#i think he's taking it as input on HIS personal life and what he does with HIS relationships and HIS ex (wife) (lol)

[ms-spkhd]

Part one

Admittedly, Eddie feels really fucking stupid about it in retrospect. Jeff tells him, in that soft and placating way he tells him anything, that he should stop worrying about his hindsight bias. Yeah, right. Hindsight bias doesn't apply for Steve Harrington dangling himself in front of Eddie's face like the metaphorical carrot on a stick.

It feels like a kick in the head, if anything. One that rattles his brain against his skull like the ricochet of a bullet. Or a maraca with a single, tiny bead in it, if he wants to be more technical about it.

But that's beside the point. What's important is that Steve Harrington is, like, into Eddie--which definitely throws all of his preconceived notions about boy wonder with serial monogamy problems of the heterosexual variety out of the fucking window and past the goalpost--and Eddie's been farting around for the past few months twiddling his fucking thumbs about it.

Well, it's not definitive.

The more that Eddie ruminates on it--and he spends several nights ruminating on it--Jeff's theory that Steve might be tipping the Kinsey scale sounds like...well. A theory.

It's the doubt that comes rearing its head that stops Eddie in his tracks from actually doing anything.

("Wow," Jeff grumbles as they hotbox in the back of Jeff's hand-me-down olive green Pinto a week after their stunning revelation, "trust Virgin Supreme to self-sabotage when someone is begging for you to climb on his lap and--"

"I told you that in confidence," Eddie spits as he digs through the glove compartment for a cassette to replace the oft-abused Kill 'Em All tape that's been blaring on repeat for the past two hours. "You're really mean when you're high, you know that, right?"

Jeff shrugs and takes a hit of the blunt they've been sharing. "I'm releasing my inhibitions. You can't silence me.")

Eddie trusts Steve. Of course he'd lay down his life for the man that dragged him out of hell without a single look behind like a preppy fucking Orpheus. But there's always the lingering thought that, despite everything they've gone through together, Eddie loving Steve would be the tipping point that ruins everything.

He finds himself balancing the line of keeping it in, too scared of the risk his heart will pose on their friendship, and fully committing to the pipe dream of Steve Harrington possibly wanting him back.

And, in Jeff's wise words, Biblically.

"Hey, Bird," Eddie asks Robin one night at the drive-in theater when Steve's out buying their snacks--medium popcorn loaded with cheddar powder and butter for Eddie, since he just popped a Lactaid ten minutes beforehand, and Milk Duds for Robin--"What would you do, hypothetically, if you think someone is really into you--"

"Here we go," Robin sighs, leaning back in the passenger seat. Eddie can't help but feel miffed at her dismissive attitude, but he knows for a fact that she's all ears.

"--And you, hypothetically, really like them back, but you don't know for sure if they actually, hypothetically, want you, or if it's just wishful thinking on your part?"

"Any you mean this totally hypothetically?" Robin says as she turns to face the rear seats where he's sitting and chewing at his cuticles.

"Yeah. This is a theoretical situation that I want your input in. Think of it like a...thought experiment."

Robin nods with narrowed eyes, like she sees through the bullshit with an all-seeing eye. "Right. Thought experiment. Is this hypothetical person a queer or not?"

"It never crossed your mind," Eddie confirms. "She looks like the posterchild of suburban heterosexuality, but she's gotten very invested in your very gay sex life out of the blue recently."

"So which one of you is the man invested or tell me about what eating out is like invested?"

"Tell me what eating out is like invested."

Robin hums in thought, tapping her index finger against her chin like the situation is really vexing her. "That sounds pretty gay, Eddie."

She is right, that does sound pretty gay. But it doesn't help him in his predicament at all, since Steve seemed to back off about the 'so do you play rock paper scissors to find out who gets it?' questions after Eddie frustratedly admitted that 'DnD club president and metalhead virgin at almost twenty' wasn't exactly a hot item in Indianapolis, much less Hawkins.

"Okay, new layer," Eddie says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "What if, say, instead of asking you out--which you think is her next move--she starts trying to set you up with a bunch of girls you don't know."

There's muffled chatter from outside the Beemer's windows. Cars rev in the distance as they pull into the lot. Eddie watches Robin in contemplative silence as she thinks through her answer.

"That is difficult," she concedes, and Eddie is feeling more desperate than ever. "Can't imagine that ever happening to me."

Eddie mumbles, "Thank God it's a hypothetical."

"But if you think about it, it's either some misguided attempt to put me out there, or it's a Hail Mary to get me to realize I like her."

"Okay, well. Both options seem pretty hard to differentiate when you don't know what the fucking context behind the action is."

"For what it's worth," Robin says, her expression softening ever-so-slightly, "I think it's the Hail Mary. It's not my place to tell, but you should really give up the idea that it's wishful thinking and give it a shot."

Eddie's a millisecond away from asking, is it that obvious? before there's a sharp knock against his window. He yelps, head whipping around to find Steve with that sly grin slapped on his stupid, handsome face.

Eddie rolls down the window and tries to school his expression. He doesn't need to, really, because Steve shoves the popcorn into his hands and declares, "A medium sized popcorn with cheddar powder and lots of fucking butter for you, my friend. Bone of a teeth."

"Just fucking say it regularly," Robin groans as he yanks open the drivers seat door and tosses her a box of Milk Duds. "I know you can, you jackass!"

Steve laughs, full and hearty, as he turns to look at Eddie in the rear seats. He's like bottled-up sunshine contained into the shape of an American heartthrob. He's like Venus as a boy.

Eddie feels like he's staring down the barrel of a gun.

Another week of ruminating goes by, this time with Robin's words echoing in his head like a reverb pedal, and Eddie keeps that yellow pick near his heart the entire time. It's a real push and pull type situation, he realizes. His heart goes one way, his brain goes the other, which is fucking typical.

He doesn't talk to Jeff about it, because he knows he'll get the same answer, and he doesn't dare talk to Robin about it again. He feels she knows too much, and he has know idea how much she's accidentally telepathically transferred to Steve.

Eddie is about halfway through debating shaving his hair off as a way of regaining control when he finds Steve standing on his doorstep like a fucking Mormon.

"Eddie, man," Steve says with zero preamble, "my cousin's boyfriend has a roommate that I think you'd like."

"Nice weather we're having," Eddie responds blankly. Frankly, with the way things are going, he's getting sick of it.

But he can't help the way that Steve still looks beautiful as his eyebrows bunch together and pretty pink lips pinch into a thin line.

"Come on, man. I think this'll be a good start for you. I think he's into the same bands as you. I think Kathy said he was a Skid Row roadie, or something like that."

"I'm not that big of a Hair Metal guy," Eddie admits, and Steve deflates a bit.

"Well, if it helps, he kind of looks like me.' Jesus Christ. "Devastatingly handsome and all."

Eddie's damn near about to snap like a worn-out Stretch Armstrong being mauled by two pitbulls. He feels like he's about to blow a fucking gasket in front of the guy he's been holding very ill-advised affection towards since his sophomore year of high school. The very same guy who's been trying to set Eddie up with literally everyone with a functioning penis with exception of himself, the only guy Eddie has wanted. Ever.

There's no way Steve is that dense, right?

Eddie knows that the guy's smart, despite everyone telling him otherwise. Steve can definitely do mental math better than Eddie can dream of doing--since Frankie Gershwin passed down the sacred Hellfire DM calculator once Eddie took over Hellfire after he graduated--and he actually graduated on time, unlike yours truly.

But Eddie doesn't fucking get it.

"Steve," Eddie blurts, rather unceremoniously, "what are you doing?"

Steve blinks. His smile wanes dangerously low. "...I'm setting you up with a handsome dude."

"I don't understand why you're doing this though. Are you fucking with me, or something?"

"No, dude, I just..." Steve's expression shifts. His shoulders sag and he rakes a hand through his hair. He looks devastatingly earnest. "I just want to see you happy."

"If you want me to be happy," Eddie snaps, "then just ask me out yourself, since I've fucking been in love with you since April."

Steve freezes, hazelnut eyes like full moons on dinnerplates.

Eddie's hand flexes on the doorknob as he resists the white-hot urge to slam the door shut on Steve's shocked face. Maybe he should take a vacation down south to Mexico. Perhaps change his name and never come back. Hopefully there'll be sweet and earnest boys with olive skin and luscious hair waiting for him on the beaches of Cancun. Holy shit this is a fucking disaster.

"Oh," Steve says.

"Yeah, oh."

"You love me?" Steve asks, eyes sparkling like the rural sky. He draws closer to Eddie, raising a hand that begs to touch him.

"When have I not?" Eddie admits as leans into Steve's touch against his shoulder and laces their fingers together.

I guess I was, uh. I wasn't expecting it." Steve smiles softly and gazes at their intertwined hands.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love me too?"

"Oh God." It's like Eddie's staring straight into the sun, with the ways Steve's smile grows more intense with each second. He wants to have it burned into his retinas. "Of course I do. It feels so stupid how much I'm obsessed with you."

"You know, you have a weird way of putting it, what with all the setting me up with guys I don't know," Eddie chirps. Steve chuffs and shakes his head like a guilty dog.

"I guess I wasn't expecting you to want me back. I wasn't sure you'd go for guys like me."

For jocks hangs heavy and silent in the air between them, as if Steve hasn't quite jumped over that hurtle of guilt over the person he was in high school. Sure, he was king of the letter crowd, but he's nothing like the douchebag from '83. Steve would never shove him into a locker or be a general chest-beating moron around Eddie, because he's not a moron. He's sweet and dorky and a little misguided, sometimes, but he has the heart of the size of a mack truck and a kindness to show it.

The thought of Steve talking Eddie's ear off about Sportsketball and the works sends an excited little shiver down his spine.

"I would," Eddie says, completely and utterly honestly. "God, I would for you."

He brings Steve's hand to his lips and smacks a wet kiss over the soft skin. "And the necklace..."

"That was my Hail Mary," Steve admits with a bashful shrug of his shoulders.

"I haven't taken it off since you've given it to me."

Steve releases his grip from Eddie's spindly hand and brushes his fingertips against Eddie's collarbone, tugging at the chain of the necklace until it untucks itself from underneath Eddie's shirt. Eddie watches the way that Steve lights up like a fucking electrical surge at the hint of sunshine yellow against his pale skin. It makes Eddie flush a bright red.

And when Steve's palm flattens against Eddie's chest and pushes him inside Eddie's new government loaned trailer, he lets himself be pushed against the wall and kissed.

And kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

Sufficed to say, when Eddie wakes up the next morning with Steve drooling against the back of his neck and his warm hand splayed against the skin of his naked chest, Eddie vows to always take Jeff's word for it.

____________

holy shit i was not expecting for part one to get that much fanfare. to be honest, i was totally intending for it to be a one and done to explore eddie and jeff's friendship, and believe me, my heart is so warmed by the reception it got. i recently have gotten myself out of a months long slump and have been swamped with college work, so i apologize for my writing being so few and far between. thank you all and i hope this is the resolution you were waiting so patiently for! :)

@grtwdsmwhr @eyehartart @bananahoneycomb @notasmoothman @colidamae

[ellewritesx]

cabin pressure

Summary: He's your boss. You're his assistant. But 30,000 feet in the air, it's not exactly tour logistics he's asking you to handle.

Warnings: fingering, handjob, public sex, slight praise kink, a little bit of dom!Harry

A/N: thanks for the love on my first fic! this is the first smutty fic i've written, so you know the drill; don't take it too seriously. let me know if i've forgotten any warnings or if you'd like a part two because i've got some ideas ;) enjoy x

Word Count: 3,329

...

The cabin rumbles with a soft, steady vibration beneath your feet, the kind that settles in your bones after a while, a quiet reminder that you're thirty-thousand feet in the air with nothing but a view of the top of the clouds outside the window.

You've gotten so used to plane rides that they feel like buses now.

Life on the road tended to blur together after a while. Cities changed, skies shifted, but the routine stayed mostly the same: wake, work, soundcheck, show, sleep. Rinse and repeat. But somewhere in that loop, magic lived. The sound of a crowd screaming in the moments before Harry took the stage. The quiet backstage hum of instruments being tuned. The weird little moments, like brushing your teeth next to Harry in the bathroom of a green room or eating post-show ramen in sweatpants with the crew at 2 a.m. It wasn't glamorous, not always. But it was real. And weirdly beautiful.

But right now, there's no excited chatter echoing off the polished surfaces, no quiet strumming of an instrument, no 5-minute calls. Just the soft roaring of the engine and the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep behind a curtain. It's late and you're flying somewhere above the Atlantic, everyone tucked away for the red-eye haul to Lisbon.

Except you.

And Harry.

You're curled up beside him in the plush leather seat, a warm blanket draped over the both of you, your laptop balanced on your thighs, the screen casting a faint glow across your face. The soft click of the trackpad is the only sound between you as you scroll through the updated tour logistics: merch drop schedules, radio interviews, VIP timetables, revised set list cues...

You're focused. Professional. And painfully aware of how close Harry's knee is to yours.

''Alright,'' you speak up softly, not looking at him. ''I just need your input on the new Paris VIP plan. They want to add a backstage Q&A before soundcheck, only thirty minutes, but it overlaps with your press block. I told them I'd check with you first.''

Harry's quiet for a beat. You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, even though you're pretending not to.

''What do you think I should do?'' he asks eventually, voice low, almost sleepy.

Your stomach tightens. He does that often. Asks for your thoughts, your judgement, like he actually values your opinion. You try to ignore the way it makes your stomach churn and remind yourself that this is in your job description.

''I think we should move the press slot,'' you say, typing a note quickly. ''You'll have more time to reset before soundcheck that way. And you like talking to the fans. You always leave in a better mood.''

He huffs a quiet laugh. ''You pay attention to my mood, do you?''

Shit.

You blink at your screen, then glance over at him. He's leaning against the armrest, hoodie sleeves pushed up, tattoos half-hidden in the soft light. One rogue curl has graciously fallen above his brow and his lips are tilted in the barest smirk.

''Comes with the territory,'' you say quickly, like it's no big deal. ''I need to know when to avoid you.''

That makes him laugh, low and raspy, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you look back at your screen. It's fine. You're fine.

You've been his personal assistant for over a year now. You've memorized his schedule, his allergies, his coffee order and the name of the plushie he brings on tour, despite vehemently denying it. You know when he's tense, when he needs quiet, when he needs to be left alone. You're loyal, always. Unshakable.

And hopelessly, stupidly, quietly in love with him.

But he doesn't know that. Can't know that. You're too good at your job for that kind of mistake.

And you love your job. There was something electric about being on tour: the long nights, the endless movement, the rush of showtime. You loved the chaos of it all, how no two days were the same. You loved the adrenaline that kicked in when a last-minute change had to be made, and you were the one everyone looked to for the fix. It gave you purpose, grounding. And honestly, you thrived in it.

Even in the exhausting moments, the jet lag, the back-to-back shows, the late-night emails... you never once regretted taking this job. Being around music, around the team, around him, made everything worth it.

You'd slipped into the rhythm of the tour crew like you'd been part of it for years. There was something comforting about the way everyone moved together, the shared glances, the inside jokes, the group breakfasts in hotel lobbies.

You were the youngest on the team, but nobody made you feel small. They trusted you, and more importantly, they liked you. Jeff always brought you coffee when you looked like hell. Pauli made you laugh when you were wound too tight. It felt like family. Loud, messy, and wildly dysfunctional, but it was yours.

And Harry's an incredible boss, to nobody's surprise. He was thoughtful. Kind. A little quiet in meetings, but always listening. Always noticing. He never barked orders, he asked, genuinely. And when he thanked you for something, it wasn't in that empty, offhanded way people often do. He meant it. You could feel it in the way he said your name. It made you want to work harder, not out of obligation, but because he deserved that kind of loyalty.

''I should finish this before we land,'' you murmur, starting to scroll again. ''Still need to go through wardrobe notes for Madrid.''

You don't notice the way he watches you, how his gaze trails from focused eyes down to your parted lips, how he swallows when your fingers twitch on the keyboard.

''You never let me help,'' he points out softly, drawing your attention back to him.

You blink. ''Help with…?''

''Any of this,'' he gestures toward your screen. ''You do everything. Handle everything. I don't know how you're not burnt out yet.''

''I'm your assistant. It's kind of my job, Harry,'' you say with a soft chuckle and a slight tilt of your head, confused.

''You're the best assistant I've ever had,'' he hums, eyes dark.

Something about the way he says it makes your heart stutter.

You weren't sure when it happened exactly, when your feelings shifted, digging deeper into your skin than just a work relationship. Maybe it was the night in Atlanta when he stayed behind after everyone left the venue just to help you find your clipboard, calming you with hushed reassurances as you spiraled.

Or maybe it was how he never let anyone talk over you in meetings, always circling back to your points, asking what you thought. It was slow, creeping, this ache in your chest every time he smiled at you like he knew you, really knew you. You told yourself it would pass.

But that night in Austin you'd known. You'll never forget the way your breath had caught in your throat.

The setlist had already been printed, laminated, sent to every team lead. Your favorite song, a deep cut he rarely performed, wasn't on it. It never was. But during the encore, he looked over his shoulder at you backstage, smirked, and softly said into the mic, ''Think I'll do one more.'' And just like that, he launched into it.

When he sang the bridge, his eyes finding yours for a split second in the wings, it had felt like a secret. Like he was saying, I see you. I know, and you'd known you'd never be the same after that.

''Don't say things like that,'' you say quietly, forcing a smile. ''I might start thinking you actually like me,'' you joke, a futile attempt to lighten the tension that's suddenly growing between you.

There's a pause. Too long. You risk a glance at him, only to find him already looking at you.

''I do,'' he says.

Just that. Without a teasing lilt to his tone, or the shit-eating grin he usually wears that tells you he's just messing with you.

Your breath catches. Your fingers freeze on the keyboard. ''Harry…''

''I know.'' He looks away quickly, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. ''I shouldn't have said that. You're… important. To me. To the crew. I can't mess that up.''

The silence that follows is loud. You can hear your heart pounding. Feel the ache in your chest, years of unspoken want stretching tight between you.

You glance up at him. And for the first time in months, you let yourself see it. The flushed pink at the tips of his ears. The subtle quickening of his breathing. The way his hand flexes on his thigh like he's stopping himself from reaching for you.

His gaze drops to your lips.

''You don't know how long I've wanted to kiss you,'' he says suddenly, voice barely a whisper, like he doesn't even realize he's saying it out loud.

Your mouth goes dry.

''So why haven't you?'', you whisper. He blinks like he hadn't expected the question.

Then, quietly, he says, ''Because I can't lose you. I reckon the team would fall apart without you. You're too good at your job for me to screw it up... just so I could finally have you.''

You can't breathe. Not when he's looking at you like that. And still, even now, you almost chicken out. Almost.

But then your voice breaks through the thick silence, soft and unsteady.

''What if I said I wanted you to?''

His jaw tenses.

You feel it before you see it, the moment he snaps. Quietly, calmly, but undeniably.

His hand slides over your laptop, closes it, and sets it aside.

''Then come here,'' he says, voice low and dark. ''And let me show you how long I've been waiting.''

And suddenly, you're not just sitting beside your boss anymore. You're alone (well, you're shielded from the rest of the cabin by only a curtain, but close enough) with the man who's been undressing you with his eyes for months. Who knows what you look like on two hours of sleep. Who knows your parents' birthdays, your calendar, the way your lips part when you're concentrating too hard.

And now, you swear he knows the exact second your thighs press together under the blanket.

You hesitate.

Not because you don't want him. God, you want him. But the rest of the crew is right there, just past the curtain. His manager's asleep two rows in front of you. Someone else stirs faintly behind you.

''Harry,'' you whisper, panic tugging at your voice. ''There are people.''

''I know,'' he murmurs, shifting closer. His thigh presses against yours, thick and warm beneath the blanket. ''We'll be quiet. Won't we, sweetheart?''

Sweetheart.

It wrecks you.

His fingers slip beneath the edge of the plush blanket. Nothing scandalous, just resting on your leg, but the promise in the gesture sends heat rocketing through you. You feel like you've been lit from the inside out.

''You can stop me anytime,'' he whispers, lips ghosting your ear. ''But if you let me keep going…'' A pause. A low, shaky breath. ''I'm not gonna be sweet about it.''

You breathe in too fast. Your lungs are full of him: his cologne, his warmth, the tension radiating off him like a second skin.

And you nod.

One small nod.

That’s all it takes.

His hand slides higher.

Slips under the waistband of your shorts. Over your bare thigh. Slow, reverent strokes, like he's committing your skin to memory. You try to stay still. Normal. But your breath is already shaking, and his hand is so sure. Confident. Dangerous.

''You've been wearing these shorts on purpose, haven't you?'' he whispers, breath tickling your neck. ''Walking in front of me. Bending over at every venue. Teasing me. Torturing me.''

You shake your head, a weak protest, but he just chuckles, dark and low.

''Liar,'' he murmurs.

And then his fingers brush the edge of your panties.

You jump. Just a little. But his hand steadies you, palm flat on your thigh, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin.

''Easy,'' he breathes. ''Let me touch you. Please, Y/N. Let me feel how wet you are for me.''

The sound your throat makes is borderline embarrassing, a choked gasp you barely catch in time. You grip the blanket tighter. Focus on breathing, on staying quiet.

''Shh, darling,'' he breathes, voice cracked and needy. ''You're gonna get us caught.''

He doesn't rush.

He slides two fingers over your clothed center, slow and deliberate. Feels the damp heat there and groans, quiet and low, like he's physically in pain.

''Fuck, baby,'' he whispers under his breath. ''You're soaked.''

You bury your face in your hand, heat crawling up your neck at the filthy words coming from your boss' mouth. ''Harry—''

''You've been like this the whole flight?'' he hisses, fingers pressing harder, rubbing circles through the fabric. ''Sitting beside me like a perfect little assistant, meanwhile your cunt's fucking throbbing under that laptop of yours?''

You nod, throat too tight to answer. His fingers trace over the damp fabric, slow and teasing, his touch maddeningly gentle; not enough to satisfy, just enough to torture. He keeps his eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch the moment your self-control snaps.

You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily. His hand is caught there now, stuck between them, exactly where he wants to be.

''Don't do that,'' he warns, voice tight. ''Don't hide from me.''

He presses down harder, fingers deliberately rubbing you through the soaked fabric. To anyone watching, it might not even look all that suspicious. But under the blanket, he's drawing filthy, lazy circles over your clit, just soft enough to make you squirm.

''You like bein' good for me, yeah?'' he murmurs against your temple, breath hot. ''Such a good assistant. Always do what you're told.''

You nod desperately, your hips rolling into his touch before you can stop them. He slides your underwear to the side with a practiced flick of his fingers, making you jolt again, whimpering in your throat. His fingers are on your bare pussy now, hot, thick, and teasing as he parts you slowly, lazily.

''You're gonna make me come in my fucking pants,'' he grits, barely moving his wrist as he slides a finger between your folds. ''You have no idea what you do to me.''

You're shaking.

You've fantasized about this on hotel beds, in green rooms, on long drives while he slept beside you in the tour bus. But nothing could've prepared you for the way he touches you. The way he whispers filth in your ear like it's poetry. Like every word comes straight from his heart.

''Open your legs for me, love,'' he says. ''Let me in.''

You do.

Without hesitation.

You shift, knees falling apart just enough under the blanket, and he rewards you by sliding one thick finger inside.

You gasp, one hand flying to cover your mouth and the other gripping his thigh under the blanket, nails digging in, as he pumps his finger slowly, gently, curling it right against your spot, like he's known your body for years without ever having touched you.

''There she is,'' he murmurs. ''That's my good girl.''

Your eyes roll back.

You grip the seat, try to breathe through your nose and bite your lip so hard you taste blood, your entire body trembling from the effort of staying silent. But he's not being merciful. He's savoring it. Twisting his wrist, adding a second finger, fucking you slow and deep under the cover of that soft blanket while the rest of the crew sleeps just feet away. He scissors you open, making you gasp out softly behind your hand, pressing his thumb to your clit with just enough pressure.

''You're so tight,'' he groans softly. ''Gonna take my cock so fucking well.''

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your hand to stay silent. When you flutter them open slightly, you notice it.

His other hand is moving.

You blink through the dim light.

He's gripping himself under the blanket.

''Harry—''

''Shh,'' he whispers. ''I'm not gonna fuck you yet. Just need your hand. Need to feel you, baby, please.''

You stare at him, dazed. He's got your cunt stretched on two fingers and now he's hard too, thick and flushed and leaking against his fist, the stupid blanket draped over you blocking most of your view.

This shouldn't be happening.

You're his assistant. His team is right there.

And yet your hand is already moving before you can think twice, already wrapping around the base of his cock, warm and slick and heavy in your palm.

''Fucking hell,'' he breathes, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. ''Y/N…'' he pants softly, his chest rising and falling hypnotically.

You stroke him slowly, in rhythm with the way he's fucking your cunt with his fingers. It's a miracle no one's noticed, everyone either asleep or wearing noise-cancelling headphones, the lighting dim, the blanket mercifully thick.

''You feel so good,'' he whispers, leaning closer. ''So warm and wet and perfect. Fuck, I've thought about this every night, getting myself off in the bathroom of every fucking venue while the whole team's waiting for me. I see you watching me every show, looking at me with those doe eyes, practically begging to be fucked, aren't you, baby?''

You whimper, pace quickening. His hips stutter into your hand, his fingers curling hard inside you.

You let out a soft, pained moan into your palm, thighs shaking as he pumps into you faster now, fingers slick and relentless. Your orgasm slams into you, sudden and all-consuming, and your body goes tight, locked up against the seat as he works you through it. Tears sting your eyes as the pleasure tears through you in silent, pulsing waves, Harry whispering praises against your ear as you shake through it.

He groans softly, barely audible, lips brushing your ear as you come undone in his hand.

''That's it. That's my girl. So quiet. So fucking good.''

You stroke him faster now, emboldened. He thrusts into your hand, sharp and desperate.

''I'm gonna come,'' he warns, voice breaking. ''Fuck. Gonna come all over your hand, sweetheart.''

You grip him tighter.

His breath catches, and then he's spilling in your hand, hips jerking, quiet curses hissing through clenched teeth. You feel it coat your skin, warm and messy beneath the blanket.

Neither of you moves for a long moment.

Just panting.

Reeling.

Your hand is still under the blanket, sticky and warm. His hand is still between your thighs, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin as you try to recover.

It takes a full minute before you can breathe again, and when he finally pulls his fingers from you slowly, your body shudders at the loss of connection. He brings them to his lips, sucks them clean without shame, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

''Taste even better than I imagined.''

You stare at him, wide-eyed, wrecked. Boneless. He just smirks, brushing your hair back like nothing happened.

''Next time,'' he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your collarbone, your neck, your jaw. ''I'm fucking you.''

You shiver.

A curtain rustles behind you, someone getting up to grab a water, and you both quickly pull back, sitting up straight.

Like nothing happened.

Like you're just two co-workers sitting beside one another, watching the clouds.

But under the blanket, your hearts are still racing, your cunt still pulsing, the remnants of his release still coating your hand.

And the line between boss and assistant?

Officially obliterated.

''Now,'' he clears his throat, settling back in his seat with a soft smile like he didn't just ruin you, ''about that Dublin setlist.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

[norrisainz33]

stroints || ls18

summary: you attend your first ever grand prix as lance's partner and he has a great season opening weekend!

pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

fc & warnings: none & slightly suggestive at the end. you are responsible for the content you consume!

requested: yes! thank you so much for your request xx

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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chloestroll: wait i love them both. i say wear the white on race day and blue on quali day

ynuser: ooooo good idea! i was considering wearing some aston merch on sunday and one of these on saturday but maybe i do what you said instead

chloestroll: oh i mean aston merch would be cute af too

ynuser: hmmmmmmm too many decisions here bc i also have this super cute jean set that maybe i’ll wear on race day instead ugh idek

lilyzneimer: either way you're going to outshine everyone you're radiant

ynuser: thank you baby girl 😭

lance_stroll: trying not to drool over how fcking gorgeous you are

ynuser: lance stopppp 😭😭

lance_stroll: it’s true!! i’ve somehow bagged the most beautiful girl in the entire world

ynuser: you’re such a sweet talker

lance_stroll: 🤷🏻‍♂️

lilymhe: the white top is to die for pls that one

ynuser: thank you for the input doll

yourbff: hear me out. white top with that gorgeous big gold necklace our favorite man got you

ynuser: no because you’re so right. that’s it! that’s the fit for quali!

flavy_barla: omg personally i'd pick the lace top

ynuser: yesss i think it 100% is the winner

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 18,188 others

f1gossip: is this lance stroll’s lucky charm? meet lance’s new partner, y/n y/l/n, who is making her race day debut! the couple's romance has been the talk of the town ever since those sizzling new year's eve photos were spotted on chloe stroll’s story. will y/n be the secret weapon aston martin’s been waiting for this season? only time will tell!

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user1: oh….. she’s literally so pretty?

user2: cut the tapes! ive seen enough! shes my new favorite wag

user3: god i hope she brings lancey good luck. he needs it fr

user7: no he really does. i just want the best for him this season

user4: did y'all see the way shes wearing an L necklace

user1: stop im too fragile for this

user5: WHO is this diva

user2: if u find out lmk! i just tried to scroll her insta and its private but she seems so normal

user5: lowkey... i think she is just a normal girl... i found her linkedin and she out here having a full time job

user2: this has to be rage bait... shes living my dream

user5: no truly. im so jealous but also im rooting for her?

user6: why did i not know about her sooner?! do we think lance can fight?

user8: he can't fight us all!

user33: no one cares abt her or stroll

user1: the hate is so forced gtfo

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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yourbff: you gotta warn a girl before posting something as scary as that first slide (i say this with love)

ynuser: SCERAMING hes just a goofy lil guy

yourbff: if you say so girly pop

chloestroll: leo and i are curled up and ready to watch uncle lancey bring it home!

ynuser: omg even little leo is watching?! its his first race too <3

chloestroll: we gotta support our favorite uncle!!!!

astonmartinf1: send us that first pic im begging

ynuser: only if you agree to post it on every social media channel you have

astonmartinf1: he's not gonna like that... but for you.... anything xxoo

ynuser: admin you are my favorite

astonmartinf1: and you're mine but don't tell anyone i said that

lilymhe: adjusting to the paddock life?

ynuser: kind of? every time i breath a camera takes another picture of me. i'm terrified they're going to get something embarrassing

lilymhe: hahahaha i mean odds are high that they will. remember what i said and just try to ignore them and act natural. i swear the media can smell fear

ynuser: that must be why they're always around. im sure im radiating it

lilymhe: deep breaths y/n/n its ok

lance_stroll: WHY

ynuser: omg get off ur phone you have a race to score points in

ynuser: oh now you wanna leave me on read ok

flavy.barla: if you need someones hand to squeeze through the the first few laps... you know where to find me babe

ynuser: no i literally am on my way. they haven't even finished the formation lap and i'm going to throw up

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by chloestroll, estebanocon, ynuser, astonmartinf1, boss, scottyjames31, yourbff, flavy.barla and 897,443 others

lance_stroll: a fantastic start to the season! thank you to the team and everyone who worked so hard over the off season to get this car where it is. lets keep this momentum going!!

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user1: a double exclamation???? you must be over the moon my stoic king

ynuser: stroints!!!!!! this calls for a celebration

lance_stroll: yes it does ;)

estebanocon: wait count flavy and i in to this celebration??

flavy.barla: yes please!!!

ynuser: well duhhhh

user5: need photo evidence of this party so bad. f1gossip im counting on you

user2: yayyyyyy lance!!!!

chloestroll: leo and i are so proud of you

scottyjames31: thats our favorite uncle right there!

lance_stroll: love you guys 🤍

user18: y/n made the win photo dump im crying. she's def his good luck charm, i hope she comes to every race

astonmartinf1: well done lance! 💚

user22: thats our goat!! can't help but notice you're ahead of that horse team in the standings... lets keep that going boy

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 22,258 others

f1gossip: because you all asked so nicely and we couldn't not deliver..... we got some intel that a certain driver, his new partner, their friends and a few other drivers are out celebrating the start of the season in melbourne this evening

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user1: AHHHHHH MAN

user5: my goat! you always pull through. idk how u got eyes everywhere

f1gossip: and thats a secret ill never tell xx

user3: WOW lance looks good af im about to start drooling..

user4: y/n one lucky girl thats for dam sure

user5: no genuinely i am so envious

user6: i just fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot

user12: lance i was unfamiliar with your game

user18: esteban and alex are there too so cuteeeeee

user22: he needed this

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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yourbff: girl get off that phone! I am SICKENED by the last photo

ynuser: god forbid a girl have hobbies

yourbff: you right. my bad ms pillow princess

lance_stroll: hheheeh you're so pretty

ynuser: eheheh no you

lance_stroll: i can hear you giggling from the bathroom

ynuser: you caught me

lance_stroll: get back out here

ynuser: yes sir

chloestroll: looks like you guys had a good night.. not sure i needed to see that last photo tho

ynuser: the best night!!! had to make sure to properly celebrate a great start to the season! and yeah sorry pls look scroll away and pretend you didnt see it

chloestroll: hahaaha well i hope next time scotty and i are there with you guys to celebrate together!

ynuser: ugh yes i hope so too 🤍🤍

flavy.barla: petite fille!!!! ohhh thank you for letting este and i tag along this evening i had a blast

ynuser: you are literally always allowed to tag along my love. i seriously am obsessed with you

flavy.barla: feeling is mutual. lets run away together

ynuser: done

lilymhe: petition for us to party after every race together pls you are literally the most fun

ynuser: omg stop YOU are the most fun! but yes ofc lets hang out and do everything together plssssss

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thank you sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it���ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[monster-effer]

Let Him Be Your Guide - Sylus x reader

Summary: Head canon involving what kind of partner Sylus would be with a headempty!reader. Content/Warnings: MDNI, reader is not MC, f!reader and Sylus are dating, fluff, smut, fingering (587 wc) A/N: I randomly started thinking about Sylus dating a reader that doesn’t want to think too much, a reader who always has to be “on” in their daily life and wants to be “off” in their downtime. The reader may have a stressful career, or they may struggle with anxiety, executive dysfunction, or depression, which mentally exhausts them. I hope y’all enjoy, let me know what you think <3

In my opinion, Sylus would be the perfect partner for a headempty!reader because he would make them feel secure and taken care of. No one would dare fuck with the fearsome Onychinus leader. And even if they try, he will swiftly make them regret it with his evol. So by extension, no one will fuck with you either.

If you want to go shopping, Sylus will take you on his motorcycle. He would make sure that you are dressed head to toe in riding gear that he ordered custom made. All you need to do is to hold onto his tapered waist and enjoy the warmth radiating from his body.

Sylus will choose which stores you visit on your shopping trip. He will cradle your hand in his own as he guides you to your destinations. He will handle interacting with the store employees, ask them any questions you may have, and give his opinion on the clothes, shoes, and accessories you show interest in. And of course, he will pay for anything you decide you want. When you are tired of being out in public, he will have your purchases whisked away to his home by Luke and Kieran and drive you back on his motorcycle.

Sylus’ care does not stop when you’re alone together. If you’re feeling needy, Sylus will cater to your every whim. He is always eager to pleasure you because it is yet another opportunity to provide for you and it turns him on.

One of Sylus’ favorite ways to make you see stars is by finger fucking you. And your sole responsibility is to lay back on his bed and let him have his way with you. He warms you up by stroking your mound through your underwear until you soak them. He loves to work you up before slipping your underwear to the side and sinking his fingers deep inside of you while using his thumb to rub hard circles on your clit.

Sylus never tires of feeling your juicy pussy quake around his long, slender fingers. He savors every gasp of pleasure that leaves your mouth. His eyes are glued to your form as he watches you try to jerk away from the overwhelming pressure building within your core.

Sylus also can’t help but whisper sweet praise into your ear as he brings you to your breaking point multiple times over. Nothing is more rewarding to him than leaving you boneless and in a daze.

Sylus never forgets aftercare. He peppers your flushed face with kisses before walking to his bathroom to run you a warm bath. The cupboard in his bathroom is always stocked with your favorite bubble bath scents and pounds of Epsom salt to release any tension left in your muscles.

While you are soaking in the tub Sylus has his personal chef prepare a meal you will enjoy together. No input is needed from you because Sylus is knowledgeable on what type of meals you enjoy the most. The attention he pays to your preferences, wants and needs leave you feeling loved and cherished. You never have to be “on” or lift a finger when you’re with him. You can let yourself be the attendee and not the planner, and for that, you are eternally grateful.

In my opinion, Sylus would be the perfect partner for a reader who wants someone else to take the reins, for a reader that struggles with anxiety, executive dysfunction, or depression.

Perhaps…he would be perfect for someone like you?

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING HOSHI INCLUDES…. — sfw

• if he ever suspects you or figures out that you’re the mafia whenever y’all play, he would NEVER expose you. he would in fact protect you WITH HIS LIFE. this says a lot about how much he loves you because hoshi would never back down during mafia ever. (poor mingyu :/ he really was innocent all this time.)

• you would probably be the only person capable of successfully dragging him out of the dance studio.

• he would let you squish his cheeks whenever you want (especially when you’re having a bad day.)

• as surprising as it sounds, when y’all are alone, he’s the calm bf and you’re the hyper gf.

• he will NEVER dull your sparkle no matter how bad of a day he’s having.

• when he loves, he loves with EVERYTHING in him.

• dates with him would never be boring. he mainly plans the adventurous ones, choosing to do something like a water park or hiking instead. (he would definitely give you a piggy back ride if you get tired.)

• if he makes a promise with you, he would rather walk through hell barefoot than break it no matter the circumstance. he’s such a dependable lover and always comes through.

• he turns into the softest person whenever you’re having a bad day. he would start talking in a low voice, give you space if needed, but also make sure you’re never suffering alone. your struggles are his and he always lets you know that.

• he’s fine with driving you around everywhere, but be prepared cause he is a super speeder for sure (i know we’ve all seen that one episode of going seventeen.)

• y’all definitely have random dance parties from time to time, especially when y’all are home alone and drinking.

• also, he’s DEFINITELY the type of person who would pull you out of the house to dance under the stars or in the pouring rain. SO ROMANTIC AND CUTESY :’)

• he once ended up winning a tiger plushie for you at the fair before y'all even started dating, and you still have it to this day.

• y'all are for sure dressing up as tigers one year for halloween, he insists.

• he enjoys teaching you dances and always lets you watch as he choreographs. hoshi is constantly wanting your input and praise when he does so.

• he’s oblivious to everything besides when it comes to you.

• he has the habit of hogging the blanket at night. definitely looks like a kicked puppy when you shake him awake to yell at him. he truly doesn’t mean to, it just happens.

• he flaunts you with no fear or shame all over his social media. he dngaf about haters, at the end of the day it’s you that he plans to spend the rest of his life with not them.

• be prepared because he would constantly litter kisses ALL OVER your face no matter the time of day.

• if he had to chose between you or kimchi, he would pick you. that’s saying a lot.

• he will forever be your number one supporter. he is always encouraging you and hyping you up despite what situation you’re in.

• he genuinely thinks you’re the absolute cutest !

• he tells you anything and everything, even if it has nothing to do with him. you definitely know all the practice room secrets.

• if you whip out the government name, he would look at you like a deer in the headlights. don’t scare him like that.

• no matter how bad you are at singing, he would always reassure you that it sounds like music to his ears.

• the pantry would always be stocked with frosted flakes. not because he likes the cereal, but rather just because of the tiger on the box.

• he is always taking random pictures of you, it consists of ninety percent of his camera roll. he REFUSES to delete them.

• he’s speaks of you so fondly and definitely might bring you up in every conversation with people absentmindedly. he loves and admires you so incredibly much.

• he used to tickle you often. he stopped when you accidentally elbowed him in the nose one time and made him bleed.

• if you’re allowed to squish his cheeks, then you have to allow him to boop your nose. it’s an eye for an eye.

• whenever you two argue, it’s rare in which it’s serious. it’s mostly just playful little banters here and there.

• if the arguments are ever serious, it plays in his mind a lot. hoshi treats your heart as if it’s made of glass and the last thing he ever wants to do is make you sad or worse, cry.

• he voices his love like shakespeare to you whenever he’s drunk. hoshi most def becomes a giggly, nervous mess whenever you’re around.

• you know how it’s normally the gf that turns their brain off whenever they’re around their boyfriend? yeah, it’s the opposite way around for you two.

• eye of the tiger would be on full BLAST throughout all hours of the day, he claims it’s his favorite song.

[jaeminvore]

BLUR. | N.JM (M)

SYNOPSIS: Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing. Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell.

CONTENT WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. dub-con, Jaemin’s a freak and a little fucked in the head, afab!reader, (ex)boyfriend’s best friend, sex under the influence of alcohol, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), sex-tapes, nudes (but make it artsy), face/throat-fucking, dirty-talk, mild possessiveness, mild obsession, smidge of fluff surprisingly, voyeurism and exhibitionism (kinda?), open-ended.

WORD COUNT: 7.5K

note: first of all, happy birthday to one of my favorite leos, Jaemin 💖 idk how many times i’ve looped the song but i think it was enough for me to come up with a fic inspired by it 💀 originally, this was supposed to be posted sooner but hey! Better late than never! Heed the warnings i beg if you don’t like the sound of this then please, you are absolutely free to click off! Other than that, please enjoy the filth ~

“You’re every single thing that I deserve. Maybe that’s too boring. ‘Cause I might say some thing you’ve never heard. Like I did last night, what a blur.” — Blur by Lolo Zouaï

You

hyuck

oh my fucking god HYUCK

WAKE UP

haechan

ugh woman WHA T

You

HELP

haechan

?? are you dying

wait where did you even go last night?

i didnt see u anywhere after like

well i dont remember

You

home

haechan

.

ok how tf am i gonna help with that

You

but its not MY home

and im pretty sure i slept with whoever took me here

haechan

😟

i’ll be at ur place

“Jesus—the guy try to eat you or something?”

You winced, covering the marks left by whoever fucking psycho thought they were a vampire.

Seriously, was all that really necessary? Leaving obvious bite marks and bruises to the point it looked like an animal attempted to maul you beyond recognition? Anyone with a functioning brain would obviously veto that idea in a heartbeat. Anyone with a modicum of chivalry could have stopped themselves from making your neck look like it did.

You were a contributing member to society and the thought of facing endless questions about your otherwise wild night out, at work of all places, was mortifying enough as it is. You had places to be. You had people to meet. 

One of those ‘people you had to meet’ happened to be Donghyuck. A constant presence in your day-to-day life and was essentially your best friend. Your ride or die. There should be some bias for one another when it comes to this friendship built from finding each other in bathrooms of college parties with either one’s head stuck in the toilet bowl.

You’ve literally seen each other at your worst, but Donghyuck was a Gemini first through and through. You weren’t one to succumb to the belief of stereotypes, yet Donghyuck proudly wore being two-faced like a badge of honor. He was your best friend, but he was also your worst enemy and never would he miss the opportunity in making you squirm underneath the palpable judgment swimming side-by-side with the curiosity alight in his eyes.

“Does it look that bad?” you asked quietly, just as curious, but leaning more towards your own reassurance.

The loud, grating laughter he let spill past his lips was enough to tell you that, yeah, it’s pretty gnarly and the likelihood of you getting some weird looks was at a moderate high.

“All I’m saying is—” he said then cleared his throat, “—is you’re gonna have to like, use half a tube of your best concealer.” he jeered, taking his time to assess the damage with an amused twitch of his lips before picking up the remote.

Case in point.

Although Donghyuck spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, that didn’t stop you from flicking his ear in retaliation as the last thing you wanted to ruin your mood was Donghyuck’s super helpful (read: useless) input. As if he was any better. You couldn’t count the number of times he found himself in ‘sticky’ situations that even the most promiscuous of people would cover their mouths, scandalized at the many many recounts of (questionable) conquests of getting his dick wet as many times as he could.

(That’s not to say you were completely innocent. Your sexual appetite was at a healthy mid to high. Donghyuck was just shameless. You, on the other hand, were not).

The wounded noise from Donghyuck went ignored as you stood up, stretched your arms up high and headed to the kitchen to get something into your empty stomach.

Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing.

Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell. A thing to note was the sweatpants were from a brand that you haven’t even heard of. Ever. Either this guy’s a fashion snob, or he’s filthy fucking rich, though something in you persisted that he was probably the latter.

No. Scratch that. It’s a hundred percent the latter.

You’ve been here before. Sober during those very few times, to be frank, and you desperately wished that you didn’t know who lived in this pretentiously decorated bachelor’s pad.

You thought waking up in a stranger’s bed was bad? Try waking up in your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s bed with no recollection of what happened last night. Trying to remember was proven useless when the memories were all but blurry, flashing images you couldn’t for the life of you sharpen with the power of your mind—that was still recovering from the hangover—alone.

It really wasn’t the best morning. It was arguably one of the worst.

Seeing one of his cats perched on top of the highest point of the cat tower in the far corner of the bedroom was already a bad omen in and of itself, slanted eyes locked on your every move and she (you had a faint idea that this was one of his girls) even followed you to the bathroom! Which, okay, wasn’t that awful considering she hadn’t meowed or hissed at you in warning (yet).

All the cat did was hop onto the marble counter of Jaemin’s bathroom, sat back primly and watched you get rid of the accumulated grime on your face before going crazy with the array of skincare the man had out in the open. It was really his fault for leaving you unattended.

Speaking of Jaemin, he was nowhere to be found.

There were no signs of him even as you padded into the wide expanse of the living area. No signs of life in the kitchen either aside from the two other cats Jaemin had in his care and strangely enough, they too didn’t seem to be alarmed by your presence. You’ve only been here a few times with your then boyfriend, Jeno. Played with them a little too. Maybe the cats had sharper memories than you gave them credit for.

All of that aside, Jaemin’s absence was a huge relief on your part. Being drunk five margaritas in around him was embarrassing though still salvageable by a brief but genuine apology. Conversing with him was rare, sure, but the few conversations with him were adequate for you to lump him with one of the good ones.

Yet.

Yet.

This—being in your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s fucking apartment of all places—felt like there was more to what you initially thought could have happened that made you stay the night.

It’s been so long since you’ve last seen your ex, much less Jaemin, as he wasn’t exactly one to go out as often, but your alcohol-addled brain had momentarily lost its grasp on the supposed built-in survival instinct that you let yourself get whisked away by him. 

Possibly let him have his way with you (in your drunken haze) as you thought back to the mild soreness in between your legs.

Whatever the possibilities were, you had no luxury to narrow them down right now. Not when you had bigger problems.

You had to get out of here. Fast.

“Holy shit.”

Was what you heard the very second the grilled cheese and bacon sandwich you planned on sharing was placed on the plate.

At first, you didn’t think much of Donghyuck’s exclamation. Dramatics were his thing and you were used to being subjected to them so often that you barely blinked when Donghyuck followed it up with a sharp gasp. You were just about to write it off as ‘none of your business’—unlike Donghyuck who made sure to make his business everyone else’s—when what he said next made you pause.

“Y/N, you have got to see this.”

Now adding you to the mix got your attention. Picking up the urgent yet intrigued intonation from Donghyuck’s demand was enough to put brunch on the back burner as you rushed back to the small living area. The TV was put on mute. It was the first detail you noticed before pinning your gaze onto your best friend still on the couch and you immediately knew something was wrong with the way his shoulders almost touched his ears from sitting too stiffly.

Donghyuck had your phone in his hand when you sat down beside him which wasn't exactly new to you. He somehow figured out your pass-code (“it was your birth date,” Donghyuck clarified. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. What do you have against Face ID anyway?”) and you couldn’t find the energy to change it. It wasn't like you had anything to hide. You lived a pretty uneventful life, completely juxtaposing with whatever he had going on at his end, so you didn’t really mind the nosiness.

One look at his face, however, made you reconsider the leniency towards your privacy.

Donghyuck had this innate talent of pissing off people by his many facial expressions alone. He looked like the cat that ate the canary; probably planning on swallowing it down with cream to egg you on further and you just know whatever he had to say—or show in this case—was bound to raise your blood pressure to new heights.

“What,” it was meant to be a question, and the annoyance that managed to creep into the mono-syllable was amusing enough to Donghyuck that the annoying grin grew into almost splitting his face in half.

You rolled your eyes so hard that you wondered why you weren’t stuck staring at your brain from how often you did this at his expense. “Seriously, what?”

Donghyuck silently handed your phone over, still looking like the devil’s incarnate that it was almost an eerie resemblance, yet you still humored him.

You soon found that there was no humor in this situation.

All the budding annoyance had come to a screeching halt the moment your phone found its rightful home in your grasp.

From your abysmal screen-time, you should be used to its lightness, yet the device felt heavier than it should. It was like having the weight of the world in your palms and what’s worse, you could feel your blood running cold in real time as you peered down at the small screen leering right back at you, taunting you.

What greeted you was the opened camera roll that somehow accumulated pictures upon pictures of you stripped down to your most promiscuous state of undress. The sight was daunting to say the least that some crazed part of you thought your phone had become sentient; goading you with each flick of your thumb to scroll through them, further stripping you of your modesty. As if it was a digital flip book of yourself, illustrating you and one of you rare conquests of hunting down warm body to fuck around with.

The sheer amount of them was almost laughable, just imagining the person on the other side of the lens doing their absolute damnedest in making sure no small detail was out of place; that you came out debauched, yet still gorgeous enough to overlook the depravity of their nature.

You weren’t sure if this could be compared to nudes. Not when there were some traces of artistry behind each photo that if you were less than sane, you would have your thanks at the ready for making the vision—whatever it was—come alive with an iPhone camera.

There was a joke begging to be voiced out somewhere. A joke your best friend would immensely appreciate knowing it was centered around you and your bad decisions, however, that thought was quickly forgotten when something else caught your eye.

A video. Videos, you’ve come to find out as you scrolled further. Almost never ending with the amount that it was overwhelming compared to that of the photos lacking depth and movement.

The state of the thumbnails didn’t help ease the heavy feeling in your gut either.

Each and every single one of them could very well belong on the number of porn platforms you were vaguely aware of. They left nothing to the imagination where you could just tell what obscenities you—namely drunk you—were up to despite having no recollection of this ever happening. Just how much alcohol did you let in your system that you blacked out the entire night? This was one of the many mysteries that will continue to haunt you unless you get some clarity soon.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t the least bit curious of your own drunken thought process (you were still processing what you were seeing, actually) and it was obvious your best friend was just as curious, impatiently so that he snatched your phone back, chose one form the myriad of video clips and pressed play, all under a second or two.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Donghyuck earned an elbow to his side for his haste, but all he did was shush you and moved the phone closer for a better view. As if an almost seven-inch screen could grant a cinematic experience, but you’ll take what you could get.

“There you go.”

And there you go, body locking up the moment the awfully familiar, deep and roughened voice came out of the phone’s speakers.

A simple sentence spoken with a cadence so sluggish that you had to fight hard to remind yourself that he didn’t always sound like he was forcing you to unravel with his words alone. Jaemin just had this peculiar habit of putting half the effort into enunciating his words almost to the point where he sounded lazy and you assumed it was the alcohol that made this habit of his more pronounced than ever.

The alcohol turned him into someone, hell, some otherworldly being that the more you heard him speak, the likelihood of a blood vessel popping due to how wound up you’ve progressively become was at a high. It was downright ridiculous how instantaneous the effect was, and what followed would soon have you internally begging to be smite by God himself.

“It took you three tries to swallow me down without gagging.” Though you couldn’t see him, there was, no doubt, a smile on his face, listening to his delivery alone. All sharp and condescending that you couldn’t help but wince at the immediate reboot of your brain where you could vividly imagine the scrape of his teeth along your throat—specifically the places bruised with the indents; marks of his canines being the most prominent.

At least you got to confirm just who the ‘wild animal’ was behind the damage to your neck, yet you still couldn’t map the exact thought process justifying Jaemin’s carelessness.

“You’re that eager to please, aren’t you?”

Jaemin sounded like he was demanding an immediate answer, but there was just one problem.

He wasn’t going to get anything from you. How can he when his cock restricted you from talking? The most he was going to get was a series of garbled noises, just like the wet squelches from fucking into your mouth.

“Of course you are. I can see why Jeno kept you around for as long as he could.” Jaemin chuckled, moving his hand from where it previously rested on top of your head to cup your jaw. “Feeling full, huh?” and you could hear how smug he was, laughing quietly when all you could do was whine when his fingers tightened their grip on your bulging cheeks, no doubt wanting the wet heat of your mouth to squeeze around his dick tighter, or feel how imposing his size was for the sake of his ego.

“I could barely fit in your mouth a moment ago,” the groan he let out was deep from within his chest, guttural as if he was fighting to keep himself controlled while bullying himself deeper into your willing (?) throat until you gagged around his girth, shaky hands scrambling to find purchase on his thighs as if to keep yourself grounded. “Now here you are, taking it like it’s nothing. Like you were made for this. All you needed was a little push, didn’t you, baby?”

It took real talent to come off as an asshole through voice alone, and Jaemin was nothing short of talented. He really did fit the narrative. It’s always the ones with the (admittedly) pretty faces that have something to hide under the false pretense of pleasantry, and it just so happened that the ‘thing’ Jaemin wanted to keep under wraps was how much of a scheming freak he actually was.

Back then, you were just part of the majority who was ignorant to what lies underneath. Now here you are, experiencing Jaemin’s depraved fantasies first hand.

You should have known. The signs were quite literally there with the way he looked at you all night before you were consumed by the effects of alcohol. Even in the sea of people crowding the club, you‘ve managed to catch the intensity swirling in the darkness of his eyes stuck on you no matter where you ended up.

Jaemin was there. In the corners. In the shadows. Jaemin was everywhere. Watching and waiting to strike.

That thought alone should have been enough to unsettle you right to your very core, yet all it did was raise questions. Tons of them, considering this had been going on before you even got together with your then boyfriend, Jeno. You had thought that perhaps Jaemin had harbored some type of protectiveness over you seeing you got to know him first, but your prior naivety didn’t let you think much on it further. Not when you were swept up by the sweeter than sweet smiles and soon entranced by a pair of eyes that put the winking moon to shame.

Nevertheless Jaemin still kept a watchful eye, bid his time carefully and now that his best friend was out of the picture, perhaps it was the perfect time to strike.

And that he did, leaving the photos and videos behind in his wake.

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck hissed, completely ignoring the obscene noises blasting from your phone on full volume because apparently he wasn’t immersed enough with it half-way up. Where your apartment provided decent acoustics to amplify the sound. “Jaemin Na? Your ex's best friend? That Jaemin?”

You held your face in shame and groaned, trying to make it seem like you weren’t the least bit affected by Jaemin’s own mix of pleasured sounds going hand-in-hand with your muffled desperation. “Say ‘Jaemin’ one more time and I’ll punch you in the throat.” Your face was hot to the touch and you didn’t want to know just what you looked like to Donghyuck.

The memory of last night was faint, yes, but it did overwhelm you all the same to the point where you were starting to tear up from sheer embarrassment.

Donghyuck, ever so keen, caught the sign of distress and composed himself. “You were with Jaemin last night?” He asked, whispering.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you answered, sarcasm weighing heavily on each syllable as you aimed your grimace towards the video still playing (seriously, how long was it?). “Is that just my face deep-faked onto some poor random girl? You tell me.”

His pleased expression twisted at the snark, lips parting to refute you with the same vitriol until a rather loud, impossibly hard to ignore moan tore through the impending tension.

Both of you looked down just in time for Jaemin to pull out of your abused mouth with a wet, disgusting sound and lord, not only did he have an impressive size, his dick was pretty too. Pretty in a way it shouldn’t be, but it’s like Jaemin was solely born to go against what one should expect in men and their anatomy, which wasn’t much to begin with, let’s be real. Guess the universe did have its favorites and what misfortune it was that it had to be you stuck with one of them. Literally.

It was like a sick punishment pushed onto you, being faced with the harsh truth of Jaemin having his reasons backed up and giving him free reign to act and talk like he was the shit. His hands were just as big as everything about him from his stature to his personality. Made it seem like his cock was nothing to gawk at until you—you in the video—shuffled closer, having it stand ramrod straight right in front of your face.

As if the Jaemin in the video heard you, he laughed as he brought the camera closer to his cock and your face in tandem. You could tell he was getting close, the labored breaths and jostling of the footage were obvious signs amidst the borderline frantic strokes.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he grunted, tapping your puffy lips with his cockhead. “and stick your tongue out for me, will you—yeah. That’s good. Perfect. You’re perfect—fuck!” 

Thick ropes of pearly white painted your face as Jaemin let out a loud, drawn-out moan, forcing more out with rough strokes and most of it shooting into your awaiting mouth. You kept your eyes open for the entirety of it in spite of the obscene amount of cum dripping from your cheeks, nose and even an eyebrow. In fact, there was so much of it that even Donghyuck voiced his own astonishment right when you swallowed, only to pry your lips open once more and leave Jaemin to milk himself until the very last drop, not letting any of it go to waste.

It seemed you did good with the forethought, Jaemin making his appreciation known with a soft coo as if he wasn’t spouting filth while you were literally gagging for it.

God, you looked absolutely destroyed.

And eerily enough, sex-tape!Jaemin finished off the thought with a breathy, “you’ve never looked better.”

Inky tear-tracks of your mascara marred what was once the smoothed canvas of your face. You took much care in making sure your makeup was almost flawless and it was a shame that Jaemin thought the complete opposite and decided that smearing your lipstick along your mouth with a gross mix of your spit, tears and his cum was much more entertaining—as if this was all just a sick game to him; a game of how long would it take to strip you off of your dignity by making a mess out of you. Twice.

“Fuck. You look…” Jaemin trailed off as he held you by the jaw, damp skin easily caving underneath his fingertips to keep you in place and took his time to admire his masterpiece. It was deceptively tender, the way he went about tilting your head from side-to-side that just as you thought this was where the humiliation ended, realizing the extent of what you had done last night, the debauched version of you decided to speak.

“How—how do I look?” You slurred. Round, glazed up eyes peering up in earnest and that was all it took for Jaemin to let your phone tumble from his grasp in favor of hauling you up. The footage was all sorts of skewed, but by some odd law of physics involved, it made sure to show how Jaemin went in for a kiss that was all sorts of messy and heated, not minding the fact that he could taste himself with every push of your tongue against his.

He pulled back just for a moment, letting out a breathy chuckle and the last thing you heard before the video saw its end was a hoarse, “beautiful. Gorgeous. Unreal. Mine,” before it stopped and jumped back to show its thumbnail.

You let the both of you marinate in the silence that followed afterwards, with you gathering your wits as your worst half gently placed your phone down onto the coffee table.

“Oh my god.” you settled on saying, completely mortified.

“Oh my god.” Donghyuck repeated, sounding all too gleeful.

It almost looked like Donghyuck was impressed with what happened in the past five minutes when you slowly turned to face each other. “Wow,” he drawled, immediately raising your hackles at the god-awful sight of his self-righteous smirk. “and I thought I was the slut between us two.”

“Oh, you still are,” you bit back, not letting him get the upper-hand. “Three people in one night? I’m surprised your dick’s still attached to you.” or that he didn’t contract an STD for that matter, but small miracles could be given to anyone, you supposed. Even to a menace.

“You know what they say, the ‘s’ in slut stands for ‘safe’!”

“Literally no one has said that.”

“I literally just did.”

You dead-panned. “Get out.”

“You’re so boring,” he whined, getting up to head to the kitchen to probably gobble up the grilled sandwich you had made. “Well,” the muffled continuation said just as much. “maybe not since you fucked your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Who would have thought you’d let Jaemin hit?”

You whirled around to glower at him, half for eating what was yours and half at his disguised jeering. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Y/N, I’m a dude,” he said slowly, like you were stupid. Maybe you were. “We can tell when a guy is interested.”

“You think Jaemin’s into me?”

Donghyuck’s initial reaction was to arch an eyebrow as he paused mid-chew, again, as if he could not believe you were this slow on the up-take. It was starting to piss you off, honestly, that he knew something you didn’t and was just waiting for you to piece everything together.

“You couldn’t tell?” He only gets an unimpressed stare to get on with it which he shrugged at. “Nevermind, you were too busy making googoo eyes at Jeno to pay attention. That worked at least, ‘cause soon enough, you were hanging off of his arm.”

You huffed, conceding with a roll of your eyes. “Fine. You got me there.”

Donghyuck scoffed, “‘course I do. Seriously though, we thought that you’d end up with Jaemin. He’s usually straight-forward with things like this, but since Jeno was there… well, y’know, bro-code or whatever the fuck.” He took a generous bite from the sandwich before placing it back down on the plate and dusting his hands from the crumbs. “Thing is though, he never really stopped looking at you? I’m sure you know how shameless he is with staring.”

Knew? You’ve caught him staring a handful times in the past and his shamelessness knew no bounds either. Not once did Jaemin appear remotely embarrassed meeting your eyes as he would smile each time, hold the eye contact for longer than what you would deem appropriate before moving his eyes elsewhere, and you knew that in no time, his gaze would be burning holes into your back again.

You’ve grown used to it anyway. It was strange, yes, but Jaemin never really did anything beyond what could make you uncomfortable. Even Jeno laughed it off when it was casually brought up during your past conversations, not really bothered by his best friend’s odd quirk.

“I can’t blame him,” you remembered him saying. “You’re really beautiful. I’d probably consider looking at you as one of my favorite past-times.” and safe to say, you did appreciate the comment, and Jeno definitely appreciated the soul-sucking blowjob you gave him if the strings of praises tangled with the ‘I love you’s’ were anything to go by.

None of that was relayed to Donghyuck though. Your knowledge on the matter wasn’t his business, nor did you think it was that of a big deal. So what if your ex-boyfriend’s best friend liked to keep his eyes on you? That didn’t mean anything. Just like what happened last night didn’t mean anything. It didn't have to mean anything.

It was a one-time thing and you were certain that it’ll take the Earth’s revolution around the sun to see him again. Perhaps never, if you played your cards right.

And watching your own sex-tape (accidental, or not) with Donghyuck won’t happen ever again when you made the mistake of trailing your eyes downwards.

You were very far from impressed, scowling at him. “I can see your dick through your pants, Hyuck. You’re gross.”

He at least had the decency to appear sheepish from you pointing out his body’s reaction. “Oh don’t like you weren’t the least bit turned on from that too.”

You flipped him off with both hands, face burning. 

Donghyuck cackled and then waved you over to finish half of the sandwich.

Clearly, there was something in you that refused to see the bigger picture.

You couldn’t help it. You weren’t exactly one to get swept up in the assumptions made by you or the other people in your life that had their rare times of indulging the delusions that came hand-in-hand with them. And that’s all they were. Harmless assumptions and delusions that would be forgotten by the end of the day. Sooner, if you could help it.

So why were you sitting in the middle of your bed, obsessively scrolling through the videos taken from last night?

Perhaps you could blame it all on the insatiable curiosity that never really left even as Donghyuck said his farewell an hour or so ago.

Jaemin’s motive for filming last night’s drunken rendezvous was still—is still—no doubt, a mystery. Starting from why did he use your phone? It would have made much more sense if he used his. There was the possibility that it might have been his phone and had the forethought of airdropping everything to you for reasons unknown, but with a quick check of the details, nope. It was yours. Jaemin’s phone model was the newest one on the market, while yours was at least two years due for an upgrade, pretty much debunking your theory.

Which landed you in this position, looking through your camera roll for any hints that could shed light on his possible motives. Anyone who would find themselves in this dilemma had every reason to be angry. It was normal to feel outraged going through what you did last night and you could only pray to whatever higher being was up there that no one else knew what went on and if Jaemin had his own duplicates.

But—well. Anger was far from what fueled all this. Confusion more like and it only grew when you skimmed through the videos until one caught your eye.

This time, it was you holding the phone, your grasp being significantly shakier, but Jaemin didn’t mind. Not when he was rather preoccupied with his head stuck in between your quivering thighs, eating you out to his heart’s content. No, really. It was like he made it his life’s mission to give you the best head of your life with the way you were letting out a cacophony of pleasured sounds to which Jaemin looked particularly proud off, evident with the way he was leering at you through the screen.

Jaemin had always come off as intimidating with his looks alone; a soft but angular face with strong eyebrows framing the dark pits of his eyes and a smile full of perfect white teeth so wicked it could even put the devil to shame if he tried harder. It was common to be put-off by his intensity at first. He had always sought out to give off a strong impression, but it wouldn’t be long before he opened up, gracing everyone with the sweet side of him.

And sweet he was, with the way he was looking at you with the mess of saliva and your wetness coating his lips and chin. Even the tip of nose was dripping of it, yet you thought he was absolutely breathtaking that the dazzling smile did nothing but make him so much more.

They say that eyes are the window to the soul. That you can guess what was going through someone’s head if you dare peer into them longer. It was purely for the sake of uncovering answers on your part, but you weren’t sure if that was what you were searching for anymore.

He was doing unspeakable things to you, yes. That much was apparent with his mindless slurping and the pleased moans reverberating when you so much as tugged at his hair, or squeezed his head with your thighs. It’s like he was getting off from you getting off and it was all sorts of filthy when a dollop of his spit caught onto your clit just for the sake of it.

But his eyes were telling the complete opposite of his ministrations. Dark as they were, they held something soft in them. Gentle. Tender—dare you say it, enamored. Completely taken by how you were blatantly using him, rutting against that sinful tongue while simultaneously fucking yourself onto his thick fingers as he did the absolute most to match the desperate pace you were setting to chase your release.

The soft spoken praises fell so easily from his mouth. Slickened lips covering your inner thighs with kisses and gentle, teasing nips as he spoke sweet-nothings that were no less still filthy, yet his eyes still remained the same. Darkened even more with his blown out pupils, but the softness remained swimming in those endless pits of coffee brown sweeter than its bitter aftertaste; warm when Jaemin graced you with a lipped smile.

Even as Jaemin had you face down and ass up, the warm glow in his gaze stayed. Hips slammed into you with reckless abandon that with each push, you hiked higher and higher up his sheets that you had to hold onto his headboard to keep yourself in place. You assumed the phone was placed somewhere on his end table for the clear view, or else you wouldn’t be able to see the warmth light up his face too.

It’s truly a wonder how you were able to witness how easy his emotions took over his features. More so when he took it upon himself to manhandle you on your back, then did you see how easily Jaemin shed that hardass exterior of his.

That didn’t mean he had let up though, oh no. He was still rough with his treatment as you watched his hand come down onto your thigh with a loud smack before pushing at the back of your knees and until your thighs were pressed against your chest to fuck you deeper, harder, now that he raised one leg to get more leverage.

Jaemin graced you with a cruel smirk when you cried out from a pointed jerk of his hips. “Imagine how fucking pissed I was when Jeno snatched you up before I did.” That was news to you and it was more shocking that the man admitted it himself just as you were about to piece things together. “I saw you first. I befriended you first—fuck, I thought I made it obvious that I wanted you.” You could only let out a helpless mewl when he slowed down to scowl at you. “We’re friends, right?”

When you didn’t answer right away, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “Answer me, sweetheart. While I’m still nice enough to give you what you want.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, holding onto his wrist and you were exactly sure if drunk you wanted to keep it there or not. “We’re friends.”

Jaemin smiled something mean, “then how come I was the last to know that you chose Jeno over me?”

“I didn’t know—“

“You didn’t know? I’ve—” he cuts himself off with an incredulous laugh. “Right, how silly of me. You were too busy giving Jeno your attention.” Jaemin leaned in closer. “Maybe I should send this to him,” he mused, gesturing towards the phone with his head. “How’s that sound?” And humiliate yourself even further? You would rather die a painless death.

“No! Please no!” You could see yourself struggle, yet Jaemin with his sheer size and strength had no problem in keeping you pinned down.

“Why not? It’s not like you’re together or anything. Will it be that humiliating for you? There’s no reason to be, not when you're this gorgeous. Nothing wrong with being a slut either.”

“I’m—I’m not.”

“Oh yes you are, baby. You let me fuck you, didn’t you? Your ex’s best friend? Showing him all this could make him realize why he wasn’t able to keep you. Jeno didn’t know what you wanted. He didn’t know what you needed either. Me? I could give you both and more.” He sounded so sure about it. Looked sure about it too as he picked up the pace and settled on a brutal rhythm, punching more moans out of you. “All you have to do is just ask for it.”

“You’re fuh—fu—cking crazy,” was all you could say. It seemed you were starting to get light headed with how Jaemin still had a tight grip around your neck. Like a necklace choker that won't ever come off.

“I know I am, sweetheart, but don’t worry. I wasn't being serious. I’d kill anyone who sees you like this,” It was a threat and a promise all molded into one and hearing that strangely made your heart skip a beat. His face was drawn into something serious and darkened when he said, “Jeno included. He had his chance and he fucked all that to hell, but me? I’m not making the same mistake.”

The footage kept on rolling after Jaemin spilled into the condom, just a few seconds after you knocked out-cold from what seemed to be the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had—not that you could remember—in your life. Kept on rolling as he kissed your forehead before getting up to cleanup in the en suite. And rolled, and rolled, and rolled.

You were fully convinced that your one-night stand completely forgot the existence of your phone recording the post-sex ritual happening right before your eyes. It was kind of funny though, like watching a risqué vlog illustrating the proper etiquette when it came to aftercare.

Jaemin did just that, with the same balmy look in his eyes and the inherent tenderness in his actions as he took care of you even in your slumbering state.

He could have done better with dressing you up though, but you could understand that the exhaustion probably crept up at him when he didn’t even question the sweatpants he swiped up from the laundry hamper. Still, he tucked you in and gently kissed your cheek before shuffling over and picking up your phone, only to switch to the front camera, smile and blow a kiss.

With a huff, you fell back onto your bed, ruminating what Jaemin left behind and burning in shame and something else that you wouldn’t want to acknowledge.

It was some sort of confession, wasn’t it? Unconventional definitely, but the idea was there, glaring at you in minute-long clips and you couldn’t really think of your next move. Jaemin was still an enigma for sure and calling him didn’t sound like a good idea. At least at the moment it didn’t. You really had no clue if you should simply wait for him to reach out himself, but that's besides the point.

What you did know was that some part of you thought it was a shame that last night’s memory was still quite the blur. You couldn’t recall how Jaemin made you feel with his touch and you weren’t sure if gratitude should be even considered for him leaving you of last night’s evidence.

This was all too much. Jaemin was too much and you couldn’t think much now when you have plans coming up soon.

And if you came on your fingers twice from simply looking at the unmistaken adoration lifting Jaemin’s face as he had his way with you, then that was between you and God alone.

“Couldn’t we do this some other time?”

Donghyuck clicked his tongue as he pulled out a chair for you. “You know how Giselle is and to be fair, she’s been begging for us to meet up. She mentioned she’s bringing someone with her too.”

“That’s fine.” Probably one of your acquaintances. “But she couldn’t choose another day where I don’t feel and look like shit?”

“Relax. No one in here knows that you’ve been fucked six ways ‘til Sunday last night.”

He said it like he was talking about the weather, all the while scanning the menu nonchalantly as you prayed that no one else heard him. Donghyuck was right though. You did make sure to hide all evidence (mainly the marks on your neck), and the slight limp in your steps and it was such a relief on your part that you haven’t received any odd looks as of yet. If you were to get some concerning looks, it would be because of how fidgety you were. As if you were just waiting for Jaemin to come out and strike. Ugh, perhaps your body did remember some of last night.

“You’re fine, Y/N,” Donghyuck reassured, patting your thigh gently. “What are you gonna get? I’m thinking of steak. We could share each other’s food or something too.”

“Yeah, sounds nice—“

“Y/N! Girl, it’s been so long!”

Both you and Donghyuck looked up just in time to see Giselle quickly making her way over to where you both sat with a dazzling smile.

“Gigi, hi!”

The man beside you rolled his eyes as you rose up and kissed Giselle on the cheek, “I’m here too, y’know.”

She laughed and sat on the seat right across from him. “Yes, yes, hello to you too, Hyuck.” Giselle looked as if she came alone, noticing that no one was trailing behind her.

“I thought you were with someone?” you asked, handing over the menu to her.

She thanked you with a quick smile and got to scanning it. “He’s still parking his car. He insisted I go in first.”

He?

“He?” trust your best friend to voice out exactly what you were thinking. “Who’s he?” You couldn’t remember the last time she brought someone for you to meet. Usually, this was her way of checking whether the person would be worth her time. As all close friends would do. You did the same with Jeno and what a shame you guys didn’t even last that long.

“Some guy I met recently,” Giselle hummed. “He’s nice, I promise.”

The conversation flowed smoothly after that and you decided to order for everybody after Giselle mentioned that her ‘friend’ would most likely get the same thing as Donghyuck. You really couldn’t follow along much—still reeling from everything, really—but it seemed to be a heated discussion from how worked up Donghyuck was slowly becoming at each of Giselle’s rebuttals.

Your attention moved to your phone at that point, looking through your socials while simultaneously reading through the work emails you might have missed.

“Took you long enough, Jaemin.”

You froze.

Jaemin?

From that second, you concluded that you were just hearing things. Maybe you misheard Giselle and that it was some guy that had a similar sounding name to him. He wasn’t the only guy with a given name starting with ‘Jae’, right? Jaemin wasn’t the only Jaemin in the world either.

However, the universe might as well bring your nightmares to life because looking up from your phone, the same Jaemin Na was there. Sitting across from you a polite tilt of his lips.

Though as he looked down, taking a gander at your phone with shining eyes before meeting your gaze head on, the smile grew sharper, sinister and you dread whatever was coming next.

“Guys, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, Donghyuck and Y/N.”

“Oh, we’ve met.” Jaemin leaned forward, resting his cheek on his palm while you swallowed thickly. “It’s nice to see you again, sweetheart.”

“Well,” Donghyuck started, breaking the silence. “It could have gone worse.”

“What’s worse than meeting your one-night stand the very next day?”

“Jaemin telling everyone that he slept with you?”

“You’re useless, actually,” you dead-panned, plopping heavily onto your couch. “Seriously, that was probably the most embarrassing dinner ever. Poor Giselle probably thought that I didn’t want to see her.” Your hands flew to your face to hide, moaning in despair.

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely the worst situation you’ve been in. At least Jaemin was cordial enough to act normal aside from the fact that he still tried to burn holes into your profile when you focused on either Donghyuck or Giselle as you talked over the food. Jaemin didn’t say much either, and spoke when spoken to, yet his presence was so domineering that even pretending that he didn't exist was rather difficult that you just settled on acknowledging him out of politeness.

Never mind the fact that he looked like he wanted to eat you up and swallow you whole right then and there. Then again, that’s how he looked most of the time so it brought comfort that there was a fifty-fifty chance that you were wrong.

Donghyuck gave you a sympathetic pat on the head, “don’t worry about it. You can say sorry to her and she’ll be fine, and it’s not like you’ll be seeing Jaemin any time soon.”

At that moment, your phone chimed and with the whole dinner fiasco, you immediately assumed it was probably Giselle checking up on you. You did act a little weird for everyone’s tastes and you were kind of waiting for her to bring it up so you could explain yourself and express your deepest apologies for acting out-of-character.

See, it wasn't Giselle and you cursed Donghyuck in your head for jinxing it.

Donghyuck took one good look at your face, the corner of his lips tilting downwards in concern. “What'd Giselle say?” 

You shook your head and handed it over to him.

“Oh my god.”

Jaemin Na

hey

can i come over?

:)

Shit.

note: this is dedicated to Aria for being just as insane as me when it comes to Jaemin 🫡

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @celeste-hoon @en-myworld

[harmomay]

LADS MEN with an autistic s/o!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

xavier, zayne, rafayel & sylus

Suprisingly knows a lot about it! Goes as far as to be aware of the whole ‘masking’ process.

Generally speaking, he’s a free weighted blanket. Will go out of his way to make sure he’s wearing clothing without that texture when cuddling. 

His whole home is pretty much an autism safe space already. No overhead lighting. Everywhere is soft and quiet. 

Not being the most expressive man out there, he definitely empathises and understands if you do the same thing. Especially if going nonverbal/are overwhelmed. Will print out a bunch of those communication cards, might even use some of them himself.

Sometimes is taken aback by sudden moments of hyperfocus, silently observing with interest as your attention span for this one thing is seemingly unbreakable.

Personally prefers the straight-to-the-point conversations. 

If you get tired a lot, especially from socialisation, he will definitely encourage nap times after work.

Immediately asks what he can do to support you. As a doctor, he’s very much used to the medical approach and may be more focused on how it negatively impairs your life. Though, he’s quick to change his perspective.

The more he does independent research as well as the input from you, the more he resonates with a lot of the traits. Personally, I see a lot of autistic traits such as social awkwardness, hyperfixations etc. (though important to acknowledge there are social factors as to why he’s so ‘cold’) in him and let’s be real- he’s probably at one point been told by someone he’s autistic. Hadn’t really looked into it until you came along.

Personally I think that Zayne is such a good doctor in the story is because he empathises with his patients on a much deeper level, but isn’t really good at expressing it externally (hence the ‘coldness’)- something which i’ve found through experience seems to correlate with a lot of autistic peoples’ experiences

He probably knows a few good pediatricians, occupational therapists and asks for recommendations regarding accommodations for you. Your experiences also encourage him to bring more awareness to sensory-friendly spaces within the hospital for patients.

Will get butterflies in his stomach listening to you infodump about your latest fixation, noting the way your eyes have that light in them and you speak with such passion about it. 

“Hey, I’M the one who’s artistic!”

Completely misinterprets it at first, but immediately realises his mistake once you repeated yourself. Being in the art space, he’s come across a few artists who had communicated about their experience within their work. Even with his limited knowledge, he’s eager to find out more. Maybe even be an inspiration for another piece. Referring to overstimulation as a tsunami makes him understand it better. Talk to him about autism in fishy terms please.

If there’s a certain texture you like, he’d incorporate it into his pieces upon the pretense of ‘being innovative’ within his art. 

Prepares an allocated room for your sensory accommodations. If you need white noise, the beach waves are just an added bonus. 

If you tend to speak in a blunt/matter-of-fact manner, he finds it very endearing and easier to tease you. Though, it can take him off guard sometimes depending on what you say.

Unconsciously picks up some of your stims. If you flap your hands around as a stim, he WILL call you a fish. Might also ask if you’re doing a mating ritual. Though, only if he’s sure that you’re in a mood for his comments.

Changes some of the ways he communicates to you so it’s more straight-forward/doesn’t rely on social cues.

You had best believe that this man would immediately provide a room in his base specifically catered toward your sensory needs. Essentially, it’s a personalised panic room. Here are the requirements he gave Luke and Kieran to organise:

A/C and Heating are completely adjustable

Dim/Gentle lighting

Couches, Beds, Beanbags

Weighted Blankets, Plushies

Soundproof Panelling

Shelves to store items regarding special interests

ALWAYS HAVE ADDITIONAL SET OF HEADPHONES!

Drawers for fidgets.

The twins, although their lore is quite limited, feel to me like they have ADHD. Otherwise, Sylus has a little bit of knowledge regarding some traits as they often overlap. Nonetheless, he will happily listen and have Mephisto take notes.

Finds the different thinking process a very valuable tool in his field of work. Sometimes you’d pick up on some random detail that not even Mephisto could recognise and he’d just smile to himself.

He empathises a lot with being the target of social outcasting, and if it does occur to you his heart will practically shatter. Resonates with you on a deeper level.

[jjkilll]

-—✫UNTIL THE END OF TIME | JJK✫—-

warning: this is completely fictional. this story details personal injuries infilicted upon a main charater. reader discretion is advised. please read all warnings before proceeding. 18+

— pairing | ex-fiancé/idol jungkook x y/n

— summary | six months after you two broke up, you realized life's too short to not hold each other until the end of time.

—  warning | personal injury (car accident), mentions of blood and surgery, a coma brought on by personal injury, mentions and the planning of marriage, pwp (big time), smut, reader giving jk a handjob, cum eating(?), spit(?), ass slapping (jk can't control himself)

— word count | 3.9K

— song | until the end of time - justin timberlake (this is gonna ruin the tour)

— a/n: flashback in bold, enjoy!!

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

your phone rings waking you quickly. you at up answering your phone. “i’m sorry to wake you, is this y/n l/n?” a man asks through the phone. “yes, is there something wrong?” you ask eyes barely open.

“unfortunately, yes. i’m dr. hill, your fiancée has been in an accident. will you come down and provide some extra information for me?” he asks sincerely.

“what?! is he okay? is he awake?” you sit up. “um, i think it’s best if i share this news in person.” your heart drops.

you stand quickly throwing on some clothes. “i’m coming. i’m on the way.”

you and jungkook had been broken up for six months. you broke off your engagement. he really didn’t want you to go.

——-—-—-—-✫-��--—-—-——

you asked him to go with you to ask your friend to be in your wedding. you planned a lunch and jungkook never showed. you watched the clock tick and the time pass and nothing but radio silence. you tuck the handwritten letters back into your bag.

you got home and jungkook was passed out on the couch. you woke him, “hey go get in bed.” he stands barely awake, and walks into the bedroom flopping down onto your bed.

you walk past him into the bathroom. “where were you?” he mumbles. “lunch with my friends.” you say simply, taking the pins out of your hair.

“until 7 pm on a thursday? what for?” he asks. you sigh continuing to take your hair down from its high ponytail style. you don’t say anything until he groans lifting himself on the bed walking over to the bathroom door and standing in the frame. “what's wrong?” he asks you cluelessly which angers you. “nothing.” you say very monotone.

“you’re mad. why are you mad?” you don’t say anything and continue looking at yourself in the mirror. “i’m not.” you say simply. “ you aren’t even looking at me.” he grabs at your waist and you pull away. “stop.” you say moving away. “can you just tell me what’s wrong? i’m too tired for this shit.” he spits and that’s your final straw. you we so upset with him, that you didn't say anything at first trying to make sure you didn't say anything you didn't mean.

“today was the day we were supposed to ask my friends to be in the wedding and you didn’t even show. i sat there like a dumbass checking the clock hoping you’d show up. you didn’t. you didn’t even call. so yea, it’s very fucking clear that you’re too tired for this shit.” you motion back and forth between the two of you.

“you know damn well that’s not what i meant. i’m sorry babe, things just got so hectic today,” he explains.

“then a text would have eased my mind,” you spoke.

“i was busy, baby. what do you want me to say? you know what i do prepping for a comeback isn't easy.”

“whatever jungkook.” you dismiss him not trying to get more upset.

“did they all say yes?” he asked sitting on the edge of the tub. “i didn’t give them the letters.” you say simply. “why not?” he asks. “because i need more time.” he raises his brow. “for?” he presses.

“to think. see if this is something i even need to do.” you spit.

“what does that mean?” he asks standing up beside you. “jungkook, you haven’t put your input in. you haven’t seen the venue. you don’t care about the colors and you can’t even show up to a fucking lunch. yes, i know how hard it is to prep for a comeback, but planning a wedding by yourself is bullshit. we haven’t had sex in four weeks. you don’t want this relationship as bad as i do.” you explained.

“i want you more than anything.” he says. “then you’d make time! you'd act like it! i don’t ask for weekly dinners, and i don’t complain when you get home at 3 am and leave at 6 am. but, this is different. this is our marriage. i can’t help but think this is what our marriage will be. i’ll just keep waiting on you to find a balance for this shit, the whole world gets everything you got and i just get your last name. i sit at home and watch you create a life without me. that’s why i need to think jungkook.” you finally turn and look at him.

your eyes brimming with tears. “baby, i’ll figure it out i promise. it won’t be like this forever.” you shake your head as your tears fall. “you don’t know that. you know know your job is ever changing. i love you, i do, and i know how much your job means to you. i would never ask you to choose me over your job, but i make time for you even in my schedule. i’m a personal assistant for an idol. I’m gone just as much as you are.” you explain tears choking you up. he pulls you close and you sob in his arms. “what's wrong with me? why can't you make time for me?”

you take a deep breath, “i can’t do this anymore.” you realize he’s crying too. “don’t say that. please don’t say that.” he begs. “i’m sorry jungkook.” you back away from him. you hate how quick he is to let you go. you twist the beautiful ring jungkook gave you months ago, off your finger. you place the ring in his palm. “please,” he looks down at you. “i’m sorry.” you say walking back into your bedroom. you walk into your closet grab clothes and shove them into a duffle. “you don’t have to go tonight. just stay.” he pleads.

“i’m sorry, baby, please. please don't leave.” he cries. you move faster sobbing, you hated hearing him cry. your chest is heavy, as you cry so hard it’s hard to breathe. he walks into the closet and hugs you tight. “please don’t leave me. i don’t want to be alone tonight. please if you want to leave i have to be okay with letting you go, but i want you, i need you to know that I'm not giving up on us. just one more night. stay with me one more night, let me know you're not giving up on me.” you cry. you want to fall apart. “okay.” you say. he hugs you and doesn’t let go. he holds you so tight and so sure. his hands are shaking as he pulls you in. you get this feeling in your gut, you need space and so does he. one night only.

he finally lets go and holds your hand. you strip yourselves of your clothes and lay in bed holding each other, both of you praying this wasn’t the last time you'd hold each other so close.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you arrive at the hospital. “jeon jungkook.” you speak to the front desk clerk. “relationship?” she asks. “umm, he’s my-my fiance.” she types quickly as you flash your id. “room 613,” she says.

you speed to the elevator taking it up to the sixth four. you look around the floor and run up to the door. you look through the small cut-out of glass. he’s just lying there, an oxygen mask on his face. tears start to pour from your eyes.

“oh my god” you back up starting to panic. “ma’am?” a doctor calls. you turn. “i’m doctor hill. are you his fiancee?” you nod. “yes, please tell me what happened.” you beg. “unfortunately, he was on the expressway southbound, and it seems that he lost control of his motorcycle, he ran into the back of a semi. he’s helmet saved him from any brain damage, but he is having a hard time breathing on his own as he’s punctured his left lung. he hasn’t woken up since we put him under anesthesia, the surgery was a success.” he explains looking at the file in his hands.

“he’s in a coma?” you ask. he nods sincerely. “he is alive and stable, but we aren’t sure when he will come out the the coma, it could be days, maybe months.” you began to sob. “i’m so sorry.” your soul is fading, it was hard to believe. you walk back up to the glass. you stare at him and curse yourself for ever leaving his side. you open the door and walk up to him. you just look at him, and tears fall. he has a black eye and some stitches about his eyebrow.

“i’m so sorry, baby.” you sob quietly. you hold his hand and sob harder when he doesn’t do the double squeeze he’d usually do. you kiss his cheek. “i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be right here i promise.” walk to the other side lay down your purse in the chair and push it to his bedside. you sit laying your head beside him. you gripped his hand and held it tightly.

you didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until a nurse awakes you. “i’m sorry, here’s his belongings.” she hands you a clear bag with jungkook’s stuff inside. grab the back sitting up and opening it. his jacket was covered in blood, which made your eyes brim. his wallet you noticed something poking out of it. you pulled out a small polaroid of you and him on your first date. you wore disguises and went to six flags. you’d ask another couple to take the photo after you got off the batman ride. you smile reminiscing about how much fun you both had that day.

at the bottom of the bag is a chain with a ring on it, your ring. it was covered in blood as well. you sob, the nurse turns after checking on jungkook. “i’m so sorry ma’am. is there anything i can do for you. are you hungry? coffee?” you shake your head thanking her anyway before she leaves.

you undo the chain sliding your ring off. you hold it up walking over to the sink, washing and drying it, your tears still falling. you slide the ring onto your finger, holding it close to your chest. you walk over to your chair sitting and laying next to him again. “please wake up. please.” you beg.

you wish you never left his side. this was your fault, you thought to yourself. somehow, some way you had a feeling you could've stopped this.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

it had been three weeks since the accident. you were at the hospital every day since. you called your mom to pack a bag for you with everything you needed. your boss a friend of jungkook’s understood, telling you to take how long it took for jungkook to get better.

“good morning aundra.” you speak to the nurse you have grown closer with since being there. “morning darling!” she says cutely. “i’m happy to see you in a better mood today.” she speaks. “yea dr. hill says jungkook can breathe on his own. he’s getting stronger.” you explain. “i know. you’ve got a trooper on your hands for sure.” she smiles.

a few hours later you’re on facetime with the boys telling them how much jungkook has been progressing since they saw him the first time. they sigh a sigh of relief. “he’s so strong guy. we know he’ll be back and kicking as soon as he wakes up. you nod, telling them you were going to try to sleep before the next nurse came to check on him telling them you’d talk to them later.

you lay your head on his lap looking at him. “my pretty boy. you’re so strong. you know i never understood this part of you. you take on so much and come back so strong. you are otherworldly, baby.” you kiss his hand and stand going to nap on the bench across the room. you lay down slowly drifting to sleep.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

you wake to some talking. “how long has she been here?” you hear a low familiar voice. “3 weeks. every day since the accident. this is the longest she’s slept.” you hear a female voice. you turn your eyes fluttering open. you see jungkook sitting up stuffing his mouth with food.

“jungkook!” you scream running over to him hugging him tightly and he groans. “oh im sorry! you’re just you’re awake. my god youre awake. i’m so fucking happy youre okay. jesus please you scared me half to death.” you hug him sobbing. he hold you tight. he swallows his mouthful of food. “hi baby, im sorry im just so hungry.” you giggle looking at him and pecking his lips.

“you were here this whole time?” he asks. you nod. “everyday, 24/7.” you smile. “thank you. i love you.” he looks at you pecking your lips again. he hold both your hands feeling your ring on your finger his eyes shoot down. “you put your ring back on?” you hum. “yeah… i did. i should’ve never taken it off.” he smiles.

“where were you even going?” you ask him, now you must know. he bites his sandwich and swallows before speaking, “your house. i had taken two weeks off of work, i wanted to show you i was serious. i talked to my manager, and he told me, that if i start doubling down every other day it’d speed things up for us, meaning more free time. more time for us.” you smile at him your eyes spilling with tears. he was on his way to you. you were happy he was thinking of you just as much as you were thinking of him. unfortunately, though you can't help but feel like this was your fault. you shake the thought as he grabs your hand, you interlock fingers.

“i love you so fucking much. so so fucking much jungkook.” he kisses your cheek. “i love you more baby.” he says biting his sandwich. “i heard hospital food sucks, and this could just be because i haven’t eaten in three weeks, but this sandwich is fucking amazing.” you giggle.

“oh i have to call the boys.” you speak wiping away your tears. “i talked to them earlier.” jungkook says. “how long have you been up?” you ask raising your brow. “45 minutes or so, i just didn't want to wake you. the nurse said you had barely been sleeping,” he said.

“duh! my fiancé was unconscious in a hospital bed. if someone sleeps peacefully during that, lock them up and throw away the key.” you state. he chuckles lightly.

“i like when you call me that. it feels good to hear that again.”

“what fiancé?” you ask. he nodded cutely.

“so what are the colors?” he asks all of a sudden. “colors of what?” you ask. “for the wedding. what were you thinking?” you smile and sit beside him. you quickly pull up your pinterest board showing him all your ideas. he didn’t show it but knowing you kept them, comforted him.

“white arch? it’ll clash with your dress.” he points out. “oh. oh my god, you're right! we could do green, maybe like ivy leaves?” you suggest. “i think that’ll be immaculate with my grey suit, too. yea, it’ll look amazing.” he adds.

“you already did so good without me baby.” he says. “but it’s clear that i need you. i would’ve been crying for days about that fucking arch.” he chuckles. “i’m still so stuck on flowers.” you pout. “well dr. hill says i have six weeks to recover before i can’t start schedules again. we have time.” he says. you kiss his cheek fluffing his hair.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

for the first time in six months, you walk into your shared apartment. your pictures still hanging on the wall, everything exactly where you left it.

you lay in bed next to him. he wraps his arm around you pulling you in. he kisses the top of your head. “the bed was so cold without you.” he whispers. “i’m never going anywhere ever again.” you peck his lips.

“i need you. i haven’t gotten a good rest in ages, my sleep paralysis started to act up again. just laying in the hospital room with you i slept more than i have in the last six months.” you say. “you just make me breathe better.” you express.

he pouts it hurts him to hear how badly you were struggling. “i was suffocating without you. i love my job but coming home to you made me feel like i won the lottery. i didn’t realize how much i had won until i lost it. i will not fuck it up this time. winning the lottery once is just luck, but twice is a sign.” you giggle rubbing your nose along his.

“i missed you so much, baby.” he says. “trust me i missed you more.” you reply. “impossible.” he whispers before kissing you deeply. you hum into the kiss, the way he kissed you makes your body tingle. you nervously bury your face into his chest. “you are so cute, why so shy? it’s just me.” he smiles. “you just got that effect on me. you make me feel like a teenager, kicking my feet and daydreaming and shit.” you mumble into his chest, he giggles brightly.

“kiss me again,” you say looking up at him. he obeys quickly kissing your lips. jungkook never found the idea of sucking someone’s tongue until he met you. the way you kiss him had a tent quickly growing in his pants.

he hums. “i’m so hard for you right now.” he states pecking your lips. you lightly push him away tutting. “no physical activity for you sir. dr. hill told me it’s imperative that don’t do anything that requires too much physical activity, for your lungs. so no sex right now.” you explain. “what?! come on. i haven’t felt you in months. now i have to wait even longer?” you nod and he groans throwing his head back in frustration. suddenly an idea pops into your head.

“what if…” he hums letting you know he's listening, “ i give you a handjob?” you whisper. “be serious, babe. don’t tease me.” he whines in his last sentence.

you giggle sliding your hands down his sweats. you stroke him slowly. you quickly look up at his licking your fingers before swirling them on his tip. “oh shit. that feels good.” you continue stroking him at a steady pace. “fuck” he mutters. “i wasn’t trying to cum this soon.” he chuckles nervously. “it’s okay baby. give me your cum. i want it so bad” you say teasingly.

he moans biting his lip. you stroke him faster, “just like like that, ohh shit.” you groan. you stroke him just how he likes. he kisses you deeply as you stroke him. “you are so fucking hot.” he whispers. you kiss him again lightly tugging on his bottom lip. “i’m cumming.” he mumbles moaning as he shoots his thick load onto your hand and in his pants. you slide your hand out covered in him. you look at him licking his cum off your knuckles. he looks at you in awe. “mm” you hum lightly flashing him a smile.

“i just want pick you up and fuck you.” you giggle at his bluntness. “jungkook.” you laugh. “what? the way you were just looking at me when you licked your fingers, you know if i was in full health right now i would be fucking you so good.” you smile pecking his slips. “one week.” you said simply. “that’s how long dr. hill said.” you explain. he looks at you, “you think it’s possible to sleep for a week?” you pinch his nose with your fingers. “yea you were sleep for three. no more sleeping for you sir.” he giggles.

“let’s shower.” you say patting his cheek. “oh definitely, you just made me cum in my pants.” he starts to move but you stop him.

“i’m sorry.” you say for the millionth time. “for what?” he questions. “for not believing in you when you said you'd figure it you. i should’ve,” you say simply. you hold back the tears that are making your throat close up.

“look, i know things were difficult, but i knew that night when you stayed, you weren’t giving up on me. on us,” he corrects. “ you stayed by my side for three weeks. you brushed my hair, you talked to me, you gave me a sponge bath. you always believed in me. this accident was not your fault, i need to understand that.” you pout your eyes threatening to spill.

“nuh-uh, no more tears. it’s only up from here, my love.” you hold his close. his thumb wipes away your tears that fall. “now let’s get in the shower.” he pats your butt before moving and standing up quickly. he groans leaning back onto the bed. “woah, take it easy, baby.” he huffs. “i’m not used to be this slow.” he chuckles.

“in all due time. trust me next week you’ll feel much better,” you explain. he nods as you help him stand. “i got you, babe.” he groans standing. you walk into the bathroom and he leans against the sink. you help him take off his shirt as his shoulder is in pain. “you’d look so hot in scrubs.” he says admiring you as you help him.

“oh hush.” you giggle. you help him take of his pants, his semi hard cock spring out. you look up at him. “what?” he whines. “you’re still hard?” you tease. “yes! i just thought about how you look naked.” he spoke. you laugh. you lift your shirt off and undo your bra and your tits bounce out.

“see? and you expect me not to be hard right now?” you giggle turning around and turning the shower on. “okay you first.” he steps in letting the hot water hit his skin. “hurry up.” he rushes you. “have some patience,” you say raising your brown jokingly. you slip off your shorts and step in. your back faces jungkook as you reach for your shampoo, and suddenly a slap hits your ass. you stand quickly. “jungkook.” you warn.

“what? come on. your ass was on full display, it was the urges inside me.” you chuckle. “that wasn’t me, i didn’t want to slap your ass, but the parasites in me wanted to slap your ass.” you laugh loudly. “shut up!” you chide jokingly.

you apply soap onto a washcloth, and start washing his chest. “i wanna get married tomorrow.” he says suddenly. “what?!” you almost yell. you look at him in disbelief. “i don’t even have a dress.” you explain. “then let’s go thrift one. i realized that life is too short, and in this lifetime i need you to be my wife.” you smile, but you don’t say anything. “what if… we get married tomorrow, and we still have a wedding. we can still do it big, when we actually get married it’s just us. me and you like i will be forever.” you suggest. you smile at him. “okay.” you say. “okay like you're just doing it for me or you love the idea?” you chuckle as you realize his small panic. “i love the idea. just me and you.” you say.

“forever,” he adds.

“and ever, until the end of time.” you grin, finally everything feels good. you stand in front of your soon-to-be husband, excited for what the future holds.

——-—-—-—-✫-—--—-—-——

[ooooo-mcyt]

what is your opinion on people who are always like "omg it's us, but it's desertduo" as in they're happy thing think their relationship is like desertrduo

cause when I see that, I laugh, because desertduo in my eyes is doomed to fail. one of the single most important things in a relationship is communication

which is the thing they do not have, and are worst at.

communication.

i think this is a thing I have noticed in shinyduo as well. they both are bad at communicating.

To me I think the biggest problem between Scar and Grian will always be their differing ways of showing affection and their struggles to understand/communicate with each other about this difference.

Grian struggles with verbally showing he cares, so he'll often express his love through actions. Grian will make other people his responsibility and will work and work and work tirelessly for those people. The problem with this, though, is twofold.

The first problem is that Grian can come across as overbearing, giving people the impression he's nagging or undervaluing them because he doesn't verbalize his concern or affection. Grian can take care of Scar all day, but when all Scar hears are complaints, he'll feel like Grian doesn't care. Grian struggles with verbally affirming his care for other people, but sometimes it's needed, and it damages his relationships that he often can't do that.

The second problem is that Grian builds underlying resentment for the fact that people rarely seem to appreciate how much he does for them. He isn't completely wrong to feel this way, because, frankly, I do wish people would pay more attention to his caretaking behavior. But Grian actively sabotages himself as well by never communicating that he feels unappreciated in a productive way.

Plus, because of his self imposed caretaker role, Grian will often make unilateral decisions for a team without minding his partners input, which leads to a further lack of trust from both sides of the relationship.

Scar, on the other hand, usually expresses his affection and care upfront. He's friendly, approachable, he won't hesitate to tell people he loves them, or say what someone means to him. Scar is good at making people feel good and affirming his affection for them.

That being said, his affection can come across as "shallow" at times. Scar is often very bad at picking up on, let alone fulfilling, the needs of his partner. While Grian absolutely needs to work on communicating what he wants from Scar, that doesn't take away from the fact that Scar very much should be putting an effort into making sure Grian feels like the labor in their relationship is equal when they team, because generally it's not.

Scar is a very verbal person, he's upfront with his own feelings most of the time, so he also expects to be told when his partner needs something, not just emotionally, but also with tasks that need to get done). Which is understandable, but frankly, genuinely shouldn't be Grian's responsibility half as often as it is.

Scar isn't off the hook for selfish decision making either, because he will often struggle to see other people's viewpoints or understand that not everyone feels the same way he does about certain things, which can lead to him talking over or ignoring his partners wishes when he thinks he knows what's best for them.

Desert Duo have a lot of problems with how they express affection and communicate their needs.

However. Do I think they're inherently doomed? No.

Firstly, I think it largely depends on the setting. The gaps in their understanding of each other or how to be good partners to one another are widened by the life or death high stakes fast pace of the Life Series, but are bridged much more easily within the slow comfy safety of Hermitcraft. It's easy to look at their worst moments and say, there, that's why they can't work- but people don't have to be defined by their worst moments, and everyone's flaws look so much bigger when held under the lens of a death game. I think it's just as important to look at how Scar and Grian are when they're in a healthy setting as it is to look at them when they're in the most high stakes setting you can put two people into.

Plus, it's worth noting that a positive peaceful place like Hermitcraft isn't the only place they can work.

Sure, Scar and Grian absolutely had issues in Third Life, but I think it means something that they both made it to the end. That they got their fair fight. That they did it in their home. Giggling. Apologizing. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs- and their "doom" didn't come from themselves, it came from an outside force. An outside force made them destroy themselves, and they did it in the kindest way they could, loving each other all the way down.

That isn't to minimize their issues, because they both have issues. They both hurt each other, and sometimes neither of them know how to stitch it back together. But they try, right? Sometimes their relationship is like stitching up a quilt. And it comes out kinda uneven and slightly off-color, but it's still nice enough to look at, and warm enough to keep them cozy at night, and they both like it so so much.

Scar and Grian get each other, they counteract each others worst insecurities and fears, they gravitate toward each other, they make each other laugh, they just plain like each other. That may not sound like much sometimes, but it's often enough for them, and I think that's important. I think their relationship is good for them more often than it's bad for them. Even if they don't always know how to reach each other.

[ovrgrwnivy]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; no yapping today

part one. part two.

you never knew how relaxing it was to lay in the sun, the steady movements of the boat gently rocking you side to side. it was almost as if you hadn't set fire to everything you and john b grew up believing.

john b knew his mom took off when he was a kid, what he didn't know was that she was pregnant when she left. you thought that your dad died and your mom lived in your hometown her entire life.

both of you agreed that, for now at least, this branch of the family tree would be kept from the others until you've had enough time to fully wrap your heads around everything without the added input from everyone else.

"ladies and losers." john b claps, grabbing the attention of everyone on board "with the newest addition to our dysfunctional family," he gestures in your direction earning applause from the group, with the addition of a cheer from jj "the no pouge-on-pouge macking rule is still in full effect, just in case anyone has forgotten."

you don't miss the glare sent in jj's direction, the blond in question, however, was too busy making a face at you to even notice that he was the target of that rule.

it takes everything in you not to laugh, you understand why the rule may have been implemented in the past. young kids making up rules to protect their friendship. but you surely were all old enough and mature enough to handle real adult relationships.

"does our newest recruit partake?" pope asked throwing a can of beer to jj and kiara before looking at you once more.

"are you forgetting she was flat drunk when she went all cat woman on topper?" kiara joked, cracking open her can and raising it to you "to passing your initiation."

"and to beating the shit out of a kook!"

"here here!"

you sit up to bow as the others raise their cans to you, unable to stop the soft laugh that escapes as you sit up again "thank you, thank you. i'd like to thank my agent, my manager,"

john b jokingly shoves your shoulder to shut you up "a little humility wouldn't kill you, you know."

"humility is for losers" you taunt, making your way over to the cooler to see for yourself what was inside "besides, you owe me so humility is redundant."

before you can continue excusing your incoming speech, you're jolted forward by a sudden bump in the boat. you lose your footing, grabbing the closest thing to you and dragging it into the water with you.

person. the closest person to you and dragging them into the water with you.

you were a pretty decent swimmer, decent enough to not drown at least, but when you hit the water, any swimming ability was replaced with dread. truth be told you shouldn't be surprised, not even twenty four hours ago someone did in fact try to drown you so it was only natural you began to panic.

your brain was begging your body to do something, to override your fear with instinct, but no matter what you did all you could do was kick and flail.

you cling to the familiar frame dragging you to the surface, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala clung to a tree. you hid your face in the crook of jj's neck to shield your tears from the group, even if there was a chance you could explain it away as water in your eyes.

"you're okay, baby" jj coos, his hand cradling the back of your head "you're safe, i got you."

"the fuck was that!?" kiara shouts, helping the boys drag you and jj back onto the boat.

pope peers out over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that could be in the water "guys, i think we hit a boat?" he calls out over his shoulder.

almost as if in sync, jj and john b exchanged a knowing look. they knew what it meant, from what you learned so far they've been attached at the hip for years so it wasn't a shock that they had some weird telepathy.

without a word from either of them, they dive off the side of the boat and into the water, undoubtedly to scout out whatever pope had spotted. neither kiara or pope showed much of a reaction, probably because they were used to their antics.

you, on the other hand, sat by the edge of the boat and peered into the murky water below. you were holding your breath, waiting for any sort of sign of life from either of the boys.

time passes agonisingly slowly, but soon enough you spot the unmistakable head of brown hair rising to the surface.

"jackpot, baby!" jj hollers, throwing his arms into the air in celebration "one poor bastard made aggie mad, that's a seriously primo boat."

kiara shrugs "what do those kooks expect, they're harming the environment with their flashy boats, it's karma."

"easy there, greenpeace." john b huffs, pulling himself up and into the boat "mother natures most recent victim could have all sorts of profitable shit inside."

"exibit a," jj announces proudly, producing a silver canister from his pocket "would our newest pledge like to do the honours?"

"i would love to incriminate myself by stealing private property!" you exclaim, sarcasm dripping off of every syllable. nonetheless, you take it from him and shake its contents onto the floor of the boat.

the metallic clang makes everyone wince, the group sighing in disappointment of seeing what was inside.

"wow, greaat, almost died over a lousy compass." jj groans, plopping himself down into a seat.

"it isn't a lousy compass," you mutter, scrambling to retrieve your fathers' compass from your backpack and comparing the two side by side.

they were identical.

"cause that isnt freaky.." pope mumbled, peering over your shoulder.

when you look to john b, he's already looking at you, knowing exactly who this compass used to belong to.

"it's a set," your voice sounds like you have just joined the dots of a brain wracking mystery.

"two compasses, one for each kid."

before anyone can question what exactly john b meant by that, a sharp noise zips past your ear, grazing the top of your arm and scaring the shit out of you.

the five of you look towards the source of the noise, another boat is coming towards the hms pouge, and the two men on board looked far from pleased as they aimed their guns right at the five of you.

"shit, shit!" john b ducks into the drivers seat and hits the gas, jolting all of you backwards as you sped through the marsh "get down!"

you all do as instructed, laying face down on the boats floor, rocking with every sharp, zig-zagged movement john b made. each of you flinch every time a metallic ding rings out against the boat's exterior, you hear kiara humming a tune to keep her mind occupied.

your eyes scan the boat for anything that could help, an idea coming to you the second you spot an old fishing net.

"y/n, what are you doing!? get down!"

you ignore popes shouts, moving quickly to gather up the net and toss it off the back of the boat. as you had hoped, the aggressors' boat gets caught up in the net, allowing john b to get you all out of there without harm.

"you moronic genius!" john b half praises, half scolds, the moment the boat stops at the chateau's dock. grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake "what is with you and almost dying?"

"a thank you wouldn't hurt," you retort, the throbbing sting in your upper arm still as prominent as when it first happened "this poor girl couldn't handle it."

you pat the side of the hms as you climb off, your fellow pouges following behind as you all tiredly drag your feet towards the house.

"looks gnarly," jj remarked, appearing beside you and focusing his gaze on the small wound on your arm "here, lemme help out."

you are very much aware that it's nothing more than a surface wound, barely a graze, yet you allowed jj to lead you over to the hammock and sit you down.

when he headed inside to grab what he needed, you sank into the comfort of the hammock and closed your eyes. the slight breeze, the gentle rocking of the hammock, the warm sun burning down on you. it does a good job of helping you decompress from the insanity that ensued since your arrival.

the hammock shifts under you when jj returns, the extra weight tilting the fabric to bring you closer to him. he doesn't want to speak, to disturb you in your peaceful bubble. he knows he's staring but he can't look away.

"you just got here and you already look like you've been put through the wringer." jj jokes, though there's a clear sense of seriousness underneath.

and he isn't wrong, the bluish bruises staining your throat from toppers hand, and now the blood smeared all over your arm which made it look much worse than it was.

"two near-death experiences will do that,"

"two near-death experiences so far.."

you know he's telling the truth, but you can't help but laugh as he helps you sit up. a comfortable silence falls between you as he wipes around the graze with a cloth, before gently placing a bandaid over the wound.

the close proximity doesn't seem to phase either of you, at least not enough to get anyone to move. without a word, he reclines back into the hammock, an arm out in a silent invitation.

you reason with yourself that it was harmless, john b's 'macking' rule echoing in your ears as you considered your options. realistically speaking, both you and jj knew this was far from harmless but more like the edge of a slippery slope you could both snowball down.

but you were tired, and it was jj, and the others weren't even around to see it.

no harm, no foul, right?

taglist!

@rainingcecilias @gigistalked @loverofmarsss

[neversetyoufree]

Looking back, I wonder how much of Vanitas's choice in this scene is tied to the fact that he was given a choice in the first place.

So much of Vanitas's character is centered around the theme of self-determination (and the lack thereof). He is absolutely deprived of any control over his body and/or destiny at many of the key points in his life, and nowadays he's always desperately grasping at what few shards of self-determination he does have. This is why he freaks out when Roland talks about him being "under the vampires' power" in mémoire 15. It's why he's hung up on the idea of freedom as isolation from others' influence. It's why his main response to being triggered is to do something crazy and cause a scene; it puts him in control of the situation.

All that to say, when Luna destroys Moreau's lab and agrees to take Misha away, Vanitas must be desperate to feel some form of in-control, but I do not think he expects to be given any choice in what happens to him next. He's been conditioned not to expect that despite how much he wants it.

Vanitas certainly doesn't have much agency in how he lives his life as a child, as no kid gets to pick their parents or circumstances, and Vani has it especially rough with the death of his mother hanging over his head. Then his father dies protecting him, and he dies in a situation in which Vanitas is utterly powerless. Horror erupts into his life out of nowhere, and his dad throws himself in front of some fangs, and there's nothing Vanitas can do but watch it happen.

Next there's Vanitas's brief time training as a chasseur, which is one part of his history we know little about, so it's hard for me to say how free his choice was. He may have been pressured into joining, as we know the Chassuers aren't above pushy/manipulative recruitment of children (Astolfo), but I could also see his choice to hunt vampires made as a trauma response to the powerlessness of the vampire attack he survived. "I was powerless, so I'll claim the power to enact violence and make sure they can't hurt me or others again."

Then Vanitas is abducted by Doctor Moreau, which strips him of his agency just about as awfully as anything possibly could.

Vanitas the test subject has no bodily autonomy. He is poked and prodded and experimented on, because his body is an object of science to Moreau, not the vessel of a person with rights or self-determination. His only big active choices during his captivity are the choice to not run away for fear of somebody else suffering and the choice to volunteer in Mikhail's place. The only choices he can make are the choices to stay and throw himself even deeper into his own violation. Even his relationship with Misha is something that just kind of Happens to him. The kid is a force of nature that Moreau dumps on him without his say.

(This isn't Mikhail's fault, as Misha is just a child that wants affection, but having a needy, vulnerable little brother figure suddenly dropped on him in the midst of all that horror couldn't have made Vanitas feel less out of control).

Then Vanitas's torment by Moreau hits its climax, and Vanitas is told that not only has his body been violated by way of pain and torture—even his basic humanity has been and will be stripped from him. He now feels the disgust of having the blood of something he hates inside of him without his consent. And he's about to be killed, turned into a mindless husk of a "living key" instead of a person.

And that's when Luna shows up. This mysterious, incredibly powerful being appears and wreaks havoc on Moreau's lab like an avenging angel, and it agrees to Mikhail's request to take "us" along with it. Everything in Vanitas's life so far has taught him that he is powerless in the face of others' great power. Horrible shit just keeps happening to him forever, and this monstrous person sounds like they've just agreed to carry him off on Mikhail's request without a word of input from him. Of course he doesn't expect to be given a choice.

But he is.

Luna scoops up Mikhail, then they turn to Vanitas and ask if he would like to come along with them as well. After months or years of absolutely all of his autonomy and power being stripped away from him, the most powerful being Vanitas has ever encountered stops and gives him a choice about what he'd like to do next. They give him the option to go off on his own and decide his own fate rather than go along with them. And that's why Vanitas doesn't run away.

These are the images that flash through Vanitas's head right before he gets up and runs to Luna:

These moments are what inform Vanitas's choice. The memories of his father's death and Moreau's final experiment on him—his two most awful moments of abject helplessness.

When Vanitas runs to Luna and accepts their offer, these moments are what he's running from. He's fleeing from his inability to do anything or control his fate. He's running from a life of stolen agency. He's running toward the one adult who actually stopped and gave him a choice about what he'd like to do next.

Vanitas chooses Luna because they, despite having the power to kill or subdue him, give him the freedom to choose to accompany them in the first place. He's drawn to them not for protection, but as an escape to a life where he gets to keep making choices and grasp some agency.

Luna is the savior that gives Vanitas his freedom and autonomy back after it's stolen by Moreau. That's why it's so tragic that Vanitas carries their Mark in the present day. It's undeniable proof that, in their right mind or not, some version of Luna violated the fundamental trust and gift of autonomy that brought Vanitas into their family in the first place.

Luna's bite, both the physical violation and the transformation into inhumanity that it brings, is yet another way that Vanitas is stripped of all control of his body and fate.

[everythingspokenfor]

ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʟᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀɪɢᴀᴍɪ.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Baker!Reader

Summary: Nanami-san scoring a date with his baking instructor...

Part 1

Nanami doesn't need to take baking classes, infact he is skilled enough to be teaching here, he is still here tho, learning how to make sourdough bread (another one of his expertise).

He doesn't like going out anymore, Shibuya altered that in him, no longer likes walking around the city searching for best sandwiches.

Shoko had recommended these classes, shoved a pamphlet into his hand, rambling something about not wanting him to rot away in his office. It's a gesture of kindness, he knows she doesn't pity him, that doesn't mean his mind won't make up twisted scenarios.

His face is burnt, the scars following till his fingertips, left eye gouged out leaving behind a shallow socket and a drawer full of patches that the kid's got him.

He doesn't care about his appearance, at least that what he tells himself, tho sometimes it's hard for him to believe. Especially when kids point at him, their parents hurriedly grabbing their arms and apologising.

People displaying pity towards him when they bump into him. The 'I am sorry's' haunting him as he tries to go about his day.

He would have spend the remainder of his life cooped up inside, had his friends not intervened.

That's what led him here, baking classes. He spends his evenings here, a decent size studio where you, teach how to bake. The place is set rather nicely, 6 counters lined, equipped with an oven and a sink, pantry in the back along with a fridge.

You do a great job at teaching, always making sure everyone understood the instructions. He didn't interact with you first, feeling too shy, too intimidated, too ugly, to talk to someone as pretty as you, even if it was under the guise of asking for a recipe.

Nanami wouldn't lie, he did continue with the baking classes because of you, even if he knows the bitter truth, that he isn't someone desirable, he still chose to admire you from afar.

So, he should up to the classes, sharp 4 p.m. daily, picked his apron, always looking over to see what colour you wore so he could subtly match. He goes to his assigned spot, and prepares for the day. He does however sneaks glances at you, especially when you are focused on something, when he is sure he won't be caught.

Rarely ever does he talk to anyone, and seldom does anyone approaches him too fearful of his scars and the vast build.

It was you, who approached him, hands behind your back as you moved swiftly around different countertops, observing everyone's work.

You came to stand beside him, watching him mix cookie batter, you stared at him work for few minutes, before looking towards him, he was already looking at you, nervousness evident when he darted his eyes away the moment your eyes locked. Giggling you moved on to the next table, giving input and advices to make help improve the baking.

He noticed your pattern immediately, you spend the longest hovering over him, but never do you say anything, no critiques, no compliments, just observing his baking and him before you move one to next person.

The knowledge that you observe him alot doesn't really make it easy for him, in fact that's the cause of majority of his mishaps. He could be baking for hours with meticulous precision, but once you come around to see, he fumbles, and he fumbles hard.

There have been so many incidents, where he had dropped bowls, spoons and other cutlery just because you showed up next to him.

On his own, he had never been a clumsy man, so these accidents did keep him awake at night, hoping that you didn't think he was some clumsy guy that couldn't coordinate properly.

It's been almost 2 months since he joined the classes, today the class was about baking sourdough bread, one of his favourite baked goods.

He may have gotten too lost in his baking, kneading the dough with perfection, separating it and adding chocolate chips to one batch, leaving other plain, to make savory sandwiches.

He put both in the oven, grabbing a cloth, to clean the counter, when he noticed you leaning against it. Startled a bit at how you sneaked up on him, he drops the cloth, before he could reach for it, you leaned down to pick it, passing it to him.

"Thank you for that." He take the cloth, moving back creating some distance between you both, flustered by the initial proximity.

"You don't really need these classes, do you?"

"What do you mean?" Nanami questions, wondering what exactly you meant.

"These classes, I have noticed from the beginning, you are far too skilled to be here." You explained, gesturing your co-workers to help others, before moving to stand near Nanami, and peer into the oven.

"You are perfect at eye-balling ingredients, never over or under bake goods, always clean up and list goes on." You lean back, arms crossed as you look at him, he is an attractive man, despite the scars, infact they add to his appeal.

"I don't, it's just I needed to do something with all the free time I have." He admitted earnestly, suddenly feeling too exposed under your gaze, he turns around averting his gaze, choosing to wipe already clean counter.

"If you are so free, Mr. Nanami, why not have dinner with me?" You queried, he stood still, too shocked, wondering if he heard you right.

"I am sorry, what?!" He couldn't really understand what you meant, surely you did not mean what he assumed you meant, you probably aren't asking him out.

"I said, would you like to have dinner with me, Mr. Nanami?" You repeated, cheeky grin spreading on your plump lips, "I am asking you out, as a date." You clarified the obvious, making sure he understood what you meant.

"Are you sure?" He blurted, "I mean, we have never really talked before, and to go on a date suddenly." He explained, blush spread on his cheeks, tips of ears turning rosy too. It's always a delight to watch grown man fumble his words.

"That's why a date, so we," You moved closer, hand moving between you both and gesture him and you, "could talk, get to know each other more." You explanation was reasonable, what Nanami didn't understand was, why him, of all the guys you could get why someone like him.

"We can go, I think,"He says, finally fully turning towards you and meeting your eyes. He watched as your grin widened, you pulled out a napkin from the stand, clicking a pen you wrote down your number with a winky face.

"So, Mr. Nanami, I'll be taking you out for dinner, this Saturday if that's alright." You hand him the napkin, turning around and going back to work, leaving behind a flustered, somewhat baffled but mostly elated Mr. Nanami.

[sungkixx]

Nezushi Dance Scene Analysis

I was talking with a friend about how the way two people dance show a lot about the status of their relationship with each other. Then I decided to give my own thoughts about Nezushi’s Iconic Dance Scene and what was the dance scene trying to show.

This may be an obvious thing to some, but I wanted to express my thoughts anyway :)

In a scene before this, Nezumi passed out due to the Song of the Wind (Elyurias’s song) and later wakes up to Shion next to him. Shion then worries incessantly, checks him to see if there was anything wrong or if he was in any pain.

Nezumi sees his earnest worry about him and gets agitated and uncomfortable, since he’s not used to another person worrying about him. He gets especially narked when Shion tells him straight up that hes a human being and that he should look out for himself.

Having someone worry over you means more shackles on you, in order to put in the extra effort of being careful. Basically it means someone loves you.

To Nezumi, this was not necessary.

But even after his yell, Shion still continues to care. He then spontaneously decided to teach Shion how to dance.

To me, this dance was basically a show of their life together from the night that they met to now.

They start off with Nezumi asking if Shion has any experience in dancing, he says no.

Here I think it’s a reflection of his naivety of the world outside of No.6, with Nezumi saying he’ll teach him some basic steps, like he’ll give him the introduction of The West Block.

“Don’t look down.”

I highly imagine this being a direct reference to Nezumi saying, “Don’t look away, look at the world in-front of you.” We know he has said this to Shion many times.

Shion then says to cut it out, how it’s useless, and gives a few excuses on why they should stop dancing, like the times Shion would be on the verge of breaking down, saying how it’s useless, and was willing to give up. But a few words from Nezumi, became his guideline, and helped him overcome it. He stumbles and is slow to keep up, due to this being a whole new experience for him. It’s hard to take in.

As time goes on, Shion’s understanding of Nezumi and how he views the world becomes clearer and clearer. The more they dance, the more he understands. He is watching, seeing the world in Nezumi’s POV, he is empathising with him.

“Dance…dance, Shion.”

Nezumi encourages Shion to live in this new world.

After they finished dancing, Shion is out of breath, and laments how hard dancing actually is, saying he learned something new. Shion is huffing and puffing, while Nezumi is, assumedly, all right. This basically proves the point Nezumi wanted to make, to not worry for him, since he’s basically been doing this all his life.

He does not need the care and the love.

But even after all that, Shion still does anyway.

It’s a direct retelling of their story, and I had never noticed the underlying meaning behind the dance. I had first watched it in the anime and thought the scene was done so beautifully. I had recognised the purpose of them dancing through the West Block, like a show of their life spent with each other. Then I read the manga and novel, which I read through quickly without much thought since its a scene i’ve seen many times.

I played it off as a wonderful iconic scene in the novel, a show of love and intimacy. But what I didn’t know was how much it was a representation of the journey they had up to this point in time. Not only did it show their dynamic and connection, it was like watching them both reflect on the impacts they had on each other.

It was an amazingly written scene and I’m glad it is in the story.

｡.:*☆

If you have read this far THANK YOU SO MUCH GENUINELY um I really hope this was easy to read and understand, i still dont rlly know the mechanics around here, so if u had a hard time reading it, or some feedback, or maybe ur personal input on the dance scene, FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A COMMENT !! <3

i have a test tmr im supposed to be studying for and here i am talking abt nezushi sigh they have taken over my brain TvT

[shini--chan]

Yandere Character Sheet II - 1p England / Arthur Kirkland

My depiction of Arthur here is harsh. I'll freely admit that it is due to a bias I have against the British due growing up in one of the Empire's late colonies and family history. Blazes, some of my relatives refuse to speak English because they regard it as "the language of the Antichrist".

Trigger warnings: colonialism, controlling behaviour, manipulation, mental break, trauma, physical torture, emotional/verbal abuse, victim blaming

Blend in - Are the red flags obvious? Are they even aware that their behaviour is wrong? Do they even care? 

Arthur is generally a cantankerous, cynical and proud man, so it would be more difficult to tell which of his actions are relationship red flags as opposed to personality red flags. Of course, this is also a gross oversimplification of the situation since he is complicated. When he wants to be, he can be genuinely kind, polite and caring. It is simply that the closer you are to him emotionally, the higher his expectations are of you. With you being the apple of his eye, you'd have the honour of finding out that being the subject of his affections is worse than having to bear his apathy or even ire. 

One of the reasons for this is that he'd have a fixed ideal of what constitutes as good and proper, and he would require you to conform to that image. Depending on your character and disposition, this could be painful for you. But surely you'll embrace your cruel fate, for isn't love the sweetest form of suffering. Pragmatic and cynical as he would be and would claim to be, Arthur would still be a romantic at heart. To him, meeting you would be fate, and you would do well to likewise recognise that your fate lies with him. Generally he wouldn't accept any words or actions that would go against this perceived destiny - he wouldn't take them seriously. 

Overall, he would see you as lesser than him, and therefore not as deserving of respect and regard. Much of the politeness and charm he would display to you wouldn't stem from seeing you as an equal or from thinking highly of your thoughts and emotions, but rather from the sort of charity given to the invalid and the naive. 

This flows nicely into the next red flag, in that he can be unbelievably paternalistic and conceited. You acting out, trying to defend your boundaries, or even just not fitting into what he deems appropriate would be deemed as you being unreasonable or having a phase. All in all, it would be very difficult to criticise him since he would first have to view you as a person worth listening to, and that wouldn't be a given. Even if your relationship has reached that level of respect, he would be quick to deliver some sharp retorts. Also, he would simply not care that some of the things he does are reprehensible. Either the end would justify the means, or the other people are inferior and conventional morals can't be applied to them. 

Additionally, he would be prone to making decisions for you, without your input. Mind you, he would allow you to place your orders by yourself when you go out to wine and dine. Though, he would decide what you wear, when you go to sleep, what you eat and drink at home, and the media you consume. This would start way before he would manage to fully isolate/kidnap you. Arthur regards himself as more apt when it comes to making choices about your life than you are. 

Related to that above, he would manage to make you go along with all that (at least in the beginning) by acclimating you to his controlling nature. He wouldn't dominate your life all at once and the more he'd enter your life, the more he'd determine how you'd live your own life. He'd demand that you tell him of all your movements and errands, make you let him look through your letters and bills and have you give him the passwords to all your accounts. On top of that, he would micromanage you at times. 

Another warning sign would be how unpredictable he would be. When it comes to social interactions, what happens is very dependent on Arthur's. He is far from emotionless, and is very passionate indeed. However, he isn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve or display his emotions openly, which would make it difficult to assess the situation at times. A bad time on the way home from work can decide if you receive affection or are pushed away with sharp remarks. Additionally, it would be the little things that would set him off the most, while he would remain stoic and calm in the face of large calamities.

Compatriot - Who aids them? Who condemns them? Are there ways you can convince their friends/colleges/underlings to help you? 

Part of Arthur's magic is convincing others of his superiority. There would be many that would aid him simply because they'd falsely believe he is all-powerful and that moving against him is futile. These sorts would be the worst - you'd have their sympathy and pity and they would likely believe you fully if you'd recount the lived horror and they'd still resolutely refuse to help you. On the contrary, they would even encourage you to give in to him, to simply weather the storm instead of fighting against it. These people would also be the hardest to persuade and the fastest to betray you, since they would fully buy into the illusion of Arthur's invulnerability and seek to gain small favours from their "Lord and Saviour". 

Then there would be those that would be on his side because they'd agree with his world views and morality. Best not to bank on their support, because Arthur would always be grander in their minds than you. Unless … there is nothing more feverant than a disillusioned devotee, eh? There, you could get their support, you would just have to teach them successfully that their angel is a demon. 

Naturally, England would also have many enemies. So some of them, all that would matter would be to land a blow on Arthur, so they would have no qualms or second thoughts of helping you. They might even "be on your side" before you'd catch on to Kirkland's true colours. Perhaps they would even be the ones to shine light on his less appealing traits. One thing that you should keep in mind though, that they wouldn't care about what would happen to you, as long as they could hurt Arthur. 

Aside from the obvious category of people that hate Arthur and who would also be sympathetic to your cause, there would also be the normal people that just want to go about their day-to-day lives. Those that might work for Arthur; they might trip you up if they like him, they might ignore your forged documents and stolen money if they hate him. Generally, many people downplay the power and the influence of the ordinary, working man. Arthur would be no exception to this rule, and could use this against him. 

Dominion - What actions are especially pleasing to them?

Above all else - you defer to him. He wants to be your guiding light in the darkness. He is supposed to be your teacher and protector and provider, and he wouldn't settle for anything less. For you to recognise and accept your role in the dynamic between the two of you would be a boon. It would be a relief that he wouldn't have to chastise and punish you like a wayward child. It would give him a bit of hope.

Interestingly enough, he would still desire for you to be resolute. Silk hiding steel comes to mind and if you're the sort to faint at the slightest sign of trouble, he would deem you a product of bad breeding. You are to be a rose, and your thorns should be sharp. Of course, this shouldn't come at his expense, for he doesn't want somebody that would constantly stand against him. You should be the sort that is a fun conquest, and a steadfast companion that doesn't cause more trouble than you solve. The deep irony here is that he wishes that you aren't a child, all while being continuously paternalistic. 

Appeal to his finer sensibilities - have etiquette down pat, be educated in that you know the classics and poetry and the BBC nature documentaries. Be easy on the eye and balm for the soul to him, make him feel respected and allow him to rant about god and the world without always throwing in your two cents. Be attentive to his needs, whether it be a shoulder massage, a bottle of port or tickets for the nearest rugby match. Communication without many words necessary would be prefered. On your side, such a skill would even be needed if you want to survive him. 

Tied into that - he would want the little things taken care of by you. Have a meal ready when he comes home, and the bathroom scrubbed and the washing done. Still he would require the dichotomy of a homebody and an adventurer, at least to some extent (and you thought he was going to leave you alone at home). Everywhere though, you'd be expected to put his well being above your own. After all, if he is out cold, then who will take care of you. No matter how strong and capable you are, he will forever regard himself as your superior. 

Conform to the values of the time. If there is something that irks Arthur beyond measure, it would be not understanding something. He wouldn't understand you if your mind runs on models of the world he is not familiar with. Of course, if you don't see things his way yet then it is no issue - diamonds commonly need polishing and cutting before they are perfect. It would be a re-edition of the white man's burden. 

Flight - What do you have to do in order to escape them?

It would be easier than you'd expect. Arthur's main spiel to make you stay by him would be to make you think that escape is futile, and that he is all-powerful and all-knowing when it comes to you. He would aim at "demonstrating" this by stalking you or also letting you escape only to capture you again. This wouldn't be his only failsafe. Perhaps he'll socially isolate you, so that you believe he is the only person in the world that you can trust, or he'll convince you that you're a horrible person, and he is only doing on to you what you deserve (he might even believe the latter himself). So what you have to do, is break the mental fetters, and then matters already become easier. 

Two pathways are recommended: Either do something completely haywire that he wouldn't expect. Send yourself abroad per post, join a travelling circus troupe or become a nun. There are only so many avenues of escape that he can close down, and the most obvious would be the first to go. Or you could elect to hide in plain sight and slip away. Lose him in a shopping mall or in a crowded street. A concert would be even better. Afterwards, it would be advisable to act normal - because he would be looking for a harried person. 

And have some tranquillisers/sleeping pills at hand. You'll need them to cope with the fallout. 

Hospitality - What is your life like with them? How much does it deviate from your former life?

You'd basically have to adopt an Arthur-approved lifestyle and discard everything that came for. He would dictate the tempo and direction, with you having precious little say in the matter. You'd only have your way if your interests coincide with England's or you plant the ideas in his head and let him think it was his idea in the first place. 

You'd become another fixture in his environment and thus everything that is his would become yours as well. The living space would be his and he would share it with you. Whether you like it or not, you would start orienting yourself around his routines and ideas. A side effect of this would be that he would control what you would read, watch and listen to. When locked up and subject to his tender mercies, you would be powerless to obtain any information other than what he allows. 

Aside from that, there are too many restrictions and rules to count, and you would only be able to have some comfort once you learn to navigate the minefield. In total, your life would be more akin to life in an old girls boarding school, or even a prison. The food would be just as bland, unless you'd take matters into your own hands. 

With him, your opinion would matter very little and his would be everything. Every criticism of your person would have to be acted on immediately, and every wish treated as an order. Of course, he would detest it if you'd simply allow him to walk all over you, but he would equally loath it if you would stubbornly resist it. It would be a balancing act that you would have to learn to master.

 In the beginning you might be inclined to point out how his treatment of you would contradict his own morals. Arthur wouldn't care - this is a point that can't be stressed enough. Conventional morals wouldn't apply to you, in his eyes. Besides, you would be his plaything, something with which he can engage in all his base desires and dark urges without any repercussions. Somebody at his station would have to punish him for him to genuinely become better towards you. 

There are few holds barred for him when it comes to you, and that makes him all the more dangerous. Should the mood strike him due to your bad behaviour, then he would bring out the thumb screws and the brands and the water torture. He probably wouldn't want to mar you, or at least not too much. You should still be prepared for burns of all sorts and being twisted into various uncomfortable positions and restrained. Here, the menu would be a lengthy one. 

Of course, there would be the social aspect. One of the first things Arthur would do would be to chip away at your social circle. This could be either through slander and manipulation, or more criminal methods like framing, drugging and murder. Eitherway, soon he'll be the only one you'll have, and since he is a jealous man, you would either only be able to interact with a carefully curated group of people, or not at all. 

Order - What are the rules you have to adhere to?

There are too many rules to count when it comes to Arthur Kirkland. He wouldn't spell out all of them for you anyway, since a lot of them are self-evident in his eyes. Besides, he'd want you to live according to the spirit of the rules, rather than him having to lay out an exact wording only for you to engage in loophole abuse. Regardless, here are some of mentioned rules:

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. Mind you, this is only towards him - other people are fair game. Although, you'd have to be smart about it and avoid causing second hand embarrassment. This would be easier said than done when you're in company, since your actions would automatically reflect on Arthur, once a certain point in your relationship has been reached. If you'd curse and chew out the world with him, he would be delighted. If you would turn your insults on him, he would burn with rage at the insolence and the impertinence. How dare you undermine his authority! Verbal sparring would be occasionally welcomed, though you'd have to have the sensitivity to tell when the ice is too thin to stand on. 

Behave yourself when we are in mixed company. Even when we are in company in general. To him, you are a pet project, living evidence that he can fashion perfection out of flesh and bone and a willful spirit. Totting you out to other people would come with the expectation that you be a living exhibit of his talents. As such, he wouldn't take it well if you misbehave. Mind you, he wouldn't be above humiliating you in mixed company just to save his own reputation. 

Keep up with the etiquette, will you? Belonging to him would mean you'd have to comply with a whole host of rules and rituals and mannerisms. This can vary depending on his social standing and the time period. The main point would be that you wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. The irony here is that he would desire you to have the skills and aptitude to get along well with your peers all while wanting you all to himself.

Don't make me repeat myself, pet. There are some phrases Arthur would repeat around you over and over again, like an especially devout priest. He would want you to internalise some truths after all. On the flip side, he would loathe to have to repeat himself when he talks with you, or to have to lay out his instructions a second time. Should he be peeved, and then be forced to repeat himself just because you weren't paying attention, then you would have a punishment awaiting you. Above all, don't talk back when he orders or chastises you - he wouldn't hold back with the yelling and the insults and the condensation if you do. 

 Be honest with me, savvy? I can't smell what you are thinking, after all. For somebody as cunning and devious as Arthur Kirkland, he gets extraordinarily upset when he is given a taste of his own medicine. He would demand you be forthright and honest with him, something that would be very difficult if you don't want to be with him and don't want to anger him at the same time. The reason behind this would be that he would want to trust you, and he wouldn't be able to trust you if he'd have to cut through your lies and half truths and word games. Or if he would only receive your complaints from around five corners, or something of the sort. Asides, if you're the sort to voice your displeasure and be open about your thoughts and feelings (to him, it should be said) then he wouldn't be in for any nasty surprises. 

Rehabilitation - How much will they change you? Will they break you? How much therapy would you need in the event that you get rid of them? 

Arthur Kirkland is the sort of man that would leave scars. He'd want you to be unable to live without him and he'd strive to condition you to dissolve into hysterics should you be separated from him. In the case he should succeed, you'd be fine for a few days and then descend into such emotional turmoil. This would be because he'd have your behavioural structures tailored to him, and without him to act as your focal point, you would grow anxious. Be careful not to go crawling back to him then - each escape would be more mentally challenging then the one before. 

Even when you'd be away from him, his rules would be so ingrained in you that you'd follow them on a subconscious level. You'd find yourself fixing your posture all the time, and weighing each word up against gold before uttering it. Out of reflex you'd discreetly check your surroundings to see where Arthur is and no matter how much you'd police your thoughts, his cynical attitude towards other human beings would have rubbed off on you and infected your mental processes. Arthur would continue to accompany you as the devil on your shoulder, as the voice of your inner critic, as a demon that would haunt your dreams, even if he would no longer be physically present. You'd have to be self-aware and self-conscious to rid yourself of those fetters. 

Aside from that, he wouldn't hesitate to break you to achieve his goals. There would be regrets on his behalf, yes. However, he'd never regret breaking you to the point that he would strive to make amends and see the errors of his ways. Instead, he would blame you for being too rebellious, for having such a brittle character that you broke instead of bending to his will, for being of ill stock and bad breeding. Admitting wrongdoing would be akin to weakness for him, something he would never allow himself to display in front of you.

Perhaps you would retain enough sanity and energy even when broken to flee him, perhaps you would develop a secondary or even tertiary personality to deal with the trauma. Either way, a life without Arthur would be even more cumbersome and hard than when you'd have been whole. It would take years until you'd be able to function normally again, and that is only if the best case scenario of you having a stable life without Arthur hunting you, occurs. 

Zeal - Do they fall fast or slow? What is their reaction to their own feelings?

Ever the romantic at heart, passion would grip him quickly, yet he would be very slow to act on it. It wouldn't be the first case of limerence on his side, and he would want to be sure of his feelings and their longevity before committing to you. Ironically, the more he'd try to wrestle his emotions into control and bottle them, the more potent and out of control they would become. Finally, they would overwhelm him and he would find himself rationalising the most heinous actions. 

The same justifications he would use towards himself would be applied towards other people, maybe even towards you. As time passes, the self-justifications and such would come ever easier, and also more extreme. It would finally reach a point where morality would be flung out the window. Why should he heed boundaries, if there is no punishment for overstepping? Maybe you find some countermeasure within your power that you can exercise to keep him in line. Just don't harbour the illusion that it'll work forever. 

Art doesn't belong to me, nor does the character!

[m0llygunn]

had a cute thought: reader speaking softly to eddie as he’s asleep. reader does this occasionally and they whisper sweet nothings to eddie or tells eddie about their day (he doesn’t know this since he’s passed out) though, this time he’s pretending to be asleep. not for any reason, he just didn’t move or anything when reader entered his room and sat next to him in bed. would eddie stay pretending to be asleep as the reader whispers to him or would he surprise and embarrass them by responding? 💕

anyway it’s not much to go off of i apologize, but i hope to get ur input on it! have a good day x

this is sooooo cute!!! don't even apologize omg i love this so much! i personally think that eddie is an act first, think later kind of guy, so embarrassing you would be nothing but an afterthought; however, he'd also be intrigued to hear what you had to say and would continue pretending until you were done (or until his lovey dovey heart couldn't take it anymore hehe). then once he got his fill of sweet nothings, he'd absolutely be surprising you and littering you with kisses and his own sweet nothings! I wrote a quick little something-something inspired by this bc i love it!! but i changed your idea a teensy tiny bit (hope its okay!)

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Eddie loves you dearly— so, so, so dearly. You know that, he knows that, and he’s pretty sure that every person in the country knows that.

He loves you so much, but he would oh-so-dearly love to go to sleep right now. 

The only issue is you’ve got what he likes to call the ‘zoomies’. Yes— like puppies get when they’re all full of energy and excitement, and just have to have everyone’s attention. You’re being silly, and giggly, and prodding at him to entertain yourself— which he loves and finds so endearing, but after a full day of work, band practice, and then doing all the chores that just won’t leave him alone, he’s wiped clean.

So when you continue giggling, making yourself laugh by doing things like squeezing his cheeks together, and playing with his hair by putting it in all different directions that you think is just so funny, he ‘falls asleep’.

At first you don’t buy it.

“Eddie, I know you’re faking,” you said, still giggly as ever. 

Eddie responded in a grumbled and sleepy ‘huh’, that had you second guessing. 

“Are you really falling asleep?” 

Eddie hummed quietly, sealing the deal. 

“No fun,” you pouted quietly, leaning into him. 

Under the weight of your shoulder pushing against his chest, he pretended to rouse the slightest bit, quietly murmuring your name, putting on the best performance of his life. You made a quiet little sound, like a sighed defeat.

He felt bad making his poor baby upset like this, all pouty and huffy, but it’s late and you should be going to sleep anyway (or maybe he’s just tired and trying to justify this one teeny tiny little white lie).

As the seconds on the clock ticked by, you seemed to accept that he was asleep. Giggly-no-more, you settle into his side, laying close to him, both of you cozied under the blankets together. Despite the warmth and calmness that now encapsulates the room, Eddie was so wrapped up in selling the idea that he was asleep that he forgot to actually fall asleep. 

Just as he had begun to nod, you placed a flat hand to his chest, stirring him back awake.

“Just keep sleeping, Eddie. Okay?” you had whispered. It was an odd tone that you used, and an even odder phrase, seeming almost like you were up to something. He kept his eyes closed as you paused, keeping your hand pressed to his chest. It felt like a trap to him, like somehow you knew he was faking. In a quick decision, he decided to stick to his guns and continue his facade. 

“Eddie?” you had said not long after, voice raising the slightest bit louder. 

With a quiet hum from your lips, he felt your hand move from his chest, fingertips gravitating upwards, brushing over his bangs, pushing them back with a gentle lightness that was almost tickle inducing.

Voice honeyed and sugary sweet, “I love you,” whispered from your lungs, making his chest squeeze. 

Your fingers brushed against his forehead again, grazing so softly down to his cheek, and he questioned whether or not he had actually fallen asleep. With the edge of your nail coasting across his chin, he decided he was still very much awake, he’s not dreaming just yet. 

Only now he was faced with a dilemma. Does he do what he so desperately wants to do? Give up his act just to kiss you? Or does he continue pretending to be asleep, keeping you blissfully unaware of how he’s deceiving you?

“Thank you for loving me,” you whispered even more quietly than before, pulling Eddie from his internal debate. “I never could have imagined finding someone who is as kind as you are.” You let out a quiet breath, gathering your thoughts. “And for you to love me… I’m the luckiest person in the world,” you continued. 

With every word, you took shallow breaths that fueled your whispers. Eddie felt his whole chest squeeze all at a once. His heart pitter-pattered happily in his chest and his lower lip threatened to jet out, revealing all of his ever-growing big emotions, but you continued, forcing him to pause and listen. 

“‘Cause you’re so nice, and funny— and I love that you let me squeeze your cheeks and poke your bum and make your bangs all messy,” you giggled softly to yourself, and Eddie was a melted puddle of a man at your side. 

He let you continue, selfishly wanting to hear more. 

“And I love that you are so good at being yourself and… I don’t know…” you trailed off. “I guess, being around you has helped me be myself too. Thank you for loving me,” you sighed. You’re starting to sound tired, no doubt getting closer and closer to the cusp of sleep, but you push forward, voice turning into the cadence of a groggy ramble. “I love you so much, Eddie, and I hope you’re having really good dreams right now because I love you and you deserve them.”

Such a powerful ability you have, to be able to reduce him to a love-stricken mess of a man. All it took were a few sweet nothings whispered in your gooey, syrupy sweet voice and he was melting. A mess of a man that suddenly had the slightest threatening sting behind his eyelids as his soul swooned for you. 

The final straw; when your lips connected to his chest in a loving, drawn out kiss, his fate was set. He couldn’t not kiss you. Without even blinking his eyes open, he was pushing himself over you just enough to press kisses wherever he could land them. 

“Eddie!” you exclaimed in true shock. He pressed kisses across your cheek and down your jaw. 

“I fucking love you,” he rasped through his tired voice. 

“You— you’re sleeping,” you huffed. “Eddie,” you drew out in a whine. 

“Thank you for loving me,” he said with all the conviction in the world. He truly was a lucky guy to get to call you his.

His kisses expand down to your neck, just dainty things, light presses of his lips that he hopes translate the way his heart soars for you. Gentle, chaste kisses, one after the other, all the way down to over your heart. He presses a matching kiss to the one you had given him, drawing it out, adding all of his love and adoration into it, just for you.

“I love you,” he promised, lifting his head to catch your gaze. A cross of embarrassment and smitten affection spans across your face, and he moves in for the kill— a kiss straight to your lips. 

“You were pretending,” you pouted, furrowing your brows at him. 

“Never,” he lied.

“You were.”

“But you’ll forgive me because you love me, right?” he smiled as big as he could, doing his best to butter you up. He watches the way your coy smile breaks and he considers it a win.

You didn’t dignify him with a response, you merely rolled your eyes before pushing yourself into his chest, cuddling close enough to hide your face and your growing smile. 

“I’m going to sleep,” you huffed against his skin. 

“I love you,” he replied proudly, both smug and happy. 

“Love you,” you mumbled back, and he swore that even if you were mad at him in the morning, it was all worth it. 

Maybe he ought to pretend to be asleep more often. 

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i hope you liked it! sorry if there were any spelling mistakes! thank you and hope you're having a good day as well! <3