleep on his radar even once?

Hanging your head your fingers tap nervously on the lacquered wood, trying to calm yourself down before you work yourself up anymore than you already were.

“Be right back,” you called over your shoulder to Jolene, head down walking fast to the cooler.

The chilled air made your skin prick with goosebumps but you couldn’t care, the only thing you could feel was your heart shattering to pieces all over again.

The floor was cold under your body, shelves and beer boxes held you up as you fell apart. Deep shuddering breaths in and winded ones out, you don’t wipe the tears as they free fall down the apples of your cheeks—dragging black eyeliner and mascara with them til they trickle from your chin.

The callus of your life made it hard to feel, even harder to cry. But once the gate was open, it was challenging to close. A dam of pent up emotions broke free out of you like an angry flood, full of irreparable damage, forgotten feelings and an exploding heart. Taking with it years of questions, hopes and dreams.

Scenery wasn’t the only thing that was altered in his time away. You evolved, having to peel off layers of naivety and fear. Would he care if he knew?

Wiping another sludge of wet makeup from under your eyes you catch the tattoo on your hand.

It burned on your skin. Prickling like it hadn’t been ten years since you’d gotten it. Years that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

It practically was.

The boy who did them was long gone, and the man in his place was someone you didn’t even know.

—

It was you.

The only person in all of Hawkins who made it bearable. What should have been a joyful reunion was clouded over with painful memories. Of course there were good ones, but mostly the bad out weighed anything happy.

You had always been the little bit of sunshine that broke through on a cloudy day, the only person he trusted with silly secrets, trusted with anything.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were here. Not just in Hawkins. But working here.

A surge of rage filled his stomach but was quickly washed out by pain as you stomped away, looking as if you had seen a ghost, a part of your past that you didn’t want to remember.

Was that what he was to you? A painful memory, one that was more sour than everything else that happened?

Jeff’s voice is muffled in his ears, as if he’s trying to speak underwater. He can’t wrap his head around this whole thing. The guilt eating him alive.

Eddie clears his throat and takes a generous sip of beer, trying to stop his hands from shaking, chilled sweat creeping down his back. He fiddles with a napkin, ripping the end into small shreds and rolling them up like a kid would for a spit wad.

He could map out every scar on your arms and legs, tell anyone the exact color of your eyes, in sunlight and in a dark room. He knew your favorite song, that you were afraid of the dark and that your front teeth didn’t come in for almost three months after he had helped you pull them out.

You had taught him how to hang upside down on the monkey bars behind the trailer park. He taught you how to play his guitar, and if he thought hard enough he could remember the smell of your shampoo.

You were everything to him.

Bestfriends since the cradle, made up handshakes and secrets sworn to the grave. But years, tear spilled miles and the guilt of broken promises wedged a distance between you.

One that couldn’t be made better by the letters he sent that went unanswered. And it definitely wouldn’t get fixed in one random night when fate lead him to this fucking dump, back under your nose.

It hurt not seeing the sparkle in your eyes, but he could only blame himself.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Jeff motions for Eddie to lean in, doing so he jerks his head to the bar where you are standing stone-still hovering over a counter with your back turned to them. “She looked familiar, right? Did she go to school with us?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to shove down his emotions with another gulp of beer, “she did.”

Jeff leans back, “Chloe? Cassie, Chasity… no. Claire? Shit what was her name?”

Eddie’s eyes fell to the smudgy tattoo, he rubs his thumb over the ink, “Clove.”

“That’s right!” clapping his hands together, “knew it was something weird.”

Eddie let himself smile. Small and weak, his lip ticking up on one side. He rubbed the tattoo again, remembering that day like it was yesterday.

—

The summer breeze blows hotly through the makeshift curtains, sending the loose paper on the dresser scattering like desert tumbleweeds across Eddie’s bedroom floor, joining the litter of car magazines and unwashed clothes taking up space in the tiny room.

“gotta sit still Slick, or this won’t work.”

You were biting through your lip, trying to muffle a cry from breaking out, “ow..it hurts!”

It was your idea to get matching tattoos with your best friend, and it was Eddie who said he could do them no problem. He had already tattooed a heart on Dave with his girlfriend's name through the center last month—never mind that she dumped him a week later. The sobs coming from trailer 11 didn’t ever seem to end.

“Well yeah,” Eddie chuckles, clearing his throat and puffing behind a cigarette, “what did you expect it would be done with? A marker?”

Your right hand rested on his bent knee for precision. The other was clamped tight over your eyes in hopes that if you didn’t see how it was done, it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

The warmth of your sweaty nervous palm on his jeans felt hot, as if you were being burnt alive. But, despite the pain from the needle going in and out of your skin, Eddie was gentle.

His shoulder provided comfort as you leaned your head onto it, slowly wetting his shirt with your tears. You curl your body into his side, knees stabbing into his ribs, head pressed tight to the side of his neck, hand fisting the sleeve of his shirt for support as you intake a sharp breath when he finishes the curve of the dainty heart.

“Need a break?” he asks, setting the needle down on the carpet, rubbing a pattern with his thumb on your hand. “I made some Kool-Aid yesterday, your favorite kind.”

Lynyrd Skynyrd plays softly in the background and Eddie strums along on your palm to the guitar solo.

Muffled against his cotton shirt, your voice is hoarse from the tears, “orange?”

He chuckles around a cloud of smoke, “hell yeah, picked some up yesterday morning before my shift, got a few packets for your place too, I know how much Lolly likes it.”

“Speaking of,” you uncross your legs to stand, “I gotta go check on her.”

Eddie stands up with you, a whole head taller than you were, you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and slot it into your own, inhaling the tobacco expertly into your lungs as you examine the small tattoo on your skin.

“‘m not done yet, but what do ya think?”

Blood and ink were smeared around it messily, but it looked identical to the one he had on his left hand, yours only missing the clover.

A smile stretches across your lips and you feel the burn of tears from in your eyes, “it’s perfect, Eddie.”

He opens his bedroom door, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth and squishing it into the heaping ashtray on his nightstand. “you really think so?” he whispers.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!”

He blows his lips in a raspberry, long legs walking down the dingy carpet hallway to the kitchen, “let those prissy bitches try to pick on you now… nobody wants to fight someone with tattoos.”

The girls at school weren’t nice in elementary school and they somehow got nastier with every year. You went from being “stinky girl” to “trailer skank” overnight.

A far cry from any sort of originality, but that’s how Hawkins was, ruled by the dim and dumb, daddy’s bank account used as a hierarchy status.

You always brushed them off, keeping mostly to yourself and to your best friend. Eddie took it upon himself to conjure up a frenzied retort that would have them scoffing in disgust.

With Eddie, nothing else mattered, he didn’t care if your clothes didn’t fit right, or if your ponytail looked scraggly. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. You were just two neglected trailer park kids, but to him, you were important.

“You're an artist Eddie, could probably make a lot of money doing this someday.”

The idea fell silent between you, both knowing in your hearts what path your life would lead you down. Stuck in the nightmare of what went on behind the thin walls in the trailer park.

Peering over the counter you can see Lolly. Sleeping just as soundly as she had when you laid her down. The stolen playpen from the yard sale on Cornwalis turned out to be worth the uncomfortable bike ride back to Forest Hills with Eddie standing on his pedals and you on the handlebars holding onto dear life as he raced back home.

Her chubby cheeks were pressed against the yellow floral sheet, little curls twisted into two tiny pigtails, milk dribbling slow from her puckered lips.

You smile at the sight of such innocence, wishing that you too were unaware of what life was actually like, and knowing that you would do anything to keep your little sister safe from this reality for as long as possible.

“Can’t believe she cried that long, usually she loves pb&j’s..” Eddie points to your head, trying not to laugh, “you still have peanut butter in your hair by the way.”

Lolly had thrown every last bit of her sandwich in a temper tantrum fueled by a lack of sleep. Her aim being perfect with you as her target.

Twenty minutes with your head under the bathroom sink and Eddie cackling as he squeezed shampoo on your head apparently wasn’t enough to get the sticky treat out.

“Little shit,” you huff, a smirk on your lips, turning to the fridge, and reaching for the sugary orange drink from the shelf, shutting the door with your hip, “think she might be cuttin’ some teeth at least that’s what Patty said last time she babysat.”

Eddie reached for the plastic cups that were nabbed from Benny’s after one of his busboy shifts, holding them steady as you poured the juice.

Only spilling a little, you lifted the end of your shirt to mop the counter up. “Kids are weird,” Eddie says, smacking his lips with an orange mustache after a long swig, “remind me never to have ‘em.”

Snorting through your nose you swallow harshly, a quirk to your eyebrow, “having kids is totally normal, all of our neighbors do.”

He thought quietly before speaking again, “yeah, and nobody is ever around..” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna leave here someday, you and me.”

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, Slim.”

Eddie talked crazy like this sometimes. Always dreaming bigger than you could even fathom. Head permanently stuck in the clouds, wishing, hoping for something better than the cards you were both dealt. But you on the other hand, your feet, in hand-me-down shoes, never left the ground.

His voice was stern when he spoke to you, eyes pleading, and you had never heard him like that before.

“I’m serious, I’ll die before I stay here,” he moves forward, holding your biceps as he looks down at you, dark eyes wide, almost wild, “I promise you, we won’t end up like this...okay?”

—

He couldn’t blame you for the way you reacted when your eyes met his. Seeing you tonight hurt more than he could have ever imagined it too. To be honest, he didn’t expect you to still be in Hawkins, but then again— where would you have gone?

“…you still there dude?”

Eddie’s eyes shift to Jeff, plastering a smirk to his lips to hide the pain etched so evidently on his face, “yeah, I just uh— tired I guess.”

He scanned the bar for you, still seeing your frame behind the counter, this time turned around handing a round of beers to a couple of college punks.

“How far is the drive?”

Bless Jeff for trying to keep this conversation alive, but Eddie’s mind was anywhere but here at this table.

Questions he never thought to ask, suddenly poured into his mind. Did you finish high school? Where were you living? How’s Lolly? How old is she now? How have you been?

He felt sick that he didn’t know the answer to any of them. Guilt devouring away at him like a flesh eating amoeba.

“Six—no, probably seven hundred miles.. give or take.”

Had you applied to college? Were you still living in the trailer park?

“Damn,” Jeff said, scrubbing his hands down his face, “gonna have to visit you sometime, show me around all the cool places… you ever been out to LA? My girlfriend, well ex now, we went a year ago around Christmas time she really loved...”

Although Eddie didn’t know the answers, he figured maybe Jeff would.

He shakes his head, interrupting his friend, hand raised in apology, “hey, uh wh— whatever happened to her?” He hooks a thumb in your direction in the most nonchalant way he could, even though his entire body was fidgeting in anticipation.

Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Clove? Oh umm, shit… well I think, no.. yeah no, she didn’t graduate. I remember hearing that she had dropped out, and now she works here apparently.”

A smirk forms on his lips and he points behind him to the back corner, “forgot to tell you, rumor has it this place is more than just a strip joint,” his dark eyebrows wiggle, “if y'know what I mean.”

For the first time tonight, Eddie noticed girls coming and going from the beaded doorway, vacant expressions on their smudged faces. Trailing behind were drunk men with glazed eyes and sweaty foreheads, readjusting the threads of their belts and slacks.

He scans the bar with wild eyes in search of you. Hoping and praying to whoever would listen that you weren’t a part of this. You couldn’t be.

Who is he kidding?

If you were still in Hawkins, still under the weight and scrutiny of the inner dealings that started in the trailer park, you were very much involved.

Realization hit him like a freight train. His stomach clenched and warped with the dreaded grief and guilt he still carried. Deep down he had figured this was what your life had come to. Lying to himself in thinking that you had gotten away from all of this. But seeing it firsthand, in the flesh—he couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Choking back vomit, he slides from the booth hastily, practically spilling his beer all over the table in his desperate attempt to find you.

“shit!” Jeff shouted, “dude, you alright?”

He wasn’t.

He stumbles from the table, tripping over his own boots and knocking into one of the burly bearded men at the bar, sending his drink tumbling to the ground. Glass and liquor covering the floor like the sparkle of a fresh snow.

“What’s your problem asshole!?”

His fiery red hair matched his temper, and the weathered roughness of his cheeks, “ever been inside a bar, tough guy?”

Before Eddie can whip up a witty retort, Mr. Big Red comes back for more, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the high counter of the bar, “hey honey, better stop serving this prick, he can’t handle his liquor like a real man.”

The swinging doors open and there you are again, struggling beneath the keg you’re carrying. He wanted to jump up and grab it from you, but Eddie was still pinned to the bar by the guy's hand on his bicep, tightening more and more.

Your eyes reach his and it’s like you don’t even see him.

“Agh, c’mon Mick,” you say, a warm smile on your lips, “I like ‘em nice and drunk, that’s when they tip the best.”

You set the keg down with a metallic thud on the floor, grabbing a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. The mahogany liquid pours smoothly, much like the dark eyes watching you, and heat crawls up your neck.

Sliding one towards Mick, you hold the other up by your black painted fingers, Clinking them together with a ‘cheers’ and bringing the glass to your lips, allowing your eyes to finally glance towards Eddie.

He was taller now. His shoulders, more broad, filling in the teenage lithe muscles that fit his frame then. His baby face disappeared entirely, now his chin was stretched with a sharp jaw, which was currently clenched like he was holding back anger, his throat bobbing in a dance of tattooed skin.

You swallow the liquor in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slips down your throat, the same fire that’s staring from across the counter. Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes from yours.

A twitch forms in your eyelid and you blink it away, setting the glass down hard on the wooden countertop.

You lean your body across the bar, collecting the glassware that’s accumulated since you had been hiding in the cooler. Placing them gently into the warm sudsy sink to wash before filling the small dishwasher below.

Mickey was already turned back around, talking loudly to Wendy and trying to get her to sit on his lap for five bucks. His grip on Eddie’s arm turns limp when you slide him another shot, just for good measure.

The bar is chaotic, loud and boisterous, but the air between you and Eddie is quiet, stagnant, no warmth from you. Icicles could form from your frigid silence.

He knocks his knuckles against the bar, big gaudy rings clacking along, keeping in rhythm to the music playing overhead, but you don’t give in. Don’t humor him by asking how or why he knew Rock Me Amadeus.

“Hey V,” you call out to your work partner, “get this stranger a drink before he gets a parking ticket.”

Swiveling away from him, you squat down to maneuver the keg to where it needed to go, rocking it on its rounded edge and swiveling it into place.

Veronica’s voice is cheery and dripping with sex appeal as she asks Eddie what he wants to drink, and you can’t misplace the deepness of his voice, and the polite way he tells her that he’s fine for the evening.

Cracking the top of the keg, you hook it up to the correct tap, shoving with all your might to get it in under the cabinet and slotted in properly.

Spending more time than necessary below the bar, you avoid the warm chocolate eyes waiting for you up above.

What were you supposed to say to him? Thank God you’re home? What the hell did he even want?

An ant is huddled around a spilled drop of grenadine, you watch as it collects the sticky treat—what you wouldn’t give to switch places with the insect for a few hours.

If one thing was certain you would need a little encouragement to make it through tonight and the haunting memories that shuddered through you every time you looked at Eddie.

Your purse was in the cubby over to the right, nimble fingers find the familiar plastic of the bottle, screwing off the top and clicking three pills into your hand.

A greedy palm finds your lips, your eager tongue accepting the drugged gift. Swallowing without any liquid, your spit was more than enough to coat the tablets, watering upon knowing the relief you’ll be met with.

More shouts and hollers boom through your ears, this time in celebration.

“Where’d you go sweet cheeks? Need a round, Bobby just found out his girl isn’t pregnant!”

Duty called, and you knew those dark eyes were still waiting for you, hide and seek was done for now, and in a few short minutes, you’d feel like you were flying.

Boots planted firm on the sticky tiles, you push yourself up, fully expecting a litter of questions. But when you face him, he’s quiet. Silently watching your every move.

Not in a way you’re watched by every other slimeball in this town, his eyes never once flicking over your curves or the deep v of your shirt.

Eddie was admiring the woman you’d become. The shy girl he once knew was replaced by a force to be reckoned with. Did you become that way because he left? No longer having him around to stick up for you?

He pushed out those thoughts, thoughts of you alone.

The way you fleetingly moved from drunk to drunk, collecting tips and pouring drinks, you were a natural. no longer the girl that was afraid of spiders and slept with a nightlight. What should have been a comfort in his heart stretched into an angry bruise against his soul.

Warmth riddled your face into a smirk as you dug jabs back at the guys, making them pay up front before they tried to slink away to the back rooms.

Eddie couldn’t miss how the smile never reached your eyes, that glassy lost look couldn’t fool him, another ping of guilt cutting through him like a knife.

You were elbow deep in the warm water now, fingers pruned and slicked with soap when he finally speaks. The counter had cleared up enough that he wasn’t squashed between some greasy assholes, the regulars fighting to get to the best seats closest to the stage. Tiffany on her second set of the night, her shiny heels spinning in the air to Girls, Girls, Girls.

“So I’m a stranger now?”

Your fingers slip on the smooth surface of a glass and it hits the bottom of the sink with a thud at the sound of his voice, thankfully not breaking. Looking up, the smile fades as you stare back at him, fully allowing yourself to take him all in. “what else would you be?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Slick,” his hands twirl the rings on his left hand, “a friend.”

Your laugh is filled without humor, sheer mockery as you shake your hands above the sink ridding them of suds and water.

“Friend…” the scoff is thick in your throat, swallowing a ball of vomit before you continue, “that’s rich isn’t it?”

“Clove..”

“…y’know…I had one of those once,” you say, eyes dead behind your irises, moving to the spouts of the draft beer, “at least I thought he was.”

“Can we talk?” he pleads.

“..think I’ve heard more than enough…” slapping down two heavy beers in front of him, you glare into muddy brown eyes, trying not to let yourself feel the pain in your chest, “these two are on the house.”

Without a second glance or even a fuck you, you stomp towards the dressing room, leaving him sitting alone to sit alone at the bar, and for a split second you allow yourself to feel good it. His turn to be left in the dust this time.

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani i @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler @succubusmunson @hereforshmut @alyisdead

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie fan fiction #eddie fanfiction #eddie fanfic #best friend eddie

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yeonzzzn · 9 months ago

Text

👑why is it so heavy?: choi soobin

pairing: soobin x afab!reader word count: 3.2k

synopsis: what is heavier than the burdens of being a princess with normal princess duties being forced to marry a man you do not want or have anything to do with? the heaviness of seeing the prince you want being forced to marry a woman he also does not want. what’s even heavier? the weight of not being able to do anything about it.

genre: royalty!soobin, royalty!reader, arranged marriage, forbidden love, modern day royalty au.

warnings: swearing, cheating, one make out session, mentions of sex, one d!ath joke, no happy ending.

You stared at him. Watching the way his hair parted perfectly and shaped his face. How his smile which showed how bright his teeth were, was enough to melt your heart.

His cream-colored royal jacket with golden buttons and wave design covering his chest and torso made his tanned skin glow perfectly. His tailor really knew what colors looked and matched him beautifully.

He shook hands with the king of the neighboring country, giving him a soft bow.

You couldn’t hear what they were speaking, but that didn’t stop you from tilting your head to give your ear a better listen, even though it didn’t work.

His eyes finally met yours, his already perfect smile growing even wider at the sight of you.

But your smile faded seeing his future wife wrap her around tightly around his waist, causing his attention to be brought to her. His smile wasn’t as wide when smiling at her, but it was still perfect all the same.

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, her giggles being heard from where you stood.

Prince Soobin, the man of your dreams. Love of your life. Someone you couldn’t have.

You turned around, your hands gripping your royal blue gown.

“Princess,” your caretaker softly said, “You’ll ruin your gown, be more gentle.”

You adored your caretaker, she’s been with you since you were born. Was there when your mother gave birth to you and watched you grow up and even taught you everything you know. She even knew your secrets, and god bless her for keeping them.

She leads you down the hall, taking you to meet your father for your daily lunch in the garden.

If only you saw how saddened the prince's eyes became when you turned your back towards him, watching as you turned the corner and disappeared.

—

“Princess,” Soobin sang, peeking around the pillar you stood at.

The prince was no longer in his princely outfit. Now he wore light blue jeans, black Converse, a white button-up shirt with a black tie, and a brown jacket.

It was what he liked to call his “normal people fit.” You had to admit, you preferred seeing him like this. Without all the royal glamor. Just normal. No titles. Or the reminders.

Soobin also preferred you in “normal people outfits.” Mostly the one you’re wearing right now. The dark blue skinny jeans with white sneakers, a soft pink tank top, and a cream cardigan. It made his heart flutter.

You tilted your head up and smiled at him, the moonlight making his brown eyes pop beautifully.

“Come here,” he whispered, his hand reaching around your waist and pressing your body to his. Lips connecting to yours immediately.

You’ve known Soobin your entire life. Your families are really close, both your fathers being lifelong best friends.

You lived in the neighboring country and only took visits to see the royal Choi family when your father had time, which only happened twice to three times a year.

But darkness fell to your country, forcing you and your family to flee. The Choi family took you in with no questions asked. Your father was grateful.

The war happening on your territory was brutal, your family worried you would never be able to return. But alas the war ended a couple of years after. But obviously, your family never returned home.

King Choi extended his home to your family, setting a good deal with your father for the two of them to just rule over this kingdom together. Your father accepted.

You were so young when you fled your country, you barely remember what it even looked like. Your older siblings on the other hand, unfortunately, have to deal with that darkness for the rest of their lives.

So you grew up in the Choi’s castle. You weren’t super close with Soobin at first. You both were super shy and always hid behind your parents or siblings when forced to interact with each other. But as time went on, the two of you dropped the shy act and finally became friends.

Soobin at the age of twelve was then sent off to a boarding school, following in the footsteps of his two older siblings did at that age.

He was gone for years, not returning home until he was twenty.

You were in the middle of your studies at the local cafe in town (that you ultimately snuck out to do) when the word got around that Prince Soobin had returned home after eight years.

You rushed back to the castle, sneaking in through the garden and into your bedroom window, quickly changing into a nice dress and rushing out to greet him in the royal dining hall.

The first thing you noticed was how much taller he was, your once best friend sprouted up. He filled perfectly into his body and you could tell he took into working out. His jawline was so sharp you swore it could cut into diamonds. He grew up nicely.

To say that everything was back to normal would be a lie. Soobin was like a whole different person. He was a man, and oh goodness did he send butterflies in your belly.

Your attraction didn’t go unnoticed by him. No, no, Soobin noticed the moment you two locked eyes again for the first time in eight years. He saw how your pupils dilated, how your chest raised and fell when you looked at him. The unease in your breath when you spoke to him. It sets emotions in place with you that he hasn’t ever felt before.

Of course, when Soobin was away he had his fair share of other females to fit his needs, but none of them had that one thing he wanted. And all it took was locking eyes with you again after all these years to see you were what he always wanted.

Soobin and you spent more time together than you normally did as kids. Sneaking out of the castle or into each other's bedrooms at night. It was obvious the two of you felt something.

He’d steal quick kisses from you in passing during his and your royal duties. Passing notes to you in the halls with times and where to meet him next.

Soobin filled your heart so quickly. Becoming your first of everything.

You remember the night he laid you gently on the grass under the moonlight hidden in the corner of the garden. His hands softly undressed you until you were completely bare to him. Your hands help undress him.

His hands felt so gentle against your skin as he touched you. He touched you with such passion, with so much love.

The way his bare skin felt against yours sent you into heaven as his hips rolled into yours, biting the edge of his shoulder to keep your moans from getting too loud.

Your secret relationship was beautiful, perfect, and filled with so much love and care. The two of you were finally ready to come forward about your relationship of almost a year.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen.

Both your fathers had other plans. King Choi found the “perfect match” for his son, announcing the arranged marriage. And your father, bless his dear heart, found a suitor for you as well, arranging a marriage for you as well.

Soobin remembered clenching his fist and yelling at his father at the dinner table that night. You sat silently beside him, eyes locked onto your plate of food.

“And what if I don’t want to marry?!” Soobin snapped, his fists slamming on the table.

“And that’s something you can’t control!” the king fired back, “It’s already been done. We didn’t send you off for eight years to enhance your languages and studies for nothing!”

That angered Soobin even more, “So I am just some thing to be sent off for your own personal gain?!”

The king sat quietly. Soobin’s mother also sat quietly, her hands in her lap.

Your family also said nothing. Eyes glancing between the Choi family.

“You’ll be wed by the age of twenty-four,” his father finally said, “You’ll be meeting your princess in two days. Fix your attitude before then.”

Soobin said nothing and stormed out of the dining room.

You were also to be wedded off by twenty-four. You were a couple of months younger than Soobin, meaning you’d be the one to watch him get married off first.

It’s been two years since that conversation. Soobin was scheduled to be married off shortly after he turned twenty-four in December. Only seven months away.

You and Soobin kept secretly seeing each other, only now you had to be even more careful than before.

Soobin’s future wife moved into the castle shortly after they met. Thank god she had her own room though.

You also met your future husband not too long after the other princess moved in. He was sweet, nice, very caring, could sing, rap, dance, and was a big ramen enthusiast. He looked at you like you put the stars in the sky.

Unfortunately for him, you wanted nothing to do with him. A friendship, maybe? But nothing more. Soobin felt the same for his princess. She was sweet, and nice, could also sing and dance, and was even a painter. But he could only take so much being around her.

You two had to fake it until you made it. Praying that one day your families call off the whole thing to begin with. But with only a handful of months left, it was clear your fathers weren’t changing their minds.

Which just brings you two where you are now.

Standing in your spot in the garden that overlooked the city below. Soobin’s hands slid up and down your body as he pressed you between him and the pillar.

His tongue twisted around yours, mixing your salvia together. He rolled his hip into you, feeling his hard length against your stomach, “You never fail to get me so hard,” he whispered against your lips.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Now now my love, princes don’t speak so naughty like that,”

Soobin smiled against your lips, “Can’t help it when you make me feel this way.”

Soobin always had a small crush on you even as children, it was why he was so shy at the beginning. He took that small crush with him even when he was abroad, thinking maybe that’s why it never worked out with the other females he dated.

But when he came back home and saw how grown up you become, the way your hair was so much longer, how your body filled out to its curves. The way your breasts look perfect no matter the outfit or dress you wore. You were a woman, a woman he wanted to ruin and keep only for himself.

Soobin loved you, so so very much. You held his heart in his hands and held the very power to crush it at your will.

You pulled away from his lips, leaning your head back against the pillar, “Want to hold me while we look at the stars?”

Soobin kissed your forehead, his hands now resting on your hips, “Anything for you, my princess.”

Soobin sat on the grass, his back against the pillar and your back against his chest. His hands are wrapping around you tightly.

You two sat in silence, your head resting against his neck as he was on top of your head.

“Have you had sex with her yet?” you don’t know what caused you to even ask that question. But with only several months left until Soobin was to be wed to her, your curiosity got the best of you.

Due to the fact you're both arranged to be married to two separate people, you’ve both spent most of your time with your fiancés if you weren’t busy with normal royal duties.

“YN…” he said, his arms now falling at his side, “We don’t have to do this.”

You knew you didn’t. But your brain wouldn’t settle down until the question was answered.

“I know,” you whispered, “I’m just asking.”

Soobin bit his lip, leaning his head back against the pillar, “It happened for the first time the other night. She snuck into my room.”

You just nodded. You weren’t mad or even jealous. You understood it was bound to happen. They’ll be married in months. And if Soobin shrugged her off it would be suspicious.

“You and Yeonjun?” his shaky voice asked, “Have you?”

You didn’t lie, just gave him a small nod, “Last night. I wasn’t feeling good and he brought me some tea and read my favorite book to me. It kinda just happened.”

It would take everything Soobin had to not throw a punch at Yeonjun the next time he sees him.

But same as you, Soobin understood there was no choice in the matter. Both of you fought your parents until the bitter end and nothing changed. You had to accept your fates.

“No one can pleasure you like me though,” he said, wrapping his arms back around you, “Only I can.”

You just rolled your eyes and leaned back into him. He was right, but hearing him act so cocky was silly to you. Soobin knew he was it for you.

“YN,” he said with a kiss to your temple, “Let’s run away together.”

You giggled, “That’s a funny joke, where would we even go?”

Soobin just shrugged, “Anywhere you wanted. We could get away from all this. Live normal lives.”

As tempting as that was, you knew your fathers would stop at nothing to bring you both home. You’d both be found out and permanently forced away from each other. It would cause too much trouble. You both knew it.

“Bin,” you whispered, “You know we can’t.”

He did know. And it killed him. Oh, the things he’d do to have a normal life with you. To leave behind this royalty bullshit. To give up his titles and money and status. He didn’t care. He just wanted you.

“What if we just, ya know,” you shrugged, “Suddenly die in each other's arms?” it was a joke obviously, Soobin knew it too by the chuckle that left his mouth.

“You mean like Romeo and Juliet?” Soobin couldn’t help but chuckle again, “That was such a depressing death though.”

You giggled with him, “At least, we’d be together in the afterlife.”

Soobin nodded, “Still a terrible way to go out, the way they did.”

Your phone vibrating in your pocket pulled you back to reality.

Soobin sighed, “It’s Yeonjun, isn’t it?”

You nodded. You didn’t have to check to know that it was in fact Yeonjun. He probably went to your room and saw you weren’t there and was looking for you.

“You should go,” he whispered, standing up from behind you, “What will you tell him?”

Soobin helped you to your feet, dusting off the grass from the back of your legs, “That I was in the library or something. I don’t know yet.”

Soobin just nodded, his hands cupping your face and crashing his lips to yours for the final time for tonight.

“I love you, my princess,” he whispered between kisses.

“I love you too, my sweet prince,” you whispered back, pulling yourself away from him, his hands lingering on your hands as you walked away and his fingertips met with yours and then were gone, watching you quickly rush back inside the castle.

—

The months flew by quicker than you wanted. Yeonjun sat beside you, his fingers rubbing against yours, “This is a very beautiful wedding venue,” he said, eyes wandering around, taking in the building and its Greek architecture as the snow fell outside and covered the windows, “I hope our wedding will be this beautiful or even better.”

You just smiled at him and nodded, “I’m sure it will be,”

Yeonjun couldn’t hold back his smile and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips, “I can’t wait to marry you next week.”

You tried to pull the most genuine smile you could, hoping he wouldn’t see the lies that were beneath it.

How could you be happy right now? The love of your life was going to walk through those doors at any minute and wait for his fiancé. They’d be married soon and everything between you and Soobin would come to an end officially.

The moment you dreaded finally happened. Soobin walked in, everyone gawking at how handsome he looked, asking if he was ready and nervous.

If you didn’t know Soobin, you would think he was actually happy right now. But since you do, you could tell he was bullshitting his whole way through this. The sadness in his eyes and the way he looked at you with Yeonjun was proof enough as it was.

Soobin walked over to you, Yeonjun quickly standing up to shake his hand, “Congrats, man. You’ll be a great husband, I know it!”

You tried to not roll your eyes at your fiancé’s comment. Yeonjun knew you and Soobin were best friends and he tried so hard since moving into the castle to befriend Soobin too. Saying you’d all be a group of best friends soon enough.

Let’s just say Yeonjun is still working on that. Soobin wasn’t giving him the time of day in that department.

All Soobin did was nod and give Yeonjun a fake smile, his eyes darting to you, “You better be a good husband for her. She deserves the world.”

Yeonjun quickly nodded, placing a hand on your back, “I’ll take good care of her, don’t you worry.”

Soobin took one last glance between you two and walked away.

“He looks nervous,” Yeonjun whispered as he sat back down.

No, he just doesn’t like you because you get to marry me and he doesn’t and he’s being forced to marry someone he doesn’t want.

The famous wedding music started playing, and your heart nearly stopped.

The wedding went by quickly, the final vows being told, and Soobin and his princess officially being confirmed as husband and wife. The crowd clapped and cheered.

Soobin took one final look at you, his eyes telling you how much he loved you for the last time before leaning in to kiss his now wife.

You looked down at the floor, hands going limp in your laps.

Yeonjun noticed you, him touching her back, “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

You shook your head, quickly standing up after hearing the rest of the crowd stand as well.

Except you were the first to leave your seat and quickly leave the venue.

Soobin’s eyes followed you the whole way, his heart breaking into a million pieces.

You stepped out into the cold, letting the snow fall onto you. You cried. You let the tears fall and your knees buckle down to the ground, your dress soaking up the wet from the snow.

Soobin was no longer yours.

And the weight of that was heavy.

Why is it so heavy? You weren’t meant for each other in the end.

So why was it so heavy?

Why is everything so heavy?

#myhome #choi soobin #soobin x reader #reader x soobin #txt #txt x reader #reader x txt #tomorrow x together #txt fanfiction #txt fanfic #txt angst #txt scenarios #txt imagines #forbidden love #royalty au #soobin angst #yeonzzzn writing

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